Joanna

Chapter 2

Joanna Graham was tall, about five foot ten, with the straight bearing of someone who had long ago decided not to try to minimise her height. Her dark brown hair, cut in a shoulder-length bob with a long, wispy fringe, was glossy and neatly kept. She had good bone structure, and large brown eyes, almost as dark as her hair. Tony, who of course noticed these things, thought she was both intelligent and a looker – if only her face wasn't drawn into harshness by lines of tension and strain, and shadows that swirled in those fine brown eyes. He put her age as somewhere within five years of him, in either direction.

She wore her uniform well, he noted, as if to show that being the chief law officer in these parts was something she didn't take lightly; her only concessions to femininity were the well cut hair, a pair of small, square cut diamond studs in her ears, and lipstick. It was a fairly neutral shade, but toned well with her brown uniform, Tony thought approvingly.

As the NCIS agents entered, the Sheriff straightened up from the desk she'd been leaning over, looking at the screen of a computer that was being operated by a man in his sixties. He also rose from what he was doing, and came to greet them; a big man who looked as if he'd played football in his youth, with pepper-and-salt hair, and regarding Gibbs with a blue gaze as sharp as his own.

"Special Agent Gibbs. Joanna Graham, Sheriff of this county," the tall woman said, in a pretty good impression of Roscoe P. Coltrane. The wry, brave attempt at humour wasn't lost on Tony. "You made good time."

"Just Gibbs is fine, Sheriff. Tony DiNozzo, my Senior Field Agent. Our other team member, Tim McGee is with your Deputy Vincent and the Saxons, setting up surveillance." Gibbs' relaxed introduction showed Tony that the boss didn't feel he was dealing with another Charlene.

The Sheriff nodded her approval, and introduced her colleague. "Seth Meiringen, Mayor of Bartram, friend, knows everyone, good man to have on your side. I'll settle for Jo, by the way." Tony listened carefully. Was there the ghost of an English accent there? As handshakes were given, Gibbs wasn't surprised when Joanna noticed his sidelong glance at the coffee machine in the corner. She smiled just a little, and went over and poured, as the Mayor pulled chairs up and invited them all to sit. Then, the vital trivialities attended to:

"OK," Gibbs said. "What have we got?"

Joanna handed him a photograph of a laughing baby boy. "Owen Saxon, one year old in ten days time. Lovely little lad, everyone likes him." Her face, and voice, were intense. "Taken from his cot last night, we have no idea what time. Mother and father, Nanette and Joel, married three years ago, both slept through the night, heard nothing. They feel guilty; they think they should have heard something. They're distraught. Their house, you probably noticed, is a one storey building; Owen's bedroom window at the side of the house appears to have been forced. They've never bothered with a burglar alarm.

"Nobody that we've spoken to in the neighbourhood heard anything either. No strange vehicles in the area that we're aware of so far. The one and only CCTV we have was pointing at this building. Not a lot of use. Seth's organising local people for a search if it becomes necessary. We still have lots of people to talk to, all my deputies except Andy are out asking questions.

"The State Police have promised the use of their F.L.I.R. equipped helicopter if needed and lent me three officers too, for as long as they can spare them, and obviously we're keeping them in the picture; but once we knew you were coming we kept the crime scene intact. Although we're very aware that time's important, we also didn't want to damage any forensics for you. The Saxons don't believe they have any enemies, his work in Iraq didn't lend itself to blackmail or coercion. That's where we stand at present - we've nothing to go on. And I hate being this helpless!"

It wasn't overly vehement, but both Gibbs and DiNozzo were aware again of the underlying tension. They both saw the anxious look that Seth gave her, and the quick, soothing hand pat.

Gibbs said reassuringly, "Well, there'll be the forensic evidence, and there may be something when all the interviews are in."

"There may, but - and I'm not being negative here - I asked everybody to phone in if anything stood out."

"Sometimes things don't stand out on their own," Tony said.

"I know," Joanna said thoughtfully. "I simply have no idea if I'm any good at making connections. I'm going to have to learn fast."

Gibbs said suddenly, "DiNozzo is. Never known a brain like his for putting random facts together. Ex-homicide cop."

While Tony looked stunned at the unexpected compliment, Seth raised his eyebrows and nodded. "I'm impressed," he said. "We're both impressed." There was a tiny, almost imperceptible flicked glance between him and the Sheriff, but Tony didn't do imperceptible. One thing Gibbs had never accused him of was being unobservant. He was ready to bet that Gibbs had seen it too. He filed it away for future reference, puzzled more by the look that the Sheriff had returned to a man who was obviously her friend. It had been, if such a thing could be, a microscopic furious glare.

"Unless there's something more urgent at the time," the SFA said, "I'll sit down with you and Seth, and we'll go through the interview data. Something'll come up."

She looked at Tony, seriously looked, for the first time. Their eyes met and they studied each other. The big agent's heart lurched at the look in her eyes; he'd seen it looking out of a mirror often enough, he saw it in Gibbs' eyes 'most every day. He'd seen it on Paula Cassidy's face when she was walking round with her spirit fatally wounded after the death of her team, and he had no difficulty recognising it. Pain. Constant, heart-deep, inescapable pain.

The Sheriff bit her bottom lip slightly, and nodded her head. "You too. I know," her eyes said. He took a step closer to her, although he didn't know what he was going to say, but Gibbs' voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Here's Ducky with the truck. We can begin the forensic work. Sher - er, Jo, can you take us over and introduce us to the Saxons?"

Seth said "I'll answer the phone. And talk again to NVN. And stay away from Helen - Bloody - Henderson." Joanna gave him a thin, unamused smile as she pulled her gun out of a desk drawer and strapped it on.

Gibbs said "NVN?" and Tony said "Helen - Bloody - Henderson?" at the same time.

"NVN – North Virginia Network; our local TV and radio station. They'll help however they can," Jo said as they left the headquarters. "Helen - Bloody - Henderson, a reporter for a state-wide station, wannabe national network star. Seth loathes her. He ran the town newspaper until he retired, and he believes that journalists should maintain the highest possible standards. I'm afraid restraint, or actually helping to find Owen, are the last things on her mind."

"Ah. We've met," Gibbs said. "She thinks we're the FBI. DiNozzo -" He jerked his head to where the said Ms Henderson and her crew were moving purposefully across the road towards the NCIS truck. Tony's eyes lit up. "On it, Boss!" He moved gleefully to head them off.

Gibbs introduced Ducky; the Scotsman raised his beat-up tweed hat politely to the Sheriff, and lingered a little longer over the handshake than was absolutely necessary. "Ah, I believe you have spent some time in England, my dear."

Joanna's face broke out in the first genuinely happy smile Gibbs had seen from her. "I was born there, Ducky. And you spotted it after just a few words. You're very shrewd."

"Oh, I need to be observant. It's simply obligatory for a Medical Examiner."

Joanna shot an almost panicked look at Gibbs. "God. You think you'll need to –"

"No." Soft, level and calming. "No, I don't. Ducky's much more than an ME, believe me. You'll see. We usually work this way – we go by car to get to a case quickly, and Ducky brings the truck with the forensic equipment." He looked round as the big vehicle's engine started up; Tony was about to move it to the other side of the road, nearer to the Saxons' house. There was no sign of Helen Henderson, and her OBU had moved several blocks further away down the street.

They followed the truck across the road, and as they drew near to the house, McGee burst through the front door and hurried over to them, his face tense. He looked to make sure there were no reporters within earshot.

"Boss! We've got a ransom demand!"

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