Chapter 10

"What do you expect?" Ziva asked.

"I don't know. His profile is normal, but what McGee says he did..."

"Yes. I do wonder what kind of man he will be."

They got out of the car and walked into the repair shop. The smell was familiar, but the cars were not the kind they normally saw. There was a Maserati, a Lamborghini and a Porsche all in a row. Tony walked over to the Maserati and whistled appreciatively.

"Wow. This one car costs more than I make in a year."

"Me, too. Could you stay back, please?"

Tony looked over and saw the man they were looking for. He was average height, unassuming air. Nothing to make him stand out in a crowd. Tony raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm sorry, but customers really aren't supposed to be back here."

Tony smiled.

"We're not customers."

"Who are you, then?"

"David Larson?" Ziva asked.

"Yeah. Who are you?" David asked again. His expression was quizzical.

"Officer David. This is Agent DiNozzo. We are with NCIS."

"NCIS? Why are Navy cops coming here? I don't get too many sailors as clients."

Tony looked at the cars again.

"Not too many driving luxury vehicles?"

"No, not many that I know of. So...what can I do for you?"

"We just have a couple of questions to ask you. It shouldn't take long," Tony said.

David looked like a normal guy. His tone was normal.

"Okay. What is it?"

Tony held out a picture of Tim.

"You recognize this man?"

Then, there it was, just for a second. An expression that wasn't considering, wasn't trying to pull out a memory. It was an expression showing that he knew exactly who was in the picture and he was carefully evaluating how much he should tell.

"Yeah, that's Tim McGee. We went to high school at the same time."

"He was attacked, two nights ago," Ziva said.

"That's too bad. He all right?"

"Yes."

"Good," he said carelessly. "I'm guessing that you're not asking me about him just for fun."

"Could you tell us what you were doing two nights ago?" Ziva asked. "Between seven and ten?"

David laughed incredulously. "What, is he accusing me? Come on! This is extreme even for him."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that back in high school I bullied him. Me and Louis."

"Louis?" Tony asked.

"Dietrich. We made Tim's life pretty miserable in high school. I'll admit it."

"Why?" Ziva asked.

"Because we were mean little punks in high school," David said. "Tim was weird, even for a nerd. So he stuck out and we were pretty merciless. Besides, he was really smart and I was a little jealous of how easy things were for him. Louis didn't care about that stuff. He just liked having power over other people."

"And now?"

"Now? I've barely given him a thought since we left. I certainly haven't sought him out."

"Not even last week?" Ziva asked.

Not a trace of discomfort at being contradicted. He just shrugged.

"That was Louis' idea, not mine."

"How did you know where he worked?"

"Again. Louis, not me. As far as I'm concerned, it all ended after high school was over. Tim accused us of killing a girl that committed suicide."

"And?"

David laughed. "And we didn't. She was friends with him, and he lost it when she died. Honestly, though, he was weird before then."

"How?"

"Like...in P.E. No one flunks P.E. if they come to class. How could you, really? But Tim...he was obsessed with being perfect at everything. I mean obsessed. Coach Schwab liked him for some reason, maybe because it was obvious that Tim was trying, even though he sucked at athletics. Tim had a meltdown in class because he thought he was going to fail. Who cries about P.E.? ...well, he did. And when Melissa died, he started picking fights. I had to hold him back once when he tried to beat up Louis. He really might have done it, too."

It was interesting hearing about the same events from another perspective. Everything he said seemed so logical, made him seem normal and Tim seem strange, but there was that moment when they had asked him the first question. It made them more skeptical...and yet...

"What are you saying?" Ziva asked.

"Look, I'm not going to pretend that I liked Tim. I'm not going to pretend that I want his forgiveness. I was stupid in high school, and I admit it. But there comes a time when you just have to move on. If Tim is pointing the finger at me, then, he's not moving on."

"So...where were you two nights ago?" Tony asked.

"What time did you say?"

"Between seven and ten."

"Louis comes down to DC every so often for business. When he does, he'll usually stop by to visit. He'll take me out to dinner. He has to pay because he's not satisfied with the places I go. He has to have the best and be seen having the best."

"Where did you go?"

"Little place called Emilio's. Italian. Quite good, but too expensive for me. I make all right here, but I'm not paying a hundred bucks for one meal. Not worth it."

"You have anyone who can verify your presence?"

"Louis could, but I'm guessing you'd want more than that. Emilio could probably do that. He served us himself. Louis called Jillian while we were eating, just a quick call. Is there anything else? Because I do have work to do. My clients aren't generally the patient types."

"One more question," Ziva said.

"Yeah?"

"In your opinion, could your friend Louis have done this himself?"

David laughed again. "Right. The man couldn't tie his own shoes if he wasn't told what to do. He's not really stupid, but he wants everything now and he doesn't want to plan anything in advance. If he doesn't get what he wants, he makes everyone miserable until he does, but he doesn't have the intelligence to make a real plan."

"Thanks for your time," Tony said. He handed David a card. "If you think of anything that might be helpful..."

"Yeah, sure, I'll call." David took the card and slipped it into his pocket. "You ever get an import, we're the best."

"I'll keep that in mind," Tony said with a smile.

Tony and Ziva left the shop together and got in the car.

"How much was true?" Ziva asked.

"Probably most of it, but that has got to be the most calculating person I've ever seen. Planning out every single word, every piece of information he gave us. It was all planned so that it would make Tim's accusation sound impossible. Why would he work here when he's smart enough for more?"

"Some people do not want more," Ziva said. "It is about quality, not quantity. ...and he has quality."

"How do you figure?"

"He has a friend who takes him to expensive restaurants at no cost to him. His clothing was of high quality. The shop is high end. There is nothing he has left to chance and he has what he wants."

"I guess. He's almost likeable," Tony said.

Ziva smiled. "Almost?"

"Yeah...there's just something about him that rubs me the wrong way."

"It could not just be that he and Dietrich attacked McGee?"

"You think they did?"

"Yes. More now than I did."

"Why?"

"Because he was too confident and he had answers for everything we asked, even when there should have been a reason to pause. He was too helpful, and...I do not like how cold he is."

"Well, that's not going to give us evidence to arrest him."

"I know. It is a start, not an end."

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

Tibbs looked up at the tree where Sandra had been hanging. Then, he looked around the clearing. There had to be something that revealed what had really happened to the poor girl, something that would give them evidence, one way or the other. He had to admit that there was little he had found so far. There was little to go on besides John's insistence. And Tibbs couldn't give up on believing the troubled teen. He couldn't give up on someone who needed his help. He'd never abandon that boy.

And yet...

Some were suggesting that he was wasting time by continuing an investigation that was going nowhere. The local cops were ready to declare it a suicide. ...which had only made John cry to be heard all the louder. Was there something wrong with John? Possibly. But that didn't make him wrong.

A twig snapped and Tibbs spun around, instantly on the alert, instantly ready to confront an intruder on his solitude.

"Whoa! Sorry. I didn't know anyone would be here."

Colin Bete stood there, his eyes wide open and his hands in the air. One of the teens John had accused of killing Sandra.

"This is a crime scene," Tibbs said. "You shouldn't be here."

"It's the easiest path from school."

Colin was an interesting person. Where his friend Lawrence was abrasive and overbearing, Colin was smooth and cold.

"You'd better take the long way until the case is done."

"I can do that...but what more is there here? It's a path through the trees."

Tibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Take the long way around," he said sternly.

Colin just nodded as if it didn't bother him at all. He walked away. As soon as he was out of sight, Tibbs looked around the area again.

Why had Colin shown up right now? What reason could there be?

Tibbs wasn't going to accept that as a coincidence. There was something going on here. Something he had to figure out. Something he would figure out no matter what it took. There was something to find.

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

Tim wished he was home in his bed. He was still aching. He was tired and he hated that all these things from his past were coming up again. Abby had finally let him sit in her office after berating him and hugging him by turns. She had even been willing to turn down her music in respect for his headache.

But the desk in her office wasn't exactly the most comfortable location to be sitting.

The door opened and Abby walked over to him and sat down. She stared at him silently.

"What?" Tim asked.

"Why did you do this, Tim?"

"Do what? Sit in your office?" Tim asked. "I ache. That's why."

Abby raised an eyebrow.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

"What do you mean, then?" Tim asked.

"You never told anyone about this."

No need to ask what this was.

"No, I didn't."

"But it's such a big part of you, Tim!"

"No, it isn't," Tim said. "It was one event. It's not..."

"You wrote your book about it."

"Yeah, I did."

"Tim! This is a huge part of who you are!"

"And it's something I'd rather forget, Abby. I didn't tell anyone about it because I didn't want it to be a topic of conversation."

"But you wrote about it!"

"When I could make things right," Tim said. "I could fix everything that had gone wrong. I could make it the way it should have been...but, Abby, that's fiction. The book is fiction. No matter how much you guys refused to believe that. It's fiction. It's not real. I can't make it right. Nothing can. Nothing is going to make that right. It's been too many years and there was never any evidence to begin with."

Abby hugged him.

"There's always hope, Tim."

"No, Abby. I don't want to hope, not for that. After everything that happened back then, I don't want to start thinking about it again."

Abby let him go.

"What about what happened to you?"

"You mean my friends refusing to believe what should have been obvious or getting beat up?" Tim asked. He knew that he was being overly grumpy, but he didn't care. He was tired and aching, and he hated that he was at NCIS when he could be at home, in bed.

Abby looked at him for a long moment. Then, without answering, she stood and walked over to where she stored her futon. She unrolled it and then walked out of the office. Tim watched her. He figured she was setting it up for him, but with Abby, you never could tell for sure. It was better not to make assumptions.

Abby walked back into the office with Bert and a blanket in her arms.

"Lie down on the futon, Tim," she said, pointing at it.

Reluctantly, Tim made the effort to get up, grunting as he did so. Then, he grunted again as he lowered himself to the floor. As he lay down, Abby slipped Bert under his head...which caused the hippo to make his trademark sound. Then, she spread the blanket over top of him, knelt down, and kissed his cheek.

"Sleep, Tim. Don't worry about a thing. We're on the right page now. Just relax."

"Abby, I–" He should apologize for taking out his misery on her.

She shushed him.

"Go to sleep, Tim. I think you need it."

"Abbs..."

"No. Sleep."

Tim sighed and closed his eyes. He was tired and achy, and in spite of feeling kind of bad about snapping at Abby, he did fall asleep.

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

Abby kept the music off while Tim was sleeping, but she didn't like what had happened to him, not when he was young and not now. As she worked, she couldn't help wondering what would happen. They were investigating but Tim was so sure that nothing would come of it.

The doors opened.

"Where's McGee?" Tony asked.

"Shh!" Abby said. "Tim's asleep!"

"Where?"

"On my futon in the office. Quiet!"

"Sorry," Tony said, lowering his voice.

"What did you find?" Abby asked.

"Nothing much," Ziva said. "He has an alibi."

"But what about what Tim said?"

"He contradicts it."

"But there's something going on with him," Tony said.

"What about the other one?"

"He's in New York. We haven't talked to him yet."

The doors to Abby's office opened, but they didn't notice.

"There is little to go on, here," Ziva said.

"That's what I keep telling you."

Abby looked back.

"Tim! You were asleep!"

"Now, I'm awake," Tim said. "You won't find anything. There's nothing to find. If you'd just let it go..."

"And let the bullies get away with it? No way!" Abby said.

"That's what they do best. That's what they've done since high school. I've accepted it. I wish you would."

Tim limped by them and left the lab.

"Man, he's grumpy," Tony said.

"I feel like we're letting him down, somehow," Abby confessed. "The characters in his book solved it. Why can't we?"

"Because we are real people," Ziva said. "And this is real life, not a story."

"But he's telling the truth! I know he is!"

"But we cannot just go by what he says."

"She's right, Abbs," Tony said. "There's just no evidence right now."

"No one is perfect. They must have messed up somewhere."

"Well, if they did, we can't see it right now."

"Then, we'll just have to keep looking!"

"Until?" Ziva asked.

"Until we find what we've missed."

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

Tim got to his desk and sat down. His head felt like it was made of lead and he was tired of all this stuff going on. He just wanted it to be over and done with...because he felt that it had been over before it had begun.