Chapter Ten
On the Case
It was an odd caravan that arrived at 10:50 at the guarded entrance to the Clarkston Lakes Properties, pausing at the foot of a low rise below the Administrative Offices. Abby's jet black convertible with top lowered was followed by Gibbs' deep blue Dodge Charger with David riding shotgun, followed by the black and white NCIS truck bearing DiNozzo, McGee and a full panoply of evidence gathering equipment with the black and white Medical Examiner's truck bearing Mallard and Palmer bringing up the rear. The vehicles were waved to the right by the uniformed guard, ascended the short slope to the Administrative building and parked in a lot large enough to accommodate a dozen cars. Only four were parked on the rise.
Entering the front center door of the white building, Gibbs and his three Field Agents found a room which took up most of the floor. Four desks were placed at the corners of an imaginary inner square, so there was plenty of space beyond a low wooden partition which ran two-thirds of the way across the room, high enough and wide enough to write comfortably upon. Two doors on the left wall presumably led to inner offices and a door at the rear led out to the back. That and the entrance were the only doors with windows. Several open windows let in a cheerful abundance of light and fresh air.
A large map was mounted on the right wall midway between the two right desks, and it was pierced with dozens of push pins; red, green and clear. Several filing cabinets took up most of the space along the right, left and rear walls, and in the left rear corner a white refrigerator hummed quietly. Mounted on the wall above it was an impressively large fish; while between two windows in the back of the room, nine feet above the floor, was a rifle.
Each of the desks had a computer monitor and keyboard set upon it, most of them in the corners of the desks. Only three were turned on, the forward left desk unoccupied. The computer was on the forward right desk. An air conditioner was set high in one of the rear windows, but in the mild warmth of the morning it was turned off. The windows were opened at top and bottom, the panes converging in the middle.
x
"Can I help you?" a man dressed in a pair of dark slacks and a light blue short sleeved shirt, their version of office casual, asked as he came from behind the forward right desk. Gibbs pulled out his ID and shield and identified himself and his team.
"Yes, you're here about Mrs. Martinka. Sergeant Johnson said to expect you. He and his officers are with Willie – that's Willie Morris, he's one of our Security Officers – securing the site. I'm told you're claiming jurisdiction."
"That's right. Lieutenant Martinka was Navy." The man doesn't need to know she was an Instructor at Annapolis. One of his rules, number 65, is 'give people only as much information as they need, so the guilty can drop more.'
He also hadn't dwelled upon Abby's exclamation before they'd started out, that if they had acted earlier the woman might possibly still be alive.
x
"And you are?"
"Oh, sorry, I'm Thomas Magnum." He caught DiNozzo's look. "Please don't say it."
"Never," DiNozzo assured him with a carefully straight face. The man before them was 5'5", easily 190 pounds, heading down the long slope to 50 and his pale brown hair was receding to greet an enlarging bald spot on the crown of his head.
"Anyhow, I'm the Comptroller for these properties. This is Sam Essman and Mike Parale." He indicated the two other men seated at the desks in the second 'row'. Both were younger men, dressed in attire little different than that of their boss, neat enough for casual office work yet cool enough for the occasionally sweltering summer. Gibbs looked pointedly at the fourth desk, forward left. "That's Joe Burke's; he's off today. We operate seven days a week during the late Spring through early Fall, so we're on staggered shifts."
"What can you tell us about what happened?"
"Not a whole lot. I went out there, but Sergeant Johnson wouldn't let me into the house; wanted the scene preserved, he said."
x
"What are your Security arrangements?"
"Pretty basic, actually. This whole area is posted Private Property. There's only one marked road, the way you came, but if you know your way around there's three other ways in. There's a back road to the east that lets into each of the two lakes, and then another from the hills to the west. Most people who come by, if they're expected and vouched for by a resident, get through without hassle.
"There are four Security Officers, they man the main booth and make patrols at irregular intervals. State Troopers make a pass every now and then, also at irregular intervals. These hills are State property, so we're in their jurisdiction. They're no more than ten minutes away if called, however; even if a car's no closer than the barracks.
"We employ six Lifeguards, one for each of the east and west shores of the main lake, one for the only beach on the west shore of the other lake. They alternate three and four day weeks, rotating every other. The Lifeguards check member badges when you come to the beach; you can't go onto the beach or swim if your dues aren't paid up."
"You don't get a lot of crime around here, do you?" DiNozzo observed. Magnum smiled.
"Last week on the fourth, old Mr. Kingston got loaded and got a bit loud, Morris had to go over and tell him to hush up. Ten days before that Sarah Burns locked her keys in her car. A week before that Harry Farber and Jane Kugel got into a shouting match because Farber's dog wouldn't stop barking."
"And now since Monday you have three rapes and a murder," Gibbs finished.
"And now three rapes and a murder," Magnum concluded glumly.
"What can you tell us about them?"
"You've had an Agent on two of the sites Monday and Tuesday; I'm betting you can tell me more than I can tell you. Certainly we're unprepared for any of it. The Association President, Phil Gueli, says 'cooperate, answer everything you're asked and stay out of the Trooper's way'."
x
"What do the push pins mean?" Tim asked, referring to the map on the right wall. The map was four feet high, five long and was quite detailed. It showed a large, irregularly shaped lake just right of center, with another smaller one to the left, connected by a stream that made no effort to move in a straight line. A road circled each lake, following its shape like ripples on the water, and that road followed the stream between the lakes. Several 'layers' of roads formed concentric rings, again following the same irregular shape. Only the roads that spread outward from the lakes like the spokes of a wheel and connected the outer roads showed any effort at making straight lines.
With a brief gesture, Magnum invited the Agents into the 'office', and they gathered about the huge map. "You're looking across, South to North. East is bottom. That's us," he pointed to the far right, where they could see the irregular inner 'circle' of the innermost road vectored to the feeder road at the guard house, with the Administration building furthest to the right.
"The lakes were first formed more than half a century ago, manmade, and the area was opened for development. It immediately became almost exclusively summer residence, people wanting to get away from the city, families primarily. The roads were plowed with the intent of leaving considerable untouched area in between. The intent was to put in about 12 to 16 houses edging each 'block', 3 to 4 to a side with plenty of space in between, and the inner area untouched. The average size property is about a quarter of an acre.
"For about twenty years property was sold off and single family homes built, mostly all wood, sometimes even using the native timber. We got about forty percent of the area sold when the Recession hit and nobody was buying or building vacation homes anymore. By the time things picked up again the residents already here decided they liked things just as they are, and formed a Property Owners' Association. People could buy and build, but they made it bloody hard to do so. I think three houses have gone up in the past six years.
"The planned 12 to 16 on a block never materialized; finally the owner just chucked it, the Property Owners Association bought him out about ten years ago and they've run things ever since. Most of the 'blocks' have maybe 8 houses if they're lucky, some have less than 6, a few have none.
"The young parents with young children eventually retired, and converted the houses to 'year round', putting in heat as well as AC. Those who didn't stay, many of them rent out. Now the red pins, they're full timers; either retired originals, their kids or people who bought the homes from the original owners and work in the surrounding towns. The greens," there were less of them, "are summer vacation homes that were never converted. They're shut down over the winter. We check in every now and then to make sure everything's all right.
"The ones with the red circles about the property are Time Shares. We manage the property and send the owners the rent, less commission. We also manage repairs and upkeep, again at the owners' expense, sometimes the renter's if they cause damage or do anything that's not in the lease. About a ninth of the properties are 'time shares'. The red pins are presently occupied – they can go anywhere from a week through the full summer. The clear pins are available; we have nine properties at the moment that are still open for lease."
x
Gibbs was glad the man was like his fictional namesake in one respect at least: he knew his job and was able to present his facts cogently. He wished that certain of his colleagues would learn from that example.
"Where did the attacks occur?" Ziva asked.
"The first one, Caldwell, was down here." He indicated a green pin three roads downward from the eastern shore of the main lake. It was several inches to the left of the road that radiated out from the beach. There was another road that extended out midway between the spokes, this swung about from the main spoke to link with the one second next toward the south. "The second, Higgins, was here." He pointed to a red pin one 'layer' away from the main road, closer to the lake but in the same direction off the spoke. "Last night's, Martinka, is up there." He pointed to a red circled red pin in the upper left corner of the large lake, three roads in from the south west.
"That's a considerable distance." Gibbs pointed out.
"Tell me about it. Caldwell and Higgins are just over a hundred yards away from each other; Martinka's time share is over a mile as the crow flies."
"Turn right at the guard post," Gibbs concluded.
Magnum stepped over to the partition, which from this side could be seen to contain numerous stacks of papers of various shapes and colors. He drew out four folded maps, opened them and marked an X on each. "42 Greenwood. You can't miss it."
"Thank you, Mr. Magnum. We'll be back."
"I'll be here," he assured them, not sounding happy about it.
xxx
Dawn Caldwell got up from the living room couch, using the remote control to turn off the television backed by the wall to her bedroom. There was nothing on that could engage her interest. She looked left at the clock next to the refrigerator in the kitchen, wishing Abby would call. She had promised she would call this morning.
She'd Promised!
Dawn looked down at herself, detesting the sight. She still wore her pajamas, which hung about her body in a wrinkled mass. She'd spent the night doing nothing but tossing and turning, a night broken by nightmare after nightmare until she'd broken, sobbing to the friend she'd said she'd never wanted to see again.
She thought of getting dressed and going outside, but a stab of fear stopped her. He was out there. He'd attacked her in broad daylight, so the outside isn't safe.
Maybe if she had breakfast.
She turned to the kitchen, but the fear made her look at the spot on the floor where he had held her down, tied and helpless while he–. She felt a stab of pain between her legs as the image assaulted her.
She couldn't go to the kitchen, couldn't pass that spot. Never again. Never.
Suddenly furious at the growing fear, she turned around and switched on the stereo next to the television. The gentle strains of the 'Blue Danube Waltz' filled the room.
This was the very passage at which she had been grabbed. She'd come in off the porch and suddenly his hand was over her mouth, his other crushing her breast, hurting her, smothering her.
The lovely melody replayed her rape!
"No!" she cried, hot tears assaulting her. "No!" This was her music. Hers! Not his – hers! She screamed her denial over and over, falling to her knees in misery. Music was her refuge, her pleasure, her joy - and all she could feel now was his hands on her, his penis hurting her, stealing her life, her joy!
She screamed in heartbroken misery, falling to the floor, wailing in torment and pain as the Waltz continued, never again to be a source of joy and beauty and love. Now it would always invoke despair and pain and fear.
Unable to rise, unable to turn it off, she lay upon the cold linoleum floor, trembling in terror as she felt his hands again invade her, hurt her. She screamed, sobbing in misery that would never end.
Never end.
Never end.
NEVER END!
xxx
The caravan, minus Abby's convertible, was remade. Rather than aggravating the local or State Police unnecessarily, at Gibbs' direction - hardly necessary - she was to turn left and go to Caldwell's home instead of to the site of the most recent attack.
The caravan turned off the main road at the first opportunity, and progress along thickly tree lined dirt packed roads was at a sedate 25 miles per hour; atypical for Gibbs, who wanted a few minutes to absorb what he had seen. He also wanted to absorb his surroundings. These people lived in an environment far removed from that of the city in fact as well as in mentality, so it was important to him to be able to think as they did. Here doors remained unlocked. Here no one locked their cars. Here a knock on the door wasn't a reason to reach for a weapon.
The perp had been reported as having made his escape through the woods, so he wanted to get a sense of what he was dealing with. He had had McGee check his laptop on the way out; last night had been overcast in these hills.
With Ziva holding the map as 'navigator', he led the way south along the road that circled the huge lake, three 'blocks' inward so the lake could be seen only at brief intervals down the hill when crossing a straight east to west road. He didn't look at the surrounding blocks of untouched woodland, except in the abstract, getting the feel of the area without looking for anything in particular. He was more concerned with the many questions crowding his mind, not the least of them being the distance he had to cover.
He didn't like the fact that both of the first attacks – strike that, the first reported attacks – took place virtually next to each other, separated by a four minute walk, while the third was in a Time Share almost as far away as it could get while still being on the same development.
No, he definitely didn't like it.
For an Agent famous for following the direction of his gut, this felt completely wrong. Unfortunately, his gut didn't give him true insight into what was wrong. Just that it was.
Gibbs' car drifted into place near a State Troopers' silver grey Patrol Car.
x
The arrival of so many distinctive vehicles couldn't go unnoticed either by the LEOs inside or by those neighbors who looked on from their lawns. Widespread as the single story wooden buildings were, there were only four on the facing blocks, one on either side of the house that was their destination, one across the road and fifty feet to the right.
"What do you think the chances are of getting eyewitness accounts?" DiNozzo asked, looking at the surrounding onlookers.
"I don't know, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "Why don't you find out?"
"Right, boss." Too late he remembered the military credo: 'Never volunteer'. Or, in this case, the Gibbs credo: 'Never sound like a smart ass'.
The other Agents started across the lawn toward the pale blue house to meet the uniformed Trooper who had come out of the left side door.
xx
Troopers Hammell and Bondy had secured the scene in anticipation of their own Forensics Team, but when they discovered not only a disturbing similarity to two earlier cases but an ID indicating that the victim was a Naval Officer, they had been instructed to hold the scene. Someone else would take charge.
Chief Grimby wasn't pleased, but he had already had one conversation with NCIS' Director. While it aggravated him to have to take second place to a 'foreign power', there was nothing he could do. To oppose them into an inevitable loss would cause more headaches than he cared to endure. Faced with opposition that occasionally fought the FBI itself to a standstill, he decided it was better for his persistent ulcer to swallow this along with his Mylanta.
x
After introductions, while his team spread out to do their jobs, Gibbs questioned the Troopers.
"We suspect she had been having a late night snack and was just cleaning up." Bondy pointed to the dishes in the sink, and to the one that remained on the table in the middle of the room. The sink faced the small open window which looked out to the neighboring house and had a broken glass in it. "The water was running when we arrived. I used a handkerchief and turned it off. The back door was ajar. It must have been a hell of a surprise when he came up behind her while she was washing up. It looks like he killed her, then left through the back again."
"Neighbors heard a single shot about one this morning." Hammell reported. "The Kings, on the left, their bedroom faces this house. They were awake, but busy." Gibbs restrained a smile. "They hadn't finished their business when they heard what they say sounded like an explosion." He looked around the small kitchen. The size of the room would serve to contain and magnify the sound before projecting it toward the neighboring house through the open window at his right.
"By the time either reached a window they could barely make out a black shape in the darkness running from the back door to the woods behind the house. Moonlight was barely bright enough to detect movement, not enough for any identification."
"Running?" Gibbs looked back out the front door beside him. The entire area was notable for the absence of street lights. "Were the lights on in back?"
"No, sir," Hammell assured him. "None of the three houses on this side of the road had any outside lights on. Those woods would have been black as pitch."
"And yet the witnesses say whoever it was, was running?"
"Flat out."
He refrained from saying anything but stepped toward the back door and peered through the glass. The yard was about thirty feet, and then the woods formed a barrier to any real speed. Night vision goggles would help, but that would be drawing unwarranted conclusions. Eyewitnesses usually did enough of that.
x
The side door opened into the kitchen, and beyond the closed door across the room were the living room and other areas. The kitchen was adequate for a small family. The floor was white linoleum, the appliances off-white with age. The shelves were stocked with jars of various spices and condiments, and over the sink the small window was edged with a flowered white curtain. "Was this closed when you came?"
"Open."
"So the people next door could have seen in if the light was on."
"They could, but they say there was nothing to see."
The size of the window limited the neighbors' view too severely. Gibbs looked at the far wall, where the door led to the rest of the house. All of the damage to the room was to either side. The blood spatter from the gunshot didn't ascend highly, though there was spatter and smears on the wall, possibly from the extensive assault. They must determine if any of the blood is the perp's.
Several of the side shelves were knocked off their mountings; jars and bowls and other small objects littered the floor, some broken, some intact. The table in the middle of the room had held a bowl of fruit, that bowl was broken and the fruit scattered about the room. One of three chairs surrounding the table was on its back on the floor. All the walls, fixtures and appliances in the room were splattered and smeared with blood.
While Tim and Ziva examined the area, methodically with numbered yellow triangles, photographing and logging everything that lay upon the floor as well as the blood stains on walls and other surfaces, Ducky and Jimmy Palmer prepared to approach the body.
Both the Field Agents avoided looking at the woman on the floor behind them beyond what they must see, consoling themselves that it was too soon to see it. The truth was that there are some sights that overwhelm the mind with their horror. When they had entered, Ziva had seen the wound viciously inflicted upon the woman and had paled. Despite all she had seen in her long and hard career, there were some things so personal they chill the soul. Sometimes they try to destroy that soul.
Tim didn't speak to Ziva, recognizing she had firmly closed off her feelings and he would not undermine her careful control. It was best to concentrate strictly upon business and to bury feelings before they arose to betray.
"Agent Gibbs," Trooper Bondy looked over or past, not at the woman who lay on the floor. He had been here for some time, but some horrors don't fade easily. "I know you're in charge of this one, but if at all possible I want to be there when you catch this animal."
"No promises, Officer Bondy." He looked down at the stomach turning sight, the bound woman splayed out obscenely on the linoleum floor, the blood pooled between her legs. "But I'll see what I can do."