Pursuit Chapter 2 – see disclaimer and summary in chapter one
*****
Gibbs groaned, stretching his shoulders back as he straightened. He put down the hand plane he had been using to smooth the surface of a section of the frame of his latest boat. "Old man," he thought to himself as he did. He didn't recall feeling quite so sore after working on the last boat. The faint ringing of his cell phone broke him from this train of thought however, and he grudgingly climbed the stairs back towards the irritating device.
Sliding his silverware drawer open, he reached far into the back of it and retrieved his latest issue cell phone. "At least I got 3 hours good work in," he thought noting the time as he recognized the caller and answered it.
"What do you want DiNozzo?" he barked. The President himself had better have gone missing if he was being disturbed on his first time off in weeks.
*****
"Ah, Boss…" Special Agent Anthony "Tony" DiNozzo grimaced as he heard the tone in his supervisor's voice. "I know it's your vacation and all, but I thought you would want to know this; it just came over from local LEO's…" he trailed off as Gibbs' voice cut through him again.
Ziva David and Timothy McGee glanced over their desks at Tony as he looked more and more uncomfortable on the phone. Both of them were glad that Tony had been in charge while Gibbs was away; neither of them envied him the job of calling the man to bring him back to the office. The boss had been especially crabby after their last case had wrapped up. Everyone had been quite pleased that Director Vance had suggested he take a long weekend off and even more surprised when Gibbs had taken the offer, seemingly without any complaint.
"Get to the point DiNozzo," they could hear Gibbs' dulcet tones from their desks and exchanged looks of pity and veiled relief with each other.
"Apparently, there's a Marine in the area who's gone missing. He's wanted for questioning about destroying property this morning," Tony rolled into his report, seemingly impervious to his boss' bad mood. "Seems he tracked down his old girlfriend and smashed up her car, then took off. No big deal, except…" Tony paused as Gibbs cut him off.
"She has a restraining order on him and he's out on parole. I'm on my way in."
Tony stood holding the phone in his hands looking slightly confused as the dial tone buzzed in his ear. He blinked and closed his mouth quickly, putting the phone back on its cradle. He had learned long ago not to question Gibbs and his seemingly magical sources of information. He grabbed the notepad off his desk and tore off a sheet, scribbling on ;it briefly and then tearing it into two. Crossing the path between his desk and those of his teammates, he stood between them.
"Ziva," he began, "Get me everything you can find on the complainent, her name is Marguerite Harris. I'd start with the court records and police records regarding the restraining order she filed."
"Probie, anything you can dig up on the Marine in question…" he paused, "Gibbs is on his way in now. I'll get in touch with the parole officer."
The other agents nodded, grabbing the proffered slips of paper with their subjects name on it. The sound of rapid-fire typing on the keyboards of their computers followed Tony as he returned to his desk, picking up his phone and punching in the number that Metro police had given him to reach the Marine's parole officer. He leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up against the corner of his desk as the ringer sounded in his ear. Reaching for his notebook and pen, he straightened briefly as the call connected.
"Yes, is this officer Greg Smith?" he asked, all business in his voice. "My name is Agent DiNozzo, I'm with the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. I'd like to ask you a few questions about one of your parolees."
****
Jethro leaned against the back wall of the elevator. As soon as he heard DiNozzo begin describing the case, he had known. It didn't really surprise him that Maggie's stalker was a Marine. In the immediate Virginia/D.C. area, practically everyone knew or was related to someone in the military or government. On his drive back to the Naval Yard, he had been contemplating the events of the day.
When Maggie had left the room to make more tea for herself, he had placed a call to the local police and had them send an officer over immediately to document the scene and take their statements. He had stayed with her until the officer arrived. The man had been very prompt, young but obviously skilled in his trade. He had put Maggie at ease and took her statement after speaking with Gibbs. A flatbed had come to collect her car for processing and subsequent delivery to a garage for repair. Maggie had recovered quite well. Gibbs had stayed off to the side while she gave her statement to the officer. The deep vacancy in her eyes had nearly disappeared. The only signs of her working hard to maintain her composure were her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she spoke and her occasionally downcast gaze as she related the more sordid back story again. The decision had been made to have the officer escort her back to the station so she could begin the process of filing for the emergency restraining order. Gibbs had given both of them a business card, emphasizing to Maggie before he left her in the police officer's care to call him if she had any problems.
"You know where to find me," he'd added, pleased to see a faint smile cross her face and creep into her eyes. They had stayed flat and empty the entire time he had been with her, and the sign that she wasn't completely overtaken by her experience was a good one. He had seen many people in situations like hers who had retreated deep into themselves and never been able to fully rejoin the world around them.
Feeling the silver car begin to settle at its destination, he stood upright again. Now it was time to find the out-of-control Marine and bring the full wrath of the service down upon him. He could comprehend the pain of being jilted, but the extent to which this man had taken his obsession was above and beyond. A fundamental line had been crossed and he was going to make sure the man paid for it.
Gibbs set his shoulders back as the doors to the elevator slid open. He strode forward rapidly even before they had fully spread, rounding the corner and approaching his desk and his team. All three agents were engrossed in their computer screens and started a bit as he spoke.
"What have you got DiNozzo?" he asked pointedly as he lay his NCIS jacket across the back of chair and sat down.
"Chris Ellis, 32 years old. Released on probation for good behavior six months prior to his maximum sentence. According to his parole officer, he made his check-ins on time and stayed under the radar. Counseling was a condition of his parole, I have a call out to his therapist now, seems to have been on the straight and narrow until this morning's incident." Tony rattled off his brief report, glancing at his notebook occasionally to verify the details as he read them off.
"How the hell does someone on the straight and narrow get himself in jail for stalking and assault? Not really the kind of thing you just snap out of DiNozzo." Gibbs growled slightly, perturbed at the summary of what he had seen for himself.
"Well boss, I think I can shed a little light on that," McGee raised his hand, pointing upward as he peered around from his computer, still typing rapidly as he gathered background information on Mr. Ellis. "Private First Class Chris Ellis was dishonorably discharged from the Marines three years ago after failing a psychiatric evaluation. The details are still coming in, but it appears he became enamored with a female officer and believed that they had a relationship. The major problem was that she had never engaged him more than once, when she assisted him with obtaining items from the supply office. After several complaints to her supervisors, an investigation was initiated, resulting in his discharge. I have a call out to his Supervisor for more details. "
Nodding his understanding of the information, Gibbs turned to face Ziva. The agent launched into her report on cue, laying out the background of Marguerite Harris in a frank, staccato voice.
"Marguerite Harris, 30 years old, born in Bethesda Naval Hospital to Paul and Marie Harris. She is currently working as a lead consultant for Cahill and Associates - an advertising agency in Washington D.C. She started there shortly after being assaulted, along with a co-worker by the name of Mark Edwards by Mr. Ellis. Her telephone is unlisted, all her mail goes to a post office box in the city. The restraining order that she placed on Mr. Ellis expired 3 weeks ago. Her mother died when she was 3 years old while giving birth to her brother. The child was born 9 weeks early and did not survive either. Mr. Harris did not remarry and died of a heart attack two years ago. I cannot locate any other living relatives. She has no criminal history, not even a parking ticket. She moved into a house purchased in the name of her father's estate 14 months ago, the address is…"
"Right across the street from my house." Gibbs interrupted her.
All three agents heads turned to stare intently at him as this information was relayed. DiNozzo looked surprised, Tim had a thoughtful expression cross his face briefly before he glanced intently at his computer screen, and Ziva's expression remained impassive.
"So," DiNozzo ventured, "You were the neighbor that interrupted his visit this morning to Ms. Harris' house?"
"Yeah DiNozzo," Gibbs turned to him, mild irritation showing on his face. "He smashed up her car windows and nearly hit her with the tire iron he threw at her as I was coming out of my front door." A dark expression came across his face briefly before he turned and swept his jacket off the back of his chair. "Gear up." He intoned, "Local P.D. are getting a warrant for his apartment, we're working alongside them since he isn't active duty any longer. I want to know how the hell he found her, and where he would be hiding out."
Gibbs didn't even glance behind him as he strode out of the office. He heard the rapid scuffling as his team grabbed jackets, badges and service weapons. He allowed a smile to form on his lips as he thought about the extent of the information they had dug up in the – glancing at his watch – roughly thirty minutes it had taken him to get to the office.