Chapter 8

Ducky, Jimmy and Galene sat down to go over the results of the preliminary examination of the bodies.

"I'd say that the hand was removed post-morten," Galene said.

"I agree. Cause of death might be explained by the damaged skull on each body," Ducky said.

"Can we do any tests for drugs with the bodies like this?" Jimmy asked.

"Perhaps with the hair and there's still some of the liver left," Galene said. "But I wouldn't bet on any of the fluids. Even the eyes... I just don't think we can get any of that."

Ducky's phone rang.

"Oh, dear. I apologize."

Galene smiled. "No. You're on the clock. Don't worry about it."

Ducky smiled in reply and answered. "Dr. Mallard."

"Ducky, can you come and check out a body? It's our serial killer again."

"Another one? So soon?"

"Yeah. There's a note. This one is Navy. So it's ours, no matter what."

"Oh, dear. Where are you?"

"Not far from the Yard, actually. Diamond-Teague Park. Body was wedged under the Riverwalk. Someone saw the body and pulled it out, thinking the person might be still alive."

"Just a moment." He looked at Galene. "We have another body. Would you mind terribly if Mr. Palmer and I got over there?"

"Part of this whole mess?" Galene asked.

"I'm afraid it is."

"Then, I don't mind at all. I'll keep working and if you can't join me again, you'll get my full report when I'm done. I promise." She mimed crossing her heart.

"I have no doubts," Ducky said, smiling. "Daniel, we'll be there as soon as possible."

"Great. Word of warning, though."

"What?"

"Media is here."

"I will keep that in mind."

Ducky and Jimmy packed up and got in the truck.

"How can they find this guy when they don't seem to have anything to tell them who he is?" Jimmy asked as they drove back to D.C. "He doesn't have any connection to the victims that they know so far. The FBI hadn't found any connection to Ahrendson before. It seems like he's picking ways to kill them that don't leave enough traces for things like fingerprints and stuff."

"Yes," Ducky agreed. "This man does seem to be very skilled at concealing himself. He did call himself the master. However, no one is perfect. We have found people before without knowing the initial connections. I have to trust, with so many minds bent to the same task, that we will figure it out."

"Before Tim can't deal with it anymore?" Jimmy asked.

"What do you mean?" Ducky asked.

"The other day. I heard Tim yelling at Tony in the bullpen. When they went outside, I followed, just in case Tim was as mad as he sounded. He wasn't, but he was sitting there in the park and he just looked so miserable. That was at the very beginning. It's not getting any better. How much longer can he take it?"

Ducky sighed. "I don't know the answer to that, unfortunately. For now, let's just get to this next crime scene and pray that we can stop any more bodies from arising."

Jimmy nodded.

"Oh, and one more thing, Mr. Palmer."

"What's that?"

"There will likely be quite a few people, including journalists on the scene. You are not to answer any of their questions. In fact, while I little relish being rude, I will tell you simply to ignore them."

"Okay. I can do that."

"Good. Don't get us lost."

"By the Yard? Not even you give that bad directions," Jimmy said and grinned.

As he'd hoped, the worried expression cleared from Ducky's face for the moment.

Then, he focused on the drive to yet another murder.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You ready for this, Sacks?" Fornell asked.

"Yep. Hopefully no spoiled food in the fridge and no extra dead bodies in the closet," Sacks said.

"Might be asking a bit much."

"Just open the door."

Fornell did as he was told and they stepped into the apartment that was almost certainly Ahrendson's. It had a musty, abandoned smell to it but nothing rotten, thank goodness. Still, they both had their guns ready and they checked out the small one-bedroom apartment. It was completely unoccupied.

"Clear," Sacks said from the bedroom. "He was kind of a slob, I think."

"Guess he was too busy killing people to clean up," Fornell said, putting his gun away.

They began searching through the apartment, looking for anything that might give them an idea of what was happening now.

"Got a phone," Fornell said, as he opened a drawer on a small desk.

It wasn't anything special. In fact, it wasn't even a smartphone. It was an old flip phone that only had text and calling capabilities. No data usage at all. It was obviously dead after months of no use, but there was a charger. They plugged it in and then went back to checking the apartment. Other than clothes strewn all over the place and trash, they didn't see anything right away that indicated a serial killer. It was entirely possible that this had just been a place to crash when necessary, that he'd had yet another space to plan. Then, again, maybe not. After all, Ahrendson's murders had been atypical. No one had been shot or stabbed. They required cunning, mostly, rather than skill with weaponry.

After a few minutes, they went back to the phone. It was charged enough to turn on. They didn't want to be too hopeful that they could get anything useful, but it was worth a shot.

It paid off. The phone contained phone numbers from calls made and received. Or rather, it had one phone number. Not a lot of calls, but one number.

And an unheard voice mail.

"You ready to listen to this?" Fornell asked.

"Absolutely," Sacks said.

They put the phone on speaker and played the message, hoping it wasn't a telemarketer or robocall or something like that.

"I approve of your choice. Be prepared to kill and move on should your location get compromised. The key to success is being willing to adapt. The plans are always good and should be followed, but if it's a matter of following the plan or getting away, get away. You can't see the beauty of complete success without getting away and then watching the chaos from your perfect vantage point."

The voice was clearly modulated. Would Ahrendson have actually known this person or was it all done like this? Who knew, but they had the voice of someone who was giving advice on how to get away with murder.

"We have our master serial killer," Sacks said.

"Don't jump the gun."

"I'm not. That's who this is. The question is, who is it?"

"Bag that and we'll get a team in here to do the rest of the cleanup. This needs to be our focus. We need to check this number and see if we can clean up the voice, too," Fornell said.

"And tell NCIS about what we found."

"When we know what we've found. Not right now."

Fornell pulled out his phone and called back to get a full team in. He didn't get a chance to make the request.

"Fornell, there's been another murder."

"What? Already? Why didn't Gibbs call me?"

"Because he didn't call us, either. It's on the news. NCIS is on the scene. Someone drowned and you said fear of boats."

Fornell swore. "And the media's got it now?"

"Well, they have the murder. They don't know the serial killer part of it...yet."

"Yeah, it's only a matter of time before some 'anonymous source' comes out of the woodwork. All right. Where?"

"Diamond-Teague Park. You going over there?"

"Have to stop at the office first. We found a phone with a voice mail and a phone number."

"Great!"

"But then, we'll go over. And we need a full team sent to the apartment to go through it all with a fine-tooth comb."

"I'll get them moving."

"Thanks."

Fornell hung up and looked at Sacks.

"Another one?" he asked.

"Yep. In the water."

"Okay."

They headed off to see what there was to learn.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was sitting at his desk, watching the ZNN coverage of the latest murder. They had next to no information but that didn't stop them from talking about it.

"So far, all we've been told is that the man was found in the water. No identification will be made until they have the chance to inform any family he might have."

Then, there was a bit of a flurry of activity as a car pulled up to the scene. Tim saw Fornell and Sacks get out and walk over to the barricade and then get admitted, with a few journalists calling after him to explain why the FBI was there.

"Well, this is a new development. Two FBI agents have just arrived on the scene. They haven't answered any questions as to why the FBI would be investigating a simple murder, but we'll give you more news as we get it."

"Tim, why are you watching that?"

Tim looked away from the TV at Tony.

"Why not?"

"Because you know that whatever they have to say will likely be exaggerated for ratings."

"So? They don't think they need to keep things from me, at least."

"McGee, you're really starting to tick me off," Tony said.

Tim found that he could smile at that.

"Why? Because I'm not letting you make me incompetent?"

"That's not what we're doing and you know it. You don't want to see this stuff, either, and we're not keeping anything important from you." Then, Tony's expression changed. "Why are you acting like this?"

Tim felt any satisfaction he'd felt from needling Tony leech away and he sighed.

"Misery loves company?" he suggested, finally.

Tony walked over and perched on Tim's desk.

"Tim, how many times will it take for you to believe what we're telling you? It could have been me this guy picked, not you."

"And then, the victims would have been different," Tim said. "He wouldn't have picked two people on the verge of getting married if it had been you. Whether you're scared of never getting married or not, no one would think you are. It's because of who he thinks I am, and no amount of repetition is going to change that. Tony, just by existing, I'm partially to blame."

"No! Stop thinking like that."

Tim looked past Tony to the TV again.

"When they figure out that it's about me, do you think that I'll be considered a hero? I'll bet I'm blamed. Guilt by association."

"So? Who cares what a bunch of talking heads think?"

"I do," Tim said, honestly. "And so would you if it happened to you."

"DiNozzo."

Tony turned away and looked at Gibbs.

"They've got the contact information. We're going to inform the family."

Tony grimaced.

"Okay."

Then, he got up to leave, but he paused.

"Tim, you've got to stop this. It'll only make things worse than they are."

Tim nodded, but as Tony left, he couldn't help feeling that he was getting off far too lightly as it was.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Man, this guy is starting to tick me off," Balboa muttered under his breath.

"Who? The killer or the reporter who keeps shouting questions at us?" Jensen asked.

Balboa grimaced and glanced over. Some eager-beaver journalist had not yet learned that timing was key when trying to get information. He would not be getting any answers with that attitude.

"Both, now that you mention it," he said. "There's a note and I can see McGee's name, but we can't read it until Ducky gets to check out the body."

Torrance walked over from talking to the person who had found the body.

"Well?" Balboa asked.

Torrance looked at her notes. "Larry Addison. He says that he comes here every week just to walk along the river. He didn't see anyone around, but he was looking over the railing and saw a hand sticking out from under the walkway. He jumped in and got the body out, but he'd been in the water a long time already, probably a few hours at least."

"Looks like it," Balboa agreed. "Ducky will have to confirm, but this guy didn't drown recently."

"Did he even drown?" Jensen asked. "Didn't the clue talk about boats, not water?"

"Last I checked, boats are on water, Jensen," Balboa said.

"Yeah, and he's interpreting these things pretty liberally, isn't he?" Torrance asked. "I mean, with the maggots, they weren't the cause of death. He just sent the hand with them to McGee. And not being married didn't kill that couple. Who's to say that he didn't just mean for us to find Ensign Calderwood near a boat dock? Boats are around, whether they're the cause of death or not."

For not the first time, Balboa was glad he'd agreed to take Torrance on. She was always a surprise. Even after knowing her for nearly a year, he still sometimes let her appearance distract him from how sharp she was.

"Ducky's just getting here," Jensen said, pointing over to Ducky and Jimmy weaving their way through a few reporters.

"Isn't that Agent Fornell, there?" Torrance asked, pointing at a car that had also pulled up nearby.

"Looks like it," Balboa said. "Great. More reason for the press to wonder what's going on."

The motley crew made their way down to the dock.

"Glad you're here, Ducky. There's another note. I can see McGee's name on it, but I can't read the whole thing," Balboa said.

"Glad to be of service, Joseph," Ducky said. "I'm sure this man has been moved?"

"Yeah. Guy pulled him out of the water."

"Of course. Can't be helped."

He knelt down and began his investigation.

"Fornell, what are you doing here?"

"Got a report of another body, thought it was probably our guy again. Is it?"

"There's a note," Balboa said, grudgingly. "Just waiting for Ducky to finish so we can get it out."

"What do you know?"

"That he was fished out of the river, was wedged under the walkway. And I know that if that reporter over there keeps shouting out questions, I'm much more liable to punch his lights out than answer a single one of them."

"Navy?"

"Yeah. Ensign Jeremiah Calderwood."

They stood quietly for a few minutes while Ducky and Jimmy worked.

"Now, you may remove the note," Ducky said, finally.

"Time of death?"

"Impossible to say from the liver temperature. Suffice it to say that he's been in the water long enough that his body is the same temperature as the river. I'll have to see what else we can find when we get him back to Autopsy."

"Cause of death?"

"No sign of a gunshot wound. No sign of stabbing," Jimmy said. "And no obvious trauma."

"I see no marks around the neck to indicate strangulation. It may be that he truly did drown, but we'll have to see," Ducky added.

"All right. The sooner you can get him taken care of and out of the public eye, the better," Balboa said.

Then, he knelt down and carefully pulled the note from where it had been secured to Ensign Calderwood's pocket and looked at it.

"Waterproof seal. Man, who plans like this?" he asked.

"What does it say?" Sacks asked.

"He probably wishes he had a boat. What scares you, Agent McGee? Glossophobia. What's that?"

"Glossa, meaning tongue in Greek," Ducky said. "Fear of speech?"

"Public speaking," Jimmy said. "Sometimes, it's considered more of a social phobia than anything."

"Well, Timothy does tend to get nervous in those situations. I would not label it as a fear, necessarily."

"How is this guy figuring all this out about him anyway?" Sacks asked. "This isn't a casual conversation being overheard. This guy seems to have been watching him."

"Perhaps for the two months in between Ahrendson's death and when he sent the note," Ducky said. "No one expected another killer, still less one that might have been watching Timothy quite intently. Unless he was blatant about it, Timothy wouldn't be likely to notice. He certainly wouldn't be watching for it."

"You think we could find some way to keep Tim from seeing this one?" Jensen asked. "Every time I see him, he looks like someone's walking over his grave."

"Doubtful," Ducky said. "Timothy has determined that he'll be held back as little as possible."

"But he hates it, too," Jensen said.

"Yes, he does, William."

"He's afraid that he doesn't deserve to be agent if he can't deal with it," Torrance said.

"How do you know that?" Balboa asked.

"When I went down to the other crime scene with him, he said that if he can't handle what's happening then he shouldn't be in this job. It's a test and he's afraid of failing it."