At seven the next morning, Jack Stacy and Catherine Hayek climbed the stairs to the Intelligence Unit dressed in civilian clothes.
Hank Voight had temporarily reassigned them the night before, and unlike patrol officers, Intelligence detectives didn’t spend their days working in uniform.
The smell of fresh coffee filled the office as they reached the top of the stairs.
Four people inside looked toward them at once, their expressions carrying curiosity, scrutiny, and a trace of gratitude after what had happened during the Diaz operation.
Antonio Dawson stood first.
He crossed the room, pulled Jack into a brief hug, then shook Catherine’s hand.
“Thanks for yesterday.
If you two hadn’t stepped in, Jules and I might not have made it out.”
“We were there when you needed backup,” Jack replied, treating it as nothing special.
Even so, he immediately noticed that Antonio looked exhausted.
His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw remained tight, and there was an edge of agitation in every movement.
A blonde woman stepped forward next.
“Erin Lindsay.
Welcome to Intelligence.”
“Jay Halstead.” The young detective gave them a nod.
Jack remembered him from the previous day, and Catherine already knew he had served as an Army Ranger before joining CPD.
From a desk near the corner, an older man with thinning gray hair looked over.
“Al Olinsky.” He leaned back slightly in his chair.
“Al is fine.”
“I’m Catherine Hayek, and this is my partner, Jack Stacy,” Catherine replied calmly.
Before the introductions could continue, Sergeant Hank Voight emerged from his office holding a photograph.
“Everybody sit down.
We don’t have time for a meet-and-greet.”
The room immediately became serious.
Jack and Catherine found an empty spot while Antonio remained near the front with his arms folded tightly.
Hank pinned several photographs onto the whiteboard: Adlerus Diaz, two of Diaz’s known hitmen named Omar Rojas and Ernesto Mipas, and finally a photograph of a teenage boy.
Antonio’s son, Diego Dawson.
Hank faced the room.
“Here’s what we have.
Around eleven last night, Diego disappeared while walking home from a friend’s house.
At first there was nothing connecting it to Diaz.
Then, about an hour ago, Antonio got this.”
He pressed a button, and a recorded male voice came through the speakers.
“Detective Dawson, your son is with us.
He is safe for now.
Bring Mr.
Diaz to the old baseball field at West Garfield Park at exactly noon.
Come alone.
If you bring police or try anything, you will never see your son again.”
The recording ended.
Silence filled the office.
“Voice analysis says that’s Omar Rojas,” Hank continued.
“He’s one of Diaz’s most trusted killers.
Ernesto Mipas is working with him, and he’s just as dangerous.”
Antonio suddenly pushed away from the desk.
“Hank, I can’t—”
“Sit down, Antonio.” Hank’s voice was lower than usual.
“We’re bringing Diego home, but we are not giving them Diaz.
He’s scheduled for federal transfer this afternoon.
Jules almost died putting him in cuffs, and if we release him, everyone involved in taking him down becomes a target.”
Antonio stared at the floor for a moment before slowly sitting again.
Al rubbed his temple.
“So what’s the play?”
“We make them think we’re cooperating,” Hank answered.
“Antonio goes to the baseball field like they asked.
We set surveillance around the area, SWAT stays out of sight, and snipers cover the approaches.
If Omar or Ernesto shows himself, we take him.”
Catherine frowned.
“That’s risky.”
Every eye turned toward her.
She straightened slightly.
“If they see anything they don’t like, Diego pays for it.
They already know they’re dealing with police.”
Hank didn’t take offense.
“You have another idea?”
Jack had been thinking through the demand since the recording ended.
“The baseball field probably isn’t the real exchange point.”
Hank looked at him.
“Explain.”
“They tell Antonio to go there at noon, then change the location after he arrives.
That lets them see whether he came alone, whether anyone followed him, and whether police are already waiting nearby.
If we build the whole operation around the baseball field and they detect it, Diego could be in danger before we ever see him.”
Hank studied Jack for several seconds.
“Keep going.”
“We need to find Omar, Ernesto, or Diego before noon.
If we locate where they’re holding him, the exchange stops mattering.”
Jay shook his head.
“Their phones have been dark since last night.
No active signal.”
“They still have to turn them on eventually,” Catherine said.
“To call Antonio, coordinate with each other, or move the exchange.
If Tech catches the signal quickly enough, we might get a location.”
“Tech is already watching every number connected to them,” Hank said.
“But we need something else.” He turned toward Antonio.
“Anything unusual before Diego disappeared?”
Antonio thought for a moment.
“Yesterday afternoon he said someone had been following him after school.
I thought it was some stupid teenage thing.” His expression tightened.
“I should’ve listened.”
“Where exactly did he disappear?” Jack asked.
“63rd and California.
About three blocks from my house.”
Jack immediately looked toward Hank.
“Pull traffic cameras from the intersection and anything around Diego’s school.
If the same vehicle followed him earlier and picked him up later, we should be able to identify it.
Then we trace where it went.”
Hank turned toward Erin.
“You and Jay.
Get the footage.”
Both detectives immediately left.
Hank continued assigning jobs.
“Al, set up around the baseball field, but stay invisible.
Antonio, you go like they asked.
We’ll put a tracker and hidden camera in your vehicle.
Catherine, Jack, you two check every known Diaz safe house where they could keep a hostage.”
Everyone moved.
Around eight-thirty, Erin hurried back into the office carrying a laptop.
“We found something.”
She placed the computer on the table.
“At 10:47 last night, a black Dodge Caravan stopped near the intersection.
Two men grabbed Diego and forced him into the back seat.
Plate was covered, but there’s a noticeable red scrape on the front-right bumper.”
She switched to another image.
“The same van was near Diego’s school earlier in the day.
We can’t get a clear face, but one of the men has Omar’s build.”
Hank stared at the screen.
“Black Dodge Caravan, red damage on the front-right bumper.
Put it out to every patrol unit.”
He looked toward Erin and Jay.
“Go back through traffic cameras and track where that van went.”
“Got it.”
At nine, Jack and Catherine were driving through Chicago in an unmarked white Chevrolet Malibu.
Hank had already sent them the van description and Diaz’s list of known properties.
“You actually think we’ll find it?” Catherine asked while checking parked vehicles along the street.
“If they’re still on the South Side, we have a chance.” Jack studied the map and the locations connected to Diaz.
“They need somewhere secure enough to hold Diego, but they also have to reach West Garfield Park quickly if they’re serious about the exchange.”
His eyes stopped on one location.
“Here.”
Catherine glanced toward him.
“The Polk Hotel on 45th Street.”
“What makes you think that one?”
“It’s in Diaz’s territory, close enough to the baseball field, but not right beside it.” Jack tapped the map.
“And it gives them an easy escape route.
If things go bad, they can reach transit fast and disappear into a crowd before we lock anything down.”
Catherine immediately turned the Malibu around.
A short time later, they reached the 45th Street block and parked far enough away not to attract attention.
Jack and Catherine got out and walked toward the hotel while pretending to be a couple, staying close together as they casually examined the vehicles along the curb.
Catherine suddenly tightened her grip on Jack’s arm.
“Front right.”
Jack followed her gaze.
A black Dodge Caravan sat near the hotel.
A red scrape marked the front-right bumper.
Jack pointed toward a convenience store behind the van and slipped into their cover without hesitation.
“Honey, let’s grab something first.
We can go upstairs afterward.”
Catherine immediately understood.
She leaned against his arm as they walked past the Caravan at a relaxed pace.
“The plates are different,” she whispered once they were close enough.
“But the model and damage match.
Looks like someone washed it recently.”
“See anyone inside?”
“No.
Diego isn’t in the vehicle.”
They entered the convenience store and moved toward the window where they could watch the hotel without standing out.
Catherine quietly keyed her radio to report the van.
Jack suddenly touched her arm.
“Wait.”
She followed his gaze.
“Third floor.
Far-right window.”
The curtains moved slightly.
A shadow passed behind them.
Several seconds later, someone pulled the curtain open just enough to look outside.
Jack immediately recognized the face from Hank’s board.
Ernesto Mipas.
“Target confirmed,” Jack whispered.
“Ernesto is inside.
No sign of Omar or Diego.”
Catherine pressed her radio.
“Hayek to Intelligence.
Suspected kidnapping vehicle located at the Polk Hotel on 45th.
Ernesto Mipas visually confirmed in room 307 on the third floor.
No visual on Omar Rojas or Diego Dawson.
Requesting backup.”
Hank answered almost immediately.
“All units move toward the Polk Hotel.
Intelligence is five minutes out.
Hayek, maintain surveillance.
Do not approach.”
“Copy.”
Jack and Catherine remained inside the convenience store and watched.
A few minutes later, the curtain in room 307 moved again.
Ernesto appeared near the window with a phone pressed to his ear.
Even from across the street, his movements looked tense.
Then he abruptly ended the call.
Jack’s expression changed.
Ernesto turned away from the window and began hurriedly packing his belongings.