Chapter Tweve
"Mr. Hanna!"
Sam, who had been on his way out of the building with Kensi and Nate, stopped in his tracks and spun around at the sound of the voice ringing out behind him, "Hetty," he returned calmly.
The tiny Operations Manager was standing by the open entrance to her office, beckoning him towards her with one cupped hand. "A moment please?" she asked.
Trying valiantly to hide his annoyance Sam forced a smile. "C'mon, Hetty, we're about to go talk to the foster father. Whatever it is, can't it wait until I get back?"
"No, Mr. Hanna, it cannot. My office please." And with that Hetty disappeared into the aforementioned room.
Sam sighed heavily. He turned to Kensi and Nate, who had both stopped to wait for him, and gestured for them to continue on ahead. "I'll meet you guys in the car," he muttered then watched them leave before following Hetty into her office. "So what's so important that that you had to call me in here right this second?" he asked in an even tone.
Hetty gazed up at him from her desk and sighed. "I am aware that this case has been anything but easy on all of us so far," she began, "And you in particular, Mr. Hanna."
Sam raised his eyes to the ceiling and chuckled coldly. He should have known the moment she called him in here what the conversation was going to be about. How could she do this now? Why would she do this now? Sam felt a wave of anger pass over him; he didn't want to have this conversation, not now, especially not now. "What do you want Hetty, to take me off this case?" he snapped.
"No –"
"Do you want us to back off the investigation then?"
"No –"
"Then what? Are you hoping to have me spill all my innermost feelings to you like were having some kind of psych session? Do you want me to tell you that I feel useless? That I'm worried for my best friend's safety but there's nothing I can do about it? Because I do feel useless and I am worried about him and now, instead of getting out there and helping him, I'm sitting here having some stupid discussion about how I 'feel!'" Breathing heavily Sam finally fell silent. He had crossed the line and he knew it, his frustration at their lack of progress, his fear for Callen's wellbeing, everything, had finally boiled over and he knew Hetty had every right after witnessing that little display to pull him from the case once and for all.
Yet the woman sitting before him seemed completely unfazed by his outburst. She merely sighed, looking as calm and collected as ever as she folded her hands slowly on her desk. "This, Mr. Hanna, is precisely what concerns me," she said softly, watching him as his breathing slowly evened out once more, "You have been affected more by the events of the past two days than you have allowed anyone to see and it is my fear that the pent up emotions which have been building over that time will, as was just demonstrated, come to the surface at the most inopportune of moments."
Sam bowed his head slightly. He knew she was right, Hetty was always right, and he took a moment to compose himself before answering. "I don't know what to do Hetty," he admitted softly, staring down at his hands, "We're not helping him, we're not finding anything. Even when we found Damon he gave us nothing. We don't have a clue what the LAPD are doing, we don't know where Callen is, if he's injured or armed, if the LAPD's already got him and we just haven't heard. Hell we don't even know for sure he's still in this state!" He shook his head and sighed hopelessly. "What do I do?"
Hetty gazed at him sadly for a moment before reaching out and placing her hand over his on the desk. "You do what you do best, Mr. Hanna," she said softly, "You investigate, you figure out, and you watch his back."
Marvin Kane lived in one of the many gated communities which littered LA's high end suburbs. Crisp, well kept lawns and gardens fronted each of the massive houses and cars that would make even Hetty look twice were parked in the driveways. Sam had always wondered what it was that made the wealthy want to live together like this. Was it that they were afraid of the commoners who made up the majority of the population or did they simply not want to associate with anyone who did not bring in more money than a small country in their yearly revenue? Whatever it was he knew as well as anyone in law enforcement that these places were deceiving. Money ran the crime world as much as the civilian one after all.
"Do you guys have any idea what I could do with money like this?" Kensi asked out of the blue. She'd been staring out the window of the Challenger since they'd entered the community, resting her head on her arms.
"No… Do I want to?" Nate replied. He was talking more now, clearly relieved that he was no longer in the doghouse for his role in everything but still treading carefully.
Kensi rolled her eyes but did not reply for they had come to a stop in front of one of the smaller houses on the street. It was by no means less expensive, that much was clear, but it seemed more subdued somehow. Perhaps it was the lack of a flashy car in the driveway, (though it could have been in the garage, Sam realized) or simple fact that it was smaller than its neighbours. The gardens out front were also far smaller, only a few plants were scattered around the front door and they were mostly green with few flowers.
"Doesn't look like he's got a woman in his life," said Kensi to no one in particular, nodding towards the greenery.
They made their way up the stone path, which wound its way across the lawn, to the front door. Sam rang the bell while Kensi peered in the widows on either side and Nate checked over his shoulder. After a moment in which Sam wondered if they had the authority to break the door down should no one come, that same door was pulled open just enough for the face of a young boy, no more than thirteen, to peer out at them.
"Who are you?" he asked suspiciously, staring at each of them in turn.
Sam and Nate both looked at Kensi, who managed not to look annoyed at their behaviour turned to speak to the boy.
"We're NCIS agents," she told him kindly, "We were wondering if a man named Marvin Kane lived here."
"Yeah," the boy replied, his voice taking on a slight edge at Kensi's tone. He pulled the door open a bit more and glared at them. "Do you wanna talk to him or something?"
"Yes, if he's in we'd like that very much," said Nate, drawing the boy's eyes to him.
Sam watched the child with interest. The young eyes were burning with mistrust, the face schooled into an emotionless mask, the voice cold and abrasive. Sam had seen and heard every one of those traits before, in Damon Harwood when he had shut down and refused to tell them anything and in many suspects and witnesses before that. This boy didn't trust cops, that much was very clear.
"Why?"
Sam saw Nate raise an eyebrow at the question and decided to take over. "We're here about on ongoing investigation. We need to talk to your foster father; can you take us to him please?"
The boy eyed him coldly. "Let me see some ID," he demanded.
Sam sighed and was about to pull out his badge when the door was opened all the way. Standing behind the boy was an older man who he could only imagine was Marvin Kane. He was a tall, imposing figure, clearly past his prime yet still well dressed and in relatively good shape.
"Matthias," he said, addressing the boy calmly, "I do hope you're being polite."
"Of course," the boy, Matthias, replied, "These people say they're agents with NCIS, they say they need to talk to you about some investigation. I was just asking them for their ID before I brought them to you." He gave the two agents and Nate a look as if daring them to say anything other than that.
If Kane noticed the look he didn't comment, instead he told Matthias to go work on his homework and invited everyone inside (after checking their IDs and telling Matthias asking for them had been a wise decision.) He led them into the living room, a large, spacious room furnished with a variety of clearly expensive pieces, from the art to the chairs to the bookshelves.
"Please, sit," he said, gesturing to around the room, "Make yourselves comfortable. Would you like anything, tea perhaps? I'm assuming you're on duty so no alcohol."
"No, thank you, this shouldn't take long," Sam replied, he wasn't in the mood for tea drinking or long conversations. He wanted answers and he wanted them now. He had promised Hetty that he would keep himself under control, that no matter what happened he would be the picture of professionalism but that did not stop him from being impatient.
"As you like." Kane sat down across from them and sighed, "I apologize for Matthias if he was rude to you, he's had some less-than-pleasant experiences with law enforcement and as a result tends not to trust them."
"Oh, no harm done," said Kensi with a smile, "He's one of your foster children I take it?"
'Yes," Kane replied, "Matthias has been here for a few months now. He's a good kid, troubled, very troubled, but a good kid."
"He's not your only foster child though, is he?" Nate asked.
"No, no. I have two other boys at the moment. Both of them are off with friends tonight, Matthias would be also if he wasn't grounded. He got in a fight a week back and I've told him he's not going out again until I'm certain he can do it responsibly." He shook his head with a slight smile, "But nevermind that. What brings NCIS here of all places?"
Sam sighed as both Kensi and Nate glanced at him. "We're here about a group of foster children who lived here about twenty five years ago," he said, "The year would have been 1983."
Kane looked uncertain, tilting his head slightly and raising one eyebrow. "I'm going to apologize in advance if I can't remember exactly what you're looking for," he said, "I've been doing this thrity-two years, faces start to fade together after a while. It's the sad truth."
"We understand that," Sam pushed forward, "But it's worth a shot, we thought."
"And I agree," said Kane with a slight smile, "Give me the names."
"Damon Harwood, his younger brother Isaac Harwood and G Callen," Sam listed them off, purposely leaving Callen's name until last so as to judge the reaction to each one.
With Damon and Isaac's names flashes of recognition crossed the older man's face and when Callen's name was spoken his eyes darkened and he nodded sadly. "I remember them," he said softly, "I remember them… I've seen a lot of troubled children over the years, I take in mostly 'Pinballs' as they call themselves, kids who bounce from home to home. Children no one else wants. Most don't stay long here but I try to help all I can. One thing you learn mighty quick, however, is there's a big difference between troubled and trouble and G Callen was both with a capital T." He sighed. "I had Callen in my care three times. I wanted to help him, it's the only reason I allowed him to come back but I failed, and I admit that. The boy spent more time getting arrested than anything else, his second time here he took a knife to me –" he pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal a raised white scar in his shoulder "- and I still allowed him to come back once more…"
Sam was staring at Kane but he wasn't really seeing him; he was thinking about Callen, about all the Ops they'd done together, all the times Callen had played with his kids, eaten at his home… His partner was not the person Kane had just described. He couldn't be. But the arrests were real, they knew that, and he knew Callen had an aggressive streak, he'd seen it on the job... He shook his head slightly. Everyone had those streaks, everyone had their moments when anger got the better of them and they did something they normally wouldn't. G was not the man Kane seemed to think he was, he just wasn't…
"The body of Isaac Harwood has just been discovered," said Nate softly, pulling Sam from his thoughts, "He was murdered back in 1994, when he was living here, and we wondered if you knew anything about that."
"You mean did I have anything to do with it or know who did?" Kane asked wryly, "Yeah, I can make an educated guess who did it. Callen and Isaac didn't get along. Damon tried to play peacemaker between the two of them but with a temper like the one Callen had I'm not surprised Isaac's dead."
"You – you think Callen killed him!?" Kensi bust out suddenly, clearly unable to keep her mouth shut any longer, "He was fourteen at the time!"
Sam knew he had to calm Kensi down, and fast, but he was so grateful to her for speaking before him himself exploded that he kept his mouth shut and trusted Nate to do something.
The psychologist did not disappoint. "Kensi," he said softly, silencing her before turning to Kane, "How could you be surprised that Isaac is dead? He died while in your care, didn't you notice when he didn't come back?"
Kane shook his head sadly. "It's not unusual for children to run away," he said with a sigh, "As I've told you I take in the troubled kids, runaways come with the territory. I impose rules on them, as I have with Matthias, for example. I take away privileges when they misbehave and for some of the children who have grown so used to having no one that is highly inconvenient so they run. On the streets they are their own boss, and no adult can tell them what to do."
Sam took a breath; pushing away the emotions he could feel bubbling just below the surface of his control and forcing himself to remain professional. "You're certain it was Callen?" he asked, looking the older man in the eye, "Why?"
"Because Callen was the only one of those three who was cold blooded enough to kill," Kane replied simply, "And yes," he added, turning to Kensi, "He was capable of that at fourteen. He proved he was capable of it at twelve when he stabbed me!" He sighed and ran a hand through his grey hair, "Look, all I know is one night I came home to the three of them arguing. Damon took Isaac and they left then Callen went after them and not one of them ever came back. I didn't know what happened to them at the time. I had hoped that Damon and Isaac got away from Callen and moved on with their lives but now you've told me that they didn't and I'm really not surprised."
Sam decided right then and there that the interview was over, not because they had the information they needed but because he needed out of there, and judging by the looks on both their faces so did Kensi and Nate. He stood up abruptly, fighting to keep the emotions off his face, and glanced at the others. "Well, thank you for your time Mr. Kane," he said quickly, "We really should be going now."
Kensi and Nate didn't need telling twice, in a heartbeat they were on their feet and moving with him towards the door.
"I really did try to save him you know," Kane called out after them, causing them to turn around at look back at him, still seated in his chair, "But with Callen there was just nothing left to save."
Focusing on the road ahead of him was the only thing which had kept Sam from punching something until his knuckles bled. The Challenger was completely silent, Kensi was breathing heavily, gripping her armrest far more vigorously than was necessary and Nate was staring into space looking slightly pale. The silence stretched on and on, even as Sam turned on to the freeway and got the car up to cruising speed while the vehicles in the opposite lanes flew past.
"Nate?" said Kensi suddenly, turning to look into the back seat where the psychologist sat, "What did you think of Mr. Kane?" She was clearly trying to keep her voice even, as though this were a normal conversation, but there was a slight edge to it which wasn't normally there.
Nate sighed. "He's a smart man," he said softly, "And very hard to read. Thirty-two years is a long time to do something and there are only two reasons a person would keep something up that long, either because they love it or because they get something really good out of it."
"Money," said Sam coldly.
"Yes, like money," Nate agreed.
"The money given to foster parents isn't great," Kensi pointed out, "At least not compared to whatever he's raking in to afford that house."
"I don't think he does it for the money," said Nate, "But I don't think it's for love either. Did you two see a single picture of any of his kids anywhere in that place?"
Kensi shook her head. "Then why does he do it?" she asked.
Nate shrugged. "I honestly don't know..."
Sam let out a frustrated sighed. "Alright then," he said, fighting to stay calm, "What do you think of his claim that Callen stabbed him?"
"I told you, he's very hard to read..." Nate replied softly.
"Then give me an educated guess," Sam snapped.
Nate bowed his head. "Yes," he said finally.
"Yes!?" said Kensi incredulously, staring at him.
Nate's eyes flashed suddenly. "Yes! Yes!-Yes!-Yes!" he snapped, his voice rising in volume with every word, "Now stop biting my head off I'm just telling you what I saw! His body language said he was telling the truth that Callen stabbed him, it's not my fault!"
Sam was stunned as, it seemed, was Kensi for she fell silent. Nate never snapped, ever. All this arguing, Nate snapping... Sam shook his head; this case was killing them all. It was slowly eating them away from the inside, pushing a wedge between all of them and causing emotions to render them blind. He didn't even want to know what Callen was feeling right now.
"Oh shit," said Kensi suddenly, staring in the side mirror.
"What?" Nate asked, looking around.
Sam, pulled from his thoughts, glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw quite quick what; an LAPD squad car was following along behind them, its light and sirens blaring.
"What the hell!?" Kensi threw her hands in the air, "You weren't even speeding!"
Sam sighed and pulled over without saying a word. This day just kept getting better and better. First Colby told them that Callen was likely to be shot on site if the LAPD got the chance, then Damon gave them nothing, then Kane told them Callen was a cold blooded killer, and now they were getting pulled over for doing the speed limit. Wonderful.
He lowered his window as the officer approached and began searching through the center consol for the registration paper. "Look, Officer," he said without looking up, "I have no idea what you're pulling me over for –" But he froze as he sat up at last and laid eyes on the man staring in through the open window. "Colby!"
"Callen's in trouble," said the detective quickly, his nerves clearly visible on his face.
The atmosphere in the Challenger changed instantly as any lingering anger disappeared only to be replaced with a tense worry.
"What do you mean, 'trouble?'" Sam asked, dreading the answer. If there was one thing Callen was good at it was getting into trouble.
"I mean LAPD's got his location and they're moving in now!"
"Where is he?" Kensi asked.
"A block or two away from Perkin's Elementary School," Colby replied.
Sam and Kensi exchanged a look. "Drive," Sam ordered, turning back to Colby, "We'll follow you."
