Chapter Nine

Second Base

Karla Juarez nearly dropped her brush as her daughter's name was mentioned by the news reporter. She took a few unsteady steps back and sank down in an armchair as the birds squeaked. "Madre Dios," she whispered. "I can't lose her too."

She felt anger building up and she sought her memory to try and remember the name of that handsome superior officer she'd brought along to the house once. Karla froze as she realized that his name had been mentioned too. Sergeant Bradford. Her training officer was John Nolan and he was in that ruble with her daughter. If she had known both Bradford and Nolan had been involved with such a dark force – which such evil that Rosalind Dyer represented – she would not have let her daughter near any of them.

She stared fearfully at the front door. She hadn't taken a walk outside by herself for over five years. Either Celina had been with her or the police had taken her somewhere. It was still an unsafe world out there but she would never forgive herself if she sat at home when her daughter was fighting for her life. With shaking hands she grabbed a light coat, the keys to the house and twisted the doorknob.

OOOOOO

"Lopez," a gruff voice answered.

Wesley couldn't help but to smirk. When Angela was stressed or worried about something she tended to get a little short tempered and testy and she didn't bother to check who was calling her.

"It's me," he said warmly. "I just saw the news. How are you doing?"

"I am not buried beneath a pile of rubble," she replied. "When they get out, I am personally going to kick-,"

"No, no," he interrupted her calmly. "You're not going to kick anyone's ass. You are going to wish them a speedy recovery."

She sighed and he imagined that she was shaking her head, her dark brown eyes flashing with concern under that tough exterior.

"Bishop, Bradford and Lopez," she began fondly. "We bonded on day one back at the academy. We were on top of our game. I had four brothers, Talia had a crappy childhood and knew how to defend herself, Tim did two tours overseas with the army. The other suckers didn't have a chance."

"Honey, I love your confidence," Wesely said.

"What? I am not bragging," she made a face. "I am telling you how it was."

He made a sound. "Hmm."

"Since Talia moved to ATF there is only Tim left. My to-go-guy for everything that's not family related. I don't know what to do Wesely. I don't know what to do if Tim is dead."

"Tim is not dead. You said it yourself – he survived two tours overseas – he's a survivor."

"Yeah. I appreciate the moral support. I am not good at waiting."

"No. You're definitely not," he replied with a slight tease in his voice.

"How are you and the little guys?" she asked softly.

"We're good. Jackson wants mummy's banana cake. I went through the entire freezer before I found a tiny piece stowed away beneath a stash of Chicken Pozole Verde, some Taco Soup, Chicken Tortilla Soup and Cream Cheese Chicken Taquitos."

"Yeah, mum brought it over. I told her I didn't have time to cook for the upcoming celebration."

"Is there something you want to tell me?" He enquired softly.

"We are having our own 'La Fête de la Musique'," she explained. "To celebrate that summer has officially started."

"Oookay," Wesely replied softly. "I think it is the first time I am hearing about it."

"That is because of everything that has happened. Me getting abducted on our wedding day by La Fiera, mum being attacked by that loan shark and Elijah interrupting our family life by just being an ass. We've never had a chance to attend the real celebration before or have one ourself on the backyard."

He couldn't help but to chuckle, his blue eyes sparkling.

"Thanks," she said warmly. "For taking my mind off of things for a while."

"Anytime, come home safely and please let me know the minute they've been found."

OOOOOO

"Damn," Grey muttered under his breath.

He glanced out the window of the command center and saw the reporters milling around the area, recording, interviewing and creating chaos all around them. The proverbial cat was out of the bag. The mention of the serial killer seemed to have made the crowd even more agitated and stunned at the same time as they pushed closer to the boundaries around the collapsed building. Mobile phone cameras were filming everywhere, a man was rallying against the bureaucracies, shouting about what a failure the system was while a woman standing on the opposite side of the do-not-cross line put a megaphone to her mouth.

A chill went down the back of his skull as the woman sang a lullaby – the same lullaby as Lucy sang while in the barrel.

Grey grabbed his radio. "This is a general alert. Detain the woman with the megaphone immediately and bring her here."

OOOOOO

Bradford all but collapsed against the sturdy concrete, his back pressed against it and a hand pressed against his wound.

Lucy quickly knelt in front of him - grimacing - failing to let out a yelp as her bad knee protested the action.

"Your knee," Tim said through clenched teeth, a look of concern written all over his face.

"Not important right now," she replied with a brave face as she reached out with her hand to gently wipe away the thin sheen of perspiration from his forehead.

He swallowed, momentarily closing his eyes.

"You are burning up," she said worriedly.

"I will be fine," he replied stubbornly and took in her dusty appearance. "You are having trouble breathing. Sit with me for a while. Let's rest up."

"No," she shook her head. "I need to check your wound. We might need to replace that strip of shirt with a fresh one."

"I'll be fine, Lucy," he insisted.

"I didn't believe you the first time, Tim," she countered as she gingerly shrugged out of what was left of her shirt. "You are starting to get weak."

"Excuse me?" he managed with an indignant look and hissed as she applied more pressure to the wound, covering it up entirely. "You do know, I did two tours overseas as an army sergeant, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "That's not what I meant and you know it," she said seriously then playfully added; "dumbass."

There was a twinkle in his eyes as he looked at her. "It takes a lot more than a little blood loss to get rid of me," he replied slyly.

She hitched on a breath. "Don't you even try and crack a joke about that and please don't make me laugh. It kind of hurts."

"Come here," he whispered as he opened his arms.

Lucy scooted over so that she too was resting her back against the wall and then leaned into his chest, mindful not to aggravate his injuries. She tried to take a deep breath, to get rid of some anxiety but stopped short as her abused ribs protested against the action.

Tim tilted his head downwards and eyed her with concern as she stiffened next to him. "Lucy, talk to me. Is it your ribs?"

She relaxed a bit and leaned her head against his chest. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine," she whispered.

But he was worried. He had this gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach, fearing there was something she was withholding from him. "Lucy, you have got to tell me how you feel so that I can try to help."

"I am telling you – I am fine."

"I didn't believe you the first time," he countered.

She stiffened as her ear picked up a faint sound which morphed into a song that gave her the creeps. "No," she whispered.

"Hey, Lucy, talk to me? What's wrong?" Tim asked.

"I thought I heard a lullaby but it's gone now," she said hollowly.

OOOOOO

Doctor Grace Sawyer continued staring at the TV as the weather forecast began. She and Nolan had a history together that reached far beyond the realms of LA. She was the one who decided it was for the best to go back to her unhappy relationship with Simon in order to try and help their son with his struggles. John had been disappointed but supportive of her decision. However, she had wondered from time to time what would have happened if she had had the strength to divorce her husband and raise Oliver on her own, or with John. Would that have been better?

Now she would never know, Simon was still away most of the time in business and Oliver kept struggling with school. John had moved on and found a new love in his life and she rarely saw him nowadays. She rarely saw anyone of his friends either at Douglas Shaw Memorial Hospital while a few years ago she kept running into them almost on a weekly basis. Now, LA was a big city and Douglas Shaw Memorial wasn't the only hospital near the Mid-Wilshire district so she wasn't that surprised but still, she missed it from time to time.

'Rosalind Dyer', Grace thought and shuddered as she thought back upon all the things the serial killer had done; all the people she had tortured and killed. It was almost typical John to attract such a deranged and manipulative person. He rarely picked up on people's bad sides – he liked to believe in the goodness of people. She would have thought that after being within the police force for several years he would have realized that there were many kinds of people out there on the streets; some of which didn't care at all about anyone else but themselves.

She shook her head, feeling weary all of a sudden. She didn't know who this new rookie was but she did know Lucy Chen and Tim Bradford. For some reason she thought they complemented each other perfectly. There was something else there except the loyalty between a rookie and a training officer. Of course, Chen was an officer now and Bradford was a sergeant but since they were trapped together, they obviously still worked together.

"Doctor Sawyer, please report to the trauma bay."

She sighed. She had a job to do, a patient to tend to, but she would keep an eye out for John and the others.

OOOOOO

Celina swallowed the bile and grimaced. "My head really hurts," she mumbled. "Feels like it's going to explode."

John bit his lower lip. Celina checked all the boxes for a moderate concussion. She had vomited twice, she was dizzy, complained about the lightness of the flashlight and she repeated things all over again. Now this pressure buildup. He was worried and he didn't know how to help her. Since they had been separated after the explosion, he didn't know how long she had been unconscious before they found each other again. The one thing he did know was that she really needed to see a doctor and frankly so did he.

"What if it really is Rosalind," she began curiously. "Why all the clowns?"

John moaned as he sank to his knees. It was ridiculous, the building wasn't that big, but crossing over the debris in the basement felt like doing the 2-mile lap around the academy in full gear. His heart was pumping and his body felt overtaxed, his leg was burning from the exertion and he really didn't want to know if that foreboding metal rod sticking out of him was preventing him from bleeding out or if it was just slowly killing him.

"John!" Celina asked as she swayed closer to him and nearly fell next to him. "Are you okay?"

He grimaced, closing his eyes, trying to shut out the pain and everything around him.

"There!" Celina suddenly shouted, bringing him back to the present.

John tried to follow her gaze but he really didn't see anything other than debris and more debris. Something dark stood out from a lighter shade of grey and he finally made out the outer wall of the basement. Then he froze as the rapidly fading glow of the flashlight hit the badge that was resting in Lucy's lap. He didn't dare to even breathe as he squinted, trying to see better in the semi-dark. His friend since the academy days was leaning into Tim. They just sat there; eyes closed. The scene made him uneasy as the faint light fell on Tim's pale and bloodied face. Lucy didn't seem to have fared that much better; her skin was equally pale.

Celina unsteadily made her way towards them. "Lucy? Sir?"

John took a deep breath and hobbled in the same direction. Not even his optimism could chase away the fear and anxiety he felt when he saw the state Tim and Lucy was in. 'No,' he thought reproachfully. 'They couldn't be dead.'

OOOOOO

To be continued