Chapter Twenty-five
Without a word as to where he's been or what he's found out, Gibbs shows up in Abby's lab.
"Where'd she go?" He demands.
"That's what we're on right now, Boss," Tony replies.
"I'm running a trace on her cell phone as we speak." McGee says, furiously clicking keys.
On the computer screen, a map of the city seems to bounce gently back and forth as circle after circle of color pops up and disappears.
"All I've got are hits on partial number matches for the last twenty-four hours, Boss," Tim says.
"Track her movements for the last week. If you don't get enough to go on from that, make it a month." Gibbs snaps, "And get on the DNA from that second vic, Abbs. I want to be damn sure of who he is before I go making any hasty decisions."
"Yes, sir!" Abby says, sketching a salute. Gibbs glares at her, "Ma'am…" she trails off as his glare becomes a scowl.
"On it, Gibbs!" she casts her gaze sheepishly around before settling it back on her computer.
"You guys realize that DNA is going to take a while, right?" She asks. Tony jerks his head towards the door.
"You know where to find us," he tells her.
Back in the squad room, I hit my desk and start writing up a BOLO for Diana. She may have skipped out while Tony and I were gone, but that didn't mean we were any less guilty of dropping the ball.
I message McGee, 'Did you check out her mom's cell phone?'
'Already tried it, her mom isn't much into the digital age.'
'It was worth a shot, I suppose,' I typed back, 'I'm putting out a BOLO now.'
As soon as I hit send, Tony looks up, "You putting out a BOLO on Diana?"
"Yep. Do you think I need to put one out for her mom, or her mom's rental?" I ask.
"Couldn't hurt, just make sure you say that we want her mom for questioning, not arrest." This pisses me off, I feel like he isn't taking me seriously.
"I'm not a moron, DiNozzo," I snap, "I've been through this rodeo a time or two."
"You don't say?" He snarks back.
Suddenly, I'm bone weary and just ready for some sleep. I look at the clock and realize that I've been going on twenty-four hours with little caffeine and even less sleep. The clock on my computer continues to mock me with the time as I furiously try to fill out the information.
My eyes are bleary and feel gritty, but I force myself to soldier on. By the time I hit 'print' I notice that Tony has nodded off at his desk, reclined with his feet up. As the machine spits out the forms for me to fax, I start looking for a little shoedenfreude. Crossing to Tony's desk, I lay the BOLOs on his lap, causing him to jump awake.
"What?" He slurs.
"Check this over for me, please. I want to make sure everything is right so we can nail this bitch." He picks up the paper and reads.
"You spelled her name two different ways, and she's wanted for 'arrest', not 'a rest'." He hands the paper to me and promptly falls back to sleep.
I return to my desk and fix my mistakes, set up the file as an e-mail and send it first electronically and then by fax. Twenty minutes and two boxing matches with the fax machine later, I finally sit heavily in my chair. I lean forward and put my head on the desk.
Two hours later, I am startled awake by a hand gently shaking me. Opening my eyes, I focus on a cup of coffee about six inches from my nose.
Sitting up slowly, I wince at the pain in my muscles and the cuts on my face. Picking up the cup, I gulp the contents greedily.
Across the way, Tony is stumbling through much of the same routine. He looks the way I feel, disheveled and unwashed. A shadow of stubble plays across his chin, and I am momentarily reminded of Jack. For a long moment, I feel my heart stop and tears threaten.
Shaking it off, I open my e-mail inbox. Two hits, one on the mother and one on her rental.
Sadie had been detained at the hotel, and Metro was asking whether or not we wanted them to deliver her. I replied in the affirmative. The car was picked up in the Anacostia area, several miles from Diana's mother's hotel. The tires had been slashed and the car left vacant. It was no surprise that the thing had been stripped of everything.
So, Diana had been smart. Abandoning the car like that had been a stroke of misfortune for us. With so many people in and out of the car, any trace evidence was scattered and useless. Tony has it towed to the Yard anyway.
I wish for the thousandth time to be smarter than the criminal.
With no luck on the main BOLO, I call area cab companies to see if anyone picked up a fare in the area where the car had been dumped. I give them Diana's description, adding that she may have been traveling with a baby. I have no luck.
I wonder where the hell she's gone. If she was smart enough to dump the car, she'd be smart enough to get the hell away from it to go to ground. But, on the other hand... maybe, just maybe... we'd get lucky and she wouldn't have been quite so intelligent.
I attempt to freshen up, but it only goes as far as brushing my teeth and dragging last night's eyeliner around to look less frightening. Without deodorant, or a decent change of clothing I still feel more grungy than awake. Tony drags me down to Capitol Heights to canvass the neighborhood. We spend a couple of hours showing Diana's picture to anyone that stops long enough to look.
No one has seen her.
Damning our poor luck, I call McGee. He sounds as exhausted as I feel. We're running ourselves ragged chasing every shadow we can. Not chasing them isn't an option. Without medical attention, the Wheat's baby could be dying. And I fear that Diana may be scared of taking him to the ER for the treatment he's most certainly in need of. I'm desperate to find the child before time runs out... we all are.
I spend the morning feverishly refreshing my e-mail and waiting for the phone to ring.
Finally, eons later it seems, Abby catches our first break. We file into her lab for the reveal.
"I've got good news and bad news," she begins, perky as hell, "Which do you want to hear first?" Her mouse roams across the computer screen. Just watching it makes me want to barf from all the coffee I've had.
"Not now Abby," Tony grouses over his umpteenth cup of the vile drink, "Just tell us what you found."
"Someone got up on the wrong side of their desk this morning," Abby observes darkly, "I got something on the DNA."
We wait in silence until Abby grimaces, "You're not going to like it. The two victims at the Wheat house? The matrilineal DNA matches in both victims." Abby says, pulling a printout off her printer and handing it to Gibbs. He passes it to Tony.
"Dave and Lara are siblings?" I ask, shocked.
"No, Lara and our second vic are brother and sister." Abby elaborates as Tony passes me the print-out.
"Dammit, Lara said her brother was visiting, but she wasn't worried because he was so rarely at the house." McGee blanches.
"Then where the hell is her husband?" Gibbs snaps at us. The three of us jump to action, Tony and I start for the elevator. McGee pulls up a chair at Abby's computer console and I hear keys clicking in a furious tandem.
"Abby, is Gibbs there with you?" I hear Ducky ask over the video link. Tony and I pause and turn. Gibbs shoulders between Abby and McGee.
"Right here, Duck."
"Ah! Jethro," Ducky exclaims in greeting, "Did you happen to find a hammer or a small statue at the crime scene?" Gibbs snaps a look from McGee to me. We shake our heads.
"No, why?"
"Well, our male victim looks to have had his skull smashed with a blunt instrument. Bone fragments are consistent with a small, convexly rounded surface."
Tony and I snap a look at each other, "Ball-peen hammer?" we ask in unison.
"Indeed it could be. I would say that when I take a look at Lara, her wounds will help confirm."
"You can give the second victim a name… looks like Lara's only brother, Christian Nelson." Abby leans into the frame. There's a pause.
"Thank you, I'll go change his information immediately." Ducky signs off, and Gibbs looks up at us.
"Well, why the hell are you still standing around? Find the husband," When we don't move quickly enough, he snaps again, "Now, dammit!"
McGee and Abby start babbling back and forth in technese as Gibbs stalks between Tony and I, heading for the elevator. We follow in silence.
When the elevator doors open, we step on and turn. Gibbs speaks.
"I need you two ready to move, are you up for it?"
"Absolutely."
"Good. I'll put out the BOLO, you two grab some shut eye… you look like hell."
"He's talking to you, Cam," Tony smirks tiredly.
"Oh, that's not possible," I say.
"And why's that?"
"Because I sure as hell look better than you."
This time, I stretch out behind my desk to take a real nap.