Title: Purification
Author: Jo. R
Rating: Mild R
Content Warnings: non-explicit violence
Spoilers: Tiny spoiler for 'Under Covers'.
Pairings: Hints of various pairings but nothing you wouldn't see in the show.
Summary: The team investigate a serial killer.
Disclaimer: The only characters that are mine are the ones I don't want. I'll swap if TPTB would like to!
*****
He was doing it for their own good.
He was doing it to save them.
They cried and begged, told him about their families, their backgrounds, confessed their sins. They offered him money, material goods and, in some cases, ill-gotten gains.
It did no good. He wasn't the one they needed to convince.
If they were good people, if their pleas and promises were genuine, he was convinced they would be saved.
So far no one had, and it both saddened and disappointed him. It made him wonder, sometimes, if the risk was worthwhile.
Not that it really mattered what he thought; it wasn't as if he had a choice.
He had a mission, one he was determined to see through until the end.
*****
The body of Lieutenant James Summers was found in a steel container. His body was propped up against the back of the metal box, swollen and water-logged. His uniform was in tatters, his eyes frozen open in a horrified expression. There was a length of rope tied around his left leg fastened to a heavy weight between his feet.
"Oh my." Doctor Donald 'Ducky' Mallard stood beside the box, a sympathetic expression on his face as he gazed at the unfortunate sailor. "At first glance, I would say cause of death to be drowning. From the bloating and discolouration, I would assume the water we're now standing in was once this young man's companion." He was barely aware of the nod of agreement from the queasy detective who'd had the bad luck to be the one to open the container and instead moved closer to the body, studying the open door and walls that were visible. "Yes, I see. There are scratch marks here and here." He gestured to the door and nearest wall, moving back to study the dead man's fingers, examining them carefully with gloved hands and narrowed blue eyes. "There are traces of something here, under his nails. I'm sure Abby will confirm it to be steel, and she'll be able to match the indents we can see to this poor boy's fingernails."
Doctor Mallard stood back and shook himself mentally, blinking twice. He turned his attention back to the world of the living and looked to his friend and colleague, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs of the NCIS.
"Is it like the others?" Gibbs asked, his expression masked but his blue eyes were cool and assessing. Only Ducky saw the glimmer of sympathy as he glanced passed the Medical Examiner to momentarily survey the body himself.
"From what the good Detective here has told me, I'd have to say so. Of course I won't know for certain until I review the autopsy and findings..." Ducky turned his attention to the detective, who looked decidedly unsteady on his feet.
"NCIS are welcome to the case if you want it," Detective Williams told Gibbs with a pitying look at the box. He stood so he couldn't see into it but the horror lingering at the back of his brown eyes suggested he'd seen the same scene with different victims too many times before. "I can get everything we've got sent over to you within the hour. I'm not too proud to say this one is out of my league."
Gibbs gave him a brisk nod and moved to view the scene from a different angle, giving an order over his shoulder as he did. "McGee, go with Detective Williams and get what evidence he has from the other murders to Abby."
"Sure, Boss." Appearing slightly relieved to be able to escape the gruesome crime scene, Special Agent Tim McGee fell in step with Detective Williams as the slightly older man started walking away.
"DiNozzo, David, process the scene and arrange transport for the box. Duck, you and Palmer can handle the body?" It was and wasn't a question; Gibbs didn't wait around for an answer, just assumed that it would be done. He moved away from the container, studying the scene for himself.
Three bodies had already been found, abandoned in exactly the same manner. Lieutenant Summers was the fourth victim of the serial killer, and the first with a connection to the Navy. The other victims had varied from housewife to college professor to hooker. All had been found in metal boxes with air holes at the top, all had drowning listed as their cause of death.
All had been found in abandoned buildings after an anonymous phone call had been made.
Gibbs walked around the metal box and saw no marks or scratches on the floor, nothing to suggest it had been assembled and moved to the crime scene. He widened the perimeter of his search and crouched down when a sliver of something shining caught his eye.
A sliver of metal stained the ground, once molten but now solid.
"DiNozzo." He didn't look up as Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo joined him, camera at the ready. He merely pointed to the drop and waited until the flash of the camera faded from his eyes. "He put it together here," Gibbs murmured, mostly to himself but also for his agent's benefit. "He was here for a while, putting the box together, soldering... Must've taken a while." He stood and straightened, gaze locking with Tony's for a moment. "Someone could've heard something. The building across the street is still used."
"I'm on it, Boss." Tony gave him a quick nod and walked away, stopping briefly to confer with Officer Ziva David before leaving the building, ducking under the police tape on his way out onto the street.
Gibbs watched him go, not liking the feeling in his gut.
Not liking it at all.
*****
"The computer simulation shows what would have happened when the container was flooded." Abby Sciuto stood at her computer, finger poised over the button of her mouse as she addressed Gibbs and his team. She clicked once and a 3-D image of the metal container, complete with computerised image of an anonymous victim appeared on both her computer screen and the large plasma screen in front of in.
Tony, Ziva and Tim stood at the screen while Gibbs stood behind Abby, watching the murder play out.
"The water must have come in through what we thought were air holes. I'm not sure if it would've come through all of them or just one. The container acts like a tank, holding the water. The door was double-sealed to prevent leakage. It wasn't filled to the top; there's a tidemark on all four walls and the metal above that doesn't show any signs of rust." Abby clicked again and the container filled with water. As they all watched, the victim floated up so high, then was stopped by the weight attached to his foot. "The claw marks Ducky found match the marks someone would make if they were trying to reach the air holes. The weight kept him from getting to them but as the tank filled with water, he would've got more and more desperate and tried to get to the air pocket above him." She clicked again and they saw an image of the victim submerged in water. Three inches above his head, the water stopped, leaving a gap of another three inches of air. "My guess would be that either the tank was designed with our Lieutenant in mind or the length of rope was deliberately chosen to be just long enough to give him hope but too short to actually keep him above the surface."
There was a moment of silence as the team absorbed what she was telling them. Gibbs felt the unease in his gut increase and had to fight to urge to press a hand against his stomach as it turned.
"Good work, Abby," he said instead, turning his attention to the Goth forensic scientist. "You find any prints?"
"Other than the victims, no." Abby shook her head and moved over to her work bench, knowing that he'd follow. "I've searched all four containers and found traces of ammonia and dichloroisocyanuric acid, both common in industrial cleaners. Whoever did this is smart. They made sure there was nothing on the inside of the containers, probably through wearing gloves, and they cleaned every inch of the outside so there's nothing linking him or her to the murders." She handed him the piece of paper she'd been reading from and picked up a plastic evidence bag. "This was found with the second victim, Julia Harrison."
"The housewife?" Gibbs guessed after seeing that the bag contained a gold wedding band.
"You'd think that, especially considering it's her ring." Abby gave him a slightly triumphant smile, black pigtails bobbing as she shook her head. "There's an inscription inside with initials that match Gretchen Ambrose and her husband, Aaron, but this ring was found with Julia, the prostitute. There was nothing written about it in the notes that came with the evidence so I'm assuming they didn't look at it too closely."
Gibbs took the bag from her and studied the ring, an eyebrow rising as he read the inscription – 'GA & AA, 10-06-93.' "Does the date match...?"
"The date Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose got married? Yes, it does." Abby nodded, her pigtails moving with the motion again. Her green eyes were bright but also showed her empathy with the victims. "I checked in the file. They were married on the 6th October, 1993. It's her ring, Gibbs. I was going to test for any remaining DNA to confirm the match but it is definitely her wedding ring and it was definitely found with the remains of Julia Harrison – I checked the crime scene photos to make sure someone in the police's forensic department hadn't screwed up."
He gave her a brief smile and leaned in, invading her personal space momentarily to brush his lips against her cheek. "Good work, Abs." He turned away from her a second later, addressing his team who'd moved to see the evidence. "DiNozzo, you and David go and interview the husband. Take this," he passed Ziva the evidence bag and watched her accept the pen Abby offered. "See if he recognises it but don't let him touch it. See if he's heard of any of the other victims. McGee, you're with me. Let's go see if anyone had a grudge against Summers."
The four field agents left the lab and Abby turned back to her computer, sighing at the sight of the drowned victim on her screen. She closed the programme quickly, suppressing a shudder.
Drowning in a metal box, she decided, should definitely make the list of the worst ways to die.
*****
Aaron Ambrose was a tall man with a shaved head. His bare arms revealed tattoos Abby would be proud of stretching from his wrists to his shoulders. Ziva tried not to stare at the ink lines as she sat opposite him, hands holding the plastic evidence bag holding his wife's wedding band.
"When was the last time you saw your wife, Mr. Ambrose?" Tony leaned back against the sofa, as relaxed as if they'd been discussing the weather.
"I saw Gretchen the night before she died." Aaron Ambrose clasped his hands together and bowed his head. "I told the cops. We had a fight. I went to stay with a friend to let her calm down. She was gone when I came home."
Tony leaned forward slightly, his arm pressing into Ziva's at the action. "What did you fight about?"
Ambrose shrugged and looked straight passed them. "She said I wasn't paying enough attention to her. Said a friend of hers had seen me with some woman."
"Had she?" The question came from Ziva, an eyebrow arched.
Ambrose didn't answer straight away. He looked down at his hands, which Ziva and Tony noticed were clenched so hard that his knuckles were white. "It was a one-night thing. A mistake. I never meant for Gretchen to find out."
Tony and Ziva exchanged a look. "You said you stayed with a friend," Tony continued the line of questioning. "Do you have a number for him?"
"You want to check I was there? The cops already did that."
Ziva gave him the sweetest smile she could, moving the evidence bag from one hand to the other. "We would like to check again." She held the bag out, pulling the plastic tight over it so he could see the item without needing to touch it. "Do you recognise this, Mr. Ambrose?"
"It's Gretchen's wedding ring," he answered sullenly. "The cops said they found it with her... With her body."
"That is incorrect." Ziva tightened her hold on the bag when it looked like he was going to grab it out of her hand."This ring was found with the second victim."
Ambrose's eyebrows rose in surprise. "The second victim...?"
Tony made a big show of flipping open his notepad, taking Ambrose's attention from Ziva back to him. "Does the name Julia Harrison sound familiar to you?" Ambrose shook his head, still too shocked to speak. "What about Liam Williams or Lieutenant James Summers?"
"No. No, I don't know those people." Ambrose shook his head again. "Gretchen's ring was found with someone else?"
"Julia Harrison, yes." Ziva slid a photograph out of the folder on her lap. "This is Julia Harrison. Your wife's wedding band was found on her body." She handed the picture to Ambrose, studying his face.
His eyes widened momentarily, his tongue darting out to moisten suddenly dry lips. Both Ziva and Tony saw the hand holding the photo tremble slightly.
"You know her." Tony stated.
Ambrose shrugged and shook his head. "Name's not Julia. Said her name was Jane."
"How do you know her?" Ziva asked, taking the photograph back. She gazed down momentarily at the smiling face of Julia Harrison, the photograph taken two years before she'd become a prostitute, thrown out by her parents after they discovered her addiction to heroin. Two years before she'd been murdered. Two years before her twenty-first birthday.
He didn't want to answer; that much was obvious. He shrugged his shoulders again and let his head fall into his hands. "We met at a bar. She... We hooked up."
"You paid her for sex," Ziva translated, ignoring Tony's warning glance. She tilted her head to the side inquisitively when Ambrose glared at her. "We know Julia was a prostitute, Mr. Ambrose. How many times did you pay for her services?"
"Once." The answer came too quickly to be honest. He balked under the two accusing gazes directed at him. "Okay, maybe a couple of times."
"Is she the woman your wife's friend saw you with?" Tony asked conversationally.
"Yes."
"You told the police you were with a friend called Ian Parsons the night your wife disappeared. Is that true?" Still speaking pleasantly, Tony nudged Ziva in the side to keep her silent.
"No." Ambrose shook his head, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I was with Jane. Julia. Whatever her name is. We stayed in a motel. I left her around eight, nine in the morning. Came back here and Gretchen was gone. When she didn't come home that night, I called the cops. I wouldn't call the cops and report her missing if I'd killed her."
"Perhaps not." Ziva ignored the sigh from Tony. "It is a coincidence, yes, that the person who could account for your whereabouts during the time of your wife's murder was also killed in the same manner not more than four days later? Mr. Ambrose, we are going to need you to come with us." She and Tony stood together, a united front.
"You gonna arrest me?" Ambrose also stood, anger in voice, panic in his eyes. "I didn't do anything! I didn't kill my wife!"
"We're not charging you with anything, Mr. Ambrose. We just want to ask you a few more questions." Tony slipped hand-cuffs over Ambrose's wrists, the man strangely compliant when Ziva accidently let her gun show.
While Tony ushered him into the car, Ziva made a phone call to the Navy Yard and let them know they were on their way.
*****
Abby took a large slurp of her Caf-Pow through the straw, savouring the taste of her favourite caffeinated drink. She set it down and shrugged her tense shoulders. She let her fingertips rest against the keys of her keyboard and took a deep breath before she started inputting more commands into her computer.
So far, she'd found a criminal record on Julia Harrison – not surprising, and a series of accusations made against the dead professor from female faculty and students who'd all been paid off or transferred to different colleges – very surprising. She'd found nothing on Gretchen Ambrose or James Summers so was having to dig deeper into their backgrounds whilst simultaneously running her own checks on the evidence McGee had brought over with the case files.
Her phone rang and she hit the intercom button, eyes glued to the screen as she minimised her search to survey the results of the chemical analysis she'd performed on the blood Ducky had sent up to her from the morgue. "Forensics. Abby speaking."
"Who else would be speaking, Abby? You're the only one there." Gibbs' voice cut through the sound of the music playing in her lab and made her smile.
"Not true, Gibbs. Not true. Bert could've picked up the phone, then you'd be very embarrassed at assuming you were speaking to me." She heard him sigh and stifled a chuckle. "But you're not calling just to hear my delightful voice, so how about I tell you what I've found so far?"
"That'd be good, Abs."
"The good professor was actually a very bad man. He was accused of sexual harassment by two female faculty members, both of whom transferred away from campus after accepting a large sum of money from the college. There are complaints on file from three students, too, but they weren't followed up as far as I can see. I had to dig quite deeply into the college mainframe to find them, Gibbs, so it looks like someone's covering up for him." Abby paused, both to catch her breath and to let him take in the information. "I haven't found anything on Mrs. Ambrose or Lieutenant Summers yet but I'm still looking. Oh, and Ziva called. They found a link between Mr. Ambrose and Julia Harrison. Seems Mr. Ambrose was one of her customers and he claims he was with her the night his wife was murdered."
"Anything from the blood sample Ducky took from the Lieutenant?" Gibbs asked after a slight pause.
Abby nodded before realising he couldn't see her. "Yeah, I was just going through it now." She narrowed her eyes and studied the results on screen. "I think I've just found a link between our sailor and our hooker, Gibbs. Our sailor was juiced up on heroin when he died."
"Fits with what we found out from his roommate," Gibbs sighed. "He was waiting to hear back from a disciplinary panel after turning up for duty under the influence."
"That's not good." Abby shook her head and minimised the blood results. "You think there'll be a link between all of our victims?"
"That's what my gut's telling me but it's not typical MO for serial killers."
Abby smiled again, in spite of the situation. "Go with the gut, Gibbs. It should never be questioned."
"Right." She heard the answering note of amusement in his voice and her smile widened. "We're on our way back in. See what else you can dig up on the professor and housewife."
She opened her mouth to reply but found herself listening to the familiar dial tone. She shook her head and hit the button to silence the sound. "One day, I'll get to hang up first."
*****
The young man had been his least favourite so far. He'd cried and asked for his mother and had screamed himself hoarse as the tank filled with water.
He still heard those screams in his dreams.
"It's not like I'm doing this to hurt you," he said, his voice echoing around the empty basement. "I'm doing this to save you."
The young woman chained to the pipes wept bitterly, the sound of her sobs muffled by the gag in her mouth. She was a pretty young thing, dark haired and blue eyed. There was a tattoo of a heart just visible above the torn neckline of her shirt, drawn in black, coloured in red on the top of her left breast. It moved as her chest heaved but he didn't really notice.
He wasn't really aware of her presence.
"You all think you'll get away with it but you won't. Judgement day is upon you and He has no mercy for the weak." He moved around the basement, picking up the gloves that rested on the work bench. He turned as he slipped them on, admiring his handiwork as he surveyed the large metal container that took up most of the space.
It'd taken him a little bit longer to make this time, given that he'd been working in a residential area. It had helped that the young woman was known for playing her music loudly – more so that her parents were out of town so the neighbours had no one to complain to.
"Sins should not be committed with so much ease." He turned his attention to her then, the look on his face apologetic. "All who sin must be punished. They must be purified and shown the light. Only in death will they escape the darkness of evil."
She shook her head when he approached her, pressing her back against the wall despite the pipes that dug painfully into her flesh.
He stroked her cheek almost tenderly, eyes sorrowful. "He will be there to greet you if your regret is sincere," he murmured. "Pray now, Alison. You may still be forgiven."
She flinched when his lips were pressed against her forehead, turned her face away as best as she could. She was too weak to fight him when he unfastened the handcuffs keeping her against the pipes but she tried, lashing out at him, fingernails ready.
His other victims hadn't been able to try; the young man and woman were still suffering the consequences of their immoral drug use, the professor and the housewife under the influence of the evils of alcohol.
He subdued her easily and half-carried, half-dragged her to the box. He pushed her into it as gently as he could, checking she was unconscious before bending to secure the rope and weight to her foot.
Alison Moore began to stir as he took a step back, her eyelids fluttering. He removed the gag from her mouth and stroked her cheek once more.
"Don't scream, Alison," he told her softly. "You'll need your strength."
"Please don't do this. Don't. Please. I'll do anything you want." Her voice was hoarse from lack of use and she moved as if to touch him as he slid the heavy door shut. The clunking sound of the door shutting echoed around the tank, joining her sobs and pleas. He secured the padlock even as she banged against the door weakly. "Let me out! Please! I can't see. God, I can't see."
"Do not take his name in vain, Alison." He touched the closed door, imagining her hand pressed against his on the other side. "Be strong and He will guide you."
Turning his back on her, he headed for the hose he'd attached to the water tank in the houses basement, standing on the box he'd put beside the container to push the nozzle through one of the three air holes he'd painstakingly drilled into the side.
"It will be over soon," he promised. "You will be saved."
Her sobs and panicked cries increased as the cold water rained down on her, the pounding increasing.
He moved to the stereo he'd brought down to the basement and turned it on, turning the dial as far as it would go.
This was the part he hated the most.
*****
They stood around the plasma screen in the bullpen, staring at the four photographs of their victims. Before and after, alive and dead.
"I did some more digging and I think we've got a starting point," Abby told them excitedly.
Gibbs gave her a long look when she remained silent. "You feel like sharing or keeping it to yourself?"
Pouting, Abby shook her head. "Where's the anticipation? The drum roll? The fan fare?"
Tony, Tim and Ziva exchanged a tired yet amused glance at her antics while Gibbs merely looked at her.
"Now is not the time, Abby." The look on his face would have had anyone else quaking in their boots but Abby looked unflustered in her three inch heels as she stood beside him. "What do you have?"
She pouted for a few moments more before pressing the button on the remote in her hand. "Aaron Ambrose wasn't the only one to have an affair. The late Mrs. Ambrose enrolled in evening classes at Saint Patrick's. She took art photography under one Professor Liam Williams and went from barely making a pass grade to getting distinctions on all of her assignments within the space of four weeks. She quit the class unexpectedly after her husband made a scene on campus, accusing his wife and the professor of having an affair in full view of the entire class."
"That links the professor and the housewife." McGee looked to Tony and Ziva. "Didn't Ambrose deny having heard of Liam Willams?"
"He did." Ziva scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. "That links him to three of the victims. I told you we should not have let him go."
"We can still bring him in again, Ziva," Tony told her quietly. "Once we have enough evidence to prosecute."
Abby spoke up as they started to move away, reaching out to grab Gibbs by the arm to keep him next to her. "There's more." She clicked the remote again and an image of Julia Harrison came on screen. "Remember how I said there'd been three complaints made by students about Williams behaviour? Julia Harrison is one of the witnesses who were called to discuss the allegations. She wouldn't confirm she'd witnessed the professor harassing a girl called Selena Thompson but it came out during the course of the allegation that she herself had been having an affair with Williams for extra credit. She was enrolled at Saint Patricks, too, Gibbs. She dropped out a month before she was kicked out by her parents." She pressed the button on the remote again before any of them could speak and a grainy image of Julia Harrison and Lieutenant Jamie Summers came on screen. It wasn't a good picture and had obviously taken in a dimly lit room but it showed the two of them beaming at the camera unsteadily. "I got this from the cell phone that was found with the Lieutenant's personal affects. He and Julia knew each other on a personal level. It was taken two months ago according the name of the file on his phone."
"You've outdone yourself, Abs." Gibbs leaned forward to kiss her cheek, approval and appreciation in his blue gaze. "You've obviously been busy."
"That's the way I like it." She beamed at the praise and handed the remote to him. "I'll let you know if I find anything else. See you guys later!" With a wave and another smile, she skipped off to the elevators.
"McGee, dig through those files and see if you can get the names of anyone else who refused to testify against Liam Williams. We'll have to bring Ambrose back in for questioning, see if he's hiding anything else." Gibbs moved to his desk and picked up his weapon and badge. "David, DiNozzo, get Ambrose back here. McGee, what's the name of the guy in charge of Saint Patricks?"
McGee flicked through the file on his desk while Ziva and Tony got themselves geared up and headed for the opposite elevator bank to Abby. "Ah, it's a she, Boss. Doctor Melissa Otis."
"Right. If you find anything, call me. It's time Ms. Otis and I had a chat." Gibbs slipped his badge into his pocket and checked his gun was holstered securely before striding to the elevators.
*****
There was no answer to their knocks. Ziva and Tony shared a glance and drew out their weapons simultaneously, taking up positions either side of the door.
"NCIS. We're coming in." Tony kicked at the door and let Ziva move in first as it swung open, following her swiftly.
The house was silent.
They moved side by side through each room in turn, finding each was as devoid of human life as the last.
"It appears he has vacated the property," Ziva mused aloud. She studied the unmade bed in the master bedroom, the open drawers with only female clothes left inside them. "I will get McGee to issue a BOLO on his vehicle."
"I'll call Gibbs," Tony responded, evidently not looking forward to the task.
*****
Gibbs hung up after hearing the news, sliding his phone back into his pocket as Doctor Melissa Otis finally saw fit to show herself. The striking blond smiled at him but he didn't react, his mind already seeing her as a suspect.
"Agent Gibbs, I presume." She smiled at him and held out a delicate hand. "I'm sorry for keeping you waiting. There was an issue that couldn't wait."
He ignored the hand she held out to him and studied her coolly instead. "An issue that's more important than the murder of a member of your staff?"
Her smile slipped momentarily and her hand dropped to her side. Dr. Otis moved around her office, sitting at her desk before motioning him into the seat opposite. "Please, sit down."
Gibbs remained standing.
Dr. Otis sighed and crossed her hands over her desk. "Liam's death was a tragedy, Agent Gibbs, but I still have a college to run."
"His death was murder," he reminded her mildly. "But I suppose you're kept pretty busy running a campus of this size. You offer day classes and evening classes, right?"
"We do." She met his gaze evenly, a blond eyebrow arching at the look on his face. "Are you this rude all the time, Agent Gibbs, or should I be flattered?"
"I'm doing my job," Gibbs responded, finally taking the seat opposite her.
"As am I," Dr. Otis answered with a smile. "Why don't you start by telling me why you're here and we'll see if I can help? I assume it's related to Liam's murder. Have you caught the guy who did it?"
Gibbs shook his head slightly. "Not yet. We were reviewing Professor Williams record during his time with the college. He'd been here for ten years."
"It would've been eleven in October," she concurred. "He was a great teacher. He brought out the best in his students."
"Not all of them." Gibbs stared at her. "There were several complaints made about him. All by women."
Dr. Otis broke eye contact, staring down at pieces of paper on her desk so she could avoid looking at him. "Those allegations were investigated and no substantial evidence was found."
"Two members of staff received substantial amounts of money from the college before transferring out." He waited a beat, then continued. "We know he had affairs with at least two of his students. A Mrs. Gretchen Ambrose and a young woman by the name of Julia Harrison."
The blond woman leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. She met his gaze with a cold expression of her own. "Liam denied he ever had personal relations with any of his students. He was an attractive man, Agent Gibbs. Several students became infatuated with him. It's not uncommon, unfortunately. Some of them decided to fabricate affairs and some took his rejection of them further and made unfounded accusations of sexual harassment."
"You were sleeping with him." Gibbs watched the colour flood into her cheeks and knew he was right. There was no wedding band on her finger but he doubted his relationship with her former member of staff was widely known. "Is that why you paid off the teachers who made the accusations against him?"
"They were lying, trying to use the rumours for their own financial gain." Fury edged out the iciness in her tone. "Liam was not interested in them."
"That's what he told you, what you wanted to hear." Gibbs watched her flush further. "He couldn't exactly tell you the truth or you would've fired him." He leaned forward in his chair. "Mrs. Ambrose and Julia Harrison are dead. They were murdered by the same person who murdered Liam Williams." He tilted his head to the side. "Did you find out about his affairs, Dr. Otis? Decide to kill him and the women he'd been cheating on you with?"
Dr. Otis got to her feet, her body trembling with pent up rage. "Get out. You have no right to say these things to me, Agent Gibbs."
Gibbs stood slowly, a ghost of a grin on his face. "I have if you murdered them." He nodded to her. "I'll see myself out, Dr. Otis, but I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again."
He waited until he was out of his office, until the door was closed behind him before he reached for his phone and hit a number on his speed dial. A grin spread across his face at the thump behind him as something was thrown at the door.
"McGee, I need a warrant. I want to bring Doctor Melissa Otis in for questioning."
"I'll send the request, boss." McGee cleared his throat. "Before you hang up, boss, I've got another name of one of the witnesses who refused to speak against Professor Williams. Alison Moore. She was in the same class as Julia Harrison and isn't answering her phone."
"Damn it." Gibbs felt the familiar stirring in his gut and quickened his pace. "Send me the address, McGee, and meet me there."
He hung up before McGee could respond.
*****
McGee pulled up behind Gibbs' car just a few minutes after Gibbs himself had arrived. He found Gibbs knocking on the Moore's door, taking his gun out of its holster as no one replied. McGee could hear music playing somewhere in the house and frowned.
"Sounds like somebody's home," McGee murmured to Gibbs.
"Sounds like Abby's lab," Gibbs returned.
He motioned to McGee, who stood back, armed and ready. On the count of three, Gibbs kicked open the door and entered the house, gun in hand, McGee just behind him. They searched methodically, following the sound of the music through the kitchen to the door that led down to the basement.
Gibbs led the way, taking his time down the creaky steps into the dimly lit basement. His heart thudded in his chest at the sight of the metal container in the middle of the room, water dripping from the hose pipe that had been abandoned next to it.
McGee headed for the front of the container when Gibbs signalled the room was clear, surprised to see the key in the padlock that kept it locked. He undid it and quickly discarded the chain, not wanting to give up hope that they'd made it in time, that the person in side – Alison Moore – could still be saved.
Working together, the two men eased the heavy door open, ignoring the icy cold water that flooded the room and soaked through their clothes.
Gibbs stood back and swore under his breath even as McGee reached in to check for a pulse.
He didn't find one; Alison Moore was dead.
*****
Ducky surveyed the two bodies in his autopsy sadly. He had completed his autopsy of Alison Moore and confirmed their suspicions that she, too, had drowned. He stood back when the doors opened and Gibbs entered the room, coffee in hand.
"There's evidence he had to restrain her," Ducky told him immediately. "I found no such evidence in my autopsy of our Lieutenant and there isn't any mention of restraints in the reports from Doctor Johannsen at the police department." He moved to the young woman's body and pointed to the bruising around her wrists. "Given the degree of bruising and damage to the skin, my guess would be handcuffs."
"They weren't found at the scene so he must've taken them with him." Gibbs gazed down at the dead young woman, pity on his face.
Ducky glanced at his friend. "Have her parents been informed?"
Gibbs gave him a brisk nod. "They were in Hawaii on vacation. They're heading back now. Neighbours didn't hear anything but the music she was playing. One of them went over to the house last night to complain..."
"If they'd kept trying or called the police, she could have been saved." Ducky voiced the thought that was troubling Gibbs, his own expression showing his distress.
"You got anything else, Duck?"
Ducky lifted the hand nearest him with gloved fingers, carefully pointing to her fingernails. "I believe Miss Moore might have tried defending herself. I doubt there's DNA but there could be some fibres that may be useful. I've already sent a sample to Abby with Mr. Palmer."
"Good. Thanks, Ducky." Turning to leave autopsy, Gibbs paused at the sound of his friend's voice.
"Don't worry, my dear," Ducky told the corpse gently. "Jethro will get justice for you."
Gibbs continued out of autopsy, hoping he wouldn't prove Ducky wrong.
*****
Doctor Melissa Otis sat in interrogation, hands crossed on the table, her lawyer sitting beside her in an expensive suit. Her lawyer was another woman, a redhead, who examined her fingernails as though she were bored of waiting.
From the other side of the one-way mirror, Gibbs stood with his team and watched.
"You don't think she's responsible." Tony looked at Gibbs out of the corner of his eye. "Why's she here?"
Gibbs shrugged a shoulder. "She hid evidence related to accusations of sexual harassment."
"We cannot charge her for that," Ziva reminded him quietly. "It is out of our jurisdiction."
"Doesn't mean we can make her sweat it out for a while," McGee chimed in, glancing quickly at Gibbs when he saw his boss glance at him. "That is what we're doing, isn't it?"
"Interview her," Gibbs told McGee. "Make sure the board of the college gets a copy of whatever she says. DiNozzo, go see what you can dig up on Ambrose and check out some of his favourite haunts. David, see if you can find anything that hints at this guy's next victim. I want to be a step ahead of him next time."
He left before they could question his orders, not that they would have done. McGee left shortly after to begin the interrogation while Ziva and Tony walked back to their desks to get started on their tasks.
Gibbs wasn't there when they arrived, his desk empty, the cup of coffee on it rapidly growing cold.
*****
His basement was the first place he usually went to get his mind focused on the case. That wasn't an option, though, as he didn't want to leave the Navy Yard in case there was a new development. The morgue was the second best place but given there were two bodies waiting for justice, he decided against that, too.
That only left one place open to him; Abby's lab.
Gibbs was surprised the music playing was quiet and gentle, not the usually strands of loud drums and electric guitars. He glanced around but didn't see the black-haired Goth so ventured further into the lab, heading for the office he knew the music was coming from.
Abby sat at her desk, stuffed hippo called Bert in her arms. She squeezed the hippo as he approached but didn't smile at the sound as she usually would, green eyes staring sightlessly into space.
"You okay, Abby?" He watched her jump at the sound of his voice, a hand reaching up to brush her cheek before she turned to face him fully.
"Fine." She cleared her throat and blinked her eyes, which still shone suspiciously. "There was a tiny bit of DNA in the scrapings Ducky had Jimmy bring up. I'm running them now but chances are they're going to match Alison's rather than her killers. The fibres came back as being a mix of cotton and dye, nothing that we can really get anything from."
Gibbs nodded at the information but crossed the space between them to sit on the edge of her desk, staring down at her in open concern. "Something bothering you, Abs?"
She was silent for a few moments, her gaze fixed on the blank computer screen in front of her before another tear escaped from her eyes and tracked down her cheek. His hand beat hers to it, wiping it away gently as she gazed up at him. "I knew her," she admitted eventually, dropping her gaze down to the hippo in her arms. "Ali hung out with the same crowd. We liked the same music, went to a few concerts together. We weren't close but we knew each other. I knew her. And now she's dead."
Another tear slipped down her cheeks and Gibbs pulled her up, into his arms, holding her as she clung to him. She didn't sob against him or weep loudly; she didn't even cry much. Abby held on for as long as she dared, drawing comfort from his proximity, taking the time to regain her composure.
She pulled back just as one of her machines beeped and gave him a quick, lopsided grin of thanks before leading him out of the office to the beeping computer.
"Results of the DNA search," she murmured, clearing her throat when the words didn't come out easily. She held her breath and clicked for the results, bracing herself for seeing her friend's face.
She wasn't expecting the words 'No Match' to appear.
"It's the killer's DNA," she told him softly.
"Search every database you can think of," Gibbs told her unnecessarily; her fingers were already flying over the keyboard in response to the order. He let his hand rest briefly on her shoulder before leaving her to it. "We'll get him, Abby. He won't get away with it."
*****
He'd watched the NCIS van pull up outside the Moore household, watched the gurney with the body bag be rolled down the path.
It didn't please him that she was dead; he'd hoped that he'd finally found someone who could be saved. Her crime wasn't as great as the others. She hadn't spread her legs or corrupted her soul with drugs, hadn't lost her innocence in the bottom of a bottle. She'd just told a lie, one that had come back to haunt her.
One that had killed her.
He watched one of the agents leave the house to talk to the officers on guard outside, watched them exchange a few words and felt the familiar stirring in his stomach.
He knew who was going to be next, after his current mission was complete.
He drove away as the NCIS agents searched the house, confident that they wouldn't find any evidence linking him to her death. He was protected by his God, by his sense of wrong and right.
He'd only done what he had to, after all.
He drove mindlessly for a few hours before deciding to return to the disused building next to the noisy club. He would see if the new one had repented, if he was apologetic and ready to beg Him for forgiveness.
The new one had lost his soul to the demons of adultery and alcoholism but maybe he still had a chance.
Maybe he'd still be saved but either way, he knew who he needed to help next.
*****
Even the news that Dr. Otis had been removed from her position as head of Saint Patrick's college didn't boost his spirits any higher. Gibbs sent his team home, telling them to get some sleep, but stayed at his desk for most of the night. He was glad when Abby left with Ziva, the latter whom seemed determined to take Abby's mind off her loss by giving her the best girl's night in she could. They'd been talking about chick flicks, chocolate muffins and copious amounts of tequila when Gibbs had seen them last, leading to Tony complaining that he hadn't been invited and McGee wondering aloud if there'd be any pillow fights.
Gibbs didn't care; as long as Abby was taken care of and neither of them came in with a hangover, he was prepared to let them indulge in whatever was necessary to get them through the hard times that lay ahead.
He didn't know how long he stayed awake, going through the files and notes that his agents had made, that the police who'd initially begun the investigations had made. He looked at the autopsy photographs too many times to mention, too many times to be comfortable.
He saw their faces as he slept fitfully at his desk, their frozen eyes begging him for help, their mouths moving wordless as whispered voices encircled him, demanding justice, demanded he find their killer before he struck again.
It was only when a drawer being shut near-by that Gibbs awoke, wiping his mouth instinctively as he sat up straight in his chair and met Tony's amused gaze with a glare that soon had the smile disappearing from his agent's face.
"You shouldn't sleep in your chair," Tony advised, busying himself with turning on his computer so he didn't have to look at his boss. "You'll get a bad back."
"Wasn't planning on spending the night," Gibbs grumbled. He stood and stretched his arms over his head, wincing when the muscles in his back protested. "What time is it?"
Tony glanced at his watched. "Just after nine. McGee took a Caf-Pow down to Abby's lab."
Gibbs glanced at Ziva's empty desk, brow furrowed. "Is Ziva with her?"
"I don't know, Boss. I haven't seen her this morning. I'm guessing they had a good night, though. Neither of their cars are in the car lot so I'm guessing they got a taxi in this morning..."
McGee chose that moment to return, Caf-Pow still in hand. "Abby's not in her lab," he reported. He held up his cell phone. "And there's no answer at her place or Ziva's, or on their cell phones."
Gibbs felt that feeling again, churning in the pit of his stomach. He reached for his badge and weapon and was half-way to the elevator before he managed to get his badge into his pocket. Tony and McGee joined him in the elevator just before the door slid shut, both of them looking grim, both of them holding their cell phones to their ears.
There was no answer to any of their calls.
*****
He panicked at first when he found not one but two women asleep in the apartment he'd tracked her to. They were both sound asleep, the empty wine bottles showing that they were both as guilty of sin as each other.
He carried the first one down to his van, relieved he didn't run into anyone, and pondered going back for the other.
The other was his original target but the one he'd carried looked more like those he was assigned to purify. But still... His God had led him to the second woman and she, too, deserved a second chance.
After securing the black-haired woman in his van, he returned to the apartment and searched for the bathroom. He put the plug in the bath and left it to run.
The dark-haired woman wearing the Star of David stirred but didn't fully awaken. He was glad of that, having seen the gun that lay on her bedside cabinet in his search for something to tie her hands together with. He used the pantyhose he'd found in the drawer in her bedroom to tie her hands and feet and lifted her effortlessly into his arms, carrying her through to the bathroom.
She stirred again and he found his anxiety growing; his God was testing him, making sure he was up for the task.
He set her in the bath of warm water and pushed her down, holding her head beneath the water as she woke up and began to struggle. Her dark eyes opened and she stared up at him, fear and fury on her face.
He closed his eyes and waited until the thrashing stopped before removing his hands. He dried them on the hand-towel located beside the sink and left the room without looking back, striding out of the apartment and closing the door behind him.
He didn't see her sit up, hear her splutter as she struggled to catch her breath. He didn't hear her shout as oxygen filled her lungs or see her efforts at releasing herself from the restraints keeping her from getting out of the bath.
*****
She was still in the bathtub when they found her, slumped against the tub, eyes closed as she still struggled to catch her breath. Ziva opened her eyes when the bathroom door opened, coughing in surprise.
Tony eased her forward and started working on untying her hands while McGee knelt beside him to untie her feet. Gibbs stood, gun in his hand, and surveyed the room.
"He has Abby," Ziva croaked, her voice weak from the water she'd consumed whilst pretending she was dead. "He thought I was unconscious, left me to drown." She leaned heavily on her teammates, held between McGee and Tony as she stumbled out of the tub. "He has Abby, doesn't he?"
Gibbs nodded, lips drawn together in a grim line. "Did you recognise him? Was it Ambrose?"
Ziva shook her head. "It wasn't Ambrose but I am sure I could identify him. We will find her, Gibbs."
Gibbs strode out of the bathroom, cell phone already in hand as he put in a call to the NCIS for extra agents. He wished he could believe Ziva was telling the truth but the twisting in his gut told him it might be too late when they did find her.
*****
Her head felt unbelievably heavy for her neck to support. Abby groaned, trying to remember how much alcohol she and Ziva had consumed before giving in to the lure of the unconscious. She frowned when her hand wouldn't move to rub her eyes, a groan escaping her as the noise of metal clunking went straight through her head.
"Ziva...?" She managed to open one eye, the second following quickly when her surroundings weren't the ones she was expecting. "This... isn't Ziva's apartment."
"No. It isn't." The man appeared in front of her as silently as Gibbs. If her back hadn't already been against the wall, she would have pressed herself against it. "I'm afraid I don't know your name."
She didn't feel like sharing, not when she caught sight of the large metal container in the middle of the room. Abby swallowed reflexively and flinched when he lifted a gloved hand to touch her cheek.
"I thought it was the other one I had to save but I know now that I was wrong. She was merely the vessel that led me to you." He stroked her cheek and let his hand drop to his side when she turned her face away from the caress.
"Who are you?" Abby regained her voice and her courage, gaze once again travelling to the metal box. "What do you want with me?" She could hear music playing in the distance, the low thrum vibrating through the floor.
"My name is irrelevant. As for what I want..." He gave her a crooked smile. "I want to save you. I want to lead you towards the light, away from sin. I have been given the chance to deliver you to Him and save your moral soul and I can't let that opportunity go."
She stared at him in disbelief as he walked away from her, opened her mouth to speak but couldn't find the words. She watched him unlock the padlock at the front of the container, heard the metal door creak in protest as it was opened.
Water gushed out onto the floor but her captor didn't seem to notice. He shook his head sadly and reached inside, grabbing something she couldn't see.
Grabbing someone.
He lay Aaron Ambrose down on the ground almost reverently, leaning over him to close the dead man's open eyes. "Be with God," he murmured. "May he be merciful on your soul."
"You killed him." Abby gaped at him in disgust, her stomach threatening to revolt though she wasn't sure if it was because of the body in front of her or the hangover she was fighting. "You killed them all, didn't you? Why?"
"Julia Harrison was a whore. She spread her legs to pay for her habit. Gretchen Ambrose broke her marital vows, as did her husband here." The man shook his head sadly. "Alison Moore lied and never repented. James Summers was corrupted. They all sold their souls to Satan and paid the price."
Abby swallowed the nausea in her throat and wracked her brain for the name of the other victim, cursing herself for drinking so much that her brain was sluggish. "What about Liam Williams? Why did you kill him?"
He looked up at her then, a look of such hatred on his face that she almost flinched. "Liam Williams is the worst kind of sinner. He destroys lives without remorse."
She fought the urge to point out that was exactly what he was doing and bit her tongue against speaking her mind. He dragged the body away from the metal container and started towards her again.
"Liam Williams ruined my daughter's life," he told her softly, his expression sad. "My Selena chose to take her life because of that monster."
The name was familiar but she couldn't place it. She struggled instead when his hands moved to the restraints keeping her in place. He shushed her with a gentle tut, fingers slipping between the cuffs and her wrists as he searched in his pocket for the key with the other hand.
"You don't know me," she told him, keeping her voice quiet in an attempt at keeping the tremor in it from being detected by him. "You don't know I've committed any sin. Why do this to me?"
"We all need to be saved," he said simply. "I knew when I saw you that you were the one He meant me to save."
"Why?" She struggled when he undid the restraints but was no match for him in her weakened state. "Because of my tattoos? Because if it's that, you're really jumping to conclusions and making an unfair judgement because of the way I look. I go to church. I bowl with nuns!"
"You are touched by Satan," he told her calmly. "I can see the taint on your soul."
She fought against him as he dragged her to the now empty container. She tried to kick him but he kept out of her way. She tried to hit him but he stood behind her, arms keeping her hands from reaching far enough.
Abby was pushed face-first into the metal box and by the time she turned around, the door was shut behind her. She looked down, cursing when she realised it was too dark to see her feet and lifted her knees in turn, fighting the urge to squeal when she realised he hadn't tied her feet to the weight she could feel at the bottom of the box.
Her excitement faded when all but one of the air holes above her letting in the light and air were sealed. The third was soon blocked the nozzle of a hose pipe.
"Please don't do this. I haven't done anything wrong. Please, please don't do this." She hit the sides of the metal container with as much force as she could muster, tears of frustration stinging her eyes. "You don't have to do this. Please!"
His only answer was to turn on the water. She shivered as the icy cold water hit her body and instinctively pushed herself in the far corner of the box, as far from the hose as possible. She couldn't hear anything above the rush of water and bit her lip against a sob, knowing it was useless.
She was running out of time and air and had no choice but to hope for a rescue.
*****
Ziva pulled the blanket further around her shoulders as she sat at Abby's workbench. McGee was sat at her computer, typing furiously, while Tony stood behind them and Gibbs paced the lab impatiently.
"I should have defended her," Ziva murmured, entwining her fingers in the material of the blanket. Abby's blanket, the one she kept in her office for all-nighters. "I should have been able to prevent him from taking her."
"You were asleep, Ziva," Tony comforted, looking as though he wanted to touch her but unsure how the gesture would be received."The guy tried to drown you. There's nothing you could've done."
McGee chimed in with his own assurances while Gibbs remained silent.
The computer beeped suddenly, startling them all.
"What did you do, McGee?" Gibbs quit pacing and strode over to them.
"I didn't do anything." McGee frowned at the computer screen, hand directing the mouse to the flashing window. "It looks like a search Abby was running has found something." Aware of three pairs of anxious eyes watching his every move, McGee brought the information up on screen. "It's a DNA match. Anthony Thompson?"
Ziva stood as the image was brought up, the blanket falling to the floor forgotten."That is him," she announced, glaring at the screen as though the straight-faced man in the photograph could see her. "That is the man who has Abby."
"How do we find him, McGee?" Gibbs leaned over the younger agent's shoulder, tension rolling off him in waves. "He won't have taken her to his listed address and he won't have any connection to the place he plans on killing her in. Is there a vehicle registered in his name?"
McGee hit the keys and brought up the documentation linked to Anthony Thompson's drivers licence. "Got a license plate, Boss. Putting out a BOLO now."
"Anthony Thompson is the father of Selena Thompson," Tony informed them before Gibbs could comment, looking up from the folder in his hands. "Selena's the one who made the complaint about Williams that Julia Harrison and Alison Moore refused to back-up. Says here she committed suicide four months after dropping out of college."
Time ticked by at an impossibly slow rate. They moved from Abby's lab to the bullpen, each of them getting their weapons and badges and heading for the elevator even before McGee's cell phone rang.
"Dispatch," McGee said after hanging up without responding to the person on the other end. "Car's been spotted outside a night club eleven blocks from Ziva's apartment."
They said nothing more as they left the Navy Yard, each of them praying they weren't too late.
*****
The water was almost above her head. Abby estimated she had a few more minutes of air left at most. She was already treading water, fingers numb as she tried to find something to hold on to, something to help her conserve her strength.
He'd gone, left her to drown.
She reached up to the air hole blocked by the hose pipe and tried to dislodge it with fingers that at first refused to cooperate.
"Please, please, please, please, please." The mantra was desperate, her teeth chattering as her body began to react to the low temperatures. She finally managed to dislodge it but in her excitement, lost her grip on the sides and sunk below the surface. She kicked her feet frantically and spluttered breathlessly when she made it back above water, dismayed to find there was only three inches between the top of the water and the top of the container.
Abby hooked two fingers through the unblocked air hole and hoped she had enough strength to hold herself up for as long as it took.
*****
The police arrested Anthony Thompson on his way back to his car but Gibbs and his team didn't stop to congratulate them. They entered the building he'd been spotted leaving, each dreading what they would find.
The body of Aaron Ambrose was the first thing they saw, then the still-running water escaping from the hose pipe lying next to the container. Gibbs headed straight for it as McGee shut off the water supply.
Ziva stood back as Tony and Gibbs swung open the door, moving just in time to catch Abby as she slumped forward, body carried by the torrent of water released at the same time as she was. The two women collapsed to the floor, one murmuring her thanks in Hebrew as the other coughed and spluttered and clung on.
"It's okay, Abs. You're okay now." Gibbs knelt beside him, stripping off his jacket and wrapping it around Abby's shaking shoulders. He eased her out of Ziva's arms and into his own, watching in approval as Tony wrapped Ziva in his own jacket and McGee called for an ambulance for the shaken forensic scientist.
Teeth still chattering, Abby leaned her head against Gibbs' shoulder, arms wrapped around herself as she leaned into the warmth of his body. "What t-took you s-so long?" She asked, making a weak attempt at a smile.
"Traffic was a nightmare," Gibbs responded, playing his part as he rubbed his hands up and down her arms.
Still shivering, Abby closed her eyes, blocking out the image of the dead man lying not more than a few feet away, a reminder of what could have happened to her if fate hadn't been on her side.
Fate, and a team of very special agents.
*****
End.