Chapter 12
Two days later...
Ziva listened with half an ear as Tim went through his morning ritual with Aimee. He'd made it into a kind of serious game. He quizzed her, asking the same question each and every morning before breakfast. After nearly two weeks of this, Aimee could answer the questions without any hesitation.
"Okay, Aimee," Tim said.
He treated it with the same gravity every morning, even while he would smile at the sighs Aimee would give in reply.
"If I or Agent David or Agent DiNozzo tells you to hide, where do you go?"
"I go to the secret hiding place."
"Do you stop to ask questions?"
"No. No questions. I go if I'm told to go," she said, mimicking Tim's inflection.
Ziva grinned but stayed silent..
"Exactly. Now...how long do you stay there?"
"I stay until you tell me to come out."
"And who else can you listen to?"
"Agent David or Agent DiNozzo."
"And what if no one comes to get you?" Tim asked.
The first time he'd asked this question, it had frightened Aimee, but now, although she always took this part very seriously, she accepted it as one possibility.
"I stay where I am."
"And what do you do while you're hiding?"
"If it's dark, I wait until it's light. If it's light, I wait until it's dark, and then I use the phone that's in there to call for help."
"And do you use the phone in any other time?"
"If it's noisy out here, I can whisper into the phone, but only if it's noisy so that no one can hear me."
"Good. And if the police come?"
"I can call and see if they're really police...but I have to whisper."
"Good. Now...one last question."
"I want cold cereal for breakfast!" Aimee said.
That was always the last question. Tim smiled.
"Cold cereal it is." Tim went to get it out. "Ziva?"
Ziva went into the kitchen. Aimee still had a lingering fear of people leaving the room or being out of the room during breakfast; so they tried to be in there while she was eating.
"What cereal do we have left?"
Tim grinned at Ziva. "Dinosaur cereal."
"Oh, no. I will have to get more the next time I go off shift. I do not understand how you two can enjoy this so much. It is fake grains and sugar."
"It's delicious," Tim said. "You just have no taste."
"I have excellent taste, McGee. I think this stuff has destroyed yours."
Tim laughed and nudged Aimee conspiratorially before pouring cereal into three bowls. He gave Ziva quite a bit less, knowing that she didn't appreciate it. They ate together and Tim kept the chatting light.
After breakfast, Tim had Aimee help Ziva wash the dishes while he did some other cleaning around the apartment. It was mostly being done for Aimee's benefit, although she didn't see it that way...of course. She was a little girl who didn't want to do chores, but it gave her more normalcy in the midst of all this stuff going on. Aimee was getting tired of being inside all the time, but she was frightened enough at the thought of being found again that she didn't try to leave.
Ziva found that she was enjoying watching Tim interact with Aimee. He gave her chores to do. He helped with her homework. No matter whether or not he'd try to deny it, he was acting like a father...and he was doing a good job of it. ...and for someone who hadn't had the best father in the world, Ziva liked the chance to see someone really try to do right by a child. She'd never tell Tim, but his devotion to doing what was right for Aimee was endearing.
After breakfast was cleaned up and the chores were done, Tim let Aimee get on the computer (no Internet for security purposes...since they didn't know anything about the killer's abilities) to play for a while. He went over and sat down beside Ziva.
"McGee, we will have a breakthrough," she said, correctly interpreting the expression on his face.
"Before Aimee and I go nuts?" Tim asked, smiling slightly. He sighed softly and ran his hands through his hair.
Ziva returned the smile.
"You are doing very well so far."
"That's because if I show any level of frustration, Aimee will either go further or feel like this is her fault. Last night, she was asking me if I was sorry that I had helped her."
"Are you?"
"Of course, not!" Tim said, sitting up. "I wish I could do more. All I can do is sit here, and..."
"...and spend time with a little girl who needs you."
Tim shook his head, but it wasn't so much because he disagreed. It was because she could see that he didn't want to think about that part of what was going on here. Ziva could accept it. Tony had mentioned what Tim had said before, but by mutual agreement, they were not discussing it. Tim clearly wasn't interested in trying to talk about it, choosing instead to focus only on what was best for Aimee.
"Well, you never never know. The BOLO may give us something to work with at some point."
"It's been almost two weeks."
"Yes."
"You think we'll be moved?"
"Perhaps. Gibbs has not said so, but I think he is considering it."
Tim nodded.
"I just want this to be done," he said, keeping his voice low. "I don't want to be in limbo anymore."
"I understand."
"Tim! The game isn't working!" Aimee called.
Tim looked at Ziva and smiled.
"I'm coming, Aimee!"
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"We got something, Boss!" Tony said, hanging up the phone.
"What?" Gibbs asked.
"Guy saw the BOLO and recognized him."
"Who is he?"
"Dante Jones...a tattoo artist. Said the guy was one of his customers."
"When?"
"Few months ago."
"Let's roll."
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Dante Jones ran a fully-licensed tattoo studio in Maryland. He never spent much time watching television. He was trying to establish himself in the business, but he had caught a glimpse of it while out at a bar with some friends. When he had recognized the sketch, he hadn't been sure what to do about it. Would it be courting problems if he admitted to having seen the guy? Would it be courting more problems if he didn't mention it? In the end, he decided it would be better to be seen as cooperating with police rather than concealing things from them.
"We're glad you did," Tony said.
Dante nodded as he handed over the information.
"I can't tell you if the information is real. I don't go checking if the money goes through. ...and his card worked."
"Got it. You remember the tattoo you gave him?"
"Sure. I remember all my tats. He got a stylized piece of barbed wire, running from his shoulder down his chest, ending around the middle of his rib cage...with two letters in the middle of it."
"Stylized barbed wire?" Tony asked.
"Yeah. Here. I'll show you. I take pics of all my own designs. No face. Privacy, you know, but I got the tattoo."
"I'd like to see that," Gibbs said.
Dante pulled out his catalog and flipped open to the pictures of their killer's tattoo. Like he had said, no face, but they got skin color, build...and now, they finally had a name...and a credit card to trace.
"What are those two letters?"
"C and M."
"Chuck McQuivey," Tony read off Dante's record. "I find it hard to believe he'd get a tattoo of a fake name. That's a pretty permanent thing."
"And it's not cheap," Dante said. "I do good work."
"Yeah, you do. I should give a friend of mine your address. She's been thinking of getting a new tat," Tony said with a smile.
"I'll give her a great deal," Dante said.
"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for your help, Mr. Jones."
"My pleasure."
"Yeah, I'm sure."
Dante smiled at the understanding in Tony's voice. Gibbs and Tony left the studio together.
"Okay. We've got a name to run, and see if Abby can get this matched up with the money trail she's trying to find."
Tony nodded.
"I hope this is something, not just another twist."
"Could be."
"Maybe it won't be."
Gibbs smiled.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
The rain started up that afternoon. It thundered for about an hour before the first drops fell...but like on the first day, once they started to fall, the rain was steady.
When Tony came in the evening, he had lots of news to share, and Tim ate it up, asking so many questions that Tony made Ziva stay and take notes of the things Tim wanted to ask Abby. By the time she left, Ziva had no less than two pages worth of thoughts for Abby...some of them borne simply out of a need to be involved.
"It's pretty muggy," Tim said, staring out the window. "How's Jethro doing?"
"Oh, he's fine. Gibbs put him up at his house, and Abby spoils him rotten."
"Great."
"Hey, McGee..." Tony began.
"No, Tony," Tim said, and walked to the bedroom to check on Aimee. He figured that Tony wanted to talk more about what Tim had told him, and he just didn't want to deal with that right now.
When he looked in on Aimee, she wasn't sitting at the little desk, doing homework. She was sitting by the window. He heard a sniffle and Aimee wiped at her face. Tim walked over.
"Aimee?"
"I remember Daddy taking us outside in the rain one day. He said that we shouldn't hide from the rain because...because the rain helped us all live. He said that we should play in the rain to show that we appreciated it. I miss him, Tim. I miss both of them." Aimee started to cry, and Tim noticed she was holding his stuffed bear...Grizzly Adams. He sat down on the bed.
"You know what?"
"What?"
"You'll get to play out in the rain again."
"But not with them."
"No, not with them...but you can learn to have fun in the rain again, and they'll like that. They'll see you playing and they'll be glad that you're happy."
Aimee looked at him.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"I still miss them, though."
"Of course you do. They're your parents." Tim swallowed his own pang. "Why don't you go wash up. I have it on good authority that we might be getting pizza tonight."
Aimee smiled. Yes, there were still some tears, but they were tempered by the simple pleasure of anticipation. She hurried into the bathroom. Tim stayed where he was, sitting on the bed, looking out at the rain.
"Hey, McGee, what's up?"
"Aimee was just missing her parents. You know...she said that she liked to play in the rain. When I was younger...I liked the rain for a different reason."
"Why?"
Tim didn't turn around. He just stood up and watched the storm for a few seconds.
"In the rain...nobody can see if you're crying."
There was a long silence and then Tim turned around when he was confident the pang had passed. He smiled at Tony.
"I kind of wish I was out there right now."
He eased by Tony and into the kitchen.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"I can't tell you where he is," Abby said, "but I can tell you who he is."
"And?" Ziva asked.
"He's Charles W. McQuivey, originally out of Canada, south of Toronto. Seems to have come across the border somewhere without actually getting passed in. He never would have been allowed in. Plenty of charges of drug dealing up there."
"Is he a part of a larger organization or is he looking to expand his own?"
"No sign of big-time links, but that doesn't mean there aren't any," Abby said, pulling up an old Canadian driver's license. "His credit card led me to the account where he got the money to pay Petty Officer Hanson. ...and you know what? It stinks that everything went so bad for them. The Hansons had almost nothing saved away. That apartment they were living in was cheap...in every sense of the word. They were barely getting by. I can see why he started down the road."
"And it got him killed, Abby," Gibbs said. "Any signs of where McQuivey might be at the moment?"
"Not in his records. No phone registration. No apartment. Nothing besides that credit card. He's probably not trying to draw attention to himself right now."
"Okay. We'll get more details to Metro. Make sure the source of the information isn't let out. We don't want McQuivey going after the tattoo artist."
"Definitely not," Ziva agreed.
"Yeah. Tony said I'd probably like his work. I think I'm going to check him out."
Gibbs raised his eyebrows.
"When the case is over, Gibbs!"
"So...what now?" Ziva asked.
"Now, we find him," Gibbs said. "One guy working alone means that when we get McQuivey, Aimee Hanson will be safe."
"So long as we do find him," Ziva said.
"Yeah."
