Author's Note: Thanks so much for the kind reviews!! Makes me want to write some more! My apologies for the delay in posting this chapter, btw. I've had a couple of crazy busy weeks both at work and home. Three huge Cub Scout events and a regular meeting have kept me away from it and I haven't had a break at work long enough to think much less write anything. That and there's quite a bit more dialogue in this chapter and that's something I really struggle with. I'll try to be quicker with the next installment. It's taking me a bit longer to get the story where I want it to be, but I promise it'll really get going in the next chapter. As always, let me know what you think!

Summary: A case hits close to home for Tony who discovers a long-kept secret.

Disclaimer: This story is purely a figment of my imagination, albeit with borrowed characters. I promise to return them in good working order. I don't own anything and can't afford a lawyer, so please don't sue!

The four agents stood in front of the large plasma screen in Abby's lab. On the plasma was the tox screen graph confirming that Petty Officer Chad Benson had been poisoned with common household bleach.

Tony looked puzzled. "What did he do, drink it?" he asked.

"Don't be silly, Tony!" Abby chided. "Only a little kid would try to drink bleach! Nope. Ducky found a teeny tiny puncture wound in our petty officer's leg," she said as she put an enlarged photo of the victim's leg up on the plasma screen.

"He was injected with it," Gibbs muttered.

"Yep!" Abby confirmed. "We know the how, Gibbs," Abby said. "Now all we need to find out is the when, where and, most importantly…"

"Who," Gibbs finished her sentence as he started to walk out of the lab. "Good work, Abs!

"McGee! I want that background on Petty Officer Benson from the time he was born until he went missing. I want to know who his friends are, who his enemies are, what he was working on, everything! Now!!" he barked.

McGee jumped slightly and followed after him, the two other field agents trailing right behind him. "On it, Boss!"

"Ziva! Find out about that warehouse and whoever owns it. Tony! You're with me."

McGee and Ziva went back to the bullpen while Gibbs and DiNozzo headed to interrogation.

Tony stood in the observation room, watching through the two-way mirror as the teenage girl sat nervously tapping a foot under the table. She was looking down at her hands in her lap which she kept wringing. Her head snapped up when the door opened and she watched as Gibbs walked in, set a file folder on the table and sat down opposite her.

The former Marine took in her appearance; her long light brown hair was stringy and needed washing as did her clothing, though she'd washed her face and hands at some point. Her cheeks were flushed and sunken a bit and dark circles rimmed her brown eyes, eyes that reminded him of another little girl. His jaw tightened slightly at the thought of his daughter and he forced himself to relax, pushing the picture out of his mind. This young girl stared back at him with a mixture of fear and practiced defiance.

Gibbs opened the folder and looked at it. "Your name is Melissa?" he asked, though he already knew the answer. She had told Tony as much. "Melissa Danforth?"

"That's right," the girl replied.

"And you're from West Chester, Pennsylvania?"

"Yes."

"How old are you, Melissa?" he asked quietly, his eyes now boring into hers.

"Fifteen," she answered reluctantly. She held his gaze as long as she dared then dropped her eyes back to her hands which were now on the table in front of her.

"How long have been on the streets, Melissa?" There was a gentleness to this last question that reminded her of her father and she now realized how much she missed him.

"About a month," she replied quietly, not looking up.

Gibbs looked back at the folder. "It says here you live with your mom, you're a good student at the Westtown School; you get good grades, you're a member of the National Honor Society, varsity softball and girls basketball teams." He paused slightly before continuing. "Seems to me you had a lot going for you there. Why did you run away from home?"

"None of your business," Melissa sneered, her defenses quickly dropping into place.

Gibbs considered her for a moment. "Problems at home?" he asked.

She glared at him. "Why don't you just leave me alone? I didn't do anything."

Shrugging he replied, "I'm just trying to figure out why a smart, pretty, popular young woman would choose to leave a perfectly good home to live on the streets."

"Yeah?" she snorted. "What would you know about my so-called 'perfectly good home'?" she responded sullenly.

"I wouldn't." He leaned in a bit and looked her in the eye.

Again she held his gaze a long moment, then looked over his shoulder to the mirror behind him. In the observation room, Tony thought he recognized the look of loneliness and despair in her eyes before the mask slowly dropped back over her features.

"How did you meet Trevor?" The questioning continued after a few moments' silence.

"We hooked up a few weeks ago in D.C. Got tired of being harassed by the cops here so we headed south," she shrugged.

"Why Manassas?"

"Because it's south of here," Melissa rolled her eyes slightly.

"Where were you headed?"

"I told you, south," her voice now had a hard edge to it.

"Atlanta?" Gibbs asked. He watched as the defiant look slowly faded and she bit her lower lip, giving no response, her gaze once again back down to her hands. "That's where your dad lives, isn't it?" The gentle tone was back in his voice.

"Yes," she replied softly. "He's a software engineer there." Melissa thought about the last time she'd seen her dad. She had spent a month in Atlanta with him the summer before while her mother was in Europe. It was the happiest she'd been since her parents' divorce.

Gibbs opened the folder again, this time taking out several photographs of Petty Officer Benson's body. He laid them out one by one on the table in front of her and watched her reaction. Her eyes were drawn to the pictures at first, but soon she shuddered and looked away. A month on the streets hadn't been enough to harden her against such horrors. At the moment all she wanted to do was get away, far away.

Gibbs wasn't about to let her off the hook so easily. "What were you doing in the warehouse?" he asked.

Melissa hesitated before answering, "I told you, we were trying to get away from the cops." She didn't look at him.

"Had you been in that warehouse before?"

"Yeah. We'd crashed there the night before. We were just looking to crash again and we saw the cops coming down the alley. We knew the window was open behind the stack of crates so we snuck in. We figured the cops would find us pretty quick if we didn't. We were looking for a place to hide when I tripped over something. I couldn't see what it was at first. I thought it was a roll of carpeting or something. It was pretty dark. When our eyes finally adjusted to the dark, I saw it was a body. That's when I started screaming." Melissa shuddered at the memory. She'd never seen a dead body before and hoped she never would again.

"And the body wasn't there the night before?" Gibbs verified.

Melissa shook her head. "I wouldn't have gone back in there if it was," she said. "It really creeped me out."

"Did you see anyone else at the warehouse last night or the night before?" Gibbs asked.

Again Melissa shook her head. "This guy we met the other day tipped us off to the warehouse. He said it was abandoned and we could crash there, but we didn't see him or anyone else there."

"Does 'this guy' have a name?"

"I don't know," Melissa replied. "Trev talked to him. I didn't like the way he was looking at me, you know?" she looked up at Gibbs.

"What did he look like?" he asked.

"He was kind of tall, maybe close to six feet. He was old, like in his thirties maybe. Dark hair. He looked like a football player, you know? Kind of muscular," she said.

"And where did you meet him?"

"Over by Shoppers Square," she answered. "We were panhandling over there and he gave us a few bucks. Said he used to work at the warehouse before they closed it down."

Gibbs pointed to the photos. "Did you ever see him in the area?"

Melissa shook her head. "I never saw him before," she said. "Look, I really don't know anything. I just tripped over…the guy. I just want to get out of here. When can I go?" she asked softly.

Gibbs tilted his head slightly. "Where would you go?"

"I don't know," she answered, her throat tightening a bit. "Right now, I just want to go home," she said in a soft child-like voice.

"Okay," Gibbs answered. "I think we can arrange that. Would you like to call your mom?"

Melissa looked at him. "Can I call my dad?" she asked quickly.

Gibbs considered her request. "Sure, but you'll need to call your mom, too." With that he stood up and went to the door, holding it open for her.

Her eyes narrowed. "I won't go back there! If you make me, I'll just runaway again," she replied angrily

Taken aback by her vehemence Gibbs let go of the door letting it close. He asked quietly, "Why? What's so bad about living with your mom?"

Fear and anger flashed across her eyes for a second and she didn't look at him. "My stepdad. I don't want him near me. I don't ever want him near me again!"

Gibbs sat back down and regarded her, noting the look of fear and shame on her face. "Did your stepfather hurt you?" he asked. She wouldn't look at him, but nodded slightly.

He leaned forward slightly. "What did he do?"

Hearing the steel in his voice, she finally looked back up at him, feeling she could trust him. Softly she told him of the sexual abuse that had started a little over a year previously and how her mother hadn't believed her and had turned a deaf ear when Melissa had tried to tell her about it.

A short while later, the two stepped out of the interrogation room. Tony met them in the hallway along with a security guard. He took the folder Gibbs held out for him and copied two phone numbers into his notebook. Tearing the page out he handed it to the guard instructing him to contact Melissa's father in Atlanta and allow her to speak to him and to contact her mother as well. The guard then ushered the girl toward the bullpen while Gibbs turned his attention to the boy in the other interrogation room. DiNozzo went into the other observation room; he had already pulled out his cell phone and was checking out Melissa's allegations as he watched Gibbs interview the teenager.

They learned that Trevor Davis had run away from a foster home in Rossville, Maryland two months before. It wasn't the first time he'd run away. The sixteen-year-old had been bounced back and forth between a number of relatives and foster homes after his father had been convicted of physically abusing him and his younger brother five years before. The boys had been separated for the last three years; their mother had died when Trevor was five. He had police records in the Baltimore area and the District of Columbia, all misdemeanors for panhandling and other vagrancy-related offenses.

The photographs hadn't affected him as they had Melissa. He did corroborate her story though. He said she had told him that she had bought a bus ticket from Philadelphia to Washington and they'd met up on the streets of D.C. three weeks earlier. He'd taken her under his wing when he realized she had no clue how to survive on the street. She had told him she was trying to get to Atlanta to see her father. They were trying to get together enough money for two bus tickets as close to Atlanta as they could get.

Trevor also stated that the two had been in the warehouse the last two nights as well. They had ended up under a freeway overpass earlier the night before with a group of other runaways and street kids, but had left around 2 AM; it had gotten cold and they had headed back to the warehouse. They had been dumpster diving through the alley when the police had shown up. He said they had been looking for some place to hide inside the warehouse when Melissa had tripped over the body.

Gibbs left the boy in the interrogation room and told Tony to contact Maryland's Child Protective Services so they could pick him up. Then he headed down to Autopsy.

"Ah, Jethro," Ducky greeted him as he walked through the doors. "I understand you've spoken to Abigail and you're aware of the actual cause of our young petty officer's demise?"

"Abby said he was injected with bleach," Gibbs said. He walked over to the table containing Petty Officer Benson's body.

"Yes, a particularly painful way to go, I should say," Ducky replied shaking his head slightly.

"Anything else you can tell me, Duck?"

"Well, I can tell you that a more precise time of death was approximately 34 hours ago," the M.E. answered.

"That would put it at about 2400 hours Wednesday night," Gibbs calculated. "Anything you can tell me about where he might have died?" he asked.

"As a matter of fact, Jethro," Ducky replied, "take a look at this." He pointed to the petty officer's leg which was scraped and dotted with scabs of dried blood.

"Looks like he was dragged," Gibbs surmised.

"Mm yes, and I found traces of an oily substance here as well. I've asked Mr. Palmer to run them up to Abby for analysis. They may tell us where our friend was murdered."

Gibbs nodded. "Keep me posted if you find anything else, Ducky," he said as he made his way to the door.

Back in the bullpen, Ziva and McGee were at their desks, running their respective background checks on the warehouse and victim. DiNozzo was nowhere to be found.

"McGee!" Gibbs barked. "What have you found out about our victim?"

The young agent stood up and walked over to his boss's desk. "Petty Officer Chad Benson, 28, worked ordnance at Norfolk. He was working TAD on a new missile project, code named Mercury. He was in charge of transporting and securing the missiles for testing. He had three men reporting to him," McGee brought up three pictures on the plasma screen in succession.

"Seaman Mark Dougherty, 23; Seaman Albert Sacco, 19; and Marine PFC David Rifken, 25. All three reported to work as usual this morning. I'm still running background checks on the three of them, Boss."

Gibbs turned to the Moussad liaison officer. "Ziva?"

Officer David looked up at him. "The warehouse, as Tony stated earlier, was owned by KFS, Incorporated, which is owned by Franklin Foods, a food distribution company. I spoke with someone in Charleston, West Virginia who told me that the company closed the warehouse five months ago and sold it to Teague Investment Properties. According to a manager there, the warehouse has not been leased since it was acquired."

"DiNozzo," Gibbs turned toward his senior field agent's still empty desk. His eyes narrowed and he looked around the bullpen and at the other two investigators. He was about to say something when his cell phone rang.

"Gibbs."

"Hey, Bossman!" It was Abby. "I've got the analysis of the oily stuff Ducky found on our vic, which by the way, was also found on his clothes. I found traces of saltwater, diesel oil and a number of synthetic motor oils used mostly in boats. Not surprising since he was stationed at Norfolk. What is interesting is that I also found traces of calcium, magnesium, phosphorus, and iron – think fish. I'd say you're looking for a fishing boat or maybe a shipyard that does repairs on fishing vessels."

"Okay. Thanks, Abs." Gibbs hung up the phone and relayed the information to the others just as Tony returned.

Before Gibbs could say anything, the younger man informed him that he had alerted Pennsylvania authorities of Melissa Danforth's allegations against her stepfather and that an investigation was underway. Her father had been contacted and was on his way to pick her up. He also stated that Trevor Davis had been released to Maryland Child Protective Services.

"DiNozzo, McGee, get to Norfolk and interview everyone Benson interacted with down there, especially Dougherty, Sacco and Rifken," Gibbs ordered. The two agents gathered up their gear and headed for the elevator.

"Ziva, I want complete backgrounds on those three." With that, the former Marine strode out of the bullpen and up to the director's office taking the stairs two steps at a time.

Cynthia, the director's assistant, looked up as Special Agent Gibbs walked into the office lobby. She didn't even bother trying to stop him; she just picked up her phone and hit the intercom button to warn her boss. Of course, he was already halfway through the door when the director picked up.

"Jethro, what can I do for you?" NCIS Director Jenny Shepherd smiled up at him.

"You can tell me everything you know about project Mercury," he answered, coming to a stop in front of her desk. "It's a missile test program or something," he continued. "What to do you know about it?"

"Project Mercury?" Jenny asked, then answered her own question. "Well, as you said, it's a new missile with a laser guidance system. The missile locks on to a laser signal up to several miles away and detonates on impact with whatever the laser is pointing to. A person holding the laser can be on the ground or in the air and wherever the laser points, the missile follows. I'm not sure exactly how it works, but I do know the Navy and Marine Corps are working with ADI to develop a prototype. I believe they're in the testing phase now."

"ADI?" Gibbs asked.

"Affiliated Defense Industries," she answered. "They're one of the Navy's biggest defense contractors, although they've primarily worked on ships in the fleet, they've recently begun diversifying into weapons and weapon guidance systems." She paused.

"Is there something I should know, Jethro?"

"A Petty Officer who was working on the project was found murdered this morning," he said.

"Do you think it could be a case of espionage?" the director asked pointedly.

Gibbs shook his head. "I don't know yet. We just made the connection and we're in the process of interviewing the rest of the project team."

She nodded. "Keep me posted, then. I'll see if I can find out anything on the project."

With that, Gibbs turned and left.

Both Tony and McGee stretched wearily as they got out of the sedan and headed toward the nondescript building. The drive to the Norfolk Naval base had been too long for McGee who had tired rather quickly of Tony's incessant comments and banter. They flashed their credentials at the young MP at the door and were ushered into an office where they were greeted by Lt. Commander Louis Johnson.

"Lieutenant Commander Johnson," McGee was the first to speak. "I'm Special Agent McGee and this is Special Agent DiNozzo, NCIS. We spoke earlier on the phone."

"Yes, Agent McGee," the commander shook his hand. "Please, sit down," he gestured to the two chairs opposite his desk.

"We're all in shock here about Chad," he said as he sat back down. He looked at McGee. "You said on the phone that he might have been murdered. Do you know what happened to him?"

"We're conducting a full investigation, Commander," Tony said in a formal tone of voice. "What can you tell us about Petty Officer Benson?" he asked.

"Only that he was extremely conscientious. He made sure all protocols were followed and he always gave his best effort no matter what the task," he told the two agents.

"Do you know if he had any enemies? Someone who might want to hurt him?" Tony asked.

Lt. Commander Johnson shook his head. "I suppose it's possible. He was a stickler for rules and detail and that could be off-putting to some. But, he also worked well with just about everyone."

"How about his recent behavior? Was he acting unusual in any way?"

Again Johnson shook his head. "No, I can't think of anything," he said.

"Did he have any problems with any of the other personnel?" Tony asked.

"None that I can think of," Johnson replied.

"I understand Petty Officer Benson was due back from leave this morning," said McGee. "Do you know what his plans were for his leave? Did he mention anything about where he was going?"

"No," Johnson said. "But, it's not something he probably would have mentioned to me. You might want to ask the men he worked directly with, though. He might have said something to one of them."

"That would be Seamen Dougherty and Sacco and Marine PFC David Rifken?" Tony asked, checking the names on his notebook.

"That's right," replied the commander. "They worked with him much more closely than I did. If he were going to mention anything, it would have been to one of them."

Tony nodded. "Is there anything else you can tell us?" he asked.

"No, I can't think of anything at the moment," answered Johnson.

"Well, if you do think of anything, please let us know. In the meantime, we'll need to interview everyone Petty Officer Benson worked with. Is there someplace private we can use?"

"Ah, yes, of course," the Lieutenant Commander nodded. "You can use the conference room down the hall here." He led the agents to the small meeting room. "You can setup in here. If you need anything, just let me or my assistant know," he said.

"We'll need a personnel list from you," Tony told him.

"Of course," Johnson replied. "I'll have my assistant bring that to you and I'll see that everyone is available to talk to you." He looked at both agents. "I hope you find whoever did this. Chad was a good man."

Tony and McGee had completed most of the interviews with the project team and had not hit on anything that stood out as suspicious or that could in any way be construed as being connected with the petty officer's death. They learned that most of his co-workers described the petty officer as inflexible when it came to procedures and protocol, but they also stated that he was fair and a good man to work with. They also stated that Benson tended to keep to himself; none of them knew anything about his plans for leave.

Seamen Dougherty and Sacco both had alibis as they had both been working on the project Wednesday night as witnessed by about eight other people.

"Great," Tony complained as yet another sailor exited the cramped makeshift interrogation room. "We've spoken to everyone involved on the project team and we're no closer to finding Benson's killer." He tossed the personnel file he was holding onto the table and let out a sigh. Rubbing his eyes and stretching his neck, he turned to McGee. "What do you say we check this place out?"

"What do you mean?" McGee asked somewhat suspiciously. "Check what out?"

Tony stared at him a moment with a 'duh!' look on his face. "The facility – you know where they keep the missiles and the guidance systems and all that," he said. "We should probably take a look around. I'm sure Gibbs would be interested to know what we find." With that he stood up and stepped into the hallway. "Besides, I need to take a walk anyway. Might as well look around while I'm walking."

McGee had to admit, he was just as worn out from the interviews as his partner. "We've only got one person left to interview," he pointed out. "PFC Rifken is the last one. Why don't we interview him and then look around?" he asked.

"Maybe because Rifken isn't here right now," Tony answered. He tilted his head a bit, thinking. "Didn't Lt. Commander Johnson say Rifken was supposed to report for duty at 2000 hours?" he asked.

Still seated at the table, McGee sifted through the papers lying around until he came up with the project team's schedule. Looking it over, he replied, "Let's see… Friday… Rifken… yep, 2000 hours."

Both agents checked their watches.

"I've got 2135, how about you?" Tony asked.

"Mm-hmm," McGee concurred. "He should have been here by now."

The two agents went to check with the commander who stated that Rifken had called complaining of the flu. Tony and McGee looked at each other, then turned to gather their paperwork and gear. They thanked Lt. Commander Johnson and told him they would keep him advised of the case's progress.

When they arrived at PFC Rifken's home, they noted the front door had been left ajar. Drawing their weapons, they carefully stepped inside and cleared the space room by room. Once they had determined that no one was there, they holstered their weapons and took stock of the ransacked apartment. In the kitchen, blood was splattered on the floor and cabinets. Tony started rubbing his eyes again. It was going to be a long night.

A/N: Well folks, that's chapter 2. Let me know what you think!