"This," the surfer/techie named Eric Beal began, motioning to the large screen in front of him, "is Eve Goode. She was sentenced to life for the multiple murders of all her adopted children, except for three. Abigail Snow and Ethan Snow, siblings," he fiddled with the controls for a moment before two IDs of a blonde woman and a man in a uniform appeared next to the mugshot of Eve Goode, a woman of her late thirties with dark hair and a striking face, and Eric continued speaking, "were the last two adoptees of the Goode family, and it was their family friend and local cop Ben Koch who arrested both Eve and her husband Raymond Goode after Eve tried to drown Ethan and decapitate Abigail. Reymond was killed in a prison fight two years into his own sentence."
"What about the third survivor?" Kensi Blye questioned, lifting her hand to move a stray piece of curly auburn hair behind her ear.
"His adoption record is no more, Ms. Blye. All we know if that he escaped, and soon after that the orphanage where he was staying at was burned down in an act of arson. Everything was destroyed."
The heads in the room swiveled to look at their petite OSP Operations Manager, Hetty Lange. A bulky shape stepped forward, angling ghis head to see into the hallway behind her.
"Where's G? I thought he was talking to you."
"On the contrary, Mr. Hanna, I was under the impression that he was up here with you, doing his job."
Sam nodded, his brow furrowing with worry. Kensi stepped up, knowing that the ex-Navy SEAL was concerned about his partner not being seen around the building. "Callen's probably just getting donuts. You know he's almost always late, Sam."
Sam made a noise of agreement, grudgingly turning his attention back to the case at hand. Nate Getz was mumbling under his breath, some kind of phycologist mumbo-jumbo that Sam didn't understand. "What was that, Nate?"
The brown-haired man looked up quickly, and upon noticing the gazes of everyone in the room focused on him, spoke fast, "It's a typical case of Munchhausen Syndrome by Proxy, or MSBP." Moving forward to read the record of Eve Goode, he continued, "MSBP is usually classified as a woman who has a past of abuse or neglect that affected their mental stability. They also have medical experience, and are always mothers of some sort, whether biologically or through adoption. If someone has MSBP, they enjoy harming their child, usually resulting in death."
"How could a mother kill her own child?" Kensi questioned. She's seen plenty of disturbing things in her life, but this one topped the cake. So far, at least. She had no doubt that eventually someone worse would come along.
Eric rolled his eyes, pulling up the photo of Ethan Snow to the front so it covered the other two photographs. If he didn't get them on topic for the case soon, Hetty (who was steadily staring at him) would find a way to do it herself, and he figured that they didn't deserve that.
"Woman who have MSBP are just like any other serial killer, Kens. The child is just something that gives them a thrill." A familiar voice came from behind them, causing their heads to turn, and Eric to shut his eyes with a muted groan of annoyance.
"There you are, G. Where were you? Stop for donuts and get lost on the way?" Sam teased his partner, G Callen, who grinned and shook his head.
"Nah. In case you forgot, I totaled my car. Walking takes awhile."
Sam and Kensi shared a look, knowing that it would take even longer for someone as paranoid as Callen. Hetty cleared her throat meaningfully, giving Eric a look before walking out of the Eagle's Nest.
"What's the case, Eric?" G said, walking to lean against the table.
"Well, I already went through the past history of the woman we're looking for, so you'll just have to ask Kensi or Sam for the info."
"Hold on a second," Kensi said, raising her hands in the air slightly, "I get that the woman is a freak. But she's in prison for life, why do we have to learn about her?"
"Ah, but that's where the excitement is! She escaped recently. And the reason the NCIS is on the case and not the FBI, is because Ethan Snow here is in the Navy. He was found dead two days ago, his throat slit and his body dumped in a bathtub." A collection of pictures that featured the dead body and blood tub appeared on screen. "We have reason to suspect that Goode is trying to kill all the survivors who she didn't get to kill before."
"I thought we didn't suspect anything, only knew?" Callen jibbed, eyebrow raised.
"She left a note on the door to the bathroom." Eric pressed a button, and a photograph of a sheet of notepaper that looked to be ripped out precisely so that the edge was perfect. The handwriting was neat and precise.
"I was a good mother. But all of them took me for granted! They will be punished, like all bad children should." Kensi read.
G frowned, the words sounding warning bells in his mind. Where had he heard very much the same line before?
"But why the LA district? It says on his ID that he lives in Washington." Sam pointed out.
"Because Abigail, here, lives in LA. We are being assigned to pick her up and bring her to the cabin to keep her safe until Goode can be found."
"So we're being assigned a bodyguard job? That's not-"
"Kensi. It's fine. Would you rather be stuck on desk duty?" G teased, bringing a to-go cup of McDonalds coffee to his mouth to drink. Kensi stuck her tongue out at him, but stayed silent.
"Show us the pictures again, Eric. G needs to know what Goode looks like and what Abigail looks like." Sam said, and Eric complied.
"Pretty." G commented when Eric brought up the photo of Abigail. Sam snorted, and Kensi rolled her eyes. Callen ignored them, taking another sip of the coffee for a moment while Eric pulled up the Eve Goode picture.
When he did, the room seemed to suddenly go colder. Sam and Kensi stared at the frozen look on Callen's face, wondering what was going on.
G, on the other hand, was trying to fight past a birage of not-so-pleasant memories as the room seemed to narrow for only Eve's face to show. His body went oddly numb, and he didn't notice the coffee cup drop from his hands and spill over the floor. He blinked, and realizing that the others were shouting his name, forced a small grin.
He shoved down the memories, a skill he had learned long ago, and glanced down at the mess at his feet. The black liquid flashed into a dark red, and with a barely-concealed flinch, he jerked his head up to stare at the far wall.
"G? You okay?" Sam tentively questioned, wondering what had made his partner freeze up like that.
"Fine. It's just… it's her. I hoped she'd be dead, or something, by now."
"You know her?" Kensi asked, shocked. G quickly learned his mistake, and shook his head a tad too quick for his taste.
"Not personally… but we all knew who she was. After the first few, we learned that whenever she came to the orphanage, that the first thing we had to do was hide the young boys. She preferred sons, and it always got back to us how they would end up dying by some horrible 'accident'." Callen said, and the others could hear the quotation marks around the word. "We all figured it out faster than the adults, which confused us. I mean, the signs were clear enough. Sure, we didn't know about MSBP then, but it was obvious to us that the accidents weren't really accidents."
Sam nodded, noting how G slipped into the plural tense. He never spoke of his childhood, unless it was deemed neccassary for a case. If the simple image of Goode got that reaction out of him, Sam didn't want to think about what might happen if they end up face-to-face. Maybe it would be best if he talked to Nate.
The psychologist was thinking along the same lines as Sam, and watched Callen with a critical eye from his spot in the room.
Eric flickered his gaze over the room's occupants, and feeling the uncomfortable silence creeping up on them, spoke quickly, "Well, that's it. Move out, autobots!"
That comment made him receive annoyed glares from Sam and Kensi as they left, with a quiet Nate and an even quieter G behind them.
Eric blinked at the haunted look in Callen's eyes, wondering to himself what had happened all those years ago at the orphanage. After the doors slid shut, he opened up Call of Duty and tried to forget all his pestering thoughts.
It wasn't worth worrying over. If Callen hadn't told them about it earlier, than it wasn't very important, he reasoned.
.~.~.~.
Um… so yeah. 'My Own Enemy' and possibly 'Jacob' miiight take awhile to update… SO far, this is the worst summer I've ever had.
First, my sister got in a car crash around the end of June. (She's fine now, though) Second, a good friend of mine was killed in Afghanistan on July 5th, so I've been busy helping the family and his fiancee since then. The funeral and other services were just last week.
And yesterday, my computer decided it hated me and deleted every single one of my files. L
But don't worry: I WILL update all my NCIS: LA Stories. I swear. It just may take a little longer than I'd like, since my father and I decided that now would be the perfect time to buy a brand new computer, so I may not have access to Word for awhile.
But hey; I have friends and a library. ^^ Just wanted to tell everyone what was going on, so they wouldn't think I'd abandoned my other fics. The next chapter of Jacob is almost complete, but the My Own Enemy… well, I've run out of ideas. So any plot suggestions are welcomed very much.
~THIS FIC MAY CHANGE TO M AT A LATER DATE FOR DESCRIPTIVE CHILD ABUSE, VIOLENCE, AND SWEARING~