Readers, greetings to all of you.
I just wanted to let you know that I've opened my Patreon to upload early-access chapters, since some of you had suggested it.To be honest, the financial support is a great motivator, especially because I have a few extra expenses right now. I thought it could benefit both sides: those who want more chapters or extra content can get them earlier, and I can dedicate more time and effort to writing.
That's why we're here.Right now, my Patreon already has five early chapters, with more being added every week.
I truly appreciate everyone who chooses to support me—and those who don't as well. Regular chapters will continue to be published as usual; Patreon chapters will simply be released faster.
Thank you all for reading, and here's the link.
https://patreon.com/TemporalPhantom
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Ethan woke up late that morning.
Gray light filtered through the blinds, casting uneven lines across the walls of the house. He sat on the edge of the bed for a few seconds, hair tousled, his mind still caught somewhere between sleep and the memories of the night before.
Erin was already gone.
She had left early for her apartment; she didn't want anyone to see them arriving at work together. It was an unspoken rule between them, a necessary precaution, because even though the department didn't forbid relationships, they had to be reported in writing.
And they wouldn't be allowed to work on the same team. Neither of them was willing to leave, so what they had would inevitably become an open secret.
Ethan ran a hand over his face and exhaled slowly.
Then he noticed it.
On the chair, Erin's sweater, half-folded, the one she had left a couple of days ago. On the nightstand, her watch, forgotten next to his gun. In the bathroom, a toothbrush that wasn't his.
Small things. Tiny details.
They almost always spent time at her place. Ethan knew that. Erin valued her space, the sense of control that came from being on her own territory. He had never complained; on the contrary, he had grown used to fitting into her routine, to moving within the limits she set.
But last night had been different.
Last night, Erin had wanted to stay with him.
He picked up the sweater, still holding a faint, familiar scent, and for a moment he allowed himself to smile.
Ethan put the sweater back where it was and glanced at the clock.
He was running late.
He showered quickly, letting the hot water wash away the last traces of sleep clinging to his body. Once dressed, he headed downstairs, tugging at his T-shirt, planning to make a quick coffee before leaving. He stopped short.
The coffee maker was on. The aroma already filled the air.
He stepped closer and then saw the small yellow note stuck to the carafe. A Post-it, written in Erin's unmistakable handwriting.
See you at the office, Richie Rich. Don't be late.
Ethan smiled, poured himself a cup, held the note between his fingers for a second, and shook his head, amused.
—Too late for that—he murmured.
Even so, his mind was already several steps ahead, running through tasks, calls, and loose ends he'd have to deal with before everything spun out of control.
He had asked Voight for a couple of days off. Nola was coming to visit, and he had already booked a cabin to go skiing with her. A quiet, remote place, snow as far as the eye could see.
When he finally pulled up to the curb in front of the precinct, he turned off the engine and took a deep breath, shifting into work mode.
Tap, tap.
A sharp knock echoed against the driver's side window.
Ethan turned his head, startled, and found a far-too-familiar silhouette smiling at him from outside.
—You should absolutely never do that again.
—So? How was last night?
Ruzek handed him a cappuccino, a curious look on his face.
—What are you talking about?
As he took the coffee, Ethan walked up the front steps alongside him.
—Come on. You know.
Ruzek nudged him in the shoulder and asked eagerly:
—No idea what you're talking about, Ruzek.
Ethan nodded. The coffee tasted good—strong, just right.
Who knew what Ruzek was thinking, his eyes full of a mix of envy and excitement he didn't bother to hide.
The night before, they had left separately. Odaffin and Alvin had turned in early, as they usually did, leaving the younger detectives to have a bit of fun. Ethan, for his part, had given Rollins a ride back to her hotel.
She had even tried to invite him up to her room.
Ethan had politely declined, even though the offer caught him off guard. Erin was waiting for him.
On any other day—and he knew this well—he probably would've accepted without thinking twice. The thought crossed his mind briefly and vanished just as fast.
God… he didn't entirely believe it himself.
—You're such a bastard!
Ethan smacked Ruzek lightly on the arm.
—Can't you pay a little more attention to your fiancée?
—Don't worry about that—Ruzek said cheerfully—. Our relationship is solid, and honestly, we don't mind if the other appreciates the opposite sex.
—An open relationship? I didn't know you were that brave.
Ethan stopped short and asked, surprised.
He had met Ruzek's fiancée once—Wendy. She looked sweet, the kind of girl you'd never imagine being into that sort of thing. Then again, people always say the sweetest ones are the wildest.
—Of course not… we just show appropriate appreciation for the opposite sex.
Ruzek's expression shifted, and he hurried to explain.
Footsteps echoed behind them, and the conversation came to an abrupt halt. Two patrol officers approached quickly. Burgess looked full of energy.
Atwater spoke first:
—Detective Morgan, if you need any help today, just let me know. I know the area around the crime scene pretty well.
Burgess had performed exceptionally well the day before and didn't want to fall behind. Ethan was one of the people closest to Sergeant Voight, so she wanted to impress him.
—Hey! We agreed we'd tell him together.
Burgess shoved him lightly.
—You just want to look good. You're jealous because I helped solve the serial killer case yesterday.
—I don't even know what you two are talking about—Ethan stopped and asked, confused—. Did something happen that I don't know about?
—They found a body by the lake this morning. Apparently, it's a major mafia figure—Burgess spoke first this time, quickly—. And we figured Intelligence would take the case, so whatever you need, you know where to find me.
After speaking, she tilted her head slightly. A soft smile spread across her face; she looked young, almost innocent, which only amplified the effect.
Ethan shrugged, as if he had nothing to hide.
—We don't know anything yet. But if I need something, you'll be the first person I call.
He and Ruzek exchanged a meaningful look before heading into the station.
—You're way too slick—Atwater muttered through clenched teeth—. You really pulled that move… playing cute with the detective.
Kim raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed.
—I am cute. That's called maximizing your advantages.
Burgess couldn't hold back her laughter. She stuck out her tongue shamelessly and ran up the stairs, still smiling.
As he stepped into the reception area, Ethan was about to head for the second floor.
—Ethan, wait a minute.
Platt called out to him quickly.
—Come take a photo. The district needs to update everyone's ID badge pictures.
She stood by the reception desk, fiddling with a camera.
A blue cloth hung on the nearby wall, serving as a backdrop.
—Did I really start just a few months ago and already need to change my photo?
Ethan looked confused as he walked toward her.
—Out. There's nothing for you here. Go on, upstairs!
Platt gestured at Ruzek.
After Ruzek left, she said with a smile:
—Originally, you wouldn't have needed this either, just like him. But since you changed your hairstyle… and by the way, it looks very good, I want to update your record.
Then she shrugged.
—I guess I don't really have a choice.
It was just a photo, nothing out of the ordinary. Following Platt's instructions, Ethan stepped into the marked spot. She studied him and didn't seem entirely satisfied, so she moved closer and helped him adjust his posture.
—All right, that's perfect.
Platt looked at the camera and continued reminding him:
—Chin a little higher, gaze a bit firmer.
After counting three seconds, she finally pressed the shutter with satisfaction.
Platt checked the screen and nodded, pleased.
—I'll retouch the photos later; the results will definitely be perfect.
—All right, thank you, Sergeant —Ethan said, not sounding concerned.
—Now it's your turn —Platt said, looking at Atwater and Burgess, who were standing outside the reception desk—. These are for the new ID photos. Shoo, hurry up.
Platt's earlier patience surprised Atwater; she seemed to be in a very good mood that day.
He quickly took off his jacket and tossed it to Burgess.
The old photos had been up for so long that it was time for something more striking. Atwater rubbed his hands together and stepped forward, excited.
Without needing any guidance, he automatically stood in the same spot as before and struck a powerful pose.
—Wait for my signal.
Platt placed her hand on the shutter.
—I'll count to three.
—All right.
Atwater quickly worked his facial muscles, trying to relax.
—Three.
Platt pressed the shutter immediately, and with a click, Atwater's image was captured.
—Are you serious, Sergeant? I wasn't ready!
Atwater froze on the spot.
—Don't worry. It's a great shot. You'll be satisfied.
Platt saw the grimace on Atwater's face reflected on the camera screen and smiled.
Atwater's expression grew even darker. He swallowed his frantic internal complaints and quickly stepped forward.
—Please, Sergeant, let me see it.
—There's no need to look. There won't be another shot.
Platt waved her hand dismissively.
Atwater felt like crying, but there were no tears left. Why was the treatment so different?
—Burgess, you're next. Let's go.
Ethan nodded toward her.
—Wait, Sergeant. I need to talk to Burgess about something. Could you wait a moment for her? Come with me.
Burgess, who had watched the entire process from the side, was already panicking; she didn't want a photo like that circulating for months.
When she heard Ethan call her, she immediately brightened.
—Yes, Detective, let's go!
Seeing that it was Ethan, Platt had to temporarily set aside her mischievous streak. She waved her hand and let Burgess go.
As Ethan and Burgess walked away, Atwater continued begging relentlessly. When they reached the stairs, he was still following a few steps behind.
Ethan turned his head, raised an eyebrow, and said:
—Why are you following me? Go get ready!
—Oh!
Burgess finally reacted and quickly stepped aside.
—Thank you!
Ethan shook his head and pressed the keypad.
Platt wasn't a bad person—just a bit mischievous. She enjoyed playing pranks and teasing the patrol officers under her command.
When they reached the bullpen, not everyone had arrived yet.
As soon as Ethan sat down, he saw Erin hurrying up the stairs, heading straight toward him.
—Have you seen Voight?
—No.
It was strange. Normally, Voight was in the sergeant's office every morning when Ethan arrived at the bullpen.
But not only yesterday—today as well, he wasn't there. Could it be another major case, maybe the man from the river? Ethan cast a questioning glance at the empty office.
—I've been calling him, but he's not answering his phone —Erin said, giving him a warning look before heading back downstairs, her expression worried.
A moment later, Voight appeared at the top of the stairs with several others following him. Expecting a major case, Ethan was surprised when Voight went straight into his office and shut the door.
The others returned to their desks as usual, busy with their work.
Only Erin still had a trace of worry etched between her brows.
Not long after, the door to the sergeant's office opened slightly and Voight motioned to him.
—Ethan, come in. Now.
As soon as he entered, Voight closed the door and pulled down the blinds.
In the ashtray beside the desk, a curl of smoke rose from a half-smoked cigarette.
—Sit down.
Voight shook a cigarette from the pack and offered it to him, then picked up the one he was already smoking and took a deep drag.
Seeing his solemn expression, Ethan lit his cigarette in silence. Voight pulled a small, disc-shaped device from a drawer. He flipped the switch, and a green light blinked.
—This is a little gift Phillips gave me. The FBI uses it to block short-range listening devices.
Voight exhaled heavily.
Then he pulled a file pouch from his jacket and took out several photographs.
—This man is Frank Fitori.
Voight tapped one of the photos, showing a middle-aged Caucasian man lying on the grass with a bullet hole in his forehead. He then moved to another image, where three or four Caucasian men were talking among themselves.
—This is Alessio Colo, the head of the Italian mob. Fitori was his former rival.
The man Voight pointed to stood in the center, holding a cup of coffee, his black hair thinning.
His finger slid to the man beside him.
—Joe Catalano.
Before Voight could continue, Ethan said the name of the long-faced man.
Voight looked at him, surprised.
—How do you know him?
—He's Alessio's nephew and his right-hand man.
—That's right.
Ethan flicked ash from his cigarette.
—Just two days ago, Erin asked me to go with her to warn him to stay away from Justin.
—Erin…
Voight shook his head with a bitter smile.
—She must have told you about Justin and the deal I made with his uncle.
—She did —Ethan nodded.
—These photos were given to me by Internal Affairs. Franco Fitori's body was found by the lake this morning.
Then Voight took out his phone and started playing music.
Only when the noise filled the office did he lower his voice:
—Internal Affairs wants me to find the killer. They seem to have a particular interest in this.
Ethan recalled what Burgess had said earlier; without a doubt, this was the body they had found.
Finding the killer wasn't a problem for them—not enough to make Voight this cautious.
—They believe it was Alessio's people who carried out the execution. He's the primary suspect.
Voight's finger struck the image of Catalano's long face, his eyes filled with anger.
—But I'm sure it was Catalano who did it.
—How can you be so sure? —Ethan asked.
—I just went to see him —Voight said, his jaw tight—. He even told me that Justin pulled the trigger.
—What the hell?
Ethan looked stunned.
—Are you sure?
—Yes —Voight replied, looking away with a pained expression—. Erin came to see me earlier and said she found Justin this morning in his apartment. His hands were covered in blood.
—He only told Erin he'd gotten into a bar fight. But this confirms what Catalano said: Justin really is involved.
—What do you want to do? —Ethan asked bluntly.
—First, only you and I know about this for now —Voight exhaled slowly—. As for Erin, I'll see how things develop. After that, I need to investigate how deeply Justin was involved.
—And finally —Voight fixed him with a steady look—, I'll be under very close scrutiny from Internal Affairs on this case. There are certain things I don't want to do until the very last step. But if it really comes to that, I'll need your help.
Ethan adjusted his jacket lapel to cover his badge and nodded in silence.
Smoke filled the office, fracturing the sunlight.