Antonio's wife owned a small bakery on the South Side of Chicago, so everyone headed there, since apparently his son hadn't come back after going out to the alley.
When they arrived, several patrol cars were already blocking the street; blue and red lights flashed against the shop windows. The area had been cordoned off, and officers were keeping onlookers at a distance.
Hank got out of the car without a word, adjusting his vest as his expression hardened. Through the bakery window, they could see Antonio holding a woman in his arms —she was probably his wife.
—I'm going to check the back. If you need me, call me. —Ethan told Hank as he closed the car door.
The officers guarding the scene saw him flash the corner of his badge, then lifted the tape to let him through.
Footsteps hurried behind him.
—Detective, wait! —a voice called.
Ethan turned and saw Ruzek following him. He didn't say anything, just let him come along. Ethan kept walking along the street where the bakery stood, occasionally looking up to scan the neighboring buildings.
—Detective, what are you looking for? —Ruzek asked, quickening his pace. His eyes darted around, still unsure of Ethan's purpose.
—Cameras —Ethan replied, tightening his lips as he studied the poles and façades—. If we find any footage of the car the kidnappers used—or the plates—we can track them faster.
According to the patrol officers, Antonio's son had disappeared in the alley after taking out the trash. Unfortunately, there weren't any visible cameras along the path to the alley's exit.
Just then, an old man wearing an apron pushed his way through the crowd outside the police cordon, mumbling to himself and waving a crumpled piece of white paper. The officers stopped him immediately, keeping him from getting through the line.
Seeing this, Ethan stepped forward.
—Sir, can I help you?
The old man gestured frantically, but Ethan couldn't understand a word. He looked at Ruzek.
—Do you speak Spanish?
Ruzek shook his head firmly.
—No.
Seeing the man waving the paper, Ethan took it from him.
—Let him through —he ordered, glancing at the paper and lifting the police tape—. Ruzek, find someone who speaks Spanish and ask who gave this to him.
While speaking, Ethan moved toward the bakery's back door. Inside, Chicago PD officers were everywhere. Kidnapping a fellow officer's family member was a direct strike to the department's heart.
—Antonio, an old man outside just handed me this. —Ethan said, approaching quickly and handing him the note.
—What does it say? —Hank asked in a low, tense voice, clearly worried as yet another one of his men got dragged into trouble.
—The Octopus's men. They're the kidnappers. —Ethan replied, tapping the paper and muttering— They say to release El Pulpoin twenty-four hours, or they'll kill Diego.
—Damn it —Hank cursed under his breath.
Antonio's hands trembled as he folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket.
—A colleague just told me —Ruzek interrupted, hurrying over— that some guy gave the old man a hundred bucks a few minutes ago and told him to deliver the message to the police. The guy was dressed in black.
Antonio clutched the collar of his shirt, barely holding himself together.
—Any other physical details?
—No —Ruzek shook his head, anxious—. He wore a baseball cap and a mask. The only thing the witness could tell is that he was white. I've already sent patrol units to sweep the area with that description.
—Let it go, Antonio… we'll help you find your son. —Ethan said, gripping Antonio's arm firmly.
Antonio pulled away from Ruzek, who muttered a quick apology, guilt etched on his face.
—I'm going to interrogate the Octopus. —Antonio suddenly announced, teeth clenched.
Without another word, he stormed out of the bakery, crossing the sidewalk toward the precinct.
—You two stay here in case more information comes in or the kidnappers call. —Hank ordered, his jaw tight as he stared at Ethan and Ruzek—. Stay in touch and don't act on your own.
Then, turning to Alvin and Halstead, he added in a low but firm tone:
—Alvin, Jay, come with me. We'll go with Antonio to make sure he doesn't do anything reckless.
Later, Ethan sat by the window, sipping coffee, when a patrol officer approached.
—Detective, —the officer said— a neighbor just gave us a lead. She saw a white van leaving the alley about half an hour ago.
Ethan turned sharply.
—Driver or license plate?
—No —the officer shook his head—. She's an older woman. All she remembers is that it was a white van.
Ethan shut his notebook with frustration.
—Thanks. Start canvassing the neighborhood, house by house. See if anyone else noticed the van. If you get anything, call the 21st.
—Got it. —the officer nodded before heading out.
There was nothing more he could do there, so Ethan reassured Laura a few times before leaving the bakery with Ruzek.
Hank had left them a car outside.
As soon as they got in, Ruzek asked eagerly:
—Was there really a fight at the precinct?
He'd been keeping an eye on El Pulpofrom the garage and had no idea what had gone down.
—Yeah, the Sergeant nearly punched Belden's face in. —Ethan said, turning the wheel and lighting a cigarette with one hand.
They drove quickly back to the precinct, where the tension was still thick in the air.
Hank stood up from the table.
—What did you find?
—Pretty much the same thing, —Ethan replied, opening his notebook.— A neighbor saw a white van, but there aren't any more details. We only know the guy who told the old man to give us the message was white.
—That white guy must be Omar Rojas, the one who bought the prepaid phone at the cell store, —Hank added.
—I already asked the patrol units to help with the door-to-door canvassing, —Ethan concluded.
—Were you able to get anything out of the Octopus?
Ethan closed his notebook and looked at Antonio, who was pacing back and forth beside him.
—Nothing. The bastard refuses to talk. Looks like they already had a plan in case he got caught.
Hank crossed his arms. There was no way they could meet the kidnappers' demands —releasing someone as dangerous as El Pulpowas out of the question.
Looking at the restless Antonio, Hank spoke in a grave tone:
—The fact that the Octopus's men kidnapped Antonio's son is like they kidnapped me. This is a declaration of war —against Intelligence, and against the entire Chicago PD. We'll do whatever it takes to bring Diego back.
After the incident, Erin hurried back from the hospital.
—How's Juls? —Hank asked as soon as she walked in.
—She's stable. Still under anesthesia, but the doctors are optimistic about her recovery.
—Good. Now let's focus on Diego.
—Sarge, I think I've got something, —Halstead said, standing up from his desk with a folder in hand. He walked to the board and taped up a photo.— This guy's name is Ernesto Gómez.
He turned to the group, pointing at the picture with a marker.
—From what we've got, it looks like El Pulpowas trying to take over Rafe's distribution spots. But if you take out the supplier… you need someone to run the operation, right?
Halstead tapped the photo twice and continued:
—I went through the list of released inmates and the Octopus's old associates. Gómez got out of prison last year. When he was arrested six years ago, he controlled fifteen corners between 22nd Street and Keeway Avenue, —he explained, tracing the city map with the marker.— That's right next to Rafe's current territory. If I were the Octopus, Gómez would be my top pick to take over those streets.
Ethan crossed his arms, clearly impressed, studying the photo carefully. Halstead stepped back —it was a solid piece of detective work. Ethan realized he still had a lot to learn; with almost no leads, Jay had managed to open a path forward.
Jay walked up to Hank and handed him a paper.
—This is his last known address.
Hank nodded slowly.
—Good work. Now everyone, go find him. Even if he's not working for the Octopus, he knows something. Antonio, you and I will pressure the Octopus. Come on, they're waiting for us. —Hank looked around the room.— Then move! We need to get Diego back before midnight.
At that moment, no one wanted to stay behind waiting for updates; everyone stood up immediately.
Ethan had lost count of how many times he'd left the precinct for missions that day —and now he was back in the patrol car again.
—Do you think Antonio's holding up? —Erin asked quietly, glancing at the rearview mirror and the passenger seat.
—First his partner, now his son… can't be easy, —Halstead murmured.
He rolled down the window to let some air in.
—Does Julia's family know?
—Yeah. Her husband's with her now, —Erin replied softly.
Halstead drummed his fingers against the window control, rolling it up and down in frustration.
—There's no right way to deal with this, —Jay said flatly, with the tone of someone who'd already accepted the worst.— Whatever's going to happen… will happen.
Erin looked at him through the rearview mirror, her eyes still heavy with exhaustion.
—And you, rookie? —she asked, trying to sound casual, though her voice remained weak.
Ethan didn't look up. He kept his eyes on his phone, tracing routes on the map with his finger as he answered calmly.
—If you mean a partner getting shot… yeah, it's happened a couple of times. They were lucky. —he exhaled lightly— They're still on the job.
Jay turned from the front seat, curious.
—Have you ever lost one?
Ethan shook his head slowly, not taking his eyes off the map.
—No. We don't see that much action in Banshee… —he paused, then arched an eyebrow as he remembered— But nobody's died. Nobody close to me.
Ethan finally looked up, letting a crooked smile appear. The car moved through Chicago's morning traffic, and for the first time in hours the three shared a brief laugh that broke the tension that had followed them since dawn.
Beside the gray building there was a small channel with several trash bins stacked near the intersection. Two homeless men rummaged slowly through the waste, taking sips of beer now and then.
Ethan glanced at Alvin and Ruzek, disguised as vagrants in the distance, and shook his head.
—I think that would be my limit in this job. —he said, watching the scene from the car with disgust.
—Same here… Olinsky gets way too into character. —Erin replied with a grimace, nodding.
They'd been watching the place for an hour and a half. Ethan checked his watch: it was past five in the afternoon.
No new leads had come from the patrol officers, and hunting Gómez right now was useless. They didn't even know if they could catch him. Everyone was anxious.
A static buzz hissed through the radio, drawing their attention.
—Target moving, through the alley. —Alvin's voice came over the headset.
Ethan sprang up, grabbed his gun and opened the door.
By the dumpster, Ruzek spotted the target and followed him with his eyes. He glanced left and right, wobbling. He tossed his beer can into the bin and headed toward him.
—Now, now! Go! —Alvin shouted over the radio, his voice cracking through the static.
Ruzek reacted immediately. He drew his weapon from his waistband and gripped it tightly.
—Chicago Police! Don't move! —he bellowed as he started the chase.
—Shit! —the suspect yelled, pushing a dumpster to block the way.
Olinsky's instructions thundered in the earpiece with the tension of someone who knew everything had gone to hell.
—Target entered the building! Everyone move, I repeat, everyone move!
The patrol car's engine was still running as the three men opened their doors almost at once. Ethan, Erin and Halstead ran across the industrial yard littered with debris and rusting machinery.
The suspect slipped into an old adjoining factory, its broken windows letting in dusty shafts of light. Ethan looked up, analyzing the structure, and shook his head.
Erin pulled a portable device from her vest and activated the thermal scanner. The metallic beep confirmed heat readings on the other side of the wall.
—I've got movement inside, —she warned over the radio— I'll go in from the side. Cover the main entrance.
She pushed open the rusty metal door and entered quickly, gun ready, pulse steady, senses sharp. The echo of her boots sounded through the factory's shadows as the hunt began.
Once inside, faced with branching corridors, they halted.
—Split up, —Erin whispered, dashing down the central corridor. Ethan stayed on the right; Halstead took the left, sweeping the area.
Ethan se quedó a la derecha; Halstead tomó la izquierda, barriendo el área.
Thanks to the scanner, Ethan moved quickly inward, trying to widen the detection range. Footsteps were heard, and Ethan raised his weapon.
Erin suddenly appeared in the distance; they exchanged a glance and continued searching the large factory.
After a few steps, Ethan stopped dead. A fixed point of light appeared exactly where Erin was.
—Erin! Watch out! —he shouted—
Always on guard, Erin spun at the motion. A stick whistled through the air beside her. Instinctively she crossed her arms to block the blow, but the impact was too strong: it knocked her onto her back and her pistol flew, clanging across the floor.
—Chicago Police! —Ethan shouted, running toward her.
The man who'd attacked Erin dropped the stick with a crash and fled in panic.
—Bang! —a loud shot echoed in the factory, followed by a painful cry.
—Ah! —the gray-jacketed man screamed as a spurt of blood burst from his knee. He rolled on the floor, moaning, before collapsing heavily.
He tried to get up, pushing on hands and feet, breathing ragged. In the distance heavy footsteps—boots hitting the floor—kicked up clouds of dust among the factory debris.
Ethan rushed forward, his silhouette emerging from the gloom. With a kick he knocked the man flat, slamming him onto the concrete with a muffled grunt.
—Where are the Octopus's men? —he roared, grabbing him by the neck and slamming him into the cement— Where's the kid?
The man, pinned under his weight, blinked several times and looked at him with contempt, trying to keep his composure. He babbled in trembling Spanish:
—I… I don't know anything…
A faint light crossed Ethan's face—a hard smile at the man's hesitation. He knew they'd found the right person.
—Where's the kidnapped boy? —he insisted, slapping him sharply before grabbing his neck again— Talk!
—I don't know what you're talking about, —Gómez replied in halting English, his voice broken by fear and pain— I want a lawyer.
—Want a lawyer? —Ethan sneered, pressing the gun to Gómez's face— You just attacked a cop; if I kill you right now, nobody will blame me.
The man tried to pull away, but Ethan planted a steady hand on his wounded leg.
—No, no, stay still, —he murmured with an icy smile. He pressed hard on the open wound. The man let out a blood-curdling scream, arching his back as his body convulsed from the pain.
—Ahhh! Stop! Please!
Ethan brought his face close to his, eyes locked on him.
—Tell me where Diego is. Talk, and this ends now.
Gómez's knee was destroyed. The pain was so intense he was sweating profusely. His chest heaved, eyes fixed on Ethan's gun, lips clenched. Ethan dug his fingers into the hot, wet flesh and pressed harder.
—I'm running out of patience… —he said in a low, threatening voice—
The man groaned again, body convulsing as his hands clawed at the floor.
—Okay, okay! —he wailed, tears mixing with sweat— I'll tell you! Just take your hand off, please!
—His name is Matteo Ruiz. He was the one who kidnapped the boy. I only have his number; I don't know where he is, —Gómez blurted, lips trembling—.
Ethan rested a hand on his pistol's grip, licking his lips as he lowered the gun toward Gómez's crotch.
—I swear on my family… —Gómez stammered, eyes filled with terror.
Ethan released him slowly, never taking his predatory gaze off him.
—I hope so, —he whispered— Because next time, I swear it won't just be the leg.
A trickle sounded as a liquid ran down the pant leg, soaking his trousers—he'd wet himself.
—Looks like he's telling the truth.
—It's the truth! —Gómez roared, full of shame and indignation.
Ruzek and Halstead helped Gómez to his feet and escorted him out. Erin stood still for a few seconds, watching Ethan walk away calmly as if nothing had happened. She tried to process it, took a deep breath, and murmured:
—Where did Hank find this guy?
Beside her, Olinsky stroked his beard with that thoughtful expression he always had when something bothered him.
—Good question, —he replied, without taking his eyes off Ethan— But wherever he found him, he wasn't joking.
Erin let out a small, nervous laugh.
—You think so? He doesn't look like that kind of cop… —she said, crossing her arms.
Olinsky nodded, lowering his voice.
—Trust me, if Gómez hadn't given up the name, that guy would be dead right now.
Erin glanced sideways, trying to tell if he was serious.
—I don't think so, —Olinsky said seriously— I know.
Outside the factory, backup patrol cars arrived. They put Gómez in the ambulance to treat his wound, followed by a couple of officers. Everyone climbed into the truck; after getting into the car and shutting the door, Ruzek, face flushed, clenched his fists and approached Olinsky.
—I'm sorry… I really am. I was too impulsive. I just wanted to arrest him.
—We can talk about that after we rescue Diego, —Alvin said, shaking his head as he climbed into the car.
Outside, Ethan rubbed his head and returned to Lindsay's car. He walked to the driver's seat and leaned in.
— You can drive?
—Yes, —Erin replied, gritting her teeth and nodding emphatically. Knowing she was stubborn, Ethan shrugged, opened the door and sat in the back. Noticing both of them watching him in the rearview, he smiled.
—What's up?
—Nothing, —Erin said, starting the car quickly.
Back at the precinct, the team headed straight to the rear of the building. The iron gate screeched as it rose, letting them into the garage. While they were still processing what had happened at the scene, Jin already had the phone number they'd obtained for tracing.
When they got out, a patrol car stopped in front of the back door and pulled up in front of the garage.
—Dad! —a teenage girl sobbed as she ran out of the car and threw herself into Antonio's arms.
—Hi, sweetheart, —Antonio said, unable to hold back, eyes red, hugging her tightly. Two other women with sad faces climbed out of the patrol car.
Ethan didn't like scenes like that and stepped out of the garage to smoke; he didn't want to be insensitive. The patrol car was driven by Burgess and Atwater. Ethan nodded to them and lit a cigarette.
—You okay? —Erin asked, wrinkling her nose.
—Yeah, I'm fine. How's your hand? —Ethan asked, exhaling smoke and eyeing her arm.
—It's fine, —Erin said, shaking her head as she tried to pull her hand away. But Ethan held it firmly and pulled down her coat sleeve. A purple bruise showed on her forearm.
—This doesn't look minor, —he murmured, letting go and nodding toward the patrol car.
—I said it's fine, —Erin replied, hands on her hips, voice mixing pride and annoyance.
—Sure… —he said with a sarcastic edge—
—I don't break that easily, —Erin countered, raising an eyebrow.
Ethan gave a short laugh.
—Maybe both. But after this, you should get checked out.
Erin glanced at him, barely smiling. They were interrupted by two officers, Burgess and Atwater.
—Detective, we heard what happened. If you need anything, count on us, —Atwater said, adjusting his duty belt as he stepped toward Ethan.
—Thanks. You'll be the first to be called.
Suddenly Jin came out with his laptop in hand; the intelligence team rushed in.
—I've got a location!
At Hank's signal, Atwater and Burgess restrained Antonio's family; by protocol they weren't allowed to see certain things.