28th Marts 2015

Los Angeles

Saturday

…

What transforms in the dark? Part 1

It was a critical missing child case; a little boy had been gone since early afternoon. Somehow Major Crimes was not called until late in the night; whereas the usual practice was to call in Major Crimes's assistance the moment the child was confirmed missing. Sharon Raydor found it odd, if not suspicious, that such a mistake could be made. The boy had already been missing for ten hours when she got the call, and for every hour missing, the likelihood of finding him alive diminished vastly.

Hollywood Division had been first on scene. They had found a backpack with Hulk printed on it near some trashcans in an alley. It was not far from the playground where the boy had been playing, and the mother, Denise Shaw, identified the backpack as belonging to her son.

It would have been pitch black if not for a police cruiser lightening the surroundings up with its blue and red blinking lights, when Sharon arrived at the house of Mrs. Shaw. She had made a quick change of clothes at home, juggling a need to hurry and a need to pry more into Rusty's study club that apparently only consisted of the two boys. Sharon had put on black slacks and a nondescript peach shirt, attaching her holster with her badge and gun in hurried but practiced motions. Gavin had loudly interrogated Rusty while she changed out of her dress, or at least that is what it sounded like through the closed door of her bedroom. Even now, as she walked to the front of Mrs. Shaw's house, she felt a smile tug at her lips. It was heaven-sent when Rusty did normal things, it made her feel at ease and reminded her of when Emily had been caught kissing some boy on the couch when she, also, thought her mother gone for the evening.

Sharon had stuffed the single rose and the attached threatening note stuck on her door in an evidence bag. They were now lying in the trunk of her Hyundai and were ready to be sent off to analysis. The whole thing annoyed Sharon more than it scared her. She had gotten worse threats when she had been in Internal Affairs, mostly from disgruntled officers who were pissed off at the world in general and took it out on her. She had been called every condescending and demeaning word in the dictionary, and a half-assed wannabe poem with an overtly threatening message was not even close to being the worst threat she had received. She still remembered that one officer she had investigated for conduct unbecoming years back. He had fired his sidearm off duty and injured several innocent bystanders because of a dispute with another man. She had put the officer on administrative leave and he had called her a useless dyke who should get fucked more, then he had spat in her face and said she should shut her whore mouth or another gun might go off, accidentally of course. Needless to say, he got discharged immediately.

So Sharon felt more annoyance about the note than anything else, she did not have time to deal with it. However, when Amy Sykes called and told her that she had received the same items, the situation changed. Amy had called just as Sharon was ready to leave her apartment with Gavin in tow so Rusty could have some time alone with his friend. The detective had sounded somewhat distraught when she told Sharon about the rose she had found taped to her front door.

It was eerie; the two displays were identical, down to the color of the rose and the paper the notes had been written on. As it was no longer a unique event, Sharon had dialed Chief Taylor. The man sounded less than happy about the wake-up call, and even less when Sharon explained the circumstances behind her call. Suffice it to say, it had been a long evening and now it looked to be an even longer night.

Sykes and Andy met Sharon in front of Mrs. Shaw's house, the blue blink of the cruiser reflecting on their skin and clothes.

"Captain," Amy greeted her eagerly when Sharon was within hearing range, the woman walking quickly up to her. Amy immediately held out a plastic bag with an identical rose to the one Sharon had received, "I did what you asked. No one's touched the rose or the note but Lieutenant Cooper and I."

Sharon drew a small breath and then forced on a polite, and hopefully reassuring, smile. This would have been ideal to deal with in privacy.

Andy, having arrived earlier, was already eyeing the rose curiously, his head inclined and his eyes on Sharon with a question mark. Sharon quickly grabbed the bag.

"Thank you Amy, I'm sure it's nothing serious," she gave the younger woman a reassuring smile and then turned around to put the bag in her trunk with her own evidence. She had only taken two steps when she heard Andy following her, his gait unmistaken.

Sharon sighed.

It was not that she minded discussing it with Andy, but she would rather forget about the whole thing for now. She opened the trunk of her car, knowing he would see the identical bag with a rose in it.

"What's that?" Andy asked, standing behind her shoulder and staring into the trunk of her car. His expression deepened into a frown. Amy had moved a bit away and stood at the curb, waiting for them. She had her hands behind her back, a military stance, and her eyes on the sea of police personnel arriving at the house, instead of on Andy and Sharon. She was giving them a bit of privacy, Sharon figured.

Sharon heaved a breath, "It's a rose."

"I can see that, but what about it?" Andy moved from behind her to stand next to her, his eyes dark in the night and his voice sounding tired. They were all tired, Sharon thought; getting a call out on a Saturday night was a nightmare and even more so when it was a missing child. "Why do you have a rose in the trunk of your car, and why did Sykes give you a rose in a plastic bag? Huh - seems a bit weird, Sharon."

Sharon closed the trunk and then crossed her arms as she looked back at him. She might as well tell him the whole story now, it might relieve some of the tension she felt about the whole affair.

"After I got the call out, I drove home to change from the gallery before coming here, I found a rose and a note taped to my front door. Detective Sykes received the same, err… gift."

"What kind of note?" Andy lifted his eyebrow and then he smiled, "Like, a romantic note? You both got some secret admirer, huh? How about that lawyer we interviewed last month; he seemed mightily infatuated with you both."

Sharon pursed her mouth, briefly amused by him. The small smile quickly disappeared though, and she sighed.

"If only it was a romantic one...It's a threat note."

Andy's expression instantly darkened.

Sharon found it peculiar that at the moment it left her mouth the whole thing felt more sinister. Or maybe it was because she was telling Andy about it.

"You got a threat? What kind? Explicit?" he listed off as he unconsciously leaned closer to her. He then gave her trunk a severe look as if he was contemplating opening it and reading the note for himself.

"I will tell you later, Andy," Sharon told him, her voice low. She took hold of his sleeve, pulling him away from the car, "Let's focus on Jimmy Shaw for now, this can wait."

Andy, however, ignored her, "I bet my pension this is the work of Philip Stroh." He stood still, not taking another step towards the house. As he crossed his arms, she could almost feel the indignant anger radiating off him. "I mean, the smug bastard is the type of creep who would do something like this, definitely at the top of my suspect list."

Sharon stopped short at the name of Stroh. She had not even once thought of Stroh.

She turned towards him, "You know, that's a very likely possibility, Andy. I didn't even think of Stroh," she hummed, contemplative.

Andy raised his eyebrow, "You didn't think of Stroh! You got other serial killers on the loose who might feel some residual anger about their incarcerations?"

Sharon briefly smiled "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds even more plausible."

Andy huffed.

"I have a meeting with Chief Taylor come midday, Andy, you are welcome along and we can discuss it then."

He nodded and then with a forced inhalation he gestured for her to walk first, his expression hidden by shadows. She almost heard him counting to ten in his head.

Amy stood somewhat impatiently on the curb, her eyes on them with curiosity as they approached.

"So, what are the exact details on our critical missing?" Sharon asked. She had only gotten the highlights from Lieutenant Provenza when he had interrupted her evening with Gavin. Sharon suspected he had been asleep when he had gotten the call out as the lieutenant had been even more short and grumpy than usual.

"Denise Shaw was at the playground with her son Jimmy around 3 pm this afternoon. Mrs. Shaw suffers from migraines. She said, she had a dizzy spell and when she came to, Jimmy was gone. He had been by the swing. She swears she only looked away for a half minute. Hollywood PD found the boy's backpack in an alley near the playground, nothing was stolen and the back appears otherwise untouched. Julio is canvassing the neighborhood around the playground with patrol and checking for surveillance cameras. So far, there's no new information and we know little."

Sharon nodded, "Jimmy is five, yes?"

Andy cleared his throat behind her and answered in a gruff tone, "Yeah, and that whole migraine thing, Mike is checking into it."

Sharon pursed her lips. It did sound somewhat suspicious, having a dizzy spell on a playground and then your child disappeared in that short time frame with no witnesses. Not that it was completely implausible.

The three of them made their way across the front lawn which was well-kept; she noticed a sprinkler here and there in the grass, explaining why the grass was so green.

Amy walked in front of Sharon and Andy. The younger woman turned half around and then supplied, "Lieutenant Provenza is with Denise Shaw now but she seems less than forthcoming about herself. She's very agitated and when we try to move the conversation to anything but Jimmy she closes off."

Sharon nodded, "That might just be normal behavior for an abnormal situation, Amy. We can't tell for sure yet. What about the father? Is he in the picture?"

Andy shook his head and held the front door open, "She's divorced with the kid being the only thing she's got, the father's a deadbeat, or so she says."

Denise Shaw lived in a small, one-story house with a large backyard. The facade was baby-blue and inside the walls were a pristine white. The floorboards creaked under their feet and seemed well worn. The many rooms were kept spotlessly clean to such a degree that Sharon felt like cleaning her own apartment when she had the opportunity. Lieutenant Provenza greeted them in the foyer, covering a yawn with the back of his hand. He looked as if sleep had eluded him for a week.

"Good morning people," he growled in greeting and then with a narrowed glance over his shoulder, he leaned in and lowered his voice, "There's been no ransom calls so far and Mrs. Shaw hasn't called her family yet. She sits on the couch, staring into space. Something's off."

Sharon nodded and then with a shoulder squeeze, she sent the older lieutenant off with Amy to coordinate another canvas of the neighbors.

The rest of the night passed in a blur.

The new day dawned chilly and held a promise of rain as seen in the horizon. The atmosphere weighed heavily on the city and the sky was gray with the smell of thunder. It was seldom that it rained and when it did, Sharon liked to sit on her terrace with a cup of tea. She sighed tiredly and walked back inside Ms. Shaw's house.

Breakfast consisted of two very ripe bananas Sharon managed to munch down between staying with Denise Shaw and coordinating the search for her son. The woman appeared to be in some state of shock; the fluctuations of the woman's mood ranged from monosyllabic replies to crying. Sharon called in a therapist. Maybe a psychologist could provide some much needed crisis management and help Ms. Shaw collect herself enough to be of assistance.

By late morning, the skies opened up with a small drizzle. Andy was making coffee in the kitchen and Sharon joined him after Doctor Joe arrived and took Denise Shaw in his professional hands. Sharon eagerly accepted the offered cup of coffee from Andy.

The first warm sip warmed Sharon to the core and she let out a small sigh of relief. It helped little with her drowsiness however. Working through the night with no sleep was not something she would ever get used to. She stood with Andy in the kitchen, the atmosphere subdued as they both drank their coffee.

Sharon felt Andy's eyes on her, the look indecipherable when she tilted her head up. She knew he wanted to talk about the rose and the threat – he had mentioned it more than once during the night and Sharon had told him more than once, it would have to wait.

"When's your meeting with Taylor?" he asked over the rim.

"At twelve," she answered.

"You want me to go with you?"

It was a sweet offer. She smiled at him, putting her hand on his shoulder before she thought about it. She let it rest there for a short moment and then drew it back, her eyes on his.

"Thank you but it's not necessary. I'll give you the boring highlights afterwards."

He nodded but did not look appeased.

"Andy," Sharon said making her voice soft, "It's just a threat. You wouldn't believe how many of those I've gotten over the years. If it's Stroh, then the threat is a clue, and pretty stupid of him, wouldn't you say?"

Andy shrugged, "I suppose. I just don't like it, is all."

"Well, me neither."

Sharon looked out to the backyard and the garden. She fought against her heavy eyelids and hid a yawn behind her hand. She quickly drowned the rest of the coffee in one go.

Her thoughts went back to Jimmy Shaw. The boy was only five. At five, Ricky had been a ball of energy. Sharon remembered all those small bruises he had acquired because he was climbing trees or was clumsy on his bike. Mostly, she remembered kissing those bruises and happily enveloping him in hugs. He had liked to watch cartoons slung across her lap, and with his teddy bear in his arms. Sharon called Ricky while looking at the garden, the cheerful voice of her son, a treasure to her ears and soul.

The backyard looked pristine; the grass just as well-kept as the front lawn, the fence to the neighbor was painted immaculately and the pool was free of any mush. Sharon remembered her own garden back when Ricky had been five; it had been a mess, weed everywhere, grass in wilted disarray. Between working full time and taking care of two children by herself, she had had no time to deal with her garden. But Ms. Shaw apparently had a green thumb. She and Jimmy had been weeding and planting flowers; the boy liked sun flowers, Denise had said.

By ten am there was still no new information about the case. The boy seemed gone without a trace.

…