Catch me if you can
FBI Senior Special Agent Tobias Fornell parked his Sebring behind the crime scene unit, got out and surveyed the scene. Fifteen agents were scattered across the isolated section of Ft. Dupont Park. Three other agents were near a large oak tree, standing near a fourth man who was kneeling at the base of the tree. On the ground in front of him was a body.
Fornell zipped his FBI-issue blue windbreaker and walked toward the four men. He hoped this wasn't a routine case; someone's head would roll if it was. Enjoying a rare day off, Fornell had planned to watch a few college football games, until he had received a call from Agent Simmons.
"Simmons, what's so important you had to call me?" Fornell snarled when he reached the agent. "You can't handle a simple crime scene?"
"I'm sorry, sir. I wouldn't have bothered you if I didn't think it was important." He nervously ground a hole in the dirt with his heel.
"Okay, okay. What have you got?"
Simmons checked his notes. 'White female, 25-30, jogger found her this morning. Doc says she's been dead at least eight hours, so we're talking around eleven last night. No ID except for her dog tags, no tire tracks, scene is clean. She's a naval officer, sir. And then there's this." He handed Fornell an evidence bag.
An irritated look crossed Fornell's face, then he looked down at the kneeling M.E. "COD yet, Doc?
Nelson Rollins, the FBI's medical examiner, looked up. "Neck snapped, but she was tortured and beaten prior to that. I'll know more when she's on my table." His gloved hand lightly traced, without touching, the bruises on the woman's face.
"So why am I here? This will be NCIS' case."
"Uh, read the note again, sir." Simmons edged away from him. Fornell read it again, carefully this time, and he frowned.
"Mother of God. Has anyone contacted him?"
"Um, no sir. I thought it better if you called him."
Fornell shot an amused glance at Simmons as he opened his phone, paged through the directory, and hit dial. Putting the phone to his ear, he said "Afraid of him, Simmons?"
"No sir!"
"You should be. Jethro Gibbs is a royal pain in the butt. He'll take this case over once he sees this note and her dog tags. God help us all."
NCIS Special Agent Jethro Gibbs sat at his desk in the bullpen, redlining a junior agent's report, when his phone rang. Recognizing the number, he resisted the urge to throw the phone in a desk drawer, and picked up. "You have nothing better to do than bother me on a Saturday?" he snapped.
"Lots," Fornell replied, "and none of my plans involved a conversation with you."
"What do you want, Tobias?"
Fornell hesitated, then drew a deep breath and said "I'm at a crime scene in Ft. Dupont Park. Young woman was brutally murdered last night."
"So?"
"She's a naval officer, and one of my agents found a note on her body addressed to you."
"You're kidding. Who's it from?"
Fornell hesitated again; he so did not want to go there. "Curtis Gentry." The response was a dial tone.
"McGee! Get everything we have on Curtis Gentry. Check with Department of Corrections, get his release date. Tony, Kate, now!" Gibbs grabbed his phone and keys, walking to the elevator without looking back.
"Where to, Boss?" Tony asked, juggling his gear as he caught up with Gibbs.
"Someplace I'd rather not go," Gibbs muttered. "McGee, call Ducky, tell him to meet us at Ft. Dupont Park."
The team arrived within an hour. Fornell got out of his car and approached. "You didn't have to bring the whole crew, Jethro," he said, as Gibbs got out of the car.
"I'll need them," Gibbs replied, and then surprised Fornell by giving him a cup of coffee.
"You really think I'm going to turn this case over to you?" He took the coffee, too grateful for the rich warmth of the brew to question Gibbs' motives.
"Yes," Gibbs said, quietly, looking around the scene before focusing on Fornell. "It involves a naval officer, first of all, and secondly, you have no idea who you're dealing with. I do." He ducked under the yellow crime scene tape and walked toward the body.
Fornell watched him walk away, then turned and looked at Tony and Kate. "That is one arrogant, irritating SOB."
"Funny," Tony said, slinging his bag on his shoulder, "he says the same thing about you."
They followed Gibbs to the body. The young woman was covered with bruises; her head faced left, tendrils of her raven hair fluttered in the breeze. "Doc Rollins puts TOD at eleven last night," Fornell said when he'd caught up with Gibbs. "A jogger found her this morning. No tracks leading to or from the body. Someone was very, very careful."
"Or someone got sloppy and walked around the crime scene." Gibbs held up a hand to cut Fornell off. "I don't mean you or your people. Where's the note?"
Agent Simmons passed the evidence bag to Gibbs. "It was in an envelope. We bagged them separately."
Gibbs nodded and looked at the sheet of paper protected by a clear plastic bag. The plain white paper had a short poem scribbled on it:
A blast from the past,
Free at last.
I haunt your dreams,
You still hear their screams.
CATCH ME IF YOU CAN.
A thousand yards away, a man lowered his high powered binoculars and smiled. The game had begun.