Chapter Two: There's No Rhyme of Reason
The chair was recognisable as one from his kitchen island, sailing through the air towards his chest. He caught a leg right before impact, taking a quick step back and twisting upwards. The swinger came with it. There was a soft yelp as the friction rammed splinters across the attackers palm; Gibbs dropped the chair back down onto the carpeted hallway, his gun still in hand.
He blinked.
He'd been expecting a six foot hit man with stereotypical gang tattoos covering his bald head. Definitely not what was in front of him, stuck and cornered in his entrance corridor, underneath the coats.
This was a boy. Ten years old, maybe younger, huge defiant green eyes stared up at Gibbs, tanned complexion still visible in the gloom of the house.
Gibbs opened his mouth, but without warning, without a backward glance, the boy bolted. The agent made a grab at his shirt, the fabric of the kid's hooded jumper slipping through his fingers. Gibbs made it halfway up the street before he lost the soight. Jesus, the kid was fast!. Or maybe he'd just slowed down.
Huffing out a sigh, Gibbs glanced down at his gun, slowly sliding it back into it's holster. It had been a much too long a day…night…week…month. Hell, it had been a long mission.
"You want us to call the police?" The voice of Bernie spoke up behind him. Gibbs turned with a suffering sigh.
"Naw, it's fine, he's gone, just leave it."
Gibbs rubbed at his eyes, turning away from his really quite worrying neighbours.
It was his house. The same house he'd left with the sheets covering the furniture. He'd had to raid the linen closet to find enough sheets to cover his chairs and tables. The fridge was empty and bare, the cupboards blank and voice. Even his kitchen appliances were wrapped up in boxes, shoved into a storage locker.
It was his house and he knew it, but it wasn't his home.
The door was kicked shut behind him, the night quickly turning into morning and the light dawning on the horizon.
His living room wasn't how he'd left it, not completely. The sheet had been pulled off the couch, bundled p on the floor like a little nest against the back wall. A black backward stood in the mess of fabric, standing out against the pale.
Out of habit, Gibbs attempted to flick on a light. Nothing happened. Fucking undercover! Made him cancel his electricity. Bloody hell!
Sighing deeply, the type of sigh when the world rested on your shoulders, Gibbs pulled out one of the drawers in the kitchen he mercifully hadn't completely empties. For this direct purpose, so he could pull out a torch.
Flashing the light over the bag, Gibbs sat heavily n the sofa, really wondering why he wasn't just letting this wait until tomorrow. It was the combination of curiosity and jetlag which won out in the end. The agent carefully unzipped the bag with the handkerchief covering one hand. Even with six hours sleep in three days, his inner investigator was on full alert.
Two sets of clothes, shoved in the bottom as tightly as possible, wrappers from a chocolate bar, and a small plastic card tucked into the back pocket. Gibbs drew it out carefully, shining the light from his torch on the surface.. A school emblem with 'LIBRARY CARD' and a name adorned the laminated card: Anthony DiNozzo Jr. Age…well apparently the joint knowledge of Berggie was correct, that this A. DiNozzo was indeed aged ten. Leaning back on the sofa, Gibbs thought carefully, mulling over images in his mind. The defiant gaze of the child. The fact that there was a child squatting in his home, which was a weird enough fact as it was. He didn't even realise he'd fallen asleep until the morning light woke him up. Or was it the knock on the door.
The sound of the knocking jerked the marine (since there's no such thing as an ex-marine) back to consciousness without any ceremony. Groaning, Gibbs pushed himself up onto his elbows, the school library card falling out his lap. Picking it up, the knocking on the door became more insistent. Brilliant.
The door was opened to reveal – well he should've guessed – Berggie. Both of them.
"You looked tired yesterday." Maggie began cheerfully.
"And your house has been empty." Bernie continued.
"That means no food."
"Yes, no food."
"So, we brought you breakfast." Maggie presented him with a large plate of pancakes, they actually looked very good, but when a strange couple across the road ask you over for breakfast – well, bring it to your door – it can be a little strange.
"Come over to ours, we have coffee as well, you look like you could use some." Bernie insisted, pointing a hand back over the road as if this made the point final. Well, Gibbs didn't have any food and this could a good opportunity since he did need something.
"Can I borrow your phone?" He asked politely when he was seated at the brightly lit kitchen table with Maggie bustling around, placing a cup of coffee in front of him.
"Of course you can, son. Just by the door." Bernie indicated the cradle and receiver mounted on the wall, quickly engaging in a conversation with his wife about the plants in the window box. They seemed to find it impossible to keep on topic.
"NCIS crime laboratory." Came the light, male voiced answer when Gibbs dialled the familiar number.
"Robbie, it's Gibbs."
"Gibbs? I thought you and Shepherd were off rotation for the next week, what's going on, you got a case or something?"
"Naw, wonderin' if you could look up a name for me."
"Sure, man, what's the case number?"
"It's not a case,"
"Oh, no, I ain't doing any more freelance stuff with you, last time it like almost got me fired, man!"
"Call it calling in that favour."
"Seriously, dude! Urgh,"
"Robbie, do you want everyone to find out what happened last Christmas?"
"…No. Fine, what name?"
"Anthony DiNozzo Junior."
"Di-what?"
"DiNozzo. D-i-N-o-z-z-o."
"Right, I'll have somethin' for you in the next…dunno, three hours. Gotta tonne of crap to run already."
Gibbs hung up before the word 'gotta'. Maggie beamed at him when he re-entered the room, refilling his coffee even though he had yet to drink any of it. Yeah, his neighbours had officially passed into the realms of strange and yet vaguely endearing.
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Robert Hemmingway tended to work at whatever hours the day threw at him. This could be six in the morning or it could be eleven thirty at night. Either way, no-one was surprised if Robbie was still in the lab, scurrying around and living up to the name of 'lab rat' with amazing accuracy. Not that he looked like a rat, not really. He was of average height; a shock of black hair spiked up along his head and deep set blue eyes. It was a strange combination, one that shrieked about some sort of Irish origin.
He also didn't like being disturbed, even if he'd told someone he had a result, he hated being interrupted. And no matter how many times he told this to people, they kept doing it. Especially Special Agent Gibbs.
"What've you got, Robbie?" His gruff manner always had Robbie frowning, except, Robert Hemmingway was as straight as a curly straw and tended to find Gibbs rather attractive in an annoying sort of way. This annoyed Robbie far more than Gibbs as Gibbs ignored him any other time.
"No pleasantries, perhaps a box of chocolates and a smile?" Robbie huffed, Gibbs just stared. "Fine." Robbie clicked on one of his black screens, jerking it into life as Gibbs stepped closer.
"Anthony Dalmazio DiNozzo. Son of Anthony Dalmazio DiNozzo Senior and Eleanora DiNozzo. No siblings, mother died four years ago. Oh, and there's this." Robbie double clicked on a link and a flashing icon appeared on the screen. Gibbs had to read the rest writing twice before he truly believed it.
Anthony D. DiNozzo. Missing: Three months, two days. Case file: New York Police Department. Register: Mr. Anthony. D. DiNozzo Senior. Address: 1594 Parraset New York. Contact: Detective Austin Keifer.
The words flashed before him on the screen. The school photograph was definitely the defiant young child in his home, and on the library card.
"I got Detective Keifer's number." Robbie said shortly, handing over the yellow post-it note. Gibbs left without a word.
"You're welcome." Robbie muttered, turning back to his computer screen, man he needed an assistant.
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Detective Keifer was about as helpful as a chocolate teapot in a desert. He had no leads on the kid's disappearance and told him to get in contact with the father, but to do it in person since Mr. DiNozzo 'didn't talk over the phone'. Fantastic. Either, Gibbs let this drop or he took the agonizing trip in one of the swish agency sedans across to New York, 1594 Parraset to be exact.
Who was he kidding; when a child was involved, he'd never let it drop.
And that was how he found himself in one of the air conditioned sedans, trawling out of D.C in the direction of Baltimore and finally New York City, DiNozzo's extravagant house.
And it really was. The kid came from this? What the hell drove him away? It was frickin' huge, he could even see the pool in the back. So, he buzzed. Yes, he had to buzz, there were stupidity large gates, and Gibbs wasn't stupid to think that in a neighbour like this that they wouldn't be wired.
"How can I help?" Came a deep voice over the intercom.
"Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS, to speak to Mr. DiNozzo."
"A single moment, please." And a single moment later the gates cracked open, sliding back on oily hinges no doubt. Okay, this place was a little worrying, not Berggie worrying, but just too high class for his liking.
A man in full golfing outfit was standing on the raked gravel outside the pillared porch just beyond the main entrance, a black suited man with thinning hair standing submissively behind him when Gibbs pulled up the black sedan, killing the engine and stepping out onto the grass.
"Special Agent Gibbs?" A smooth voice, lightly tinted with Italian asked with a forced smile. Oily voice, like his gates.
"Mr. DiNozzo?" The oily man nodded curtly.
"This is my lawyer, Mr. Sloano. What is this about, Agent Gibbs?"
"Your son, Mr. DiNozzo." Gibbs' voice was impassive, but his eyes didn't miss the tightening of his jaw, the shift in his stance.
"I think you are mistaken, Agent Gibbs." His voice was slightly forced, becoming more like his twitching smile.
"Well, I don't think so. I found his bag and him." Sloano took that moment to butt in.
"Mr. DiNozzo has no children." Gibbs raised his eyebrows.
"Then why is there a missing persons report created by you three months ago?" Gibbs voice was slowly getting less and less impassive.
"That was months ago…Anthony has been missing for three months, there is no more hope. He is dead, Agent Gibbs." DiNozzo stared at the agent with undisguised dislike.
"I disagree, your child was at my house last night."
"You are lying! I have no children, I have moved on. Anthony is dead. Dead! You've never lost a child; you don't know why it feel like. Three months and even the police stop looking. I will not waste my life on a thread of hope which is easily snapped. Good day, Agent Gibbs." DiNozzo turned on his heel, stalking back up to his house. Sloano stared smugly at Gibbs, following his employer a few lengths behind.
The vast entrance hall to the DiNozzo mansion echoed with the angry footsteps.
"I thought you dealt with this, Sloano, that is what I pay you for."
"The child is gone, Mr. DiNozzo. He won't be coming back, believe that. Would you like me to check and make sure?"
"That. Is. What. I. Pay. You. For." DiNozzo snarled each word, striding off up the ornate staircase towards his office – and probably his liquor cabinet – with an undisguised stomp. Sloano ran a tongue over his dry lips, drifting away from the entrance hall, a smirk on his lips as the sound of a car engine stated the departure of the only newly arrived NCIS agent.
The office Sloano found himself in was small, but it had the telephone, which the 'lawyer' used with glee.
"Noah? The boy. He is in Washington, our client does not want to be bothered by him again. Check and make sure this is the case. Good. Call me soon."
The smirk rivalled the Cheshire Cat.
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I don't know where the crazy neighbours came from, ah well, all's good in crazy neighbours. Especially if they provide coffee. And here is the next – very, very tardy-full – chapter. I'll make this short, thank Jen and Anni and all the reviews who make my life so much brighter. Thanks guys!
Eryn [Soul Music]