Chapter 7
"Cause of death isn't obvious from first glance," Ducky said. "What do you think, Galene?"
The state M.E. nodded in agreement.
"There's so much decomp at this point that the only thing we can say is that they weren't shot. Probably. No obvious bullet holes. And I can also say that I'm sick of these flies," she said, waving at yet another blow fly. "I haven't had to process a body in this condition for years, let alone two of them at the same time."
"Same condition?" Gibbs asked.
"I would venture a guess that both were killed and left out at the same time, but they haven't been here the entire time," Ducky said. "Would you agree?"
"Yeah," Galene said. "This looks like both bodies have been moved. I don't see enough of the bodily fluids on the ground to indicate they decayed here."
"And I would wager that when we move them, we'll find that the grass below them is still alive, not dead as it would be if they had been killed and left here."
"Are you ready to move them?" Detective Canton asked.
"I believe so. Now, will they be going to the state or to NCIS?" Ducky asked, looking at the men arrayed above the M.E.s. "Or to the FBI?"
Gibbs and Fornell and Canton all looked at each other, as if debating whether or not it was worth fighting about.
"Your case," Gibbs said, finally, to Detective Canton. "You have jurisdiction."
"Could be part of your case, too," Detective Canton said.
"If I might interject," Ducky said, getting to his feet. "Perhaps it would be best to take the bodies to the closest office with the understanding that information will be shared among all the agencies represented here?"
"Okay by me," Detective Canton said.
"I'm from the Manassas office," Galene said.
"That's closer than the Yard," Ducky said.
"I'd be happy to have you come along with me as well, Dr. Mallard," Galene said.
"I'd be happy to come. Agent Gibbs?"
Gibbs nodded.
"Excellent. Once we get the bodies loaded, Mr. Palmer and I will see you there, then."
"Sounds good."
The bodies were finally removed from the place where they'd been found, and as Ducky had predicted, the grass beneath them was matted but not dead or even brown. Tony knelt down with another officer and began to document the ground, making sure nothing had been missed.
"You feds are pretty reasonable," Detective Canton said. "I figured we'd be fighting all the way through."
"You caught us on a good day," Fornell said. "Or a bad one. I don't know which yet."
Detective Canton smiled and then watched as Ducky and Jimmy helped Galene move the bodies to her truck.
"Serial killer, huh?"
"Maybe," Fornell said.
"Probably," Gibbs said.
"And he sent the missing hand to your agent?"
"Yeah," Gibbs said.
"Why? Your agent said he didn't know."
Gibbs raised an eyebrow. Tony said nothing, not knowing what Gibbs would be thinking about Tim's behavior.
"Seems to think that Agent McGee wants to know what he's planning," Gibbs said, noncommitally.
"Yeah, but why him and not some other agent?"
Tony waited to see what Gibbs was going to say. The more people who knew exactly why Tim was the focus the more likely it would be that it would become common knowledge. Once the media got a hold of it, Tim would have no peace at all.
"Had to be someone," Gibbs said.
"Guess so. I don't think your agent likes it all that much."
"He doesn't."
"All right, keep your secrets. I can tell there's more to it, but as long as you don't try to keep me out of this one, I won't push."
Gibbs just nodded without admitting to anything. They finished up and then went their separate ways.
"What are you going to do, Boss?" Tony asked as they got to the car. "About McGee."
"Don't know."
"Gibbs."
Gibbs turned around and there was Fornell.
"Are you going to let McGee stay on this? You really think he can handle it?" Fornell asked.
"Can't keep the guy from involving him," Gibbs said.
"Yeah, but you could keep him from being part of the investigation. How important is it that he be directly involved?"
"You said it yourself, Fornell," Tony said. "He's part of it. We can't change that."
"But it doesn't look to me like he's managing to deal with it at all."
"You think he'll really let us keep him out?" Tony said.
"He's an employee. Supposedly, you're in charge, Gibbs. Aren't you?"
Gibbs just rolled his eyes.
"Well, he's your agent, but being targeted like this has ruined other people, more experienced than Agent McGee is."
"McGee's not a newbie. He's been an agent for more than a decade, Fornell," Tony said.
"Yes, he has," Fornell said. That was it. Then, he walked away.
Tony and Gibbs got in the car and headed back to D.C.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Fornell walked into the FBI and found Sacks looking far too involved for there to be nothing going on.
"What's up, Ron?"
"Give me a second," he said without looking away.
Fornell sat down and waited. While he waited, he thought about Tim's situation. He was clearly not dealing with it well, but he'd reached the point where he wasn't going to admit it. How he'd managed to work through the initial shock to the point of being able to pretend he wasn't that bothered Fornell didn't know but he didn't think it was healthy and he really didn't think that it should be ignored as Gibbs seemed to be doing.
"Okay. We might have something."
"Something about what? And how much might we have?"
"Possibly the building where Ahrendson was living in D.C."
"What? How?"
"One of the geeks told me last week that he thought he could find something if I let him have at it and gave him the time. I decided that we didn't have anything to lose and so I said he could try it. He used the building as his starting point and moved backward, using cameras and cars. I don't know how many people he had to call and I'm not sure I want to know, but he has a building that he swears is it. Want to go and check it out?"
"Sure."
They left the building.
"So?"
"Looks like it's related. Got another note for Agent McGee."
"And? What's next?"
"Fear of boats, apparently."
"Doesn't narrow it down much, does it."
"Nope."
"And how did Agent McGee take it?"
"He's pretending it's not a problem."
"So not well."
"Nope."
"Can't blame him."
"Nope."
The drive was mostly silent, and what they pulled up to was a rundown apartment building in Brentwood.
"This one?" Fornell asked.
"That's the address Larsen gave me," Sacks said.
"Okay."
They went in to talk to the manager. Over two months after Ahrendson's death, they didn't have much hope of anything still being around, even if this was the place, but they'd never know if they didn't check it out.
"No Ahrendson here, but I do have one guy I'm in the process of evicting. I don't know if he's not here or if he's just really good at sneaking in and out, but he's got two more days before I go in and move his stuff out."
"Name?"
"Gore Edwards."
The opposite of the name of the author of the book Ahrendson had used as inspiration. Fornell looked at Sacks significantly and pulled out a photo of Ahrendson.
"Is this your renter?"
The manager stared at it for a long time. "I think so, but I'm not sure. I didn't see him much. Why?"
"He's probably dead."
The manager paled. "In the apartment?"
"No. Two months ago. We think this is someone who died a couple of months ago," Sacks said. "We need to search the apartment, but if you haven't yet officially kicked him out, then, we need to get a warrant first."
Fornell pulled out his card.
"We'll be back as soon as possible. If you see him or anyone going to that apartment, please let us know."
"What about his stuff? I was going to sell anything that might help me get back some of the money I've lost."
"What we don't want is all yours, but we need to gather fingerprints, too. So you shouldn't go in there until we get a chance."
The manager nodded. Fornell could see him wondering if his fingerprints would already be in there and if it would get him in trouble.
"We should be back later today."
"Okay."
They left the building.
"That's got to be him," Sacks said.
"Can't see who else it would be," Fornell said. "Let's get our warrant."
They hurried back to the office to see if they could find a judge willing to work quickly.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Tim knew he would be in trouble, but he didn't want to deal with it. So when he got back, he brushed off Torrance's concern and went to his desk. He tried to think about anything in his life that might be construed as a fear. He didn't want to be taken by surprise again.
But as soon as he started doing that, all he could think about was the fact those two people had been killed because this Wordsmith had thought he was afraid of never getting married. That meant that they had probably been about to get married. An engaged couple who would never have that now...because some psycho had decided that Tim was afraid of getting married. What else would happen? How else would someone die? What had killed those two? How long had they suffered before he killed them? Had the woman been alive when he cut her hand off?
Arms around him from behind startled him and he turned quickly.
"Abby," he said, letting out a loud exhale.
"I heard you were having a bad day. Thought you could use a hug."
Tim wanted to say that he was fine, but for some reason, he couldn't say that to Abby. Maybe it was just because he knew that it wouldn't matter what he said to her. Abby would still hug him anyway.
"I think I could," he admitted.
Abby hugged him again and Tim hugged her back.
"Thanks."
"You want to talk about it?"
"No. Just a hug."
He enjoyed the feeling for a little bit, but then, he heard the phone ringing on the other side of the bullpen. He pulled away from Abby and stood up. He looked Abby for a moment and saw her concern. He couldn't handle that and so he turned his attention to what Balboa was saying. He could only hear one side of the conversation but, somehow, he could guess what was being said.
"Where did you find him?" Balboa said. "Really."
Tim wasn't trying to hide that he was listening in. In fact, he walked away from Abby and over to Balboa's desk. Balboa looked up and him and raised an eyebrow. Tim just returned the gesture and Balboa sighed.
"You're sure?" Another sigh. "All right. We'll be over." He hung up.
"Someone else?" Tim asked.
"Yeah."
"Same guy?"
"Probably."
"How do they know? Another note?" Tim asked.
"McGee."
"Another note?" Tim asked again.
"Yeah."
"Mentioning me."
"Yeah."
"I'm guessing you won't let me come along."
"No. You know that Gibbs doesn't want you on the crime scenes."
"You think that this could possibly be worse than what I've already seen?"
"Maybe. It's worse than that, though."
Tim laughed incredulously. "Another person was murdered because of me and you think it can be worse?"
"Yeah, it can. Media is on the scene. The odds of us keeping this out of the news are slim to none at this point."
"Well, maybe it'll help."
"Do you honestly think that 24-hour media coverage is going to help us find this guy? What it'll likely do is make things worse for you. They'll figure out who you are eventually, McGee."
"Maybe that'll be enough for the killer. To see me convicted in the court of public opinion."
Balboa actually rolled his eyes. "This guy is murdering people, McGee. I don't think a little media coverage is going to make him stop. You're making this too much about you. You can't stop him. You can't make him change his mind. We can't do anything but catch him. That's the only thing that will make him stop, so stop turning yourself into a martyr."
Tim shook his head. "No, I'm not a martyr. Martyrs die for a cause. All I'm doing is sitting around."
He turned and walked back to his desk. Abby was still there, perched on his desk. He plunked down on his chair and exhaled loudly.
"Tim, you need to relax. You're going to give yourself an ulcer."
"Maybe, but it's not happening, Abbs. I can't relax. Not about this stuff." Tim looked up at her. "Imagine how you would feel if someone started a killing spree because of you. Abby, he's not even sticking to things I'm really afraid of. It's like he saw or heard one thing and is killing people simply because he thinks I'm afraid." Tim stood up and grabbed Abby by the shoulders. "I'm not afraid of boats! I get seasick, but I'm not afraid of the boats! I'm not afraid of never getting married, but people are dying because this Wordsmith thinks I am! Do I really put off that impression? Is that what I'm like? Is this what people think of me? How–?"
"Tim! Stop!" Abby said. She put her hands on his cheeks and stared him straight in the eye, looking very concerned. "What's going on with you?"
"I just..."
Then, the elevator dinged and Gibbs and Tony got off. Tim pulled away from Abby and looked at Gibbs. He knew he was going to get a lecture but he really just wasn't in the mood for it.
"McGee, what do you think you were doing there?"
"They called me, Boss. They asked me to come down."
"My office."
Tim sighed and followed Gibbs back to the elevator. They both got on and it moved for perhaps a single second before Gibbs turned it off.
"What are you doing, McGee?"
"My job, Boss," Tim said, feeling both upset and now a little angry. Gibbs hadn't been there through the last few months. He hadn't been the focus of two serial killers. He had no right to get upset about this.
"You were supposed to stay here."
"You never ordered me to stay. You just didn't take me with you to talk to those people who recognized the ring. They specifically asked me to go down there. I wasn't going because I have some kind of twisted interest in seeing dead bodies. They asked me because this is about me no matter how much you all keep trying to pretend it's not!"
"It's about this Wordsmith, whoever he is. It's not you."
"Yes, it is! This is about me. He's choosing people based on how he's perceived me. He's focusing on me. This is about me, Boss! Those two people... they were getting married, weren't they."
"Yeah," Gibbs said, almost reluctantly.
"He picked two people who were engaged, ready to be married, happy with their lives. He picked them because he decided I must be afraid of never getting married. Do you honestly think that he would have done that with just anyone? He wouldn't have. Those two people are dead because of what he thought about me. And acting like it could be anyone is just stupid. It's not anyone. It's me."
"Then, you are hands off this case," Gibbs said. "If you can't separate yourself from it, you're not investigating it."
"And how will you keep this Wordsmith from putting my hands back on the case?" Tim asked.
"You're not going to the crime scenes. You're not processing evidence. You are hands off," Gibbs said. "Clear?"
"Yeah. Clear, Boss. Clear as a bell," Tim said.
What was clear to Tim was that Gibbs did not understand what was happening and that, no matter how much anyone tried to keep this from being about Tim, it was about Tim. Rather than say any of that, Tim just stood there and waited for Gibbs to turn the elevator back on. He did understand that Gibbs had to think that way. It was just that it was so inadequate for what was going on. Tim was fine with not having to see the victims of his fears. He was fine with not processing the evidence. None of that would change reality, though. The reality of it was that Tim genuinely didn't know if he could handle reality. He didn't know if he could take what was happening, but as he'd told Torrance, if he couldn't, then, he wasn't good enough to do the job.
The silence lengthened out as Gibbs stared at Tim. Then, finally, he turned around and turned on the elevator. The doors opened and they stepped off. Tony was sitting at his desk, ostensibly working hard. Tim walked to his own desk and sat down. He opened up Ahrendson's computer files again and tried to focus on doing something that might be useful. But he couldn't focus. The question the Wordsmith kept asking him flashed through his mind again.
What scares you, Agent McGee?
The answer was still unchanged from what he'd told Tony just days ago (it felt like years).
That this is all my fault.
