A/N: HERE'S THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF MONSTERS. BIG THANK YOU'S TO ALL WHO HAVE REVIEWED SO FAR, ESPECIALLY THOSE THAT ARE JUST DISCOVERING THE STORY NOW. I'M GLAD YOU'RE ALL ALONG FOR THE RIDE! NOW, I NEED ALL Y'ALL'S HELP. TONY IS ON THE WAY TO RESCUE ABBY. IT'S GOING TO BE BIG, FLASHY, OVER THE TOP. BUT I DON'T KNOW HOW YET. I'D LIKE TO GET SOME IDEAS AND FEEDBACK FROM YOU, MY MOST AWESOMEST READERS. HOW, WHERE, WITH WHAT, DOES BENSONHURST GET KILLED OR JUST MAIMED AND SENT TO JAIL, DOES TONY ALMOST GIVE HIS OWN LIFE IN RESCUING ABBY? YOU CAN SEE MY PROBLEM! SO I'D LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU ALL WHAT YOU THINK SHOULD HAPPEN. IF I USE A VERSION OF YOUR IDEA, I'LL WORK YOUR NAME INTO THE STORY!
AND REMEMBER, MY DARLINGS - REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! REVIEWS ARE LIKE A BIG HUG ON A BAD DAY, SO PLEASE LEAVE ME A LITTLE SUMTHIN'! THANK YOU!
MONSTERS IN THE SHADOWS
Chapter 21
As much as he wanted to drive like a combination of Ziva and Gibbs mixed together, Tony forced himself to follow the speed limits and traffic laws. He knew he couldn't allow himself to lose control - bringing emotions into an investigation just made things sloppy. So he just breathed deep and made himself ease up on the gas pedal when he saw he was going almost 20 MPH over the speed limit. If he could control himself driving, it was the first step to being in control when he arrived at Bensonhurst's McMansion.
He answered the phone using the hands-free mode. "Whaddya got, McGee?"
"Just heard from Ziva and Lee at the airport. Abby hasn't checked in yet, either in person or electronically," Tim said, continuing to type as he talked. "They've got airport security on alert for both Abby and Bensonhurst. I told Ziva to stay there until Abby's flight actually leaves, just to make sure they don't miss her."
Tony smiled at his SFA. He might make a real senior agent out of him yet! "Good call, McGee."
"Nothing yet from bo…Gibbs and Fornell. And no change in the trace on Abby's phone, still located at her apartment."
He'd expected that. "Anything on Bensonhurst's phone yet?"
The frustration was evident in Tim's voice. "No. He must have it turned off. Still running traffic cams around Abby's apartment, nothing new since she got home last night."
Tony sighed. He'd hoped for something more by now. "Good work, McGee, keep…"
"I'll keep running it until we've got something, boss," Tim said, finishing Tony's sentence (just as they'd all done with Gibbs) and hanging up.
With a smile, Tony hit the 'end' button on the phone and sighed. His little probie had grown up. Seeing his exit off the freeway, he changed lanes and left the highway. Following busy side streets, the houses began to get larger and more opulent, the neighborhoods cleaner and quieter. He began to feel more and more like he was stepping back into his childhood. The big house, the pool, the perfectly manicured lawn, servants at beck and call, the latest toys and electronics to play with. Damn, but he'd hated his childhood. Which only served to make him hate Bensonhurst more, for reminding Tony of all that.
For a moment, Tony let his mind picture Abby in a grand house like this, as lady of the manor, hosting teas and chairing nonsense-type committees. With a grin he shook his head. SO not his gothic princess! She'd find the size of the house ridiculous - could hear her asking 'who needs this many rooms?' And forget the first time a maid tried to do something for her! He'd get an hour-long lecture about servitude being a thing of the past, and slavery was just wrong. As for the teas and committees? Well, they'd certainly be interesting with Abby in charge!
No, his Abby was a simpler girl. She liked to live comfortably, as stress-free as possible. She didn't have time for fripperies and 'extras.' And she'd never live so largely while there were others in greater need. Just one more reason he loved her - her big heart.
The Charger's GPS announced that he'd arrived at his destination. Glancing around, he didn't see any cars in the driveway or any sign of anyone being home, so Tony pulled into the driveway. He walked up the steps to the front door and knocked, giving the customary "NCIS! We need to ask you some questions!" When there was no answer, he knocked again. Then rang the doorbell. Ascertaining no one was home, Tony pulled out his lock picking tools and set about opening the door , and was inside in less than a minute. Palming his gun, he began to search the house room by room., weapon at the ready.
********************NCIS********************
Having cleared several rooms, Tony was reasonably sure he was alone in the house, so he re-holstered his gun. With his moneyed eye, he could pick out a few genuine, expensive, investment-type pieces - a painting here, a secretary there. But just about all the furnishings were low-end knock-offs. Just pretending to be expensive. Like Bensonhurst himself. His already low opinion of the prick just got a notch lower.
Tony finished searching the downstairs rooms and headed up the (faux) marble staircase. The bedroom is always the most telling of any room in the house. It's the one room where pretenses and facades are dropped, where people become the most relaxed, the most personal. You want to know all about someone, just look in their bedroom.
Bensonhurst's home office and den were as phony as the rest of the house. Although, Tony did admire the large, flat screen plasma TV and entertainment center. Sweet setup! Just because it's his nature to be nosey, Tony pressed PLAY on the DVD player to see what Bensonhurst last watched.
The grunts and moans told Tony it was porn before he even saw it. From the looks of it, homemade porn. The young looking woman started crying, asking the stud to stop, saying "no", that he was hurting her. Shit. Rape porn. He quickly shut it off, sick to his stomach. As he left the den, he took a last look back at the oversized entertainment center. Where just moments ago, he'd been thinking how awesome something like that would be for his James Bond and Magnum, P.I. marathons - and yes, the occasional porno - he now saw it as disgusting.
Only one door left in the long hallway - has to be the bedroom. He stood in the doorway for a moment, getting the lay of the land. While not OCD-ly neat, neither was it a total mess. Unmade bed - deep burgundy silk (faux, Tony found out when he touched them) sheets, faux dark mahogany bed set. Same for the side tables and bureau.
Opening and rifling through the bureau drawers, Tony saw that here was where Bensonhurst spent all his money - his clothes, right down to his jockeys.
With a snort of disgust (ok, he admitted, he was pissed that he hadn't found anything) Tony made his way to the door that could only lead to the closet. When he swung the door open, it was like angels began singing The Hallelujah Chorus. This was not just ANY closet, folks. This was the mother of all walk-in closets.
He was like a kid seeing the FAO Schwartz Christmas Toy Display for the first time. Tony slowly crossed the threshold, almost afraid an alarm of some sort would go off. For the first time in his life, Anthony D. DiNozzo, Jr. drooled over another guy's closet.
Suits lined the left-hand wall - the entire left-hand wall - categorized by designer first, then by color, with two or three choices of ties hanging from the hanger. Down below were cubbies with coordinating shoes - again, by designer first, then color. The entire right-hand wall was all casual wear. If you considered silk T-shirts and $250 jeans casual. Everything hung neatly, nothing hanging off hangers, no buttons undone or zippers unzipped.
In the far left corner was an overstuffed black leather chair and end table. The other corner had an end table which held a jewelry armoire. Tony almost had an asthma attack to see that all the jewelry - tie clips, cufflinks, the occasional manly ring - were fakes. They seemed so out of place amongst all this extravagance.
As he moved some hangers around on the "suit wall," he heard a different-sounding thunk as the arm bumped the wall. Pushing suits away to both sides, Tony began knocking on the wall, giving himself a mental pat on the back when he found that same hollow-sounding thump. Kicking aside the shoe cubbies, he began tapping and pushing on the wall. YES! There it was - an almost invisible seam in the wall. It had a slight give to it but wouldn't open - there must be a hidden button somewhere. He took a few minutes to look around the closet. Nothing triggered the hidden door.
Coming back to stand in front of the door, Tony considered his options, and decided on one. What the hell, Trust Fund Thad was going to be in jail anyway, so he couldn't complain. Holding his gun at the ready just in case, Tony brought his left leg up and kicked the door as hard as he could, popping it open.
He scanned for threats first, and seeing none, he put his gun away and started looking around the secret room. He was stunned and disgusted at the same time. More than one entire wall was covered with pictures of Abby. It was more than obvious that this guy had been following her for a long time. There were pictures of her with the team, even Gibbs. Pictures of her bowling with the nuns, of her with other guys. Pictures of her in her apartment - cooking, watching movies,…..dressing in her bedroom,…..showering. Bensonhurst had been in the room as she'd showered! And Abby had no clue.
There were other pictures of Abby with some guy…doing…stuff. Wait, that was Bensonhurst. And she's crying in this one….and this one…..something about this particular set of pictures looked vaguely familiar, but Tony couldn't figure out why.
He was having a hard time keeping his lunch down, so Tony decided to get someone else over here to document all this. Who on his team wouldn't lose it…. Tim - too close to Abby. Lee - too Probie to trust with this. Gibbs? - Sure, he'd be composed now, but if he ever met up with Bensonhurst…..looks like it falls to Ziva.
As Tony dialed Tim, he walked over to look at the "shrines" on the other walls…..these were different girls. And most of them were just girls….no more than 18 or 19 years old…..all with the same variety of pictures as Abby's. He studied the pictures, counted at least six other girls. Damn it! Bensonhurst is a serial rapist!
"Yeah, bo…" McGee answered the phone.
"McGee!" Tony interrupted. "Have Lee stay at the airport. Get Ziva over here to Bensonhurst's. NOW."
"Problem, boss?"
"If you call at least six more victims a problem. I'm sending pictures from my phone - try and get I.D. Check Metro's rape logs for rapes…similar to Abby's. And get Ziva here yesterday, Probie." Tony hung up and took pictures of the other girls with his phone and sent them to McGee's email. Hopefully they'd find all these women safe and sound.
Unable to be in that room any longer, Tony walked out, leaving the door open. Crossing into the bedroom, he stopped, gaze on the bed. De ja vu…..why does this look familiar…..scanning the scene quickly, he got a sinking feeling in his gut. He strode back to the secret room. Sure enough…..there's Abby lying on that bed….there's the other girls on that bed…..
Back in the bedroom, Tony searched around the doorway for the camera. He found it in the crown moulding, up near the ceiling. Going on instinct, he continued to look around the room and found three more cameras - one on each wall - all trained on the bed.
His gut churning, he made his way back down the hall to the den. His phone rang - McGee. "Gimme good news, McGee."
"Well, don't know how good it is. Just heard from Gibbs. He and Fornell found…."
"Pinhole cams all over Abby's apartment. What else ya' got? Anything on any of those other girls?"
"No facial recognition in our database. Want me to share with Metro?"
Tony sighed as he walked to the entertainment center. "Yeah. And if they give you any trouble, hand 'em off to Director Shepherd. Don't waste time on it."
"Got it," Tim answered confidently. "One more thing. Gibbs…"
Tony heard the front door bang open and Gibbs call his name. "….Is on his way over here. Thanks, McGee. Good work." He clicked the phone shut. "Up here, boss!" he called as he looked through stacks of homemade DVDs, finding the ones he'd hoped he wouldn't find. Taking out the disc already in the player, he replaced it with one of the ones he'd found. And then there was Abby, on her knees in front of Bensonhurst, the creep's hands wrapped in her ponytails, holding her mouth as far down on his cock as she could get. She started struggling for breath but he wouldn't let her up, telling her that girls like her were good for only one thing. When the bastard finally let her up for air, Abby struck back, kneeing him in the erect family jewels. As she tried to dress quickly, Bensonhurst came up behind her, picked her up and threw her onto the bed, climbing on top of her, his knees on her shoulders. Abby was trapped. And screaming in anger, in pain. In fear. And Bensonhurst was just getting off on all of it. He flipped Abby onto her stomach and roughly rammed into her body, laughing as she cried out in pain.
"This your idea of investigating, DiNozzo? Checking out the guy's porno collection?" Gibbs growled sarcastically from the doorway.
Tony stalked to the door without a word. As he passed Gibbs and Fornell, he slapped the DVDs to Gibbs' chest, and continued out the door and down the hall without a word.
Fornell watched Tony walk downstairs as Gibbs looked down at the DVD covers. They both had just one word written on them. ABBY.
DISCLAIMER: I receive no monetary benefits for this fan fiction from anyone even remotely associated with NCIS, CBS, Belisarius Productions, etc., and I have no claim on any of the entities listed above. Not for lack for lack of trying, tho'! heh heh!
(That's the REVIEW button, right down there…)