Chapter Text
The Great Hall of Chicago Union Station was as busy as it got on a Friday morning. Commuters rushed through the crowd to catch their trains to get work on time, while travelers wandered around, searching for their platforms or browsed the display of the cafes to grab some snacks to pass the time.
Some people stood in long lines for tickets, frowning at anyone who dared to squeeze past them. Lucy was glad, now, more than ever that she always booked her tickets online. She firmly believed in planning ahead, and couldn’t for the life of her, understand why would anyone willingly subject themselves to the horrors of waiting. Travelling was stressful enough as it was. Her arm was aching from maneuvering through the crowd with her bag, her purse dug into her shoulder, pulling on her brown locks where they stuck under the straps. She already felt annoyed and overstimulated and she wasn’t even on her train yet.
“Excuse me!”
She clenched her jaw and navigated the crowd, dragging the pink suitcase - borrowed from a friend and decidedly not her style - with as much patience as she could muster. The middle-aged man who she wanted to pass by took one displeased look at her and moved just enough for her to slip through. Not her suitcase though, so she strengthened her grip on its handle and pulled it over the man’s foot.
“Hey!”
Lucy held her purse closer to her side, like some sort of shield, and kept walking without looking back. The man would never leave this line, and she needed to find her train as soon as possible. She checked her phone: a bit past nine fifty. Her stomach dropped, and she quickened her pace. Lucy had planned to get to the station much earlier, but a last-minute call from her source had delayed her. It hadn’t been useful either. Just another confirmation that the so-called witness had been too drunk to remember anything, which did nothing to help her article.
She pulled up her ticket and rushed in the direction she thought her gate might be. Her gaze flicked upward as she walked, stealing glances at the structure around her and the way the morning light filtered in from above.
The hall was beautiful, all high ceilings and skylights. She’d wanted an hour to take it in before her train to New York, but that pointless call had ruined the plan. It was her first time in Chicago, and she’d barely done anything but work. If chasing witnesses and bribing cops with snacks even counted as work. Getting information out of New York cops was hard enough as an outsider; here, it was worse.
Working cases like the one that brought her to Chicago always felt more frustrating than rewarding. Still, quitting wasn’t an option. The number of bodies in New York kept growing, and the time between them kept shrinking. One two years ago, then three the next, four more by spring. It felt like the police were doing nothing. Without her sources, she wouldn’t have even known about most of them.
Each body had the same three short cuts on the cheek. The victims varied in age and gender, all found in random alleyways. Only recently had the police started calling it a serial murder case, despite the obvious pattern. Lucy could almost forgive that - New York had too many murders to count - but keeping it from the public was something else entirely.
And now, there was one in Chicago too. If her friend at the morgue hadn’t tipped her off, she’d have missed it. She didn’t like the feeling of leaving without answers, but the train wouldn’t wait.
She found the right platform, breath ragged, pulse quick. Finally! Two minutes before departure.
She wasn’t looking forward to the next 20 hours she had to spend there. Still, she had no right to complain, since The Urban Factfinder, the online news outlet she worked for, agreed to cover her expenses. She wondered if requesting a plane ticket next time would be pushing her luck.
With her bag dragging behind her, Lucy climbed up the first door she reached. If she had more time, she’d have walked further down the platform to avoid witnessing how much more comfortable the business class seats were. There weren’t even enough people to fill them. Couldn’t they just let her have one of those seats with extra legroom?
Walking down the aisle, Lucy tried to hide her jealousy while observing the passengers. Was it really that much more expensive than coach? Couldn’t they just book her there?
Her thoughts came to an abrupt stop as she almost ran into the wall in front of her.
Except it wasn’t a wall; it was a man. Quite tall at that.
“Excuse m- Detective Bradford?!” She froze and gaped at the man in front of her not believing her own eyes.
“Chen.”
If detective Tim Bradford was surprised to see her there, he didn’t show it. He gave her a nod and finished putting his bag up into the storage above the seats.
“What are you doing here?!”
“Traveling.”
“On this train? Why?!”
Lucy had more than a few run-ins with Detective Bradford throughout her career as an investigative journalist, and none of them were exactly pleasant. Any time she would arrive at a scene, or tried to find out more about a certain case the man took it upon himself to make her job harder. He blocked her way, held back key information, and sometimes even fed her false material, wasting her time.
"You're acting like I barged into your living room. I have every right to be on this train too." He ran a hand through his short brown hair, his usual blank expression firmly in place as he sat down.
He did not have the right to have extended legroom in Lucy’s opinion. She guessed he needed it more than her though, considering how much taller he was. He did not have the right to be that tall either.
He seemed to blend in effortlessly with the business class crew, which only fueled her frustration. Clad in black jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that appeared as though they were tailored to perfection, his every move exuded an effortless confidence.
“I know that,” she rolled her eyes, “I’m just shocked I ran into you here… wait a minute!” Her eyes grew wide and the detective’s stare became alarmed as he looked back at her. “Detective, are you here to investigate the murder?” She lowered her voice barely mouthing the last word to him but it didn’t matter.
He stood from his chair, and leaned so close she had to force herself not to take a step back.
“Lower your voice!” His words came out in a rushed whisper, sharp blue eyes piercing through her. “And stop calling me 'detective'! You’re going to freak people out for no reason.”
She scoffed and straightened up. “I was keeping my voice down!” She whispered back between her teeth. “And I’m not freaking people out, there’s barely anyone here.” It was true, the car only had a few more people in it, and most of them were sitting a few rows away. “So?”
Detective Bradford glared at her for a moment longer before finally sitting back down. Lucy was relieved. It had been increasingly difficult to keep her composure with him invading her space like that. He was usually distant and measured with most people including her. She preferred it that way, she realized, pushing aside the crisp scent of his aftershave lingering in her nose.
“So why are you here?” She repeated. She hated his habit of ignoring her questions. If they were there for the same reason she needed to know.
The detective stared at her for a moment before answering in his usual measured tone. “Visiting family.”
“I didn’t know you had family here.”
An unspoken 'obviously' was evident in the glint of his gaze as he held hers. “And what are you doing here?”
Lucy shrugged and smiled at him. “Visiting family.” She didn’t care if she was petty, the look on his face was worth it.
“You should stop.”
“Stop visiting my family?” She asked with fake disbelief.
“Stop investigating this case.”
“Oh, so there’s a case here?”
She wasn’t able to enjoy her moment for too long. The detective shot up from his chair again and took her elbow with one of his hands, making her drop the handle of her suitcase in surprise as he maneuvered her forward on the aisle to step behind her.
“What the f- “
“You’re holding up the line. Get going. I’ll walk you to your seat.” He released her elbow and gestured towards the next car with his head.
Lucy glared at him, trying to ignore the tingling sensation his touch left behind on her skin. “There’s literally no one behind me!”
“I am behind you now.”
“I think this classifies as abuse of power. Or we could even call it police brutality.”
“Then we could call this public disturbance, which I can arrest you for.” He said in a deadpan voice.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
“Fine!” Lucy said curtly, “Get out of my way, I need my bag!” She pointed at her pink suitcase behind him on the aisle.
Instead of stepping aside he grabbed the handle of her bag. “I’ll bring it for you.”
“There’s no need for that, thank you.”
Detective Bradford just kept looking at her with his usual blank face until she finally turned around and started walking on the aisle again. He just had to have the last word. Lucy would have never admitted it out loud, but he ended up winning most of their clashes with his stoic demeanor, while she cursed in frustration and stormed away to have a tantrum in the privacy of her home.
Lucy clenched her hand around the straps of her purse tightly, trying to slow her racing heart. Who did he think he was? Arresting her? It wasn’t even his jurisdiction! She had every right to sue his ass for harassment… Maybe she would, that would show him!
A little boy, playing with his phone, suddenly leaned over his armrest into the aisle, forcing her to stop short and causing the detective to bump into her back.
“Careful.” He murmured, stepping back.
“It wasn’t my fault!” she snapped back. “Maybe arrest him for holding up the line!” She felt a blush creep up her neck and was glad he couldn’t see her face. She wasn’t used to this kind of closeness from him.
He didn’t say anything, but she could have sworn she heard a quiet snort behind her.
The train lurched forward beneath her feet, slowly leaving the station and beginning its journey toward the first stop. They moved through the cars in silence, and she tried to ignore his presence behind her. Had he always been this close? She hoped her hair looked decent from the back… Why did she even care? It didn’t matter. Eventually, she reached up to fix it anyway.
It felt like an eternity before they finally made it to the door of her car.
She turned on her heels to grab the handle of her suitcase but he pulled it away. “This is my car,” she pointed at the number on the door, “You can go now, Detective.”
“Tim.”
“Huh?”
“Tim.” He repeated. “I told you to stop calling me detective here.”
Lucy swallowed suddenly feeling awkward. “Alright… Tim.”
She wasn’t sure if she imagined it or not, but he suddenly looked just as awkward as she felt. The absurdity of the situation dawned on her. Him, in his trademark dark outfit, holding the handle of her baby pink suitcase, while she stood there gripping her purse and looking everywhere but at him. Why did it feel like saying his name was something intimate? Was it?
Tim cleared his throat and nodded towards the door. “I’ll walk you to your seat.”
Lucy decided the sooner this awkward situation ended, the better, so for once she didn’t argue. She opened the door of the next car and started looking for her seat.
Fortunately, it didn’t take too long to find it. Her seat was in a four-seat arrangement with a small table in the middle, near the door. An old lady occupied one of the four seats with her small bag next to her. She sat in an aisle seat, facing backward, and seemed completely absorbed in her phone.
Two young women sat near the center of the train car, huddled over a tablet, seemingly engaged in a conversation about its contents. Their hushed voices were barely audible amidst the noise of the station drifting in through the open window next to them. An older man sat further down, reading a newspaper, while the rest of the car remained relatively empty.
“Alright, this is my seat,” Lucy pointed at the seat by the window.
“Thanks for bringing my stuff, you can go now.”
“Do you want me to put your bag up above your head?”
“No, I’ll just put it up later.”
Tim lifted her suitcase and placed it into the storage compartment above their seats.
“Following instructions is not your strongest point.”
Tim ignored her comment. “If you need help taking it down later you can ask me. It’s quite heavy.”
Lucy took a big breath and exhaled slowly, her lips pursed in annoyance. She resisted the urge to launch into a monologue about how she managed to travel to Chicago alone with the same suitcase and that she was perfectly capable of doing the same on her way back home. She also couldn't help but notice the curious gaze of the elderly woman. Apparently, their interaction was more intriguing than her phone.
“I’ll do that, thanks.” She said finally, sliding into the seat by the window. She threw her purse to the seat next to her.
Judging by the look on his face, he didn’t believe her for a second. “Alright, I’ll head back then.”
Lucy waited until he left the car before leaning back in her seat with a sigh. The Chicago air changed nothing about this man’s behavior. Despite him standing in her way when it came to the cases they both worked on, he was always overly polite and attentive. Threatening to arrest her if she didn’t leave a particular scene, while calling her a cab and holding an umbrella above her head in the rain at the same time.
“What a handsome young man that was.”
She looked up to the old lady sitting diagonally across from her. She was squinting at Lucy with sparkling blue eyes above her golden-framed glasses, wearing a playful smile. The woman looked polished and stylish. Her clothes seemed expensive but not flashy, her makeup was subtle yet flattering and her hair was pulled into a neat low bun on her head. Everything about her screamed that she belonged straight to business class with Tim.
Lucy felt her cheeks heat up. “Don’t say that to him, it might get into his head.”
The lady let out a soft giggle and extended one neatly manicured hand. “Margaret.”
“Lucy.” She took it briefly, returning the gesture. Her eyes immediately caught the elegant golden watch with its dark green dial. “Your watch is beautiful,” she said.
Margaret smiled and touched the watch with her other hand looking at it fondly. “Thank you, dear. It was a gift from my late husband.”
Margaret smiled and touched the watch with her other hand, looking at it fondly. “Thank you, dear. It was a gift from my late husband.”
“He had great taste,” And a lot of money, Lucy thought, observing the watch closely. It looked very expensive. “I’ve never seen anything like this one before.”
“He custom made it for me. You know, my wrist is rather sensitive, and most watches aren’t comfortable for me to wear for long.”
“That’s very considerate of him.” Lucy always had a special place in her heart for old couples who still cared for each other after so many years together. She suddenly felt sadness over a man’s passing she didn’t even know.
Margaret didn’t look sad though, she was still looking at her watch with a small smile.
Lucy reached for her bag to pull out her laptop and charger. She had at least twenty hours until she reached New York, she might as well get some work done.
“Are you travelling for work?” Margaret asked after a while looking at her laptop.
“Yes, well kind of. I had some work to do in Chicago and now I’m heading back home to New York.”
“What kind of work?”
Margaret seemed like the talkative type and Lucy started to make peace with the idea that she wouldn’t get as much work done as she planned.
“I’m a journalist.” She didn’t want to disclose any more than that, people tended to ask a bit too many questions once they found out about the type of articles she wrote.
Margaret’s eyes lit up a bit hearing her answer. “You’re a writer? How interesting! You know, I always wanted to write a novel, but I just never got the right time to start it. Maybe when I get back home this time.”
“Were you visiting family?”
Margaret shook her head and looked out the window for a few moments before answering. The weather was nice and sunny outside, giving the scenery a bright atmosphere as they ran past it. Lucy admired the view as well. The only part of the train ride she really liked was seeing the countryside with its green hills, blossoming flowers, and cozy towns surrounding them. She spent way too much time in a concrete jungle day by day, so it was refreshing to her eyes.
“My husband used to work in Chicago for a while. I used to visit him on weekends and he would take this long train ride with me back home to spend more time together. Then he just took the train back alone,” She giggled to herself seemingly reflecting on how foolish that was. “We didn’t have money for plane tickets at the time so that’s why. I enjoyed those rides, though, so I didn’t mind. We talked a lot, and the view is just beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It really is.” Lucy agreed.
“I decided I wanted to experience this route at least once more, you know? I’m in my eighties; I have to do these things while I still can.”
Lucy just nodded. Here it was again. The heart-wrenching feeling she experienced whenever she thought about elderly people and their lives. She blinked fast. It would be ridiculous to cry just because someone was old and maybe even offensive. It was admirable that the old lady was enjoying this ride alone at her age.
“Why didn’t you book one of the sleeping cars? It would be much more comfortable than travelling coach.” She asked, thinking about yet again, how much more spacious the business class leg rooms were. A sleeper car would be a dream.
“I wanted to experience this ride the same way. While now I could afford booking a sleeping car, I couldn’t back then. It wouldn’t be the same.”
Lucy understood and suddenly felt a bit guilty for dreaming about a sleeping car despite her young age. If Margaret was fine travelling coach for twenty hours she would be too. She knew her back would be killing her the next day after spending the night in those chairs though…
*
Lucy stretched her arms above her head and suppressed a yawn. She’d been working for the past two hours and her shoulders started to feel a bit tight. Despite her efforts, her article didn’t reflect the amount of work she had put into writing it. It lacked crucial information to provide a full picture, but if she could at least publish something about the topic, it might grab people’s attention. Even if she couldn’t tell them anything useful about the killer, she could at least warn the public about their existence.
She thought about the three lines on the victims' faces. They had to mean something.
She was able to read some of the reports, and they all seemed to mention missing items as well. That part was less weird; serial killers often collected items from their victims to keep them as trophies. Just thinking about it sent chills down her spine. However, she couldn’t find out what the Chicago victim was missing. He was a middle-aged man who had been murdered on his way home from work, stabbed discarded in an alleyway, to be discovered by some unfortunate soul hours later. The unmistakable three lines clearly visible on his face.
“Are you hungry, dear? Should we check out the dining car?” Margaret asked, already grabbing her purse.
Lucy blinked at her, waking up from her deep thoughts. “I brought sandwiches.”
Margaret just made a dismissive gesture and made a face while standing up. “Save them for later. If you’re spending such a long time on a train, you should take the opportunity to stand up and walk around a bit at least.”
Seeing that the decision was seemingly already made, Lucy stood up too and picked up her purse to follow Margaret to the dining car. Of course, it was closer to Business Class than coach.
By the time they arrived, there were quite a few people in the dining car. A host greeted them by the door and they got seated at one of the empty tables. Lucy felt like they had just entered a proper restaurant instead of a train car. The tables were neatly set with white tablecloth and elegant silverware, there were flowers and a small candle on each one of them and some light music played in the background. She had never even thought about entering there on her way to Chicago. She was just fine with her sandwiches and snacks on the road but she had to admit the place had a certain feel to it.
She looked around in her seat, observing the people near them. Two businessmen in suits, eating salmon with rice, sat at a nearby table, reading some documents. A young woman and her daughter were asking about desserts behind Margaret. A man with short brown hair stood by the counter, probably settling his bill.
A waiter arrived at their table to take their order. Lucy ordered carbonara while Margaret decided on the chicken wraps.
“Someone’s been staring at you for a while now.” Margaret said with a secretive smile.
Lucy turned around towards the direction she was nodding with her chin. Tim was sitting at a table alone, looking at his phone in front of an already empty plate. Just when Lucy wanted to turn back around, he lifted his eyes from his screen and looked straight at her. Great, now it looked like she was the one staring at him.
Now what?
She lifted a hand and gave him an awkward wave and he raised an eyebrow in return.
Why did she wave?!
She quickly turned back around. It seemed like Margaret had a hard time hiding her amusement.
“Why did you wave?” She whispered, grinning.
“I don’t know!”
Their waiter came back with the food, and Lucy was relieved she had something else to focus on. Just because she met detective Bradford - or Tim - outside of a crime scene on New York’s streets it didn’t mean she needed to act differently around him.
Tim walked past their table towards the counter and Lucy felt herself tense up. She wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved that he didn’t say anything to her. They would’ve just argued anyways, like always.
Lucy watched his back as he paid, looking at the way the material hugged his wide shoulders. She wasn’t blind; she was well aware of his attractiveness. She just ignored it most of the time because he was such a pain to work with. Or rather work around.
Tim finished paying for his food and headed for the door. He glanced back over his shoulder for a moment as he left the car, meeting Lucy's gaze once again.
That was the second time she was caught staring. Amazing. At least she didn’t wave.
“So, what’s the deal with this guy?” Margaret asked between bites.
Lucy shrugged and continued eating. “Nothing,” she tried to pierce through as many pasta pieces with her fork at once as she could. “We kind of cross each other’s path during work, I guess. He’s annoying.”
Margaret giggled. “It didn’t seem like he was annoyed with you, though.”
Lucy frowned, tilting her head. “What do you mean?”
“I think he might fancy you.”
Lucy almost choked on her pasta. She grabbed her water and took a sip to regain her composure. “Margaret, there’s absolutely no way.”
“Alright, if you say so.” But the small smile didn’t leave her face as she continued eating her chicken wrap.
Lucy tried to ignore it. Old ladies tended to play cupid everywhere, even if there was no love in the air. Her own grandma tried to make her date every other “proper young man” she met including her neighbor, who wasn’t even that young.
She twirled her fork in her pasta as her thoughts drifted back to Tim again. It wasn’t Margaret’s fault that she misjudged the situation. There was an undeniable tension between them ever since they first met at a crime scene about two years ago. At first, their run-ins weren’t anything special. She tried to get information about the circumstances of the crime, and he didn’t seem to mind. Soon after, she realized that Tim only told her half-truths and a few false leads. It could have gotten her into trouble if she hadn’t discovered it in time, which eventually led to their first confrontation.
It turned out they had major disagreements in their opinions on how to go about a case and what part needed public coverage. Whenever she found out Tim was the lead detective on a case she needed to write about, she instantly became irritated. Sometimes even the mention of his name was enough for that. Still, Lucy couldn’t deny she respected his dedication to his work, even if it did make her feel like she wanted to punch him sometimes.
But then there were those moments, those brief glances exchanged across the crowd when she first got to a scene where he was working at, where she swore, she caught a glimpse of something else in his eyes. They were almost… soft? Or was she simply imagining things, projecting her own conflicted feelings onto him?
Lucy shook her head and stuffed some more pasta into her mouth. She was better off concentrating on the case. There was no use thinking about this stuff.