"So, Lydia, tell me why you're here, other than escaping this hideous heat. Does this have anything to do with the NCIS agents that were just in here a few minutes ago?"

After trying to keep his composure after a surprise visit from NCIS, the famous Professor Walter MacNara of George Washington University took me into his inner sanctum (a small room in his office where he usually has meetings and private conversations with students) and poured me some cold tea, gently chiding me about walking around in this weather. Although wary of being babied, I took the stoneware cup and sipped slowly, almost wincing when tasting no sugar. With the thick door closed and the windows shut and covered from the outside world, I felt safe and secure, more so than I had been in the past few days…except for sugarless tea, of course.

"Yeah, I guess, if you want to say that," I replied, taking another sip of tea without the added drama. "I also wanted to say how sorry –"

Professor MacNara waved his hand to interrupt me. "Don't give me any condolences, Lydia, for I do not need them. James Henderson was a military man worthy to be remembered for what he did and not how he passed on. We always toast their lives, so to say, and not mourn them and their unfortunate deaths."

But you can't help mourning those you miss the most, even after time has passed.

"Besides," he continued, taking a sip of tea himself before I screamed by thoughts, "there is much we need to discuss other than your classes for the next semester. I was going to call you to ask what you knew, but since you decided to come and visit me, we can talk about this now. I also have some information for you."

Lately, it seemed like everyone was giving me tidbits of information and then interrogating me for more constantly, so I almost decided not to answer him and stay cautious. I wasn't some worm that was attracted to a hook on a line and about to be used as bait for the fish. I knew that everybody asked it for a reason. And it wasn't for gossip either.

Why don't you trust the one person who you tell anything to, other than Keith? Why do you hesitate to talk to the one person who has had your back for some time now?

"Well," I started, "I know what happened to Colonel Henderson…"

"I know. You were there initially." Professor MacNara patted my hand, as if to comfort me.

"And Major Flanders was another victim in perhaps another string, as far as we know. NCIS linked the two cases together and I don't know why."

"I do, Lydia, through the careful prodding and cross examination of the NCIS agents that came by, we started to realize what it was. It's not pretty either."

"Tell me please." I was adamant that I know everything I can about the two cases. I was anxious to help put the murderer (or murderers) behind bars.

"Well…"

"Professor, I saw Colonel Henderson's body, as you know. We were the ones who reported it. It's hard not to be interested in this case, especially when I'm usually the one asked for information. I have a need to keep track with what's going on. Maybe I can catch something or we can work something out in the background."

"Lydia, it's not that –"

"Then what is it? Why are you unwilling to tell me about what you discern about the cases?"

"It's one case now, my dear. And I'm more worried about how you're doing. This is the second time you've walked in on a dead body. The first time, you came home from classes and went up to your mother's room, as per usual. Nobody was home except for her. The music was blaring loudly. You thought that she was writing her book and listening to her music."

I winced at the memory. Professor MacNara's bluntness also hurt, but he was always like that. It got me out of my room after Mom died and pushed me through another year of school, to be honest, and made me hit the Dean's List again.

"Moreover, Lydia," Professor MacNara continued, "you becoming involved in a murder case that is, as they call it, close to home, would probably have you look at things that you never could have imagined."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, my dear, as you know, when you work in this field, you find things out about people that you probably did not want to know about. You look at the microclimates of people and see the best and worst of them and how they function. Who they are, what their mind's true motives are, when the actions took place, where their mindsets are, why they executed the actions when they did and how it happened. Then, you come up with the because."

I was silent for a moment, thinking.

"Lydia," Professor MacNara said, practically begging, "do not involve yourself in this case, if you can help it. I think you'll find out more about the people around you, things that you didn't need to know, and it would wound you. That is what a true investigator does and you already can see it, even if you don't recognize it now. This was initially why I tried persuading you not to take on these courses, despite your need for change and to help be that."

"Professor," I finally replied after he finished, "I understand this. I also know that, in majoring in Criminal Science, I see the best and worst side of people. But I was also recruited to investigate this case, in a way."

I admitted nothing more, not even telling him what Gibbs had asked me to do the day before, when we were in Autopsy. I didn't think the professor needed to have that tidbit of information anyway.

"If NCIS has been asking you as many questions and sharing the aspects of this case as they've done with me, then please tell me, Lydia," he begged of me. "I've already refused to help them after being questioned about what I knew and offered side assistance when needed. Not only will I know one of the victims personally, but with my classes, I cannot take a leave of absence from the university right at this time."

"But you will be there when I need help?"

"Yes, Lydia, you know that I will when I can." Professor MacNara smiled.

I looked around the office's spare room – full of mementos from trips around the world, books on every subject possible and even a canary in the corner, tweeting – and tried to imagine holes in the walls, microphones hidden someplace even. I felt like I was being watched all the time, even though the only thing I knew NCIS was doing to me was monitoring my phone calls, as if they can track where I am and who I'm talking to.

You're safe here.

"Professor, I was asked by Special Agent Gibbs to watch Felix Henderson," I finally admitted, feeling that he would be trusted with this…for now.

"James' nephew?" Professor MacNara raised an eyebrow himself. "Excuse me, Lydia, if I seem a little less than surprised. However, the colonel's nephew might be a good suspect. He's worth looking into."

"How can you say that?" I asked, exasperated. "I've never known Felix to hurt anybody. I've known him for many years, Professor, all of my life even, and I've never heard of him doing anything to intentionally harm another human being, even when he was angry."

I didn't tell Professor MacNara about the police reports Gibbs showed me the day before, but I figured that he knew about those somehow. After all, the professor was thorough in researching his subjects and would not reveal them until they were figured out. He was too complicated that way, which drove me insane many times.

"I have." Professor MacNara was quiet for a change, which scared me, since he seemed to confident in many of his lectures and encounters with people. "Lydia, are you aware that Felix Henderson has had many run-ins with the law? Or that he's been accused of raping young girls and boys?"

I didn't hear about Felix being accused of raping boys. I kept my surprise to myself. However, I guess Felix and his interaction with the law was no secret this time. Professor MacNara wasn't throwing punches this time. He was slapping me in the face.

"Furthermore, my dear, knowing what I already do, NCIS might like to keep an eye on him, especially after seeing those reports." The professor sighed again, thinking. "Both Colonel Henderson and Major Flanders had semen in their mouths. Both had been shot in the head and chest and were hanging from a hook by their feet in their homes. DNA says that the same person did the ghastly deed, but the DNA doesn't match Felix's. At the same time, however, his footprints – bare feet, remember – were fresh at both scenes, after some careful investigating. No tracks seemed to have existed initially. What does this seem to tell us?"

"Well, the person who murdered these officers could be sexually frustrated," I suggested wildly, knitting my eyebrows as I remembered my dreaded "Intro to Psychology" classes and the ones afterward. "The mouth of both victims could represent the 'hole' of a woman or the anus hole of both sexes. Instead, though, both mouths could be used for – oh, my God…it could be –"

"A homosexual or heterosexual man bent on revenge or subjected to sexual fantasies," Professor MacNara whispered. "Lydia, as far as I know, the unknown man whose prints and semen are in those crime scenes are not in any database and could not be identified. This means that…?"

"He's not committed in crimes until recently or he has been a criminal, albeit not caught," I replied. "Or he could have wiped his records clean."

"What explains Felix's footprints on the crime scenes?"

"The first crime scene, Colonel Henderson's home, could be explained. Felix runs in and out of that apartment and could have been there recently, before the murder. The second, I cannot explain other than him being there when Major Flanders was murdered or maybe someone framed him and copied his footprint and planted it."

"Exactly," Professor MacNara said, taking another sip of tea and noting that I hadn't for a while. "Now, for the information I wish to impart with you and that I just informed NCIS, for them to dig up. Colonel Henderson and Major Flanders were working on a Pentagon project around 1999, everything about it fairly unknown except the basics. Those two remained on friendly terms until quite recently, as you know."

"And you know this how?" I asked.

"Personal research and connections," he replied, admitting nothing more. "Now, another project the two secretly were working on was something all agencies were looking into. It concerned Haitian children being used in the sex trade. These children were being taken from their homes from a rogue group that interacted within the Marine Corps and/or Navy. Nobody knows which one. Some civilians were involved with the trade, both in Haiti and in the States. The premises of this trade seems to be giving money to the biological parents, promising them that their children would have a better life in America, and sending them through a series of channels before finding them the right 'parent'. All have been used as sexual toys, tortured as they grew older, and then killed off when they no longer satisfied the needs of their captors."

"That's just sick!" I exclaimed, stating the over obvious.

"Who said that it was not?" Professor MacNara sipped his tea and put his cup down. "Lydia, our only evidence is a child – now an adult with her own children – that survived because of a very sympathetic guard and who came to light in 1994. She would not reveal who this captor was, but only went through the appropriate authorities before it came to the attention of various interested government agencies. Since then, with her descriptions of uniforms, people, routes and her own twisted memories and past experiences, we've been desperately attempting to pinpoint where these people are located and how to stop them."

"Do you think that these murders have anything to do with stopping this sex trade then?" It made sense of course, but there was something underneath the surface that bothered me, and it had nothing to do with Felix, in a way. I was sure about it.

"Probably, but it's not been proven yet." Another sigh escaped his lips. "I did tell the agents that and they'll run their records to receive more information, if they can. You, in the meantime, Lydia, need to get going soon, before they call you again. This is enough for you to digest for one day. However, what I suggest you do though, if you insist on following this case, is to keep your 'job' with Special Agent Gibbs. Do what he requests, but do it with caution. I don't want to see you hurt again."

"Yes, Sir." I finished my tea without complaint and picked up my backpack. "And thank you, Professor MacNara. I think NCIS might be ahead of me, but I might have something more than they do. I might be a step ahead."

"Just be careful, Lydia," the professor said, worry lining his old face. "Be very careful."

~00~

As I walked to my car in the lingering heat and jumped into shade whenever I could, I checked my phone, in case I missed some text messages and phone calls while talking with Professor MacNara. And indeed, I didn't pick up a couple of calls (there were a few voice mails though) and I also received two text messages, one of them separated into two because of length.

The first text message was from my oldest sibling my sister Mara, which explained the two text messages from one sender. It only read, "Coming home tomorrow with Sammy. Benadryl my best friend for the baby now. Please come visit me. I have something important to tell you."

I shook my head, knowing that my sister failed epically in making a text message shorter and getting with the times. She spent more time typing out the message than figuring out how to send it. Not to mention, she always seemed hopeless with technology sometimes…almost like Gibbs.

Mara also seemed a little desperate (more and more in need of help too) with Sammy. Trying to keep the baby from her ex boyfriend, Larry, she worked alone in raising him in her small, crappy apartment across town, collecting warfare and child support and trying to find a job without an education and in a horrible economy. Sammy's three months old already and Larry hasn't seen him yet, but taking the baby to his family out in California must be a salt on a wound. Knowing Larry, I'm sure he'd more be than pissed with my sister…and keeping it a secret with the family here, of course.

Next (ignoring the drama between Mara and Larry), I pressed the somewhat ominous voice mail button on my phone, to see who called. The first message was from Dad, who said that he was home and that Felix called, asking that I "hang out" with him tonight and to stick around his place for the night before he went to work. He didn't sound pissed off, so I took it as a good thing (i.e. I wasn't going to get into an argument with him and get hit) and deleted the message.

The second message was from Gibbs. He just said that he needed to talk to me and to call him sometime tomorrow and hung up.

Yep, that's Gibbs, all right. Short, sweet and to the point.

I finally checked the second message when voice messages bored me, knowing who it was and holding my breath, wishing it wasn't who I thought it was. Opening the inbox of my cell phone again, I saw that it was from Felix. His text message only said, "Meet me the 3 2nite 2100. Bring no1."

Meet me at the Love tonight at nine o'clock. Bring no one.

The Okie Street nightclub was extremely loud and luxurious, with four floors of wicked music and equally devilish deeds. It was also usually open on Friday and Saturday nights, but with "appointments" on the weeknights. The Love was always a place Felix also frequented when he was depressed and needing to forget something, always getting drunk and sometimes high on pot in the process.

I needed to be there to find out more. I could not refuse this invitation this time.