Chapter 8

"I'm telling you, I didn't even know you guys were looking for him when I told my son about the effect he had on the dogs. Did I, Roger?"

Roger, a sixteen-year-old who had suddenly found himself in an important situation, nodded eagerly. "You said it before the notice even came around. You said that it was the same guy."

"Are you sure it was the same guy?" Tony asked.

"Hey, we have the security tapes from when he came into the store! You can check them yourself!" Roger said.

"Yes, please show me." Tony followed Roger into the back while Lucy, his mother, talked to Gibbs and Ziva.

"What kind of car did he drive? Did you see it?"

"He didn't drive a car."

"Are you sure?" Ziva asked.

"Positive. He walked in. He walked out. I saw him kneeling by a couple of dogs on leashes. I don't know what he was doing to them, but the dogs were afraid. I had to come out and tell him to get lost."

"And he walked away?"

"Yeah, I watched him to make sure he didn't come back. We get people coming through here, and they don't stay long. I want to keep my regular customers. I have to fight against Walmart, you know."

Gibbs smiled and nodded. "Okay, you said he walked away down the street. Which way?"

"East, out of town. There's not much out that way but farms until you come to Auburn. Other than that, just farms, old buildings."

"And he walked. You're sure that he walked."

"Yeah. I thought it was really weird. So...he's a serial killer, huh?"

Tony walked out of the back, pale, but when Gibbs looked at him, he nodded.

"It looks like it. Thank you, Lucy."

"You're sure welcome. Weird the way the dogs seemed to know. I guess some people just have an aura."

"Right." Gibbs nodded to her and then walked away.

"What are we going to do, Gibbs?" Ziva asked.

"We're going to track him down."

"How?"

"Using a dog," Gibbs said and smiled.

"How? They need to know the person they're tracking," Ziva pointed out.

"Or have tracked them before."

"What?"

Gibbs stopped and looked at them. "Remember? McGee said that Jethro was waking him up in the night. The store owner said that Jethro was trying to get into the store, which he'd never done before...and he was growling. He knows. How he knows, I haven't a clue, but he knows Erikson, and he'll track him."

"I don't know about this, Boss. It seems...risky."

"Well, DiNozzo...do you have a better idea?"

"No. I just don't want to put everything on a dog. I don't want to have that be our only way of finding McGee."

"We're going to try. You follow along behind in the car. That way, if it doesn't pan out, we won't have lost much time. Keep tabs on the other BOLO...but this is where McGee is. He's here...somewhere." He strode over to the car and looked at Jethro. He was running back and forth across the seat, whining and barking. "Jethro!"

The dog stopped. Gibbs grabbed a leash and clipped it on his collar. Then, he opened the door. He didn't even get a chance to tell him to find Erikson. Jethro, pulling on the leash, nearly dragged Gibbs down the street...the street heading east. He cast one look back at Tony before breaking into a run, Ziva right beside him.

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

The screams echoed and died away, leaving Tim shaking so violently that Erikson had to stop and sit back. He just watched, like he would watch a movie. Tim was hyperventilating and wheezing. His breathing was much too fast...but he stared up at the beams. There were twelve large beams that he could see. The smaller support beams were more difficult to count, particularly because his eyes kept filling up with tears, but that didn't matter. It made him focus more...it kept him from focusing on the horror that was happening to him.

One...two... What came after two? ...three...three...four...

"Well, that went very well. I don't know why I didn't think of trying this before, Agent McGee. Quite lovely. I'm very much impressed. Now, the next question is do I start on your back next or–?"

"Why dogs?" Tim whispered. He could barely form words, but anything to keep Erikson from saying what he was sure to be saying next. Anything.

"Why dogs...you do focus on the least interesting things, Agent McGee."

"You said..." Tim swallowed and tried to calm down. "...you said that...y-y-you practiced on homeless people...t-to perfect your...your technique. Why? What's so...important about...NCIS...and the...the dogs?"

He heard Erikson sit back on his stool. Tim couldn't stop the shaking. His body was completely out of his control. All he could do was lie there.

"Josie."

"What?"

"Josie. Our...or rather my mom's chocolate lab. She loved that stupid dog. I didn't have a problem with the dog, of course. How could you really hate a dog? It's not possible. That's why I kill them quick."

"Why kill them at all?"

"Oh, the dogs? Well, that's just stickin' it to my mom."

"Why? Sh-she can't see it. Y-You killed her."

"People love their dogs, Agent McGee. They treat them like one of the family. The really idiotic ones dress them up in clothes."

"That...that doesn't...answer my question."

"Agent McGee, you want there to be a reason? Make one up. That's the big secret. There is no reason beyond the fact that I want to do it and I can. That's why you're dying...because. Just because. How does that make you feel? To know that you're dying for no reason?"

Tim held back the hysteria looming in his brain. "You think you're some sort of Hannibal Lector?"

"No. Hannibal thought he was perfect. That's what gets them caught in the end. They think they're perfect which means they can't mess up...but no one is perfect. Everyone messes up. I didn't intend to be caught on tape...twice. However, I was prepared in case I was discovered. That means that even with the mistake, I could still continue. And I'm done with the US now. It will be a bit harder now. I have to figure out something else to do. I suppose I could just start over with NCIS again. That's one of the reasons I picked NCIS. Smaller pool. Harder for people to get away. Oh, sure, I'd only heard of it because of my dad, but I needed something to give me a pattern. People love finding patterns. And now I'm done. You're the last one."

"You...you're not done."

"What?"

"I'm still alive. My dog is still alive...and there's a place you missed."

"A place I missed?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Figure it out...for...for yourself."

There was a long pause...silence, only broken by Tim's continued gasps. "Well, Agent McGee...I'm afraid our time must be drawing to a close. Killing the dog would be nice, but, honestly? I kill the dogs first because dogs seem to love their masters as much as their masters love them. Simple practicality. Besides, there's nothing that says I can't kill the dog later." The stool backed away for a moment and then slid closer. "I think we'll forgo the back this time. It's really rather boring and I'm not in the mood to flip you over. So...I'm afraid that..."

"No! Oh, please, no." Tim started to weep.

"Don't worry. It will take a long time," Erikson said, the glee in his voice obvious. "I don't want to miss anything. You'll be aware probably until I crack open your sternum to get to your heart." He shifted the restraint on Tim's torso.

Tim felt the scissors cutting his shirt, exposing his chest. He began to scream again, not in pain this time, but in absolute terror. In his mind, in the midst of his screaming, he began to pray, If there's a God...don't let me die this way. Oh, God, please. He felt the marker making dash marks from the base of his throat down his chest, to his abdomen, stopping just below his navel.

Except for Erikson's voice, Tim couldn't hear anything beyond his breath, harsh to his own ears. The breaths that came in between his screams. He felt the scalpel press down against his chest and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut because he couldn't bear to see, to even confront the idea of it. The fact that it was happening was bad enough. Images of the other cases flashed through his mind, and he knew his body would end up looking that way.

The scalpel broke through the skin and Erikson began to draw it downward. Then, only two inches into the cut, Erikson removed it and stood up, walking out of the barn. The unexpected reprieve, even though he knew it was only temporary, was too much and Tim was in hysterics.

Erikson would be coming back to finish the job.

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

Jethro stopped, pacing back and forth. Gibbs and Ziva took the opportunity to take a breath. Running after a dog as energetically as Jethro required was exhausting, even for people who were in shape. Tony was driving along behind.

He leaned out the window. "He lost it, Boss?"

"Don't know...Tony," Gibbs replied, panting.

Then, Jethro sat up and whimpered. His ears flicked back and forth and then he barked, once...twice.

"He's going again," Gibbs said and took one last deep breath before Jethro took off, dragging Gibbs along behind. He would have simply let him off the leash, but he could be sure that Jethro would come back and let them know the right direction, not when he was in this state.

They ran solidly for another mile and then Jethro stopped again, panting and waited, sniffing the ground and wandering. Then, Jethro growled, his ears flicked toward a dirt road the branched off the main road. He barked and growled and then took off down the dirt road. As he ran, the humans finally heard what the dog had heard.

"That was McGee," Ziva shouted breathlessly.

"Yeah," Gibbs responded. Then, the leash slipped out of his hand and Jethro sped up, leaving them behind. Gibbs turned back. "Tony! Come on!" Tony pulled up closer, slowed down and Gibbs and Ziva jumped in. "Go! Go!"

"Going!" Tony floored the gas as Jethro disappeared around a bend in the road. They caught up just in time to see a perfect illustration, among other things, of what had almost happened to Tim when Jethro was high on drugs...and the fierce loyalty and protectiveness that was trademark of German Shepherds. Growling, Jethro leapt through the air and knocked Erikson to the ground. Tony stopped the car and they all spilled out into the yard, guns in the air.

"Stop, Jethro! Stop! Heel!" Ziva shouted and then ran forward to pull the dog off of Erikson. She finally succeeded...but only because Jethro allowed her to. He was still growling menacingly.

"Hands in the air, Erikson. It's over," Gibbs said, wishing that Erikson would do something.

Erikson sat up, the blood on his shirt now belonging to him as well as to Tim. He looked at Jethro with a great deal of malice, but Jethro was not cowed. He pulled against Ziva's restraining hand, his growl increasing. Then, Erikson looked at the rest of them. There was a speculative look in his eye.

"Try it, Erikson. Just try it," Gibbs said.

One half of his mouth lifted in a caricature of a smile as he looked from Ziva to Tony to Gibbs...before settling on Jethro.

Then, he obliged.

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

Tim lay there, feeling the blood running from his chest to his neck and pooling in the small cavity below his Adam's apple before running down his neck to the table. He was still crying, still waiting for the real agony to begin. The door to the barn opened once more and Tim flinched. As the footsteps approached, he began to sob again, more loudly. A hand touched him on the arm.

"No! No, please, please...not this way! No!"

"McGee...Tim, it's Gibbs. We found you. You're safe."

Tim couldn't hear him. He heard the words but he wouldn't hear them. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real.

"McGee, open your eyes." There was a shifting and Tim heard, "Find something to get these restraints off him. Tim, open your eyes."

Finally, Tim did so. He stared up at the ceiling, not having many other options. Then, his view was blocked by a face looming over him.

"Tim, we've got you. You're safe now."

It was Gibbs. Gibbs was looking down at him. Tim stared at him for a moment and then knew what that meant.

"Th-Th-There are...t-t-twelve beams...twelve beams, Boss," Tim said and then he began to sob hysterically. "Only twelve. Only twelve. Only twelve."

"It's okay, Tim," Gibbs said, his hand on Tim's shoulder, trying not to see the state of Tim's body...and failing miserably. "It's okay. You're going to be okay."