Chapter Ten

Whispers from the Past

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Lopez shouted angrily as she grabbed the woman by her arm and hauled her away from the rest of the crowd; towards the mobile command center.

"Hey! You can't just grab her like that!" The man standing next to her shouted.

"Watch me," Lopez replied coldly.

"What's wrong with you? She was just singing-," he protested.

"Do you know the meaning behind her words, sir?" Harper asked as she came up next to her colleague.

"I-," he frowned. "It is just a song. Everyone has a right to express their opinion - no matter how crazy - without being wrongfully arrested."

"Leave it to me, I'll explain the situation," Smitty drawled confidently. "Get out of here before your partner kills the man with one look."

Harper smirked and carefully turned around, whispering in Lopez's ear. "Cameras are rolling," she cautioned. "She wants us to make a scene."

OOOOOO

"The crowd is wild today," the firefighter Barry remarked as he reached under his helmet to scratch the back of his neck.

Bailey watched as Lopez escorted a young woman toward the mobile command center with a murderous look on her face.

"They were a little rough with her," Joe, another of her colleagues, said.

"And you're a little slow," the lieutenant barked as he suddenly appeared behind them. "Nune has been waiting for you to get your things together for ten minutes now. What is the holdup?"

"It's not safe. The whole place is unstable. We've tried to approach the building from two sides already and – the way it caved in – forces us to move slowly and meticulously."

"Simple question," the lieutenant said. "I can see right through to the floor down below in some places. Why don't you pull up the gear and begin to rope down?"

"We haven't found a spot stable enough," Joe explained as he meekly cast a glance at Nune.

"Find it, the sooner the better," the superior officer commanded. "Half the city is watching. I don't want to hear how much faster the LAFD could have acted from some retired firefighter being interviewed on the news tomorrow morning."

OOOOOO

"Cool," the young woman said with a bright smile. "I've never been in one of these before."

"You should be happy you're not back in a holding cell at the police station," Grey cautioned.

Daniels came forward with a warm smile on her face, playing the good cop. "Welcome to the mobile command center. I am Agent Daniels, FBI. This gentleman over there is Sergeant Grey, watch commander and the man in charge of the Mid-Wilshire district. Could you please tell me your name?"

She shrugged. "What's it to you?"

Daniels smiled again; frustration carefully hidden by a professional mask. "You see, you made it a little complicated for yourself when you sang that song earlier. It holds a certain meaning to a few people within the police force."

She snorted. "What? A lullaby?"

"Do you know of Rosalind Dyer?" Lopez asked coldly, crossing her arms over her chest as she came forward to the others, deciding she had stood back long enough.

"Yeah," she said. "Who doesn't around here?"

Harper picked up the wallet taken from the woman while she was being escorted to the command center. "Jo-Anne Ellroy," she said. "The lullaby you just sang was sung by Officer Lucy Chen while being buried alive in a barrel by – shall we say – an acquaintance of Dyer. There are only a few people who knows that so - do enlighten us – who told you to sing that at this particular accident site where Officer Lucy Chen and her coworkers are trapped?"

The young woman had the good grace to look somewhat ashamed. "I-, I am sorry. It was just for fun. I lost a game of truth or dare and I kind of got this weird assignment. I never thought something like this would happen."

Who told you to sing?" Daniels pushed kindly.

"I don't know his name but he's a bit of a clown - they call him 'psycho' - he likes to hang around some creepy forums online."

Grey nodded. "Thank you for your time, Miss Ellroy. One of my officers here will bring you to the station for further questioning."

She stared at him in disbelief. "I've told you everything I know," she protested.

"Maybe, maybe not," the watch commander reasoned.

"I'll make sure she gets out the door," Lopez offered.

Daniels waited for the woman to be escorted out the door before speaking up. "There is a name that's been coming up several times during the questioning of the three clowns the LAPD has managed to detain across the city. I think you are familiar with it."

Grey's interest perked.

"Oscar Hutchinson," Daniels revealed as she pulled up a picture of the smiling psychopath.

"I guess you could say that," he remarked dryly.

"This day keeps getting better," Lopez muttered as she came back inside, glaring at the inmate displayed on the screen.

"If I send the two of you to the prison for a little chat with our 'friend' Oscar-," he began, air quoting the word friend, "- do I have your word he's not harmed?"

"I am a professional," Lopez replied. "If he comes anywhere near my family though, I might hand in my badge temporarily."

OOOOOO

Karla Juarez shakily pulled up at Miracle Mile – as close as she could come – given the many do-not-cross lines and the fact that media and pedestrians was blocking the place.

"Ma'am," a kind but stern female police officer said. "You can't park the car here."

"My daughter is in there," she pleaded. "Please, give me a ticket, tow my car away, do what you want with it but I must see my daughter."

"What is your daughter's name, ma'am," she asked neutrally.

"Celina Juarez," she managed with tears in her eyes. "Please, I need to find her."

OOOOOO

"Call for Sergeant Grey," a female voice said over the radio.

"This is Sergeant Grey, go ahead," he replied.

"Sir, Officer Jacobs here. We have a woman here who claims her daughter is inside the house."

"Would the woman's name be Karla Juarez?" he asked carefully.

"She nods a yes," the officer said.

"Please make sure she is escorted to me immediately," he said kindly.

Daniels stole a glance at him. "You look troubled."

He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "It's just that Mrs. Juarez has already lost one daughter. I don't have the heart to tell her there is a possibility she has lost her second daughter too."

"Relatives appreciate answers. Most of the times it's better for everyone to know - even if it's bad news - than to remain in the dark. The mind is capable of producing horrible scenarios as to what might have happened to their loved ones; many times, it is even worse than reality."

"I don't know if she is dead or alive," Grey said softly, his voice tinged with sadness.

"It is up to Mrs. Juarez to deal with whatever information you deliver to her."

OOOOOO

Oscar brightened considerably; a lopsided grin spreading across his face. "What a sight for sore eyes," he began jovially. "My two favorite detectives."

"Hold your horses, Oscar," Harper cautioned.

"I have to say, I never thought John would be running around with a newbie and – between the two of us – she's creepy."

Harper chuckled sarcastically. "Little Celina Juarez?" she asked. "I think you should be more concerned being in the same room as Lopez here."

Hutchinsson shrugged. "Wasn't that serious between her and that blonde lawyer back then when I happened to stab him," he protested lightly and turned his attention from Harper to Lopez. "I had to try something to get out of that stinky shelter. You can't still be mad about that, can you?"

Angela shook her head with a sigh. "I'd forgotten what a smooth talker he can be," she said dryly.

"Actually, I am glad you two showed up. I need some things-,"

Harper frowned as she crossed her arms over her chest, looking at the inmate skeptically. "Do you know who those clowns are?"

"Pardon me?" he asked momentarily confused.

"The clowns, running wild out on the streets," Lopez clarified impatiently.

"Oh," he broke into a cunning smile. "They're just clowns as far as I am concerned."

"Yeah, it's a funny business-," Harper began, "- your credit card comes up on several receipts across the city. It seems you've bought at least ten clown costumes."

He shrugged again. "So? Someone's stolen my identity. Tragically, it's not the first time. One would think that the police department would try and prevent such things."

Lopez sighed.

"I'm telling you the truth. They are hired idiots without any capacity to think for themselves. This inspiring Dyer group needed some assholes to do a little dirty work for them."

Harper and Lopez shared a look.

"Oopsie," Oscar said innocently. "I guess I wasn't supposed to say that. I kind of promised to keep my mouth shut."

Nyla snorted. "You just can't quit manipulating, can you? Everything you say is measured and calculated in a way that it benefits you own needs."

He turned to Angela. "I don't recall her being this cynical before," he remarked and was rewarded by a glare. "You know, come to think about it, I haven't been out in the sun for a long time."

"Forget it," Harper interrupted.

"Okay," he said and picked up a newspaper, completely ignoring the two detectives.

Angela took two steps forward, grabbed the newspaper and threw it across the room. "There is no time for games," she said sourly.

He pouted. "If this is the way you parent, I kind of feel sorry for your kid."

Angela glared at him.

He broke into a big goofy grin then turned serious. "Okay. You think you're so smart – the LAPD, the FBI, yadda yadda. The feds even believe they put a stop to that Dyer group."

"Well, they kind of tracked down every single one of them and the forum is closed," Harper pointed out.

"And the infatuation with one of our most complex serial killers in the state – maybe even in the entire country – dies with that forum?" he questioned then shook his head sadly. "Wow, and you call yourself detectives."

"So, hired men posing as clowns, huh?" Harper said, ignoring his last statement. "Who hired them?"

"How would I know?" he replied curiously. "Hello? Inmate here. I am not exactly a free man. I don't have that kind of information." He smiled and added. "But it was nice talking to you."

Harper disbelievingly crossed her arms over her chest.

He broke into a smile. "There is one thing. If I can have a nice little walk around Santa Monica Beach, you could check out a production company."

OOOOOO

To be continued