────── LONELY HEART

chapter four

iv. Self-Administered Justice

THE RESTAURANT MARLOWE AND ANTONIO ENTERED reminded Marlowe of somewhere her father would host company dinners at. Kim had stayed at the precinct with Lucia and Oscar, and Marlowe had pinged Bukowski's phone off a nearby cell tower for his location. Comparing that to a newly filled reservation charged to John Bukowski's credit card, she and Antonio drove into the city to pick him up.

"Chicago PD!" Antonio announced, holding his badge up and getting surrounding table's attentions, "Everybody stay where you are."

John stood up from his seat furiously, "What do you want?"

"Your son," Antonio told him as they stood directly behind Michael's chair.

"My son? For what?"

"He lied about knowing Gloria Morales. We want to know why," Antonio answered simply.

Marlowe grabbed ahold of Michael's arm, pulling him up from his chair at the packed table, and gave him a sarcastic smile, "Let's go for a ride, Buddy."

Pointing at John, Antonio's voice got firmer, "And we want the names and phone numbers of all your employees."

"Sure," He shrugged, "As soon as you show me a search warrant.

"Sounds like a deal to me," Marlowe scoffed, glancing at her partner, "Ant?"

"I'll have them for you in the morning," Antonio told him, turning on his heel to help Marlowe escort Michael out of the restaurant, "Let's go."

They heard John exclaim from behind them, "Not a word 'till the lawyers get there, Michael! Not a word!"

The drive back to the precinct was full of endless questions from Michael and constant eye rolls from Marlowe. She was glad to shove him into the interrogation room for Antonio and Voight to go at him, opting to spectate from the other side of the window in the room next door. Leaning against the wall, she crossed her arms over her chest and watched as Michael fidgeted under the heated gazes of the other two men in the room.

"Heard you've been getting pretty riled up," She didn't turn back to see who was entering the room behind her.

Marlowe shrugged nonchalantly as Jay stood at the window next to her, "Remind me to thank Kim for keeping you guys updated on my moods. Think I should get a mood ring for that? It'd save her the trouble."

"It'd struggle trying to keep up," He attempted to joke.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Jay glanced away from the interrogation to the side of her face, "But really, are you good?"

She nodded, "I'm fine, Jay."

Voight looked up from the folder in his lap, showing Michael a photograph of Gloria, and sliding it across the table to him, "Probably kept your romance with Gloria secret, right? I mean, 'cause from what I understand, your dad is not really a follow your bliss kind of guy."

"We know you two went out a few times," Antonio told him.

"Yeah, I liked her a lot," Michael told them innocently.

He nodded, "Oh, she was beautiful. Smart. Strong. I mean, here she is, in this country six months, and she has the courage to fight your old man. To make the work conditions safer."

Michael stuttered, "Yeah, I know. And that's what I was trying to help her with, but..."

Antonio interrupted him, "You were afraid of your father."

He looked away, frustrated.

"It's okay. You liked her," Voight told him, "Admired her. Then what?"

"I didn't kill Gloria!" Michael told them pleadingly, looking between the two of them.

Marlowe shook her head at his words.

"You believe this guy?" Jay asked her.

"I..." She paused, staring through the glass at Michael, "I don't know."

Voight sat back in his chair, "But she didn't feel the same way, and that bothered you. I get it."

"You know, I really..." Michael's shoulders sagged, "I... I need to wait for the lawyer."

"Michael..."

"I need to wait for the lawyer," His voice was firmer this time.

That was when they had to end the interrogation, Antonio and Hank leaving Michael in the room by himself. Marlowe shook her head in disbelief and turned her back to the window. Jay watched her leave, his hands in the pocket of his jeans, the door to the viewing room closing behind her.

She met Antonio and Voight in the hallway, "So now what do we do now?"

"I say we keep the pressure on him," Antonio suggested, "A kid like this spends fourty-eight hours in a cell, he'll break."

Reluctantly, Voight nodded, "All right, I'll hold him, but we need more evidence, fast. So you and Romero, head back to the plant. Somebody had to see something, or hear something, okay? Just keep banging the drum."

Marlowe glanced at Antonio as his phone began to vibrate.

"We're city police, we don't care about immigration, green cards, any of that."

When Antonio's face scrunched up in a look of shock, Marlowe's head tilted slightly, "Antonio?"

Beginning to storm off, he quickly said, "We have a problem."

Marlowe shared a confused look with Voight before darting off after Antonio.

He drove with the emergency lights on back to the factory, flying over the curb into the parking lot. Marlowe's eyes widened at the navy coats scattered across the parking lot, 'Police ICE' written in big white letters across them. Antonio parked in the middle of the lot, both of them taking in the sight of the factory workers, still in their uniforms, being taken out to a caravan of dark SUVs in cuffs.

"No, no, no," She whispered, clambering out of the vehicle.

She followed Antonio towards a group of ICE officials, where he flashed them his badge, "Detective Dawson, Chicago PD. What's going on here?"

The older man placed a clipboard under his arm, "We got a tip about undocumented workers."

"Whoa," Marlowe looked between him and the men behind him, pointing sternly in the direction of the workers, "We're investigating a murder of an employee. We need these people."

"Sorry, we take our orders from Washington," He looked unbothered, turning to one of his cohorts, "Proceed as ordered."

This caused her to roll her eyes, audibly scoffing at his condescending tone.

Glancing at the line of workers, Marlowe spotted Lucia among them and hit Antonio's arm, "Toni! There she is!"

"Lucia!" Antonio called to her, both of them approaching her.

Lucia looked panicked as she was guided into one of the black vans, "Where are they taking me?"

"It's gonna be fine."

"You lied!" She spat, sitting at the end of the front row of seats, "You said this wouldn't happen!"

Placing a hand on Antonio's shoulder, Marlowe frowned. The ICE agents shut the can doors in their faces, breaking Antonio and Lucia's eye contact. He shrugged Marlowe off and turned back to the car, running a hand over his face in frustration.

They began to watch the black vans roll out of the parking lot, Marlowe's hands intertwined behind her head as she tried to think about a way out of this when a nice black convertible rolled into a parking place near the back entrance of the plant. Her brows furrowed together as John Bukowski exited the vehicle, taking a pair of sunglasses from his eyes.

Antonio had already began to march across the parking lot, his hand raised and pointing an accusatory finger in the man's direction, "This was you!"

Bukowski turned to look at them, "You're damn right it was."

"You dropped a dime on your own employees?" He asked disbelievingly.

"It's called self-reporting."

Antonio disagreed, "Oh, no, no, no, no, it's called witness tampering!"

Marlowe crossed her arms over her chest as she stood on his right.

"My son had nothing to do with Gloria Morales' death" Bukowski told them, "He doesn't have what it takes."

"Unlike his old man."

He looked perplexed, "What? Now I'm the killer?"

Antonio was not fazed by the man's obvious and growing irritability, "Well, if it wasn't your son, you're next on the list."

"We found out there was a lawsuit filed against you by Gloria," Marlowe added in, "I can only assume that pissed you off."

"You really think I'm gonna risk all of this for some half-assed lawsuit? I got insurance for that!" He scoffed, extending his arm in the direction of the road, "Now get the hell out of here."

An expression of contempt covered Marlowe's face as the large man crossed the rest of the lot to the back door of the plant. Antonio muttered that they should go, nudging her with his elbow. She complied, following him back to the car.

She slammed the door shut as soon as she was settled in the passenger's seat, "This is bullshit."

"Tell me about it," Antonio muttered, sounding defeated as he started the car again.

MICHAEL BUKOWSKI'S ALIBI CHECKED OUT, leaving the team at square one once again. John's story was airtight as well, leaving them with no suspects. Voight had tried to pull some strings to keep Lucia in the country, at least for the time being, but had no luck. She was on her way back to Guatemala following the discovery that she had been deported three years prior, which was a felony.

"Next time you grab a case from Homicide, let's make sure it's one we can solve," Voight had told Antonio.

Marlowe sat in the break room, staring down at the cup of frozen peaches on the table in front of her. She was deep in thought, thinking about Oscar and how he was being signed over to a group home, and about the possibility that Gloria's killer was going to walk free.

She had not slept the night before, coming into work wearing a loose pair of distressed jeans, grey tennis shoes, and an off-white sweater. Her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail and her face was void of any sign of makeup.

"Marlowe!" Her fork clattered against the tabletop, Antonio's frantic voice scaring her out of her thoughts, "C'mon, we've got something."

Leaving her things on the table, Marlowe clambered out of her seat after him. She followed him to the back hallway, jogging down the stairs behind him.

"What are we chasing exactly?" She asked as soon as they burst out the back door.

Antonio fished his keys from his pocket, unlocking the car, "Oscar said he saw Gloria get into a white van with a man the night she was murdered. One with a cow on the back of it."

Marlowe opened the passenger door, "Like the factory's delivery vans?"

"Like the factory's delivery vans."

On the frantic drive over to the plant, he shared other information. Oscar had described the man as being "Latino, fat, bald", which made Marlowe think back to the oddly sardonic man that Hailey and Jay had talked to when they first entered the warehouse. Antonio agreed on the same one, but none of them had caught his name.

"My son's not here," Was John's first words to them, signing out a shipment and handing a clipboard of to one of the workers.

Antonio shook his head, looking around the shipment yard, "We're looking for someone else."

"Does that mean he's no longer a suspect?" For the first time, Bukowski actually seemed interested in what they were saying.

Antonio and Marlowe shared a look before she answered, "For right now, no, but we're interested in talking to one of your drivers. A van with your logo on it was seen outside of Gloria Morlaes' apartment the night she was murdered."

"Now, the driver was described as overweight, Latino, and bald," Antonio added on.

A look of familiarity washed over the man's wrinkled face, "Yeah, actually a guy named Lopez..."

He stepped around them and approached another worker on the other end of the landing, "Hey, where's Frank Lopez?"

Looking down at the board in his hand, he shrugged, "He took out his van two hours ago."

Marlowe peered over the man's shoulder, pulling her field book out of the back pocket of her jeans, "Can you give us the model and license plate. Pronto."

The man flipped back a few pages and showed Marlowe the column where Lopez has signed out a van. Marlowe scribbled down the information in her tablet while Antonio continued questioning, and he eventually followed the other worker inside to inspect Lopez's locker. Fishing her cell phone out of her other pocket, she dialed Kevin's number and pressed the devise to her ear. Her nail picked at the end of the paper as the line rang, glancing up at Mr. Bukowski through her eye lashes.

"Yo, Romero?"

"Hey, Kev, I need you and Ruzek to track down a plate for me."

There was rustling on the other side for a moment, "Give it to me."

"King-nine-four-Frank-seven-seven," Marlowe hung up after a brief exchange of thanks, giving Bukowski one last look before walking inside to find Antonio.

Lopez's locker gave little clue to who he was outside of work, the only possessions inside being extra uniform and toiletries. Marlowe kicked the door of the locker shut, the sound of the metal crashing reverberating through the small room after Adam had called them back with news that the van had been found torched on Maxwell. Antonio gave her a soft warning to calm down, reassuring her that the team was grabbing him from his house so that they could question him.

It did not give her much comfort, if that van was where Gloria was killed, all that evidence was gone in the blaze.

The team spent the next hour gathering everything they could on Lopez while he sat in the interrogation room. He had a short rap sheet, highlighted with another case of a murdered immigrant woman that he was a person of interest in. Marlowe was disgusted as she left her desk to run the last bit of information she had printed out to Voight, who was standing outside of the interrogation room with Antonio.

"This it?" He asked her.

Marlowe nodded, taking a glance at the door next to them, "Sir, I would like to-"

"You can watch," Voight interrupted her, "Learn. Be patient."

She pursed her lips together tightly in a line, her eyes following the both of them as they ducked into the interrogation room. When the door clicked shut behind them, she stormed to the neighboring room to view the interrogation. Adam and Hailey were already stood in front of the window, waiting on the interview to begin.

"Woah," Adam said as Marlowe walked inside of the room, "You sure you want to be in here?"

Hailey gave him a warning look, "Adam..."

"I'm fine," Marlowe huffed, standing between the two as Antonio and Hank began talking to Lopez.

"I was making a delivery, left my keys inside. You know, I was so embarrassed. Nothing like that's ever happened to me before," The man tried explaining, but his words held no sincerity, "I called 911. You can check."

"We did," Antonio deadpanned, "Why didn't you call your boss?"

Lopez shrugged, "Well, I was hoping you guys would find it before I had to tell him."

Humming, Antonio continued, "Maybe you were trying to destroy the evidence linking you to Gloria Morales. Come on, we talked to you at the plant. You lied. You said you didn't know her."

"I didn't recognize her."

Marlowe scoffed loudly, Hailey and Adam sharing a look behind her back.

"You gave her a ride in that company van," Antonio continued to drill into him, standing at his end of the table, "We have a witness that saw you with Gloria two nights ago."

"I give lots of illegals rides," Marlowe was enraged by the blatant sarcasm in his voice, "They have such a hard life, you know?"

Antonio laughed darkly, "You were born in Mexico!"

"I came over when I was a baby. I did it the right way," Lopez passionately stated, adding to the detective's frustration, and tapping his index finger against the metal table, "I got my papers, and became a citizen. I'm an American!"

Hank raised his eyebrows, flipping through his papers, "You're also a person of interest in the murder of an immigrant woman from Tucson."

"There's no evidence."

There was a moment of stiff silence, all three men staring between one another.

"What's all this?" Voight pointed to the gold charm written in Spanish hung around his neck, "What's that mean?"

Lopez glanced down at his necklace, "Peace."

Slowly, Hank began sliding crime scene photos of Gloria across the table in front of Lopez, "You're a real peaceful guy, huh?"

"That's right," He did not seem disturbed by the graphic images whatsoever.

"Tell me," Antonio rounded the table to Lopez, leaning over him slightly, "Why do you hate your own people so much?"

Lopez looked disgusted by his choice of words "They're not my people. They're illegal aliens. They break our laws and take our jobs."

Marlowe's fists clenched together at her sides, her nails digging into the skin of her palms.

"They make my life worse; they don't make it better!" Lopez continued to rant pointing at the photos of Gloria's dead body, "And if she would have stayed where she belonged, in her own country, she'd still be alive!"

As Antonio started yelling at Lopez, Marlowe swallowed the growing lump in her throat.

"Get me out of here," She told them, "Before I do something stupid."

Adam nodded at Hailey, placing a hand on Marlowe's shoulder, steering her in the direction of the door and opening it for her. Hank had managed to wrangle Antonio out into the hallway and away from Lopez. Marlowe stepped out to talk to them, while Adam and Hailey walked around them in the direction of the vending machines located at the end of the hall.

"That son of a bitch is a killer," Antonio seethed.

Marlowe raised her right hand, "I second that."

Voight shook his head, going to the gun safe and typing in his PIN to retrieve his weapon, "Yeah, and you two may be right, but we got no evidence. There's no DNA match on the woman or the van."

"Because he blew it up," Antonio stated bluntly.

"I get it!" Hank snapped, "Bro, you gotta slow down. Both of you."

Marlowe's shoulders dropped under his stern gaze.

"If you two took me telling you to run point as getting emotionally invested, I'll rethink that the next time."

Antonio, however, raised his eyebrows, "What does that mean?"

"What do I mean? So far the only thing we've gotten out of this investigation twenty innocent people deported," His gaze fell onto Jay who had wandered into the hallway with a case file in his hand, "Hey, you and Upton head down to the morgue, see if there are any other Jane Doe victims cut open the same wrong way, okay?"

Jay nodded, sparing a quick glance Marlowe and Antonio's way, "On it."

As Jay disappeared around the corner into the bullpen, Marlowe turned back to look at Voight.

"All right, look," He looked between them, "You two grab, Burgess. Recanvas the neighborhood where Gloria lived, and where her body was found. This time get Lopez's picture out there too."

They watched Hank turn towards the bullpen, leaving them both in the hallway to collect themselves.

TO BE IN PILSEN, Marlowe thought to herself. She, Antonio, and Kim stood on the corner of a block littered with many Hispanic-owned businesses. It was where her mother had lived when she moved to Chicago from Mexico as a teenager, and Marlowe's grandmother owned a handcrafted jewelry store.

Jay and Hailey had found other women that fit the same description and cause of death as Gloria Moralez. Marlowe had answered a call from Jay about an hour prior, having got a tip from someone who recognized one of their newfound victims. So, they were sent to Eighteenth and Ashland in Pilsen to search for more answers.

"Mom's first job here was cleaning the National Museum of Mexican Art after hours," Marlowe told Kim as another group of people denied even looking at the photos of Gloria Morales, "My grandmother's store was on the corner of South Halsted and West Cullerton."

Kim smiled softly at her, "How'd she meet your dad?"

"Keep in mind he's ten years older than my mom," She chuckled to herself, shaking her head, "My grandmother wasn't doing too well and needed money for bills, so she put it on the market... And that's when my Grandpa Romero bought the store and renovated it into a crafts store for his second wife. Dad helped close on the store and met her there, he was thirty-two and had just divorced his first wife. Neither my grandma or mom had papers, and Grandma was not going to live much longer due to losing battle with cancer..."

Both Kim and Antonio, who had been listening intently, frowned.

"So he helped her get a Visa, and eventually a green card," Marlowe told them before laughing, "Then came Brooklyn nine months later."

Antonio laughed, "Good things can come from bad beginnings."

They stopped a white couple walking the block, flashing them their badges before showing them the identified woman's photograph.

"Have you ever seen this woman around here?" Marlowe asked them, holding the photograph on her phone screen closer to them.

The man was dismissive, barely taking a glance at the device, "Can't say we have."

Antonio pointed at the phone, "Look again. You're sure you've never seen her?"

"Definitely not," The woman answered in a snarky tone, "Could we go?"

They waved the pair off, the trio's shoulders sagging.

"So much for community policing," Kim commented, turning to face in the opposite direction of her colleagues.

Marlowe crossed her arms over her chest before getting prodded in the ribs by the brunette, "Geesh, Kim, what?"

Both Marlowe and Antonio followed Kim's gaze to an elderly Hispanic woman loitering by the storefront of a bakery. The woman's eyes kept darting back and forth between the ground and the three of them.

Kim nodded in the store's direction, "Worth a shot."

They approached the short woman, who looked as though she was about to retreat back into the safety of her store.

"Excuse me. We're with Chicago PD," Kim introduced them, "We're here about a young woman who was killed a few days ago?"

Marlowe presented the woman with a photograph of Gloria, "Do you recognize her?"

"No, I don't," She was stern with her answer, going to push open the door.

Antonio extended his arm out to gently stop her, "Wait, what is it? You can trust us."

"They killed my niece too."

A bell rang as the lady pushed open the front door, leaving Marlowe, Kim, and Antonio stunned at her words. Marlowe was the first to push in after the woman, the bell ringing once again.

"It was a year ago," She handed Kim a framed photograph of a young Hispanic girl to look at, smiling fondly, "She had only been here for a few months."

Antonio looked up at her sadly, "What's her name?"

"Monica. They sliced her belly."

Marlowe swallowed a lump in her throat as Kim gingerly handed her the picture.

Kim, frowning, turned back to the woman, "Did your niece have another job?"

"Yeah," She nodded, "She was cleaning machines at the meat plant in Pilsen."

"Bukowski Meat Packing." Antonio concluded.

"That's right. She said there was a man who kept wanting to give her a ride," The woman admitted as Marlowe handed her back the frame, "He wouldn't leave her alone."

Marlowe pulled at the manila folder Kim had tucked under her arm before the other two could react, successfully retrieving the photograph of Lopez from inside it and showing her, "Do you know if it was this guy?"

Shaking her head, she sighed, "I never saw him, but Monica said he was fat and bald. And he had a necklace that said 'paz.'"

"Peace," Marlowe sighed, sharing a knowing look with Antonio.

The storeowner nodded again, "That's what she said."

"So you didn't tell the police?" Kim asked her.

She looked down at her hands, "I was afraid. We've been here twenty-one years, but we don't have papers."

Marlowe's heart sank, handing the snatched folder back to Kim who gave her a knowing, and pitiful look.

A tall and bald man followed by two similar looking ones approached from the back of the store. His dark eyes narrowed at the sight of the trio's badges.

"Tia, why you talking to them?" He asked.

His aunt replied in a much cheerier tone, "Chico, they're here about your sister."

Chico, Marlowe presumed, scuffed, "Now? After all this time, right?"

Kim shook her head gently, "Look, we just want to find out what happened to your sister."

"Yeah, well, she's dead, so it's over." He answered in a dry tone.

"Maybe we can exhume the body. See if there's any evidence?" Kim tried, "There's things that we can..."

Marlowe placed a hand on her arm, "Kim..."

Chico's voice rose sharply and drowned out Marlowe's warning, "No, you don't get it. We dumped her ashes over Lake Michigan. Now, my aunt, she's done talking."

Kim leaned forwards against the counter, folding her hands together, "Look, we just want to find the man that killed your sister."

"Yeah, trust me," He snickered, turning his back slightly to them, "So do I."

Antonio's hand wrapped around Kim's upper arm, tugging her back to the front of the bakery, "Come on."

Marlowe stood in place for another moment, glancing between the family. Chico's challenging look faced off against her soft, sympathetic one. Antonio called out to her, the bell ringing as he spoke. She took one final look at the aunt and took a few steps backwards, eventually fully turning away from them and following Antonio and Kim back outside.

A LINE UP OF MEN HAD BEEN PLANNED FOR OSCAR TO LOOK AT, who hopefully could identify Lopez as the man who was last seen with his mother. It had taken some convincing to the State's Attorneys office to go through with it with the evidence they had but had granted them permission after Voight had stated that Oscar was reliable.

Marlowe stared blankly ahead from where she sat on the end of Jay's desk. She sighed to herself, sipping at the freshly brewed coffee in the ceramic mug Hailey had brought to her moments before. She was tired and frustrated, and not entirely hopeful that Oscar was going to identify their guy.

"He's been sleeping on a make-shift cot in the spare office for the past three nights," She explained when asked why, "He's constantly surrounded by cops who he was raised not to trust, no family, and just as desperate to put this to rest as we are."

Hailey seemed to agree with Marlowe's analysis, shrugging as she drank her own coffee.

"C'mon, Mar," Adam perked up from his desk, "Give the kid a chance."

She shook her head, "If this buckles, Adam, Lopez will be released. This case will crash and burn, we have nothing else keeping his ass from doing this again."

Jay raised his eyebrows at the heatedness of her tone, glancing up from his computer screen, "She's got a point though."

"Yeah," Adam threw a hand up, shaking his head, "But this could still work out."

"He's seven, Adam," Hailey joined in, "Would you be able to comprehend all of this? To the fullest extent?"

Marlowe muttered under her breath as she stood up, placing her mug down next to Jay's, "Knowing him, probably not."

"Easy there," Jay told her in a voice that only he, Marlowe, and Hailey heard, focusing back on the updated score of the Bears game.

She needed air, desperately. Marlowe walked towards the main staircase without another word, leaving Adam stunned at the reaction he had received. Kevin told him not to worry about it as they watched her leave their sight, but Jay and Hailey's eyes still lingered over the top of the stairs. The partners shared a worried glance before going back to their previous tasks.

Pushing through the metal gate at the top of the landing, Marlowe finished descending the remainder of the stairs. She greeted Trudy with a quick wave, set in the direction of the front doors of the precinct.

"We got no evidence linking him to the crime. To anything!" Marlowe stopped in her tacks upon hearing Hank's angry voice echoing through the lower level, "The forensics all blew up with the van! The employees, they're all being deported! Neighbors too afraid to talk. Bro, we don't have enough to get a search warrant for his damn house!"

Marlowe's gut twisted into a knot as she strayed from her path, walking past the front desk where Trudy herself was listening to the argument happening. Peaking around the corner to the adjacent wing, she could see Hank and Antonio standing off in the middle of it. She heard Trudy call her by her last name in a warning tone as she began walking towards the two men, but ignored it.

Antonio's gaze never left Hank's angry stare, "So what? We just let him go?"

"We had one shot!" Voight yelled again, pointing his index finger at Antonio, "We blew it."

Marlowe came to a halt at the threshold of the hall. Voight turned his back on Antonio, his steel gaze landing on Marlowe. She recoiled slightly, leaning against the wall so that he could get through the doorway.

"You're just gonna walk away?" Antonio called, "Let this punk Lopez win?"

Hank paused a few inches past Marlowe, giving Antonio a shrug and continued into the lobby. Marlowe watched him disappear up the stairs and turned to Antonio, who was pacing furiously along the floor, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Taking a few cautious steps forward, she spoke, "Toni, what... What happened?"

"We lost the case," He told her, eyes screwed shut, "They're letting him go."

Marlowe should not have been as shocked as she felt, feeling a tightness in her chest at his words.

"Oscar didn't identify him?"

He shook his head, "Not at first, but it went all out the window with Oscar first identifying another one of the guys."

"Dammit," She cursed pursing her lips.

They knew Frank Lopez was their killer, but Voight was right, all other evidence went up in flames inside that van.

Everyone left the precinct that night, feeling defeated, Marlowe and Antonio taking the brunt of it all. She passed on Kim's invite to Molly's, walking past her and Adam without another look. Jay and Hailey had offered to stop by, but she told them she just wanted some rest. The only person she really spoke to on her way out was Platt, who more or less ordered her to come along to drop Oscar off at a local Hispanic children's shelter.

As soon as Marlowe was through the doors of her town house, she locked the deadbolt and went straight for the kitchen. On her way, she discarded her gun, shoes, and purse in their usual places in the entryway, sighing as she reached the liquor cabinet. Tugging at the knob, she pulled open the glass door and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. Disregarding a glass, she took it upstairs where she nursed herself to sleep, drinking and listening to Linkin Park.

MARLOWE'S CHEEKS WERE STAINED WITH STREAKS OF MASCARA, Trudy nonchalantly handing her another tissue from the console of her car. They had just finished dropping Oscar off at his new home for the time being, both women giving the director their cards incase he or the shelter needed anything. Before they had left, Oscar had given them both tight hugs before going to play with the other kids running around the yard.

Trudy had already gone through a lecture that though it was hard not to get emotionally invested in cases, especially ones that one could relate to, it was best to let it go. Marlowe wanted to laugh, seeing as Platt herself was struggling to hold back tears after Oscar had hugged her, but refrained from doing so. She had seen so many of the Intelligence Unit members go off track and loose focus on cases they were emotionally invested in, but now she understood being in their shoes.

Marlowe looked down at her phone laying in her lap as it buzzed, the screen lighting up with the notification of a text message from Antonio.

"Hey, Platt?" She asked.

"What is it Romero?"

Marlowe ignored the sergeant's bored tone and read over the text on her phone once more, "Can you drop me off at Eighteenth and Ashland? Dawson's waiting for me there, says that he wants to take care of something."

"Leave it up to him to be so straightforward," Trudy answered sarcastically with a shrug, "I guess."

After another few minutes of driving, they entered Pilsen. Trudy pulled up alongside Antonio's car parked alongside the curb. Marlowe thanked Platt, getting out of the passenger's seat, and shutting the door. Platt drove off after waving at Antonio, who was leaned against the driver's side of his car.

Marlowe stuck her hands in the pocket of her red jacket, looking at him curiously, "So... What's up?"

"Thought you might like to be here when I gave this," Antonio paused to hold up a gold necklace with the charm of a saint hanging from the end, 'Monica' written in cursive on the other side of it, "Back to Monica's aunt."

"Sure," Marlowe nodded.

The pair walked across the street to the family's bakery. The bell chimed above them as Marlowe pushed open the door and entered the building first. The woman was already stood behind the counter, her lips tugging upwards in a friendly smile as her eyes settled on the two officers entering her store.

"This was at the morgue. Monica's name is engraved on the back," Antonio told her, presenting her with the necklace, "We thought you should have it."

Gingerly, she reached out and took the piece of jewelry, cradling it in her hands, "Thank you."

Marlowe nodded, smiling sadly, "Of course."

She and Antonio turned to leave, but the woman spoke again.

"The policeman that was here, why didn't he bring it?" She asked.

Marlowe glanced at Antonio, who looked just as taken aback.

"Which policeman?" He asked.

Thinking for a moment, she replaied, "He said his name was Hank."

This can't be good, Marlowe thought as she tilted her head slightly to the side, "And did he come to talk to you?"

"No. Chico, my nephew."

Definitely not good.

Antonio was alarmed, "When was this?"

"Last night."

Marlowe threw the woman another quick smile as Antonio turned quickly on his heel. He dialed Voight's number as they rushed out of the bakery and back onto the street, Marlowe having to widen her strides to keep up to pace with him.

"Hank, it's me," Antonio spoke as he caught Voight's voicemail, "We need to talk right away."

Marlowe gulped as they both reached the car, "You think he did something?"

"I almost guarantee it."

Tires squealed against the pavement as Antonio peeled out of his paring space. He tried multiple times to call Voight while they were speeding in the direction of Lopez's house. Marlowe cringed slightly at the loud crack of his phone being thrown into the console between them, the device slightly bouncing before landing in one of the empty cupholders.

Antonio parked sloppily, feet from the curb out front of Lopez's two-story brick house. Both of them rushed out of their seats, Marlowe unsure that her door even shut as she drew her gun from the holster hanging from her belt. Antonio lead the way up the front porch to the front door with his own weapon held out in front of him. They shared a look upon noticing that the door was left open a few inches.

Throwing the door the rest of the way open, Antonio yelled into the interior of the house, "Chicago PD! Lopez!"

Marlowe followed behind him as they slowly crept to the right, passing through the threshold of the entryway and into a foyer. Antonio's attention strayed into another room, while Marlowe peered into the connected dining room. A loud, disgusting gag left her lips at the sight in front of her.

Antonio's head snapped in her direction just as she leaned back against the doorframe for support, still staring at the gory sight in front of her.

It was Lopez, his lips spread out and tied to each leg of the dining table. A large, sloppy gash stretched across his lower, round stomach with dried blood surrounding him on the wooden surface and floor beneath the table. His eyes were still wide open and a large butcher's knife was left imbedded in his right leg, the words 'muerte al violator' written in his blood on the wall opposite of them.

"Christ..." Marlowe gulped, both of them lowering their weapons.

Calling an ambulance was going to be unnecessary, so Marlowe called the Homicide and the coroner's office instead.

They stayed until dusk at the scene, giving Homicide their statements. Antonio was distraught, and Marlowe still felt indifferent as they exited the house. She declined going back to the precinct with him, wishing to go home and take a break. So, Antonio dropped her off at her townhouse in Lincoln Park and drove back to the precinct to find Voight.

Marlowe showered, trying to wash her blues and guilt away. She could get the gruesome photos of all of the victim's out of her head, Frank Lopez's death the least of her worries. If Voight had really gotten Chico and his gang involved with the murder, they were probably covered and long gone by now. She did not feel fazed that Lopez was gone after a few hours, knowing the last of their evidence had gone up in flames.

It slightly scared her that she felt no sympathy for Lopez at all.

That night, Marlowe drove to Molly's with her hair still damp and her clothing just as comfortable as they had been the day before. She was still riding an emotional high and needed a buzz after the sights she had seen over the past few days. Jay and Kevin were there when she approached the bar, both looking at her with sympathetic eyes as she sat on the barstool on Jay's right. She waved at Otis who was tending the bar, ordering a beer.

"How're you feeling Romero?" Kevin asked her, leaning forwards to look at her.

She shrugged, taking a swig from her bottle, "Tired."

"Yeah, we heard it was a rough scene."

Her voice lowered to a whisper as she stared down at the bottle held between her hands, "Muerte al violator."

Jay glanced between the two of them, a glass of whiskey occupying his left hand, "What does that mean?"

"Death to the rapist."

The conversation died for a while until Kevin reminded them that they had the next couple of days off. Marlowe agreed, finishing her first beer, and having Otis bring her another. Jay watched her carefully as he sipped at his liquor, asking if her weekend consisted of the same routine or if anything was different this time around.

Marlowe shrugged, "No, it's the same old thing..."

The next morning before her usual Saturday lunch meetup with Brooklyn and their mother, Marlowe entered a familiar tall, fenced-in concrete building. She placed her weapon, badge, and purse inside the plastic bin the guard was holding out to her before it was placed on a rack behind the check-in counter. Straightening out the visitors pass that was pinned to the material of her shirt, Marlowe approached another guard stood next to the entry door. When the buzzer unlocking the sliding metal panel went off, the tall man pulled it open to allow her into the waiting room.

The soles of her flats scuffed against the cement floor and Marlowe tucked her jacket tighter around her, sitting down at one of the unoccupied metal tables. There were inmates talking to their visitors at the surrounding tables, dressed in worn and dirty orange jumpsuits contrasting against the grey interior of the prison and mundane clothes of other outsiders.

Marlowe stuck out like a sore thumb, dressed in a bright red blazer, matching shoes, and light jeans. Her dark hair was large and frizzy, pulled halfway up in a sloppy knot with the rest of it falling in loose curls down her back. She felt out of place, but she had plans after she left the walls of Statesville.

She glanced up as the buzzer above head went off again, the barred door at the opposite side of the room sliding open. Marlowe slid out of her seat and stood with her hands folded in front of her as she watched the figure dressed in orange approach the on-duty guard to have restraints unlocked from his wrists and ankles.

It was a slim man, only a few inches taller than Marlowe with long, black curly hair falling slightly into his dark brown eyes. He was tanned and picked at his nails as the cuffs were pulled from his wrists and ankles, turning on the heel of his shoes to look around the room. It was not hard to point an awaiting Marlowe out from the others, a smile tugging at his lips.

They embraced tightly as soon as the two of them were close enough, the man giving Marlowe a tight squeeze. When the pair pulled away from one another, they settled across from one another at the metal table. Marlowe still held tightly onto his hand as they shared soft grins.

"Hey, Cody."

season five, episode three (part two)

published ── 08.02.20