AN: It occurred to me that I've been impolite. I've had some really kind reviews and observations from guests who haven't been signed in, and so far I've not said thank you. Allow me to apologise and change that now – I'm very grateful to all of you!

Long chunk of explanation before the action... or the angst. Sorry!

The Wife Didn't Do It

Chapter 4

Felix means happy, Tony thought inconsequentially, and again he was reminded of a much younger McGee, unable to contain himself with excitement when he'd unearthed something important. The young lieutenant with the untamed hair was beaming with pride, and Tony thought that this was the point where Gibbs would have snarled at Tim to get on with it, and reduced the probie to stuttering, if he hadn't jumped in with some silly comment. Damn... were they still going to be a team after today? He could still feel the heat as his boats burned behind him... but had he done the wrong thing? Test question: would you do it again? Oh yeah...

He forced himself to concentrate, as Bud said chidingly, but much more gently than Gibbs would have done, "So, are you going to share, Lieutenant?"

"Oh... yes, Sir, sorry Sir... well, er, you see, Mrs Childs couldn't pick up a phone and just demand an answer from anyone; she has no authority. But I can pick up a phone and say 'JAG', and it's 'certainly, how can we help', right away. I phoned the coroner's office in Springfield, and asked them about the day the DVA came and took Lieutenant Childs' body. Because, as you know, the DVA are claiming they didn't, haven't got, don't know, etc etc. They remembered it because it was so strange, they'd barely unloaded the poor guy; but they didn't argue, the deceased was military after all.

"The van was plain, but after a while a receptionist recalled that the two man crew both wore Walter Reed sweatshirts, and the paperwork was in order, so she assumed they were DVA. I rang Walter Reed mortuary and asked to speak to the crew that went out on that date to Springfield – implying that I knew someone had, and a driver called back a few minutes later from his cab. Sure, they'd collected remains from Springfield, brought them straight back, the attendant who'd given the collection order signed and that was that."

"Wow," Tony said. "So unless someone's pulled some other weird switch, that's where the lieutenant is. That's neat, young Felix. You'll go far."

The young man's grin went up a few watts. "There's more. I asked for the attendant's name, driver wasn't sure, thinks he's heard him called Wardy, or Fordy; described him as middle-aged, heavy-set, with cropped iron grey hair. I looked up personnel records, there's a mortuary assistant named Edward Wilkes. I figure that guy knows what happened next."

Bud looked from Felix to Tony, reading the agent's mind. "No, you can't have him for NCIS, we saw him first."

At first Lieutenant Sobel just lapped up the praise; a junior didn't get it in such doses as this very often. Then he reminded himself what all this was about, and said more seriously, "There's still more. Two things so far. The patrol that day; well the wives, that's four and the fiancée of the fifth marine, all agreed that their men had told them not to worry. That 'Watch-your-back Park' wasn't as dangerous as it used to be." He lifted one group of papers. "One reason it had such a bad reputation was the terrain; it was difficult to fly drones, signals were impaired and even the most experienced operators flew them into hillsides. There were odd local weather conditions, and little pockets where insurgents could hide; the Marines were often completely dependent on satellite information.

"The CO that day queried the information he was given; called HQ out on it, but was told it was accurate. The six men went out and came under fire; they took cover, but were hit as they were falling back. The autopsy records are unavailable; no-one's saying whether it was the rebels or covering fire from their own people who couldn't see where they actually were.

"Colonel Guthrie took responsibility, although unofficial sources say he came over as angry, rather than guilty – these sources I mentioned, who'd be glad to come forward if they felt anyone would believe them. Anyhoos, he wasn't blamed, but he was transferred out to a command in the Balkans, and any attempt by Mrs Childs, the VA or anyone else to contact him have been blocked."

"It sucks, Tony," Bud said. "Afghanistan's a bad enough place without poor intelligence." (Wrong intelligence, Tony was thinking sickly. His job, and the people he encountered because of it disposed a natural cynic to become a severe one; but murder by friendly fire? No.. really, no.) The commander rubbed his knee absent-mindedly; below it, although no-one would know to look at him, his leg ended in a stump, fitted with the most modern of prostheses. One of the medal ribbons on his chest was deep purple, with a narrow edging of silver. Tony, who faced down the scum of society most days, and had a dreadful feeling he was going to be doing it again very soon, in someone whom Gibbs called a friend, thought Bud was the real hero.

He nodded thoughtfully. "You'd know," he said quietly. To Felix he said, "Two things, you mentioned?"

Felix stayed serious. "The other four wives... none of them could really add anything new. But WO1 Danzig's fiancée... Julia Hamlyn... she's a civilian junior intelligence analyst at ONI. If you read between the lines of her statements, she's holding back, but would say more if she could. I think she wants JAG – or you – to investigate so she can." He looked older than his years for a moment. "What does someone do, if they know something's wrong, and the life of someone they love was lost because of it? She took indefinite leave, on medical grounds. It's been six months and she's not returned to work yet. That might mean something."

"I guess," Tony said slowly, answering the question, "they come to us, or you... I was going to go straight back to Washington and nail that mortuary guy to the wall; but if Miss Hamlyn lives anywhere near – I mean, she must to work for ONI, right? Thanks." He glanced at the address and phone number that Lieutenant Sobel handed him. "McLean. I'm on my way." He paused in the doorway. "I owe you both." He was gone.

NCISNCISNCIS

What does a potential suicide look like? Is there anything that singles them out? When he'd walked down to the beach that day and put his gun in his mouth, would anyone watching him go by have been able to read his intent? And then the gun jammed... and tears filled his eyes as he imagined Shannon, standing at the Gates of Heaven, berating him roundly for doing something so foolish before she and Kelly welcomed him.

No-one ever knew he sometimes thought this way, and no-one was ever going to. But now, no matter how he missed his girls, he knew that life was bearable, it had to be, and he was here for a purpose. Even if he put one dirtbag away and another one filled his place, one dirtbag was better than two, for as many times as it took. Was Mrs Childs such a one... or was she only alive until she'd flushed one out?

On the grass bank a little way down the gentle hill Gibbs crouched at the top of, Susannah picked idly at a few grass blades, and touched her father's name on the dark grey stone. How would he have coped if he hadn't been able to make a good funeral for his girls for five weeks?

Joe Bellamy... not the sharpest knife in the box, but utterly good hearted, and a husband any woman should have been proud of; as Gibbs said morosely when he and Jack Fulford had got drunk together after his funeral. He'd been betrayed by a woman who pretended to love him, and had he been pretending as he let Gibbs walk out of the house and picked up his gun, or had he made up his mind, and done it, in a heartbeat? Was Susannah Childs pretending? DiNozzo said not. But how easy was it really to tell? The thought shook him rigid that if Tony had ever felt suicidal, after any of the spectacularly bad things that had happened in his life, would he, or anyone have known?

He thought he would – he hoped he would. He shivered as he remembered that he'd called him 'kid' in his mind during their confrontation. Were his team his family now? Ziva had regarded him as a father, and he missed her every time he had a moment when there was nothing else to occupy his mind. Tim... he couldn't even begin to figure where he stood in the life of someone with a father like the Admiral, but he couldn't imagine his team without him. Tony never came out and said it but... Thirteen years. There was no getting away from that. Tony had stuck around a surly, second B grouch for that long, knew easily as much about semper fidelis as Jack Fulford did, and deserved better than he got.

But if DiNozzo was right then Fulford was lying... He heard his SFA's irony laced tones again. 'Well, OK, Boss... but couldn't you at least value my opinion even if you think I'm wrong? Seem to remember you once saying you depended on me!'

Susannah got up and began to retrace her steps, when her phone rang. She stopped and listened, then seemed to agree with what the caller was saying. She switched off and began walking again, and Gibbs merged in among the monuments to make his way back to his car.

Now, as he edged the car round the corner and watched Mrs Childs going into her empty house, Gibbs realised something else that was tugging at the back of his mind. There were coincidences... a whole string of them if he could clear his head enough to identify them. They niggled at him; he didn't believe in them – he was putting the big sedan into reverse when there came a crash and a shout from inside the house, and he hauled on the parking brake instead.

A figure came barrelling out of the front door, running towards a bicycle flung down on the grass triangle at the road junction. Gibbs recalled seeing the kid earlier, fiddling with his machine, but then he'd mounted and ridden away. The Marine was on him in an instant.

The boy was no more than fifteen or sixteen, but kept up a stream of very adult, protesting obscenities as Gibbs marched him back up the street. "Shut up, Sonny. Except if you're going to explain to me what you were doing in the house?"

"The hell – I live there!"

"No, ya don't," Gibbs told him, and handcuffed him to the door knocker. The door stood open, and he was suddenly alarmed as he wondered why Mrs Childs hadn't run out after the fleeing figure.

He found her on her knees by the living room door, bent over and whimpering slightly in pain, with blood oozing between the fingers that were pressed against her temple. A Venetian glass paperweight lay a few feet away, the pretty turquoise swirls flecked with red.

"Easy... easy, now."Gibbs put his arms round her gently. "Come on, let's get you up and sat down."

"Agent Gibbs! What are you –"

He steered her towards a high backed chair. "Don't worry about that right now. Ok... that's right... sit now. Lean back, rest your head. There. Let me have a look."

She looked up at him anxiously. "I'm afraid to take my hand away," she whispered woozily.

"Only for a moment... there... it's not so very big, it's just that scalp wounds bleed a lot. I'll go find some towels."

"First aid box in the kitchen," Susannah said through her teeth.

"Be right back." As Gibbs went to find it, he saw, with shock and anger, that the photos that had been the subject of their debate not two hours ago, were thrown around the room, in various states of destruction. Some frames were twisted, or glass smashed, or the pictures ripped and crumpled. In the kitchen, the plug had been put in the sink, the overflow blocked and the faucet turned on. Gibbs' famous gut lurched, and he realised he'd been running on it with his change of attitude to Mrs Childs ever since he re-entered the house.

He remembered where he'd seen the house phone, and picked it up on his way back. After he'd broken open a large dressing and applied it to Susannah's hairline, he called for paramedics, and the local police. "There we are, help's on the way. How's the pain?"

She looked warily at this new incarnation of her earlier visitor, and he read her look. "Yeah..." he said quietly, "I'll apologise later." (Had he really just used that word? He was going to have to get used to it, because he was sure as hell going to have to at least try to say sorry to Tony without choking on the word.) "You can slap me when you feel up to it, but don't try yet. No... don't nod your head!"

"Oh... I shouldn't have done. That kid... my photos... oh, my damn head. I feel really sick..."

Gibbs fetched a waste bin just in case. While he was doing that, he stepped out into the hallway, and shouted to the youth, who was kicking the front door and yelling. "Hey! Quit that or I'll give you something to shout about." The noise ceased, and he went back to Susannah. "What happened? Tell you what, I'll ask, just say yes or no. "You got home and surprised him? And he hit you with the paperweight?"

"Threw it. He was knocking my mom in law's china cabinet over when I came in. In the dining room." She gave a huff, and Gibbs wondered if she'd cry, but her face still burned with the anger he'd already seen, and felt. He went and looked into the room, and the sad, disgusted look that came over his face told her all she needed to know.

"You OK for a minute?"

"Yes," she said in a small voice.

A moment later he dragged the struggling young man into the room, cuffed his hands behind him, and shoved him down into a chair opposite Susannah, so he could see the blood. He was about to question the boy when the woman lifted her chin, and asked, "You're the one who did all the other things?"

"No! I didn't do – I mean, I don't know what you're talking about!"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "What other things?"

"Roadkill thrown over my back fence... a dead cat on my doorstep. Phone calls in the middle of the night – the caller ID was Cass's old cell-phone number. Air-gun pellets lodged in my front door. But no break-in up to now. It was you, wasn't it."

"I didn't break in!"

"You're in," Gibbs said dangerously. "How?" The kid looked cornered, so he went for the kill. "You've just committed assault, sonny. You're for juvy. How long for depends on you. How d'you get in?

The boy gave up. "Envelope arrived this morning. With a key. The note said wait, see if she got arrested and taken away. If she didn't I was to wait until she went out, then use the key and come in and make a mess. It said it was time to up the pressure and not be afraid to do it. Took me... an hour to work up the courage. I dropped it. The key. 'S there." He nodded to a spot on the floor near the hearth. Gibbs retrieved it with a tissue, and showed it to Susannah. She glared at him, but he could see the look wasn't aimed at him personally.

"Cass wore it with his dog-tags," she said bitterly, "which I've not had back yet, or his other effects. It was to remind him he had a place to come home to." Gibbs sighed; he was feeling guilty as hell. He had a damn good idea who had them.

"I'll find them for you," he said calmly. To the kid he barked, "Who was the note from?"

"Don't know his name. Only met him once. Smart suit. Gave me $200 and said I'd get more when he was happy the job was done."

A cold hand clutched at Gibbs' already active gut. He had to talk to Tony, soon. Not now, had to be time for them... he took out his phone. "McGee?"

"Boss?"

"Need you to send me an up-to-date photo of Jack Fulford. To my phone. Right away." As he spoke, two paramedics hurried in, so he moved away to give them room.

"OK, Boss... it'll take a minute; I'm out of the office, I'll have to do it via my phone."

With a mighty effort, Gibbs choked down his usual snarl. Whatcha doing out of the office?"

He could almost hear the deep breath being taken at the other end. "On my way to Walter Reed, Boss. Borrowed Dorneget for back-up. Tony asked me to go; we think we know - well, Tony's sure - where Lieutenant Childs' body is."

Gibbs glanced at Susannah; clearly DiNozzo had filled his partner in on the story as they knew it, but it was too early to share that news, he'd wait until he knew for sure. "Boss... are you still there?"

"Yeah... where's DiNozzo? Uh... how is he?"

"Well, I've not seen him yet – he's gone to McLean to talk to one of the widows... well, the fiancée actually. Maybe... you should call him?"

There was another long pause. "I... I'll wait until I see him. Tell him I asked. Keep me posted."

He went back to explain the situation to two newly arrived cops, so that the patient wouldn't have to repeat herself, and as he was doing so, his phone buzzed. The cheerful, well-fed face of his friend from the hill grinned back from the screen. He thrust it under the young punk's nose.

"This the guy?"

"Yeah."

Ah, DiNozzo... Gibbs' heart twisted with guilt. "You –" he said heavily to the kid, "You go with these nice policemen, and you damn well tell them everything you know."

NCISNCISNCIS

Julia Hamlyn, forewarned by phone, was waiting when Tony's VW pulled up outside. She waited until he was right up to the door before opening it, and closed it quickly behind him. He read the anxiety, and was careful to show her his ID.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I just have to be careful. Come and sit down, I've already made a pot of coffee." Another woman was in the living room, and greeted him with a grave half-smile. "This is my mom, Eve, she was visiting and I didn't want to make her go home."

"I'll go in the kitchen if you'd prefer to talk privately," the older woman offered.

"That's up to your daughter, ma'am."

"Eve. I'll stay, then."

Tony watched Julia thoughtfully, as she went about the business of pouring the coffee. She was without doubt, an exceptionally beautiful young woman, even with the pinch and stress-lines of grief that he'd already seen on Susie. She was clearly underweight, and he'd have to find out somehow if her medical leave was a physical problem, or related to her state of tension.

She handed him his coffee, took her own and sat down opposite him, drawing a deep breath. He read something pleading in her eyes as she said, "Now, Special Agent DiNozzo, how can I help you?"

"I've seen the JAG dossier," Tony said quietly. "Susannah gave her permission, and Bud Roberts vouched for me, right? So... I'd like you to tell me everything you wanted to say in that document."

Julia took another deep breath.

A junior analyst is like wallpaper... or a barista. Nobody notices, or thinks they have ears; but she'd heard angry comments from many people, serving Marines, equipment specialists, satellite camera operators, about near misses in 'Watch-your-back Park'; and when 'Danny' Danzig had been sent there, she hadn't believed the reassurances. She hadn't been on duty the day of the attack, but she'd had one shattered, tearful phone call with a SCO friend, telling her not to believe what she was told, and apologising frantically, before the young man was put on leave and became unreachable.

The sun was beginning to drop, and they were all on first name terms, by the time Julia had said everything she needed to say, and fell silent, knotting her hands in her lap. The tension still hung in the room, and as Tony glanced over to Eve, he could see she was bursting to say something herself, but was waiting for her daughter.

Tony caught her eye, nodded slightly, and said gently, "What else, Julia? You're not just sad, you're frightened. Are the press bothering you? Have you had threats?"

"Not... not exactly..."

Eve came and sat by her. "Her boss's boss, Tony, Marshall Carver, he... we mistrust him. He keeps sending Julia get well cards..."

"And flowers. I'm not actually ill," Julia confessed. "I'm nervy as hell, but I'm stretching out the 'illness' with my doctor's help, so I don't have to go back to work until my transfer comes through. It's taking time; I wonder if he's blocking it... if that's so, I'll quit. He scares me. I'm still crying for Danny most nights, but he thinks I should be going out and having fun. Keeps asking me to go out with him. I keep saying no, and this morning he phoned and kind of yelled at me to stop being silly. Said he was coming round tomorrow, and we were going to go out and have a good time, and I'd soon see how foolish I was being."

"That's why I'm here," Eve said. "Julia's terrified to be alone."

Tony's blood had been busy curdling as he'd listened. He could hardly believe it... but yes he could. Susannah had been convinced someone else was pulling Fulford's strings...

"Lock your doors," he said flatly;" I'll arrange for a police patrol to visit every half hour, until I can get a couple of NCIS Agents down here to guard you until I've taken care of this. I have to go... but don't worry. We're going to fix this."

He called Gibbs as he ran to his car.

"Tony! Where are you –"

"On my way in. Got a motive, and a name. How does cold-blooded murder of six men for lust over one woman grab you?"

AN: Phew... massive great chapter because I couldn't find a place to stop. I don't think the next one will be so huge!

Only read through once, too whacked – apologies for any typos!