A/N: Just wanted to send a thank you to DemonUntilDeath for pointing out a huge continuity error, which I've attempted to patch with a blink-and-you'll-miss-it fix. Seems like a good time to put out my 'Help Wanted' sign again to see if there's anyone looking for a beta job. Payment in eternal gratitude and virtual cookies. Btw, my time in Cayman was awesome! Thanks for the well-wishes. Check my profile pic to see the beach we stayed on.
Chapter Nine
Gibbs took the photo from Tony's outstretched hand, letting his gaze roll over the image. Thoughts of the plague and its miserable aftermath were driven from his mind as the investigator in him took over and he returned his focus to the case. It was obvious the couples were close friends; obvious that the woman who had vouched for Carol Lawrence's whereabouts during the period Ducky had established as her husband's time of death could well have been lying. If the woman had lied, leaving Mrs. Lawrence with no alibi for that time, that moved the wife into the prime suspect spot.
Damn it. DiNozzo was probably right after all.
Gibbs knew Tony's fallback position in most cases was to blame the spouse. He had wondered in times past what exactly that said for the young man's upbringing, where trust apparently had not been evident in the example of marriage set for a young DiNozzo, that let Tony so easily believe a wife could be led to murder.
He tapped the picture frame idly against his hand, refocusing his thoughts. The case was what mattered, and he needed to think it through from the perspective of his potential suspect. This was an area DiNozzo excelled in; the run-through of how the criminal mind worked. He could pull ideas out of a hat and have them actually make sense, regardless of whether or not most people would see it that way. Asking him to do so now would not only help the case, it could help to put them on a more solid footing. Working together seemed to be the only thing they had left these days, even though Gibbs was the one guilty of pushing the younger man and his opinions away.
Time to start fixing that.
"Alright," Gibbs began, "spell it out for me."
DiNozzo looked at him warily, apparently still mildly annoyed over the recent invasion of his personal space. "What?"
"Your theory - the wife. How'd she do it? Why did she do it?"
"You're asking me?" Tony asked, unwilling to believe Gibbs wasn't setting him up for a fall.
Gibbs rolled his eyes, wishing the younger man were close enough to headslap. "Well, no, DiNozzo, I was talking to the dog." He gave him a half-hearted glare. "It was your theory. Explain it to me," he asked with more patience than he was usually known for. "What made you suspect her in the first place?"
"It's usually the wife," Tony responded as if no explanation were required, his eyes still glazed, his mind not completely participating in the conversation.
"DiNozzo . . ." Gibbs growled.
The one-word threat was so reminiscent of their earlier times together before the explosion that it actually seemed to perk up the senior field agent, and Gibbs was pleased to see the look of concentration return to his face.
"Her eyes. There was something in her eyes when we interviewed her." Tony walked closer to Gibbs and took the picture, examining it more closely. "She was upset about her husband's death, sure. But there was something else there too." He looked up from the object he held directly into Gibbs' face. "I'm pretty sure she was angry."
"Her husband just died. Of course she was angry."
"No, it was more than that. Different."
"Okay. So, angry about what?"
Tony shrugged. "Don't know. I'm not so sure about motive," Tony replied honestly.
"What about method and opportunity?"
DiNozzo started to pace, warming up to sharing his ideas now that he knew Gibbs was giving them some merit. "Okay. Going by what we found in the shed, the method seems obvious. Ducky said he was gutted with his own K-bar. So, crime of passion? They're arguing and she flips out, grabs the knife and drives it home?"
"Out in the shed?" Gibbs countered. "Seems a bit more premeditated than that."
"Yeah, maybe. Or maybe that's just where he was when they started arguing."
"Okay, I can buy that," Gibbs affirmed. "But what the hell was he doing here in the first place? He was supposed to be with his unit over two hours away."
"Maybe he knew she'd be here. Maybe he knew something was wrong, and he was coming here to talk it out with her. He was AWOL for nearly two days before they found him. We assumed he'd been taken. What if he hadn't? What if he went AWOL on his own in order to fix his marriage?"
"We assumed, DiNozzo?" Gibbs bit down on the smile at seeing the younger man in his element, but it still slipped into his eyes.
~0~
Tony caught the hint of a grin, and felt his chest lighten slightly. Hashing things out like this gave him hope, that maybe his relationship with Gibbs wasn't damaged beyond all repair, that there might be something salvageable. The older man at least appeared to be finally giving his ideas some weight.
True, the fact that their murder seemed to have occurred here on the property owned by the Lawrence family certainly helped Tony's case, and he wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. But seeing the smirk on Gibbs' face was Tony's own personal version of an 'atta-boy'. In the past, he'd worked his butt off for one of those looks; he loved knowing that he could make his hard-assed marine of a boss smile when others most often failed. There hadn't been any of those looks lately, and Tony was afraid they'd become nothing more than a memory.
Still, there was a hell of a lot of damage left in the wake of recent events, and Tony wasn't about to sell his soul for half a smile. He felt the bitterness return.
"I assumed, Gibbs," he clarified. He wanted to add some snide remark about how Gibbs would never break one of his own rules, but he was too tired to make the effort. The adrenaline rush from talking through his ideas had energized him for a bit, but he could feel it waning fast. He walked over to the well-worn loveseat and sank wearily onto the cushions, leaning over with his elbows on his knees. The position seemed to make breathing a bit easier, and right now, he'd take what he could get.
He'd only been fooling himself when he said he was fine. He knew Gibbs wasn't buying it. And Tony could no longer keep up the façade. He was sick, damn it. Gibbs said he looked like crap; well, he felt like it too. He'd fought to deny it as long as possible, but this was more than just a cold. Something in his chest felt off, and it was a feeling he definitely recognized. Bronchitis, at least, possibly even the beginnings of pneumonia. He hated that he'd been so cavalier about his health as to leave home the inhalers that Dr. Pitt had prescribed for him. He'd trade his Mustang for them now. Hell, he'd be happy with some Tylenol. But admitting that would be tantamount to admitting weakness, and he wasn't sure enough of his current standing in Gibbs' eyes to lay himself open like that. No, better that he just pull himself together and suck it up. They had a job to finish here, and the sooner he got it done, the sooner they could head back home.
He took a breath so he could say so to Gibbs, but he must have breathed in too deeply, because the sharp pain in his left side left him gasping out loud, and then the coughing began.
~0~
Gibbs saw that DiNozzo was flagging, and his concern for his agent ratcheted up a notch. He remembered enough to know that DiNozzo would do just about anything to avoid showing weakness, especially to Gibbs, and he had no desire to see the young man push himself right into a hospital stay. The fact that they were no doubt hours from decent medical care did nothing to alleviate his concern. He knew they needed to get to processing the scene so that they might have a shot at getting back tonight. He'd drive all night if he had to, just to get Tony back to Ducky's care safe and sound.
These thoughts were driven from his mind the minute Tony started coughing, and he could only stare across the room, standing there with his fists clenching, wishing there was something he could do to help his friend; certain it was pointless, that Tony neither wanted nor would accept his assistance.
But the green eyes that shot up from Tony's face to meet his own held just a hint of panic as the reality of not being able to catch his breath caught up with a gasping DiNozzo.
"Gibbs . . ."
The tone alone was enough to propel Jethro into action, and he moved swiftly across the room and into a position that was too familiar, wrapping his arms around Tony and supporting him with his left arm while his right pounded firmly on Tony's upper back, working to loosen the congestion Gibbs could feel beneath his hand.
"Breathe, Tony. Nice and easy. I got you; you're okay. Just breathe, damn it." His words were quiet, barely audible over the coughing that continued, but they helped to soothe both men as Tony fought for control. Gibbs knew without question he'd said similar things many times before, that they had already done this dance. It took several minutes before things quieted enough for Gibbs to sense the beginnings of Tony's distress over his proximity, and he sat back on his haunches, leaving a hand on Tony's shoulder, uncaring if the younger man wanted it there or not.
He didn't bother to ask DiNozzo if he was okay, knowing any answer he got wouldn't be the truth anyways. Trying to convince Tony to take it easy while Gibbs processed the scene would be equally futile, but he could give him a few minutes to regroup, and so he sat and waited patiently, pleased to see that his partner's breathing was evening out again. The need to get DiNozzo out of here took on more urgency, but with no one to secure the scene, his hands were tied unless it truly became a life-threatening situation, and he didn't think there were there.
Yet.
He pulled his hand off Tony's shoulder and lifted up enough to sit on the edge of the battered coffee table, offering Tony what he figured he wanted most right now. "Okay. Let's say I believe where you're going with this. Their marriage is on the rocks, so the Lance Corporal leaves his unit and comes down because he knows his wife is here, and he wants to fix things."
"But maybe they're not fixable," Tony jumped in, glad for the distraction and the chance to return things to normal. Trust Gibbs to know what he needed after losing control. "So they argue and she kills him."
"How's the body get from here to the training grounds?"
"Got a theory about that, Gibbs." Tony struggled to make a move to stand, but it was aborted at the sound of a new voice in the room.
"Yes, Agent DiNozzo. Since you've apparently got it all figured out, please tell the rest of the class. How did I get the body out of here?"
Gibbs and Tony looked up as one, both reaching for their weapons at the sight of Carol Lawrence standing in the doorway with a Colt 45 pointed directly at Gibbs' head. Jethro cursed himself for getting so caught up in DiNozzo's difficulties that he missed the sound of the door opening, while Tony looked, of all things, guilty.
"Ah! Don't even think about it," the petite brunette warned, and Gibbs could see she meant it. Tony was right about her eyes. It was there. All the pent up fury and frustration for whatever perceived injustice she had suffered was on display, and he knew she wouldn't hesitate to use the weapon in her hands.
She moved forward, placing the barrel of the gun directly at Gibbs' temple. "You first," she ordered DiNozzo. "Pull out your gun and take out the clip and the bullet in the chamber. Then put the gun on the floor and kick it across the room. Same thing for your back-up."
Tony did as instructed, moving slowly so as not to set her off. All he needed was a trigger-happy woman scorned feeling a need to take things out on Gibbs. Like the older man didn't already have enough of those in his life. He kept his hands in sight when he finished, sitting back slightly on the couch and placing them on his knees.
"Pull up your pant legs."
Tony gave her a questioning look, but did as asked.
"The knife strapped to your ankle. Hand it to me. Slowly," she admonished.
He placed it in her hand.
"Now your cell phone."
Gibbs was pleased to see that Tony gave her his second cell phone only, leaving the first hidden by his jacket. Of the two, McGee would have a better chance tracing the NCIS issued phone.
She repeated the process with Gibbs, keeping the weapon in contact with his head, and when he had finished and the guns were on the far side of the room, she gathered up the clips and the loose bullets. "Give me your keys."
Gibbs handed them over.
"Now get your handcuffs," she dictated.
"You don't want to do this," Gibbs said, keeping his tone reasonable, even as he pulled his cuffs off his belt loop. "We're Federal Agents. You give yourself up to us now, and we can try and help you. Holding us hostage is not the answer."
She laughed bitterly. "Who says I want hostages? I've got nothing left here. They'll probably give me the death penalty for killing Eddie, that no-good, cheating son of a bitch. So what's two more, right? Except I don't need the hassle. Nobody needs to get hurt. I'm just gonna lock you down in the basement and get out of here. I'll be long gone before anyone finds you." She motioned with the gun. "Each of you, put a cuff on your right hand."
Gibbs did as she asked slowly, keeping his eyes open for any opportunities. He saw Tony do the same with his own set of cuffs, leaving them dangling off his arm where he still sat on the couch.
"What about your son?" Tony asked. "He's in school, right? You just going to drag him away with you?"
"Step-son," she corrected. "He's not mine, never has been. Doesn't even like me. Boy's probably just as messed up as his sick little daddy was."
Personally, Tony thought if the boy didn't like her, he couldn't be all that messed up, but he refrained from saying so, since it probably wouldn't help their case.
"Stand up and head for the stairs. Nice and slowly."
~0~
Abby eyed her traitorously empty Caf-Pow! container and pouted. Her eye lids were drooping. It was past time for another, and yet none had magically appeared in her lab.
"When's Gibbs due back?" she asked McGee, who had been clicking furiously away at his mouse for the past few hours next to her.
"Don't know," he mumbled, focused elsewhere.
"What do you mean you don't know? Didn't he tell you where he was going?"
"Nope."
"Why not?"
McGee pulled his gaze away from the computer screen long enough to raise his eyebrow at her.
"Oh. Right," Abby answered herself. "It's Gibbs."
She went back to the test she was running and tried to concentrate, but her brain cells were screaming for a jolt, and she glanced over to the door, hoping again that her silver-haired fox might just waltz through any minute carrying that beautiful red and white jewel. She was disappointed, however, and she tried to think back to the last time she'd actually had to go and get her favorite drink for herself. She couldn't remember. She sighed, and reached for another slide to examine.
"Got it!" McGee exclaimed happily.
Abby looked up from her microscope, taking a minute to uncross her eyes. "You broke the encryption?"
"You betcha. Only took me, what – three and a half hours? Either I'm getting better, or this stuff's getting easier." He puffed out his chest dramatically.
Abby laughed, pulling off her rubber gloves and coming to stand next to where McGee was working. "Alright. Show me what you got."
"Abby!" McGee sounded scandalized, a blush creeping up his neck. "Not here," he hissed.
She slapped his shoulder with a rubber glove. "Not anywhere else, either, bucko. Besides, I've already seen what you've got." She waggled her eyebrows at him as she bounced beside him with her hands on her hips. "I want to see pictures!"
McGee tapped a few times on the keyboard, refusing to give in to the urge to rub his shoulder. In a matter of seconds a window appeared on the screen with thousands of tiny photo thumbnails.
Abby sighed again. "Don't you ever wish the bad guys would just put all their evidence into a folder marked 'Secret – Keep Out'?"
"Make our job easier," McGee agreed.
"Instead, looks like we get to sit through the life and times of Lance Corporal Edward Lawrence, photo-style." She dragged over a stool and plopped herself down, ignoring her need for caffeine. "Okay, Timmy. Let 'er rip."
~0~
Looking back, Gibbs figured it was probably the dog's fault. Just as Tony had risen to follow Carol Lawrence's commands, the hound had bolted through the screen door on the front of the house, no doubt startling their killer. Gibbs heard the gunshot before his mind could register the subsequent chain of events, his ears ringing with the sound. His eyes couldn't track the path of the bullet, but he hoped against hope it had gone wild, a suspicion that seemed to be confirmed when neither he nor DiNozzo reacted immediately. The only thing Gibbs knew for certain was that he hadn't been shot. He sent up a prayer of thanks that apparently DiNozzo hadn't either.
Except, as he continued to watch the other man, he took in the uncertain expression on Tony's face. Gibbs froze, raking his eyes over DiNozzo's body, cataloging everything in an instant. Just as he began to relax once again, he saw it. A small red spot, no larger than a dime, appeared on Tony's shirt just above his belt. It didn't stay small for long, though, and by the time Gibbs had made it across to try and stop Tony's knees from buckling, it was growing at an alarming rate. He eased him back down to the couch, pulling the ruined shirttails from out of DiNozzo's pants and bunching it up to put pressure on the wound.
"Damn it, DiNozzo," he said gruffly. "You hold on, you hear me?"
Tony gave a small nod, even as he allowed his eyes to close. "I hear you, Boss."
Gibbs heard the term he'd been waiting too long for, and even as the word 'boss' came from Tony's lips once again, he wouldn't let himself believe that this might be the last time.
TBC . . .