Chaos.
It was the only word that could describe the scene they arrived at. It was pure and utter chaos.
The police in the area were doing their best to subdue the media from crossing the yellow line. At the same time trying to stop the onlookers, who were likely to streaming whatever that was happening.
The small urban area where the house stood was a hive of activity.
Drake, Jerome, and Mace stayed inside the car. Observing the coming and going of the scene. There were several ambulances that lined on the right side of the curb, while on the other was a van of police assistance.
They also saw Detective Asi from the Homicide Division. His weathered face looked haggard and even without lowering the window of the car, they could guess what the old detective was shouting about.
"Take all possible evidence! Make sure you take a picture of everything!"
They looked at the men running all over the place. Jerome and Mace shook their heads, the evidence was being destroyed by the morons that are doing Asi's beck and call.
"We need Je Anne here," Jerome aggressively said, "if we need to haul her out of bed, I will. These idiots are just…"
"Idiots?" Mace suggested.
"Stupid?" Drake said at the same time.
"Both, actually," Jerome replied. "In any case, Je Anne is needed, the sooner we get here, the better -"
"She is here," Mace cut in. Her eyes were directed to the far left of the property. "Looks like she has been here longer than we have," Mace said.
It was followed by opening the backdoor of the car and joining the fray of people.
She was one of the smallest people in the division. Given that they were only three of them, Mace was always at a disadvantage when it comes to height.
What she lacked in physical appearance, made up with the sheer tenacity and attitude she got.
She strode in the middle of the crowd like a queen. Stride sure and proud, even without saying anything, the crowd parted. Drake and Jerome followed behind her.
"Hey! This is - Detectives," the man standing guard suddenly looked pale. "Umm…we were just…"
Drake noticed the sudden change of the guard. When he saw him inside the car, he was all commanding and authoritative. So what happened? Why the sudden change?
"Sergeant, good morning," Jerome mildly greeted. He gave the man a quick glance then continued, "you should really stop smoking, if you want to keep your wife alive."
Color drained from his face, his lips were moving but no sound was coming out from them. It took him a couple of seconds to compose himself and stuttered, "Keep my, my, my wife?"
"Didn't you know?" Jerome casually asked, "she looked like Death walked over her the last time you brought her to the station."
The last time Detective Valderama had seen his wife was two months ago. So how…
"You pick, her, or your smoke…"
Jerome finally said and lead the way to where the bodies were being lined up.
"His wife is dying?" Mace asked in astonishment, her narrowed eyes darted from her chief to the sergeant that was guarding the yellow line. "How the heck did you…"
"She did her best to hide it. But I saw her cough blood twice. The man was too occupied to notice something was wrong with his wife. That second hand smoke of his will be the downfall of his wife." Jerome explained, he shook his head and continued.
"What he needs is a good reality check."
"And you are the one to give it to him?" Drake spoke up. His dry tone suggested that he had known Jerome for quite some time.
"No, conversing with people with small brain energy is useless. You,however, are welcome to do as you please."
Mace shook her head. These two have a bond of sort, as to what kind, that she wasn't going to think too deeply about.
Je Anne met them halfway. There was no trace of the ordeal that happened to her the night before. She looked like she woke up with a sunny smile and perfectly applied makeup.
"Yo, Mace!," she greeted the other woman.
"Yo! You got what you need?" Mace asked.
Je Anne nodded and turned to look at Jerome, she pulled something from her pocket and handed it to him. Whatever it was, was covered with a blank hanky. It was impossible to tell what Jerome was thinking, most of the time, he looked like a nonchalant coffee bean.
Others…
"Jeron!"
There were several shouts that came from the line of body bags on the side. The four of them looked and said nothing as the man who had helped others' lives to be saved cried his heart out.
It was rare to see men cry. For them, tears were a display of weakness. A sign that they were not strong enough to handle what the world has to give them.
"No… please, don't be her. PLEASE!"
The plea he uttered was filled with so much anguish and pain. The words he said over and over again were like a stab in the heart.
Neil, the medical examiner, stood beside his friend, a comforting hand on his back. His eyes too were filled with misery. And when he saw him being watched, he looked up.
Mace saw how much Neil wanted to be wrong, that this little girl would not be his sister.
They looked at the body bags lined on the street, there were a total of fifteen of them. Fifteen small bodies that should have been alive and running about. Fifteen lives that were lost. Then they looked at the house.
How could they miss those bodies? All the walls were ashes, and it seemed like there was no appliances as well. Like the house was empty.
But it wasn't.
The bodies that lay on the ground was a testament to what the house was used for. A storage.
Mace balled her hand into a fist. Her nails dug on the palm of her skin deep enough to cause it to leave its mark.
They will pay.
They have silenced these kids. Now it was their time to speak. To be heard.
The dead can talk.
And they will be the one to tell the world the truth.