White Knuckle

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Yn's POV

I was sitting on the couch in the living room staring out the window. For some reason, I woke up at 4 in the morning, and now I couldn't go back to bed. That's when Jay, whose eyes also had bags under them, entered the living room.

"You couldn't go back to bed either?" Jay asked me.

I shook my head. "It's just one of those days I guess." Jay plopped down on the couch next to me and laid down, patting the spot in front of him. I smiled and laid down next to him, enjoying the heat that radiated from his body. "Well, this is definitely helping," I mutter and press my face into Jay's chest.

"I was just about to say the same thing," Jay murmured. For a few minutes, we laid there in each others arms, and finally, I fell asleep. A bit later, I was woken up because my phone was ringing from it's spot on the coffee table. Some how, Jay was still asleep, so I slipped out of his arms, grabbed my phone, and made my way into the bedroom.

"Hello?" I question, my voice laced with sleepiness.

"Hey, Yn. Did I wake you?" Kevin asked.

"No. You're good," I answer and rub my eyes. "What's up?"

"There's a new case down at the district. Voight wants everyone to come down. I'll send you what we've got so that you can catch up on the way here," Kevin spoke.

"All right. We'll be down there soon," I say and hang up the phone. I then walked back into the living room where Jay was sleeping peacefully, and sighed. I didn't want to wake him up, but we had to get to work. "Jay," I mumble and shake him softly. "We've got to go to work." Jay stirred slightly before sitting up and rubbing a hand over his face.

"All right. I'll go get dressed in a minute," Jay hummed. After getting dressed, and making ourselves coffee, Jay and I headed out to the district. On the way over, we got ourselves familiar with the case. Our victim was Isla Sherman. She had a few priors for possession, but that was about it. Her body was found in the arms of Billy Braddem, one of Chicago'd aldermen and an ex-cop. He was high off his mind when the cops found him, and he was holding the knife which was used to used to kill Isla. So, at the moment, it looked like Billy was our killer, but Voight wasn't so sure, so we were going to keep investigating. As I set my stuff down at my desk, Voight walked up to me.

"Have you ever interviewed anyone who was stoned?" Voight asked me.

"Uh, yeah. I did a lot of the interviewing back in Homicide," I respond.

"Are you good at it?" Voight questioned.

"Very," I reply.

"All right. Come with me," Voight spoke and led me to the interview room. Inside, Billy was sitting at the table, and he looked pretty out of it. "Billy, I'm Sergeant Hank Voight with the CPD." Billy didn't respond and continued to stare off into space, so I stepped in. I took a seat and reached across the table, taking Billy's hands in mine. The moment of contact caused Billy to shift his gaze to me, meaning this was working so far.

"Hey, Billy. My name's Yn. Do you know why you're here?" I ask. 

"Isla. Where is she?" Billy questioned. 

"She's dead," Voight disclosed. Billy looked away for a second, and I could tell he was losing focus again, so I gave his hands a soft squeeze to bring his attention back to me.

"Can you tell us what happened to her? The way we found you with the knife, this is a bad situation. This death looks like what we call a crime of passion, Billy. Like a fight broke out, something went wrong, a knife was grabbed from the kitchen," I explain. 

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