Chapter Three: The Scene of the Crime
Emily was about ready to drop to her knees in prayer the instant she stepped out of the van. Gibbs held out a hand as she climbed down, wordlessly steadying her. She said nothing, although she definitely appreciated his gesture. Ziva David was one of the most terrifying drivers she'd ever seen.
"Emily!" Hotch said, from the other side of the SUV, sharply drawing her attention away from the NCIS agent. "I need you over here."
"Hotch? What do you want me to do?" Hotch's attitude puzzled her, and the longer she was around him the more she got the feeling he was angry at her for some reason.
"Go around to all the neighbors; ask about friends, colleagues, anybody who might have seen the last victim with someone, even outside."
"Ziva, you go with her. You two might be a bit less intimidating. Less intimidating, Ziva, less." Gibbs said, giving the Mossad agent a telling look.
"Have it, boss." Ziva said, giving the FBI woman a look of assessment. They'd not spoken much since the FBI had arrived to jack the case, so Ziva was still taking the woman's measure. "We'll be back here as rapid as we can."
"Hotchner and I will check the woman's house again; see if there is something the locals missed before we got here. McGee, you'll question the neighbors on this side of the street. I trust you can handle yourself alone?"
"Sure thing, boss. I'll be back this way when I am done." McGee said, grateful to be able to escape the heavy tension between the two other men.
Emily walked beside the other woman in silence, unsure what to say to her. She knew the woman was Israeli, but how she'd ended up working for NCIS was a mystery.
"So, Gibbs brought you coffee. What reason?" Ziva suddenly demanded as they walked up the long winding driveway to the nearest neighbor's house. The neighborhood was semi-rural and the houses spaced far apart. "You know him?"
"Excuse me?" Emily was surprised at the question. What harm did a cup of coffee represent to these people?
"You and Gibbs."
"Oh, the coffee."
"Yes, the coffee. Gibbs never brings Feebies coffee. Gibbs hates Feebies." Ziva said matter-of-factly, never once considering that the question was really none of her business. "So why are you different?"
"I didn't realize I was. I ran into Agent Gibbs when I came back to get my PDA. I'd left it by the coffee pot, and then we went for coffee. He walked me home, after promising he'd bring me a decent cup this morning." Emily was irritated that she had to explain herself, but she'd learned early on that having an ally on the local enforcement made working the case so much simpler in the long run that she didn't want to alienate the other woman. "Can I ask you something?"
"You can ask, but I cannot guarantee an answer." Ziva answered, as frankly as she answers anything.
"What is the big deal about the coffee? That Gibbs would bring me a cup?"
"Gibbs never brings anyone but Abby anything. Anyone. Never. It, how do you say it? Surprised the shit out of everyone?"
"Oh, I see." Emily said as they knocked on the door. "No, actually I don't. I didn't realize coffee was that much of a big deal."
"With Gibbs, coffee is always a large deal." Ziva said, shrugging as she wondered just why the door wasn't opening even though they could hear footsteps inside. Her hand went to rest on her weapon, just in case. Emily's did the same.
"I think you mean big deal." Emily corrected softly, "Wait, did you hear that?"
"No." Ziva said. Both agents paused a moment, concentrating on the sights and sounds surrounding the small 1920s bungalow.
Emily realized what it was with only a split second to act. She shoved Agent David away from the door just as two loud shots rang out. The wood of the porch railing shattered, sending splinters into the side of Prentiss's neck as she lunged forward.
Ziva hit the wooden floor of the porch, striking her head on an old metal chair as she went down. It was enough to delay her reactions for only a second.
But a second was long enough for two more shots to shatter the class window right above her head. She rolled off the porch, grabbing the unresisting arm of the BAU agent beside her.
With as much strength as she could muster she pulled the other woman under the wooden porch, to provide as much coverage as possible.
It was then that she noticed the blood pouring from Agent Prentiss.
This was not good, not good, and Ziva knew it.