Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS.
The woman in green running tights, yellow hat and red running shoes made her way past the Washington Monument and along the edge of the Tidal Basin, her destination in her sights.
She ran past the Jefferson Memorial every Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings, at the same time. The New York City Marathon was only eight weeks away, and she was worried about her stamina for the race. Perhaps she should add in another run a week?
Up ahead she could see the roof of the memorial. It was her half way point, mile five. It also meant that she could take a quick break. Coming to a stop, she checked her pulse and pulled out an energy gel from her running pack. She always loved stopping at the memorial. The sun had just risen and the view across the tidal basin was breath taking.
She turned and climbed the steps towards the memorial, stretching out her arms and legs. She was about to start running again when something caught her eye. A person was lying down on the ground. It was unusual to find anyone else at the memorial, especially just after seven am. That was another reason why she loved stopping here. It was quiet and peaceful, before the hectic day of working Washington DC. So, what was this person doing?
'Hello' she said, tentatively. Nothing. She stepped closer so she could have a better look. What she found though, scared her. She screamed and staggered backwards. She had not found someone who needed help, but instead the dead body of a man, his eyes wide open and a deep cut across his throat.
The pumpkin orange walls of the NCIS squad room made Aaron Wilson groan a little. It was Monday morning. Wilson had gone out over the weekend and made the mistake of drinking too much. He dropped his bag at the side of his desk. To his left was Daisy Anderson, her afro-textured hair pulled into yet a different design from the one she had in the previous week. Opposite Anderson was Tom Cabot, who was cleaning his desk. Cabot did this every Monday morning, and it drove Wilson up the wall. Cabot put his pen pot back on his desk, next to his computer, filling it up with pens and his beloved Trans flag.
'Every Monday morning you do that Cabot' said Wilson. 'Why?'
'To start the week off good. That is why' Cabot replied. Cabot had joined the MCRT a couple of months ago, transferring from an agent afloat position.
'You OK Wilson? You don't sound so good. Maybe a little hungover' said Anderson, closing the graphic novel she was reading and going over to his desk.
'My cousins are visiting from Beijing. We went out this weekend for some dim sum and I might have a drink' he said, waving his hand in the air.
'Or two by the looks of things' said Ellie Bishop, as she walked into the bullpen. All three agents jumped at attention. At 51, Ellie Bishop was the youngest female agent to be the leader of the MCRT. Actually, the first woman, period, to lead the MCRT, not discounting her time as temporary leader when Agents Gibbs and McGee were MIA in Paraguay, nineteen years ago. Nick like to remind her of this fact on a regular basis, the pride in his voice shining through every time.
'Grab you gear' said Ellie, pulling out her gun from the desk drawer and holstering it. 'Got a dead marine at the Jefferson Memorial.' Wilson, Cabot and Anderson followed suit, grabbing their guns, bags and making their way to the elevator. The doors opened and they stepped in. Wilson moaned uncomfortably, stretching his neck.
'Next time Wilson, drink a glass of water and take two aspirin before bed' said Ellie.
'Yes Boss' replied Wilson, as the elevator doors closed.
I've never written a mystery before but I got this idea and wanted to see what I could so with it. I hope you like it.