Thanks to my two very awesome betas: Beth and Ekta. Here I am, once again with a longer fic (though perhaps not as many chapters. These chapters seem to a be a bit on the longer side. I hope you enjoy!
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Vincent Kain watched helplessly as his girlfriend was held against her will. One minute they had been picnicking on the lawn by the Washington Monument, and the next a man in a ski mask held her as she struggled, a gun to her head, using her as a human shield. The FBI had arrived over an hour ago, yet were no closer to freeing Jillian than when they had first arrived. He demanded the FBI agents make a move, but no move was made.
For Vincent it was like a scene out of a movie as the masked man pulled the trigger, Jillian falling limp into a pile of her own blood. The team of FBI agents responded with shots of their own, dropping the masked man where he stood. They never figured out what had caused the man to grab Jillian Miles while she was out for her morning jog. Fornell turned to his team with a heavy sigh. "There was nothing we could have done."
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Tobias Fornell slammed down his phone in frustration and cradled his head in his hands. Cassandra Jones had been attacked and killed in her home while her boyfriend, FBI agent Adam Burton, had gone to the gym. Picking up the phone again, Fornell dialed within the office. "Get in here."
Less than a minute later Donny Cunningham pushed the door to Fornell's office open cautiously. "What can I do for you, boss?"
Fornell waved him in and nodded at the two agents that followed in behind him. "Adam Burton."
"FBI, sent to keep an eye on possible terrorist activity in Georgia. What about him?" Donny pulled a chair up in front of Fornell's desk and took a seat. Although he'd only been officially working for Fornell the past year, they went back a few years and Donny was comfortable with Fornell's directness. Agents Jack Moore and Russ Terry were still slightly wary of their boss' demeanor.
"His girlfriend, Cassandra Jones, was killed."
Donny thought for a moment. "Wait a minute, he was on your team last year with…" His voice faded for a moment. "Jim Whitson. His wife was killed eight weeks ago in Boston. Is it related?"
"They were both on my team during the Jillian Miles case."
"Miles… she have a husband?"
"No, but her boyfriend witnessed the entire thing. Vincent Kain. We can't find anything to connect him, no physical proof, but my bet is on him, that he's out for revenge."
"You think he'll go after you next?"
"Me? No. Someone I care about. My daughter."
"Have there been any threats?"
"Not yet." Fornell brought his hands up to massage his temples. He was fighting what he assumed would be one very long and painful headache. "I'm not going to wait for a threat."
"Can't you bring him in to question?"
"We've got to find him first. He's disappeared off the map. His last known address was a condo in Alexandria. The owners have since rented it out to a new family. No usage of his credit cards or passport. The man disappeared shortly after his girlfriend died."
"What are we going to do?"
"First, I want you," Fornell looked at Moore, "to get Diane and Emily out of town. I won't risk my daughter's life. I want them gone until this is settled. I want three men with them wherever you send them, and I want them to go quietly, no big commotion."
"Yes sir." Agent Moore nodded and slipped out the door.
"Cunningham… I want you on Vincent Kain. Dig up everything you can. I want to know about his mother, his second grade teacher, the place where he bought his car. I want to know about everyone he's ever met in his life. Someone must know where he is. Terry, I want you to call around to any other FBI agents who were involved and have a significant other. I want everyone on high alert. We don't know who might be next."
"On it, boss." Donny and Russ answered in unison. It was going to be a long night – they could feel it. Fornell watched the door close behind his agents before he opened his e-mail. He wasn't a fan of technology, but at times he was less anti-email than others. This was one of those times. As promised, he had been emailed photos of the crime scene. Cassandra Jones lay on the stark linoleum floor of the house she shared with her boyfriend, Agent Adam Burton. The phone had been knocked off the wall, in a futile attempt to call for help. He had met her once, just before she had relocated with Burton, but the missing piece of her skull made her unrecognizable. The word 'payback' was written in her blood beside her. It had to be Vincent Kain. It had to be.
He wanted to call Burton, but knew his friend was in no condition to talk. He had discovered his girlfriend after tossing his gym bag to the floor by the door and wandering through the house hoping to find that she'd started on dinner.
Instead, Fornell picked up the phone to dial the local authorities in Georgia who had been first on the scene. It was a terse phone call that ended in Fornell demanding full access to the crime scene; he would send official FBI agents from the Georgia office to take over as well as a representative from the DC office. He could have local agents on site in just over an hour, he told them. He hung up again and hoped they would follow his instructions that nothing further was to be touched, though he knew it wasn't likely. He suddenly understood why Gibbs built a boat in his basement.
It was after midnight by the time Fornell decided to let his team go home. He packed up all the information they'd managed to draw together so far and tucked it into his briefcase. He waited until he was in his car and on the road before he pulled his cell phone from his pocket to call Agent Moore. They chatted for a few minutes. His ex-wife Diane and daughter Emily were packed up and on their way to Astoria, Oregon, a small town with enough tourism where they wouldn't be obvious as outsiders. Diane wasn't thrilled about being sent across the country on such short notice and he was sure she'd have a few words for him when they returned, but Agent Moore had assured him that Emily had seen it as a big adventure, and was more than happy to pack for her trip.
By the time he pulled into his driveway, the stabbing pain he'd been feeling at the base of his skull had turned to a dull ache now that he was certain his daughter was on her way across the country in the safe care of the FBI.
He pulled the mail from the mailbox and flipped through the bills, junk mail and newsletters as he walked up the front step until he came to a large manila envelope with no postage stamp. Dumping his briefcase on the table just inside the door, Fornell first poured himself a generous drink before standing by the dining room table to open the envelope. Inside was a black and white photo with a short note, she's pretty, scribbled on the back.
"Damnit!" Fornell tossed the photograph onto the table and downed his scotch in one gulp.
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Gibbs stared bleakly at the computer screen in front of him, his eyes occasionally jumping down to the paper beside his keyboard before returning to the screen to scan for any missed information. He was fed up with working their case side-by-side with the small town sheriff. They had found nothing, and the sheriff had all but given up, focusing on publicity rather than actually solving the case. DiNozzo had been treading on delicately thin ice all morning when it came to Gibbs patience with his sometimes childish behavior.
Ziva had been all too easily pulled in by Tony's boyish behavior, snickering at the names he was randomly tossing out to annoy McGee, and occasionally adding her own. Usually, when a case was as frustrating as the one they were working on, Gibbs felt he could count on Ziva to keep Tony under control.
McGee was the only one really getting any work done. The years of brotherly abuse handed out by Tony had taught him to ignore the insults. Gibbs glanced over at McGee and saw that he had a suspicious smile on his face, and Gibbs suspected that perhaps he was chatting with Abby rather than getting any work done.
"Well, well Probie? Is that your new girlfriend?" Tony rolled his chair over to McGee's desk and peered over his shoulder.
So maybe it wasn't Abby. Gibbs kept quiet. He wanted to know the answer.
"An old friend from high school, she just added me on Facebook."
Good enough. I suppose Tony's childish antics do come in handy at times, thought Gibbs. At least he wasn't chatting with Abby. "Get to work, both of you!"
"Yes boss."
Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to refocus on the case at hand. Today was one of those days, he decided. It wasn't going to be a good one and he could feel it. He closed his eyes and thought of his boat, trying to ease the tension he felt in his forehead and focus. He really didn't need any more useless distractions.
The sound of a thick file thudding on his desk caused Gibbs to look up curiously at Fornell. "Tobias," Gibbs gave a little smirk. It was always fun when Tobias showed up at NCIS on official business. It usually ended in a pissing match between he and his friend, and it didn't take much effort to come out on top. "What can I do for you?"
Fornell flipped open the file to show Gibbs the photograph that had been stuffed in his mailbox. "We've got a problem."
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TBC…
