Author's Note: Thanks so much to everyone who's been reading and reviewing. You guys are awesome.
Chapter Eleven
Back at headquarters, Ziva strode into the bullpen from the elevator and headed straight for her desk. Abby was sitting in her chair, slurping down what was probably her third Caf-Pow of the morning while she waited for her, and Ziva nodded a greeting to the younger woman. She dropped her backpack onto her desk, and Abby snatched up the papers she had strewn across the desk before Ziva's backpack could land on them.
"Tell me that you have a name for our John Doe," Ziva demanded, before Abby could say anything.
"I have a name for our John Doe," Abby told her, an eager grin splitting her face. She sucked down the last dregs of her Caf-Pow before dropping the empty cup into the garbage can beside Ziva's desk. "Meet Gunnery Sergeant Marcus Dilby," she added, producing a piece of paper from the top of her stack with a flourish.
Ziva looked down at the photo of the young man, taking the photo from Abby to scrutinize it more closely.
"I took the liberty of doing some preliminary research into our victim," Abby told her, practically bouncing on her toes with excitement as she handed the rest of the papers to Ziva, for her to go through. "He was on a month-long leave from his unit, and he was reported missing two days ago."
"So," Ziva said, glancing up from her reading to look at Abby, "he disappeared two days ago, and turned up dead on the courthouse steps early this morning."
"It's looking like that, yeah," Abby commented.
"Did you find anything else?" Ziva asked, looking back down at the papers she was perusing. "You didn't happen to find a connection to a Corporal David Wilcox, did you?" she went on, hopefully.
"Actually, yeah," Abby said, sounding surprised. "How did you know?"
"Because Corporal Wilcox is our second victim," Ziva said, with a sigh.
Abby shook her head in disbelief. "You're kidding," she said, flatly. "They were in basic training, together. But, they separated afterwards; went to different units."
"Looks like they stayed in contact after basic training," Ziva commented, flipping through the papers. "There are emails here, personal letters-" She trailed off, staring at Abby in disbelief. "Abby-"
"What can I say?" Abby said, shooting her an impish grin. "I'm that good."
Before Ziva could say anything in reply, the elevator doors opened on the far side of the bullpen, and Chris Pacci stepped out with his team trailing behind him.
One of the older, more seasoned agents with NCIS, Pacci had a hand in training countless agents working in the bullpen, including Tony, and to an extent, Ziva. He was a steady, competent investigator whose greatest strength was in a nearly endless supply of patience, an asset when it came to dealing with trainee agents.
Especially when it came to his current pair of trainees, Hoskins and Randall. More enthusiasm than sense, Tony had often compared the two young men to a pair of over exuberant puppies, and Ziva found herself inclined to agree. She found herself hoping that Pacci could help the pair gain some maturity and experience. And when Hoskins stumbled over his own feet, dropping the box he was holding in his arms, she found herself praying that they weren't going to be involved in her current investigation.
When he saw her, Pacci waved his probies over to their respective desks, heading by himself over to where she and Abby were waiting.
"Hey," he greeted them, stopping by Ziva's desk. "I understand we have intersecting cases?"
"Three victims, so far," Ziva told him, presenting the older agent with Abby's research into Dilby. "From what you told me over the phone, it sounds like your vic fell prey to the same killer as our first two."
"Great," Pacci said, with a sigh. "We've got a serial killer on our hands."
"That's what it looks like," Ziva replied. "From what Abby was able to find out," she went on, nodding at the younger woman, "our first two victims were in basic training, together."
"You think that my victim is connected to yours," Pacci said, catching on quickly.
"The first two share a significant connection," Ziva pointed out. "It's logical to assume that the third does, as well."
"Well," Pacci said, "my vic's down in Autopsy, right now, being examined by Doctor Ferris, if you'd like to take a look."
The three of them headed for the elevators, and Ziva punched the button for the floor for Autopsy after the doors closed. Down in Autopsy, Ducky had Dilby and Wilcox's bodies on stainless steel tables, and Doctor Terri Ferris, another coroner working at NCIS, had Pacci's victim on a third.
"Agents," Ferris greeted them, absently, when they entered. "Mr. Palmer is running dental records on our latest guest," she added, before either Ziva or Pacci could say anything. "Unlike your first two victims, this one still has his teeth."
"His face is intact, too," Ziva commented, idly, leaning over to look at Pacci's victim. "Our killer is getting sloppy."
"His face is intact?" Pacci repeated, shooting her an incredulous look. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Take a look at our first victim," Ziva told him, gesturing to the table at the far end of the room. "Our killer completely destroyed Marcus Dilby's face and removed his teeth."
Pacci raised his eyebrows in speculation as he walked over to the furthest table to look at the first victim. After a couple of minutes of close examination, he turned his attention to the second.
"Missing the teeth," he noted, after a second, "but his face is still intact."
"And his wallet, with military ID, was still with the body," Ziva replied.
"What?" Pacci asked, in disbelief. "Our killer just forgot to grab the ID?"
"And yet," Ziva remarked, "he or she remembered with your victim?"
"Serial killers generally follow patterns," Abby spoke up, a curious tone in her voice. "But, this one is slipping up."
"Or, there are three different killers," Pacci said, carelessly. When both women looked over at him, he jerked his shoulder in a shrug. "Hear me out," he went on. "You've got three victims, and, on the surface, it looks like they were all taken out by the same killer. Throats slashed, beaten, broken bones-"
"The personalized dog tags," Ziva reminded him. "But, you're right, there are inconsistencies. One vic still has his teeth, two didn't have their faces bashed in-"
"The slash wound on the third victim is different than the first two," Ferris spoke up, interrupting them when she overheard their conversation.
"How so?" Ziva asked, curiously, as she, Abby, and Pacci walked over to the third table. Ducky joined them, as well as Palmer, who'd come into the room with a piece of paper in his hands.
"You see this right here?" Ferris asked, as they all bent over the body. "This jagged edge, here?"
"Ah," Ducky said, comprehension clear in his voice, but Ziva couldn't see what seemed so obvious to the coroners. From the looks on Abby and Pacci's faces, they couldn't see it, either.
"What's so important about the cut being jagged?" Pacci asked, voicing the question that was on all their minds.
"The first two victims," Ducky said, answering for Ferris, "had their throats slashed in a smooth pattern, indicating that the slash was done in one, quick motion."
"But, the third is jagged," Ferris continued, picking up Ducky's thread. "Indicating-"
She trailed off with an expectant look on her face, and Ziva exchanged an annoyed look with Pacci.
"Indicating that the victim was tortured?" she guessed, with a shrug of her shoulders.
"Not likely," Ferris replied. "What it indicates is that the killer hesitated as he or she was slicing the victim's throat."
"Got squeamish during the act," Pacci said, nodding in satisfaction.
"So, we're looking for three different killers," Ziva said, shaking her head. Glancing over at Palmer, she added, "Did you get dental results on the third victim?"
"Dental records identified the third victim as John Carver," Palmer said, glancing down at the paper in his hands. "Marine Captain, and he-"
"Hold on a minute," Abby interrupted Palmer, who looked at her in surprise. "Give me those," Abby went on, gesturing at the papers in Ziva's hands, and snatching them away when Ziva handed them over.
Flipping through the pages, Abby stopped somewhere in the middle, stabbing down at something pointedly with her finger.
"Here," she said, showing Ziva the piece of paper. "Carver knew Dilby and Wilcox."
"They attended basic training together?" Pacci asked, but Abby shook her head.
"Carver was their drill instructor," she replied.
"I think we need to talk to someone out there," Ziva said, into the silence that followed. "See if anyone at Parris Island knows why anyone would want to murder these three men."