Chicago PD: Hank Voight's Forbidden Love

Chapter 14

       The members of the Intelligence Team stood in the hospital hallway just outside Delores Young's room in the Intensive Care Unit.  Amazingly she had pulled through the surgery although she was still in very bad shape.  The doctors cautioned Sgt. Voight that she wasn't out of the woods yet, but her condition had stabilized,  and the next 24 hours would give them a better idea of her prognosis.
           "Can she talk?" Voight asked the surgeon when he finally came out of Delores' room.
            "Just barely.  Her vocal cords were injured, but fortunately her assailant didn't cut deeply enough to do any permanent, more severe damage.
She can speak but barely above a whisper," continued the surgeon, "and she definitely wants to talk to the you, to the police.  She believes God spared her for that very reason."
           "Can we go in now?" asked Voight.
           "Yes,," replied the surgeon, "but please keep it as short as possible.  And be prepared.  This guy did a number on her.  I've seen my share of assault victims during my career, but this is by far the worst.  How she survived and even managed to get to safety is nothing short of a miracle.  With her injuries, she should be lying on a slab in the morgue right now."
           "Maybe she's right, said Atwater.  "Maybe there was divine intervention so that we can catch this bastard freak."
          Voight turned to his two female detectives, Kim Burgess and Hailey Upton:
          "You two go in and talk to her.  She may feel more comfortable describing her ordeal to female officers.  The rest of us will wait out here."
          "Okay, Sergeant," replied Upton and Burgess.  Give us a few minutes.  The two female officers then walked into Delores Young's room and closed the door behind them.
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         Although forewarned by the surgeon, Detectives Upton and Burgess were not prepared for the sight that beheld them.  Delores Young was bandaged from head to foot, like a mummy, and black and blue bruises covered those parts of her skin that were not covered with gauze or bandages.  Both of her arms and legs were in traction, and she was hooked up to several intravenous devices that were pumping the necessary medicines, fluids, pain medication, and nutrition into her badly dehydrated and damaged body.  Her eyes were mere slits, but the detectives could tell she saw them as they entered the room.  She even attempted to smile but that simple movement proved to be too painful.
        "Miss Young, I'm Detective Upton, and this is Detective Burgess.  We're with the Intelligence Unit of the Chicago Police Department.  We don't want you to talk any more than you absolutely have to.  First of all, I am so sorry that this has happened to you," she said sympathetically. 
          Delores couldn't speak above a whisper but she was determined to talk.  The detectives pulled chairs close to the bed and sat down.  As Delores began to speak they leaned in so close to her that their faces almost touched.
          "I want to tell you what happened," Delores whispered.  "I — I don't want him to do this to anyone else."
           "And neither do we, Miss Young," said Detective Burgess.  "But if at any time it becomes too
difficult to speak, please let us know, and we'll stop immediately.  Okay?" Delores nodded.  After a minute passed, she slowly but with great deliberation began to narrate the details of her horrific attack.
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        An hour later the two detectives emerged from the room, and the rest of the team members, including Voight, formed a circle around them to hear what they had to stay.
            "That is by far the strongest, bravest woman I have ever met," said Burgess shaking her head in wonderment and awe.
          "I agree.  It was definitely Walker," said Upton.  "Delores had gone to the Domestic Relations Court at 13th and Michigan to get an order of protection against her husband, which for whatever reason the judge denied.  So she was out in the hallway crying when this man — whom she positively identified as Clarence Walker — approached her and asked her what was wrong."
        "Didn't she recognize him from the newspapers and television?  His picture has been everywhere," asked Detective Halstead.
         "No, not at all," said Detective Burgess.  "According to her he was dressed in a dark suit and tie, carrying a black briefcase and looking every bit the lawyer."
         "Well, now we know why he bought that suit and everything else on Alice Boyd's credit card," interjected Sgt. Voight.  "He's passing himself off as a lawyer.
            "He told Delores he was an attorney,"continued Upton, "and that he was friends with a judge who sat up in the Skokie Courthouse who would probably give her an order of protection."
         "So she just hopped into a car with a total stranger?" asked Detective Atwater, incredulous.
          "She was desperate, Kevin," said Burgess.  "But beyond that she said he was very nice, really  charming, and seemed genuinely concerned about her situation.  So yes, she took this giant leap of faith and went with him.  In retrospect, she knows it was the worst possible thing she could've done, but in that moment she believed there were no other options."
         "What about the car he was driving?"
           "All she could say was that it was a black sedan.  No make or model, no license plate number, nothing."
            "Probably stolen," said Detective Ruzek.
             "So we got nothin'?" said Voight, disappointed that the victim wasn't able to provide more information that could lead them to Walker's whereabouts.
           "Well, here's the thing," said Upton.  "He gave her a business card when she asked him his name.  She said the name on the card was Michael Nashton, Attorney at Law."
              A momentary hush fell over the group of detectives as they looked at one another. Voight was the first to speak: :
            "He's pretending to be Mike now?"
           "Apparently," said Burgess.  "Since his picture is everywhere, he probably figures people won't recognize him if he's dressed like that and will just see the suit and tie.  And it certainly worked in Delores Young's case.  She didn't realize who he was until the attack started.  But of course by then it was too late."
         Voight began  slowly pacing down the hall, deep in thought as he tried to figure out Walker's next move.  Finally he said,
             "Okay.  So I'm guessing he figures people won't recognize him in his new attire and will more than likely respond more favorably to a man dressed in a suit and tie rather than in jeans and a hoodie."
            "Or maybe he's starting to decompensate," said Detective Atwater.  "He feels the walls starting  to close in on him, and he's throwing caution to the wind so to speak.  Maybe he's having some kind of psychotic break and thinks he's actually Mike now.  I don't know.  With this guy anything's possible."
         "Wait, what did you say?" asked Voight, the unmistakable sound of panic beginning to rise in his voice.
        "Maybe he thinks he's Mike," repeated Atwater. 
          The entire team froze as the horror of a possibility began to germinate in their collective minds."
        "Sarge, you don't think Walker's headed over to the Nashton house, do you?" asked Detective Halstead.
         Without answering his detective, Voight immediately pulled out his cell phone and contacted Dispatch to send a unit over to the Nashton home to do a well-being check and sit on it until he and his team arrived. 
           "Right now this fuck is capable of doin' anything," he spattered.  "I'm calling over there now!" he said trying to control the rising panic, praying he was overreacting and that Walker was on his way to Florida or some place else.  But just as he started to click on  Elena's number a call came in from Trudy Platt.  He took the call.
        "Yeah, Trudy, what's up?"
           "Hank, we've been monitoring Alice Boyd's phone, and a call just came in from the phone she gave Walker.  Hank," she continued,  "they just tracked the call.  It's coming from 47th and Woodlawn!  He's at the Nashton home right now!!"
          "Oh, my dear God!" moaned Voight.  He felt his knees get weak and thought for a moment he was going to collapse.  Miraculously and through sheer will  he remained standing. 
             "Sarge, what's happened?" everyone asked, knowing it was bad, whatever it was.
           "Walker's at the Nashton house right now," he screamed as he began to run down the hall towards the elevators.  The rest of the team followed closely behind him.
           "Trudy," Voight yelled into the phone, "send all units over there!!  NOW!"
             ""Already have, Hank.  All units are enroute, including the University of Chicago Police," she yelled back.
            When they were in the elevator Voight called Elena's number.
             "Please don't let this be happening again," he thought.  He was certain if anything happened to that young girl to whom he had grown completely attached, he wouldn't be able to take it.  Not this time.  There was a limit to what any human being can endure, and he had definitely reached his.  First his father, then his wife, then his son,  then his best friend, and then of course Mike.  Another loss would break him for sure.  And yes, Elena was as dear to him now as if she were his own flesh and blood.  He probably hadn't even realized it until that very moment.  "My little man's woman," he thought, almost smiling as he remembered their conversation that day in the squad room lounge when she explained to him why all of her friends were boys.  It was hard to believe that was just a couple of days ago.  But right now he had to remain focused and get to her before Clarence Walker did.  Time and distance were not in his favor.
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