With at least three annoying police officers from the county sheriff's office following us and many explanations to them later (and trust me when I say that that took a lot), we arrived back in downtown Caribou, parking near the Shop and Save and walking over. After showing our badges to every officer on duty, we passed the yellow tape and the light smoke ahead. We did not see McGee and Ziva yet, but there was time for them later, after we processed the scene. Tony and I considered that crime scene a priority before we had Gibbs on our ass, demanding to know what happened and why.

Ambling up the concrete wheelchair ramp, Tony and I put on gloves he had handy from his crime scene pack. He checked the door, already hanging on its hinges. There wasn't much damage past that though, luckily for us, although the whole town seemed to have their eyes on us as we surveyed the blackened floors and walls with some trepidation. We ignored them as we started taking pictures, sketched and started searching for witnesses, focused on perhaps the why and how. Sadly for us though, there wasn't much to get on because there was so little anyway. Apparently, the only witness that saw Mr. Special Delivery did not seem to be talking and was babbling on his way to Cary Medical Center. Even so, just as Tony and I finalized everything, Ziva and McGee came up to the bottom of the ramp, watching us from their position and all in smiles. Both of them did not offer to help.

"Anything?" I asked them, studying the doorway again.

"Nothing," Ziva confirmed, sounding just as frustrated as we were. "According to McGee, the Internet was not fast enough for his needs."

"Hardly," McGee conceded. "However, we did find out a few things."

"Oh? And what would that be, McGoo?" Tony stepped by me, eying the inside from the outside now, just to see if there was some angle we missed. "Our theory being torn to shred?"

"On the contrary," McGee replied. "It seemed to support it."

"Our victims were part of a local group in the Junior ROTC, as McGee called it," Ziva added. "Well, it was a group outside of a high school group."

"So, it was a bunch of kids going into the military, varying branches, and doing…what exactly?" Tony soon followed my gaze and I swore he was thinking the same thing I was. There was some fragment of the bomb, something I bagged and tagged quickly. "Well, this seems to be the scare tactic."

"I agree." I moved outside with Tony, the pack and evidence in my hands. "Nothing much damaged anyway. It's an easy fix. I think he got here pretty fast and dropped it off. Any security tapes?"

"Right here." Ziva waved a disc in a case. "That's about all we have."

"And all we're likely to get." Tony shook his head slightly, almost like he did not believe what was happening, and looked to Ziva and McGee. "This was a warning shot. Next time, we might not be so fortunate."

"Next time, I might just get a shot in myself." The tone in Ziva's voice seemed threatening and I knew it to be genuine. There was no mistaking it.

"If there a chance to get him." McGee sounded pretty negative for one who was hardly hurt and got the information he needed anyway. I guessed it had to do with the technology not being so sophisticated here and the lack of cable Internet, something that I was going to be hearing about until the case was closed.

"Anyway," I interrupted, writing some notes down with one hand before putting the kit and evidence down, "what about this group? What did they do? When did they meet? Schools involved?"

"Only a few schools in the Silver Spring area," McGee reported, first looking at me and then Tony, like he was deciding who was more in charge since I seemed to be upping Tony the few times we had been talking. "Three of them, to be exact. Montgomery Blair, Northwood and Coolidge High Schools. Three victims came from Montgomery Blair, three from Northwood and the last two from Coolidge. All of them varied in their ages at the time of their interactions, all of them between sixteen and eighteen. Their after-school group seemed to be more about talking anything else other than outside military activities, from what Ziva and I have read about it. Only description it came on the Silver Spring, Maryland school website was that it was an outlet for students in Junior ROTC or those who were thinking seriously about being in the US military. No copping out, enlistment papers by seventeen or eighteen and coming back every once in a while to compare notes."

"About what in their meetings, I wonder?" Tony seemed serious for once, although we all were not fooled. He had a movie quote on his mind. "I mean, the things you owe end up owing you."

I glanced at Ziva. She said nothing, joining me without question as we punched Tony in each shoulder, me on the left and Ziva on his right. Tony grunted, feigning pain, and pursed his lips together.

"First rule of the Fight Club, Tony?" McGee asked gleefully, almost enjoying that Tony had been hurt this time.

"Never talk about the Fight Club," Tony insisted in a high-pitched voice. "Second rule still says you can't talk about it."

"What's the third?" I asked playfully, watching the lights from the sheriff's car flashing in the parking lot across the street, town hall lighting up like a Christmas tree the way he was being an asshole and showing off.

"You've met me at a very strange time in my life," Tony continued, quitting his melodramatics and seeing the same thing I was across the street. "And that time seems to involve more law enforcement officers, annoying questions we can't answer and Gibbs calling me at any minute."

My phone rang instead. "Good timing," I remarked, picking it up and seeing that it was Gibbs' number. "Bolton."

"Lydia, tell me why DiNozzo isn't answering his phone," Gibbs started. He sounded pretty pissy, but not as much as he usually was. I heard Alex making gurgling noises in the background and assumed that Gibbs had him in one arm, the other keeping my aunt away and the phone at his shoulder.

"I don't know." I turned to Tony, moving the phone away from my mouth. "Check your phone lately, Tony?"

"Huh?" Tony quickly pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and checked it. "Wow. Missed a call from the Boss. Wonder why I didn't hear it?"

"Regardless," I said exasperated. Sighing, I turned back to my own conversation. "Don't know, Gibbs."

"Tell me about what's been going on," Gibbs ordered softly.

"Small bomb at the Caribou Library," I testified automatically, feeling like I was on report and that there was no such thing as a negative answer or even defeat. "Ziva and McGee are fine. Tony and I think it's a notice from Mr. Special Delivery to back away. One witness and he's not talking anytime soon. I think we need to give it a day or so before we try talking."

"Security tapes?"

"Ziva have them."

"Anything else on the victims?"

"It's been confirmed that they went to the same schools and have been in the same groups. There was a Junior ROTC assembly they were a part of. There hasn't been much else on the topic. Not a lot of information."

"Get some. And tell DiNozzo to answer his damned phone next time."

Gibbs then hung up before I told him about the bomb fragment that Tony and I noted and bagged. Sighing, I put my phone and looked to Tony, McGee and Ziva evenly, the three of them anxious to hear what Gibbs had to say. I grinned grimly and then turned to Tony. I knew that he was going to get it once we arrived back at the farmhouse and it was going to be popcorn worthy entertainment for maybe a few hours. I was pretty sure that Ziva and McGee would have agreed with me too.

"So, does anyone know when Abby is coming?" I was hoping to get Gibbs off of my mind.

"By the look on your face, the Boss isn't too happy," McGee observed, changing the topic expertly.

"I'm not saying who's in trouble now." I made a point of glancing a few times at Tony. "However, we need Abby, especially with what we have now."

"Wait, what?" Tony seemed surprised, although I knew it was another act. "Me, in trouble? Naw, can't be. I'm senior field agent."

"And a very special agent too," I added, remembering that it was how Tony introduced himself to me, all those years ago. "I'm sure Gibbs will take it into consideration."

"When? Before or after Tony steps out of the car?" There was a twinkle in Ziva's eyes. I call it mischief, although I think Tony would think differently.

"I don't know." I picked up the kit again, thinking as I saw the sheriff come closer to us and was mostly glaring at me instead of the others, all of whom should have held his interest more than I would have. "I think we should deal with company though."

"You want to do it alone or you want me to?" Tony asked me, finally noting that the sheriff had some sort of recognition in his eyes. It was like he saw some sort of mirage in me, more so than I thought too, and it was perhaps an image from long ago.

"Let's both go," I suggested. While Tony ordered McGee and Ziva to take everything to the car and to the police station across the street on his word, I moved forward, meeting the elderly officer on the sidewalk.

"Haven't seen you in these parts in a while," the sheriff started, shaking my hand. "Sheriff Vincent Cyr."

"Special Agent Lydia Bolton," I greeted, returning the hand shake and allowing my hand to return to my side. I suddenly wished for Tony, hoping that he would stop teasing Ziva and McGee soon and get them down the hill. "I actually haven't been here since I was a child. I don't quite remember you."

"Aren't you Alison's kid?" Cyr asked, his eyes squinting.

"Yes," I admitted, wincing outwardly. I never liked talking about my mother.

"I remember you when you were small. Your mother ran away here a long time ago before going back south. Your brother and sister were there too…Jason and Mara, right?"

"Right."

"Yeah, right. Well, your mother and I were friends a long time back. Just didn't think Alison's younger daughter would come to the old haunts."

"There were different circumstances in which I came here and it turned into another case. Anything you can do to help?"

The sheriff rubbed his chin. "Well, I can talk to the chief if you're having issues. I don't have much power here. However, I'll put in a good word."

"That would be great," I replied, trying my hardest to be nice and feeling like it was forced. There was something I didn't like about the sheriff and that was something I was willing to trust. "We need all the help we can get. Right now, they're holding our human hand and they would need to wait our forensics specialist can get up here before it's compromised. We can't have them taking our evidence and ruining though. It's a federal case. However, some assistance should be here soon. Last I heard, they're still in DC and traveling up."

"Is that so?" Cyr smiled. This was gossip to him, I saw, and it wasn't serious to him. Like everyone else in Aroostock County, everyone else's business was his too and it was always fun to hear some juicy details too.

Thankfully, before I could retort (and there was no other way to answer), Tony soon joined us. I introduced the two to each other and Cyr took Tony's hand too. They chatted about this and that, a mention about Ziva and McGee made. Tony too gave him as few details as I did, just the base basics, which prompted another discussion about Loring Air Force Base between the two for a few minutes. Tony wrote this down, acting as if I didn't talk about it earlier this same morning, and immediately ordered that the scene be cleared and nobody enter, since there was so little security around the area and without military personnel. When Cyr protested, Tony gave him a sharp look that shut him up, something worthy of Gibbs. That alone made it worth the time spent with the county sheriff.

"Anything else, Special Agent DiNozzo?" Cyr inquired, feeling humbled and not the gossip he just was moments before. "I can get those men for you all, twenty-four seven too."

"Yeah," Tony said. "Take our two agents down to your station with escort and make sure the evidence is securely locked and tagged. Extend to them every courtesy as federal agents before allowing them to leave. Make sure there is a separate room with some good Internet. Also, make room for our medical examiner and forensics specialist. Think you can manage?"

"Sure," Cyr mumbled. "Excuse me. I'll ensure the smooth process for you."

Luckily, Cyr left, heading back across the street to give instructions to some men. Tony muttered some sarcastic thanks, finally watching as McGee and Ziva drove around the block, since it was no way to head to the police station the same way Cyr had (it was a one-way). They soon entered the bottom driveway of the police station. Tony and I moved forward for a better view, seeing that they exited the vehicle and were being escorted by some officers and were allowed inside with everything we've found. I sagged my shoulders, feeling some relief. Tony, on the other hand, wasn't as enthusiastic as I was.

"Know what I hate worse than a county full of people with the last name of Cyr?" Tony asked me, his eyes still on the doorway at the station.

"What?" I felt wind whip around my red hair and moved my hand to push it back, but Tony stopped me, his eyes baring into mine. He then turned me to the side to face me fully, his hand still on my arm, stopping to motion to keep the hair from my mouth and eyes.

"Someone who knows more than he should," Tony answered. "Think we should put him on the list of people to question?"

"Without doubt," I said. "Some chatterboxes are worth the wringing. When do you think we should track him down again?"

"He seems to know you better. Invite him for some coffee?"

"I could, outside the house."

Tony moved his hand away from me finally, pushing my hair aside instead of the wind. "Pay a call to the station tomorrow. I think it'll be worth it."

I could not help but smile. "I think so too. Homeward bound?"

Tony twitched his eye, almost like he was feeling that head slap to the back of the head and that it was disturbing him greatly this time. "If you want to call Gibbs that, let's go. But I'm not telling him we didn't get much."

"We'll draw for it in the car," I suggested. "Deal?"

Again, Tony twitched. "Deal."