Of all the ways he'd imagined finally meeting with this woman (and truth be told, he had tried to imagine it as little as possible) this wasn't the way he'd imagined it would happen. It hadn't even entered his mind as an option. He'd hoped that, should said meeting ever come, it would involve her in handcuffs and sitting in the interrogation room, unable to do anymore harm. He never imagined that Tony would be the one incapacitated, while she—his self-proclaimed Angel of Vengeance—stood over him, weapon in hand.
She looked so innocuous. With her long, blonde hair, nicely shaped body, clear skin, and full lips, she wasn't the picture most people had when thinking of a black-hearted killer. She looked like the peppy cheerleader in high school or the sweet girl next door. She was the kind of woman Tim would have furtively checked out when she passed, but wouldn't have worked up the courage to approach. She looked so…so normal. Another sobering reminder that looks could be deceiving.
"Hello, Timothy." Just hearing his name roll off her tongue sent a shiver through his body. "I've been waiting for you."
"Hi, Imogene," he replied softly, suddenly at a loss for words. He was rooted in his spot, feet planted firmly in the ground and arms hanging uselessly at his side. The only movement he could feel was the rapid beating of his heart.
She was pleased that he knew her name. "You remember me."
"I remember. How did you get in here?"
"Your window. It was unlocked."
He inwardly cursed himself for his carelessness. "Oh. Well, what are you doing here?"
"I came to see you."
"Why?"
"Why?" she repeated in amusement. Her lips were turned upward in an unsettling smile. "Because I love you. Don't you know that by now?"
Love? That was what she considered love? Torture and murder? Those things were the very antithesis of love; those were things of hate. How could someone try to twist them around and call them love?
"Do you remember the day we met?" she asked with glee. "The day when you came to see me?"
He nodded, having a vague recollection of it. "We came to speak to you about Pvt. Austin."
Her demeanor became cold at the mention of her former boyfriend. "That louse," she snarled, her mouth twisting into a sneer. "What I saw in him, I'll never know. What I do know is that when I saw you, I knew fate had only brought me to Troy because he was my stepping stone to you. At least it's nice to know he was good for one thing in his miserable life."
She sat on the edge of the bed, the knife resting in her lap. With her free hand, she caressed the blade lovingly. "My life had been so much pain. People leaving me. People abusing me. People lying to me. I couldn't trust anyone."
"I'm sorry that you went through those things," he said sincerely.
"And then I met you. Everything just seemed right."
Tim couldn't find the words to respond.
She continued. "I gave you my phone number."
"Yes…yes, I know."
"But you never called."
He shook his head. "No, I didn't."
"Why didn't you call?"
There were hundreds of valid and semi-valid answers he could have given her. He hadn't been interested in her. He had still been smarting from his break-up with Abby. He had still been getting used to his new place on the team and wasn't ready to turn his focus to a new relationship. He had low self-esteem and had a hard time believing a woman would be interested in him. But he wasn't sure which would be the best response.
"You had just broken up with your boyfriend," he said with a slight stutter. "You were dealing with that and with finding out that he was a thief. I didn't want to take advantage of you in that state."
She smiled, a chilling, almost crazed smile. "You see? I knew you were a sweet man from the day I met you. Not scum like Troy. Like all of those men who bullied you. Like…like him," she said, punctuating her final word with a well-placed stab to Tony's upper thigh. He let out a squeal and tried to pull away as she pulled the knife out. Somehow, it hurt even more coming out than going in.
Tim wanted to vomit as he saw the blood bubble up to the surface of Tony's skin and dribble out on either side. He reached out and grabbed the door knob to steady himself. "Please…don't…just stop. Please."
"They needed to die," she said, unfazed by his request. "They needed to be shown that what they did was wrong."
"Yes…what they did was wrong, but—"
"How did you feel?" she asked, perking up with excitement. "When you saw the first one? How did it make you feel? Did it make you happy? Did it make you love me?" Her eyes were alit and she was positively beaming as she needled him for his opinion, the way a young child needles a parent for a glowing review on their latest refrigerator artwork. "Just tell me, did you feel what I felt when he was finally dead?"
Probably not. In fact, when Tim recalled the sight of Wickmar's body, the first feeling that came to mind was sickness, but that response wasn't likely to blow over well with her. The last thing he wanted to do was make her angry. If this was what she did when she was happy, God only knew what she would do if she was unhappy.
"It was different," he said cautiously. "A feeling I'd never really felt before."
"And the others? Seeing them like that? Did you love me right then? Did you finally love me the way I love you?"
"I definitely had some strong feelings for you." He was doing his best to keep his cool, to not give her another reason to hurt Tony.
"You see? We were meant to be together. It was fate that brought you to me, and fate showed me how I could win your love. I did it for you. All for you."
"I know you did. I just wish you'd spoken to me before you did it."
Her eyes glowered slightly and her grip in the knife tightened so much that her knuckles turned a pasty white. "You didn't appreciate it then." It was not a question. "You didn't appreciate all I did for you, the swine I slaughtered for you."
"No, no," he said, catching himself quickly. "That's not what I meant. It's just that…well…not all of them were bad. Chris—"
"He betrayed you. He told me so himself. He sold you out to them. And for what? His own safety? He sat back and watched you get tormented. He was almost worse than the others. They at least were honest about the kind of men they were; but Chris was two-faced, a lying bastard who hid behind whatever was convenient for him at the time and who would have made a deal with the devil for his own protection. He was a coward and he deserved every bit of what he got."
"Chris made a mistake. He told me so. And yes, I was angry with him for doing what he did, but he was still a friend. I probably wouldn't have made it through high school if I hadn't had him as a friend."
She snorted. "With friends like that, who needs enemies?"
"He was a good guy."
"I know you think that, Timothy, because you like to see the best in everyone. That's why I decided to go easy on him. I spared him the pain that the others had to endure. He went very peacefully."
Tim shook his head. "He shouldn't have been on your list of people who had wronged me. I didn't hold a grudge against him."
She brought the blade of the knife down to Tony's abdomen, pressing the metal against him. "I don't like the tone of your voice, Timothy. I worked very hard to give you this gift and I don't appreciate you throwing it back in my face."
"That's not what I'm trying to do, Imogene." She lessened the knife's pressure. "I just…I wish you would have talked to me first, before you did all of this."
"I watched you," she whispered. She pointed to the window with the tip of her knife. "I sat right out there and watched you."
He nodded. "I saw the videos. You were very…" He trailed off, not sure how to best describe her actions. Creepy? Obsessive? Invasive? "Attentive," he said. "I can see that you have very strong feelings for me."
"I love you. I wanted to be with you, to be a part of your life."
"You watched me sleep."
"Yes…I watched over you when I could. Like an angel."
"An angel," he repeated.
"Your angel. That's what I am, Timothy. I told you as much with every fresh body I sent you. Didn't you see them?"
"I saw. I saw what you branded on them."
"They had to die." Her words were barely audible.
Tim was frozen in his place, not sure how to proceed. His gun was in his bag, lying next to the door. Even if he'd had it on him, he wasn't sure he'd have the guts to pull the trigger. He could charge her, of course, and hope for the best, but he had a sinking suspicion that she had come to his apartment armed with more than just a knife. He might very well set her off if he did that and who knew what "toy" she might pull out to retaliate?
He knew he had to lure her away from Tony. It was his only chance of making things right.
"Let's leave," he said suddenly.
"What?"
"You and me. Let's go somewhere private to talk."
"Isn't this private enough for you?"
He looked to Tony who was already ebbing in and out of consciousness. The wounds hadn't been fatal so far, but with the amount of blood that was seeping out of those wounds, he might be dead soon if medics didn't intervene. Already his body was sagging into the mattress.
"I meant a place where just the two of us would talk."
Her eyes flickered to Tony. She had almost forgotten he was there. With Tim finally there before her, it was difficult to concentrate on anything else. But, yes, he was still lying there, his labored breathing dwindling as he tried to keep a firm grasp on life. He was her last victim, her final gift to Tim. She wasn't finished with Tony just yet.
"Wake up," she hissed, giving him a nudge with the handle of the knife.
His eyes fluttered and tried to focus, but they were becoming foggy.
"Up!" she repeated, this time jabbing him in the side with the handle. "Do as I tell you!"
"He's losing blood," Tim said gently. "He needs medical attention."
But she had different ideas. "No…no, we'll just need to get through with it more quickly. I'll hurry," she said as she placed the knife on the nightstand. She picked up another tool in its place—the cigar cutter.
"Get through what more quickly?" Tim asked, taking an uneasy step toward her.
"The torture." She said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "After he's gotten his just deserts, we can go anywhere you wish."
"No!"
His voice bellowed more loudly than he'd expected and even she was surprised by the protest from a normally soft-spoken man. "What did you say?"
"I said no…that is, I don't want to wait. Let's just leave now. You and me. We'll hop in my car and go wherever you want to go. Anywhere. Just away from here."
She pouted. "You don't want me to torture him?" she asked, gently squeezing the cutter, allowing the blade to slice up and down. "I'd had it all planned out."
"You've done more than enough. You've got me, okay? You don't need to do anymore."
"Fine," she said with a resigned sigh. She tossed the cigar cutter back onto the bed.
Tim also let out a sigh, his a sigh of relief. All he had to do was get her to the door. Even if he couldn't grab his gun, he could get her out of the apartment building and away from Tony. He would have to get a 911 call out for someone to come, but that would be simple enough. He knew she was capable of hurting anyone—even him—but at this point his focus was on making sure Tony got out of there alive—and that no one else was harmed by her.
She began packing her tools, sliding each one into its place in her bag. Some were sharp and meant to cut. Some were blunt and meant to break bones. Most were stained with blood.
Tim watched quietly, trying to figure out what she had, what he would be going up against. He strained to see if she had a gun, but couldn't get a clear look inside the bag. Just because I can't see it doesn't mean she doesn't have one, he calmly reminded himself, lest he should pounce too soon.
"There," she said as she zipped it up. Only her knife still lay out atop the nightstand, the bloodied blade glistening under the light from the lamp. "All done." She looked up at Tim; he tried to smile.
"Glad to hear," he said shakily. "Are you ready to go?"
"Almost. Just one more thing I've got to do."
"Oh?" His stomach was beginning to sink again, but he tried to keep his cool. "What's that?"
She took up the knife once more before turning to look at him. "What do you think, silly?" she asked with a playful grin. She brought the knife down to Tony's throat, touching it to his skin. "One quick slice, and it'll be all over. Then we can go."
"No!" Once again, his voice was robust enough to startle her. "Just…just leave him be. I want to leave right now."
"I have to do it, Timothy. I have to or we'll never be happy."
"Imogene, if you kill him we'll never be happy. My boss—Gibbs—he'll find you and…and he'll take you away from me. Tony's not worth it. He's scum, like you said, right? He's not worth the effort it would take for you to kill him. He's not worth the time you would spend in jail."
"He doesn't deserve to live!" she screeched. "I've seen the way he treats you! The way he demeans and humiliates you. He's the same as them!"
Tim took another tentative step toward her. "He's not. I know how it looks and I know Tony has his moments, but he doesn't mean anything by it."
She eyed him suspiciously. "You just said he was scum. Now you're saying he's a good guy? Why are you saying these things? What are you doing?"
"I'm just trying to make things right for you. I just want to leave with you, okay? Just me and you."
"Do you love me?"
The question hit him harder than a bullet ever could. He lost his breath for a moment. He wasn't the best liar to begin with, but Tim knew that whatever he said to that would enrage her. He couldn't convince her that he felt anything other than contempt for her.
"Imogene."
"Do. You. Love. Me," she repeated slowly. "I want to hear you say it."
"Please…we can talk about this later."
She brought the knife to Tony's throat again, this time pressing the tip into his skin and drawing a small amount of blood. "Say it! Tell me you love me! Or I swear to God I will make sure he suffers." She was kneeling over him, ready to plunge the knife at any moment.
Tim was silent. His mouth opened and closed, but he could managed to make any sound come out.
"Do you love me, Tim?" she repeated, her voice soft and almost fragile now. "Give me an answer. Now."
Despite it almost being spring, the Maryland evening was growing chilly and Kate was starting to feel that. A glance at her watch showed her that fifteen minutes had passed since Tim had entered the building and Gibbs had pulled into the parking spot. Unless he'd climbed out of his window, Tim hadn't left the building in that time.
"Doesn't look like he's planning to go anywhere," she said, giving Gibbs a gentle tap on the shoulder.
He looked in the rearview mirror. Truth be told, Tim was still inside. "Yeah. Let's head out." He didn't sound certain, though. Gibbs had a feeling in his gut, a feeling that urged him to stay there. He just couldn't figure out why.
Kate looked at him expectantly. "Well? Are you going to start the car or do you want me to drive?"
"No. I'll drive." He placed the keys in the ignition, hesitating before turning them to start the car. "It's just my gut. Something feels…off."
She couldn't argue with that. Something had felt off since this entire case had started. "It's been a long day, Gibbs. And after everything we found at Schultz's home…well, I definitely lost my appetite. I'm not surprised your gut is acting up."
"Possibly." He didn't want to talk anymore on the subject, though. As she'd said, it had been a long day. Even he was feeling the effects.
Gibbs put the car into reverse and backed out of the spot, giving the building one final glance, as if he thought he'd see Tim trying to sneak out. He put the car into drive and pulled away, going around to the exit.
"It's probably better that we head back. I'm sure Abby is going to need a lot of reassurance from you that DiNozzo is going to be okay."
"DiNozzo…"Gibbs whispered pensively.
"I mean, I'm worried about him too, but you know how Abby can get. We'll need to—"
She was cut off as the car came to a screeching halt. Her body flew forward and only her seatbelt saved her from smacking her head on the dashboard. "Gibbs!" she exclaimed after regaining her composure. "What the hell are you doing?"
He didn't respond as he put the car back into reverse and hit the gas, propelling them back a good twenty feet. "Red Mustang."
"What?"
"A red Mustang," he said, pointing past her out the window. Kate turned and saw a red Mustang sitting in one of the parking spots. Tony's red Mustang.
Realization dawned on her. "Of course," she muttered as she unbuckled her seatbelt. "She'd reaching the end of her rope. She'll want to reveal herself to him. I'm sorry, Gibbs, I should have thought of that sooner."
"No time for sorry, Kate. How long has McGee been up there?"
"Seventeen minutes? Maybe eighteen." She frowned with worry. "Do you think Tony is already…?"
"No. She'll want to save him for an audience, to show McGee everything she's done for him. He's got another few minutes left, at least."
"Not if she's killed them both. She's not in a good state of mind, Gibbs. Anything could set her off. If McGee says the wrong thing…if she feels like he's rejecting her, she could feel it necessary to end it all, and take them both with her."
At that, they both quickened their paces.
"I'm waiting," she said tersely. "Do you love me?"
"Yes?" He couldn't help it; the answer came out as a question.
"Don't ask me; tell me."
"I…I love you."
"Say it like you mean it."
"I love you."
She looked him squarely in the eye as Tim held his breath, waiting to see what her next move would be. She slowly brought the knife away from Tony's neck as she stared Tim down, and stepped down off the bed where she had been kneeling over him. As she moved around the bed toward him, Tim exhaled. It seemed to have done the trick.
"I don't believe you."
And he inhaled sharply once again. "What?"
"You're lying to me. You're a liar!"
"No…no, I…it's true. I love you."
"Stop saying that! You know it isn't true! Stop insulting me!"
"Imogene…please." His protests were feeble and futile.
"Do not say my name!" she spat out. "You have no right! You…you're just like the rest of them! After everything I've done for you! After everything I've given to you! You used me for your own selfish purposes and now you're just going to throw me to the side! Just like everyone else!" She was holding the knife at arm's length now. The tip of it was pointing directly at him.
There was no reason for him to continue this charade. It was going to end now, one way or another. "I'm sorry I can't give you what you want. I am. But you killed people. You killed a friend and you're threatening to kill another. How can I love you for that?"
"I killed them for you!" she said. Tears were starting to stream down her cheeks and her body was shaking with rage. "I did it for you! You were supposed to love me! You were supposed to see what I've done for you and love me."
He shook his head somberly. "I-I can't do that. I just can't."
"I hate you!" Her voice was venomous now. "I hate you more than I've hated any of them! You made me believe you were a caring man, but you're not! You're just the same as the rest of them!"
"Then kill me. But don't kill him."
She was still as she considered his request. Then she slowly began walking backwards, rounding the other side of the bed. "No…no, I want you to see what you've done to him. I want you to see that his suffering is your fault. All of this was your fault."
Your fault. The words swirled about him, almost choking him. "I know," he muttered. "I know…it's my fault. I'm the one to blame."
"Well, at least you admit it," she snarled. She was beside the bed now. Tony was barely breathing. "You should have just done what you were supposed to do. There was a plan. I had a plan. And you ruined it." She brought the knife up, poised to plunge it into Tony's chest.
Tackling a woman to the ground wasn't something Tim had ever intended to do in his life. Women weren't meant to be roughed up. You were supposed to open doors for them, pull out their chairs, and offer them your coat when they were cold. Tackling one to the ground like a football player was a no-no.
And yet, all of that went right out the window as Tim lunged across the way, knocking her to the ground. The knife flew from her grasp and landed on the floor behind them. She screamed as they struggled, each trying to get the upper hand. "Get off of me!"
Tim was surprised by her strength. She may have been petite, but she had a lot of verve in her. Worse, she was fueled by anger, one of the most powerful forms of natural adrenaline. Her nails found their way to his arms and she began scratching ferociously as her tried to hold her down. He grunted and his grip loosened, allowing her to jump to her feet.
"Slime! You rat!" She gave him a hard kick to the side, effectively knocking the wind out of him. "How dare you do that to me! I thought you were a gentleman!"
He wheezed, trying to catch his breath. The situation called for swift action, but he was worn out. He didn't have much fight left in him.
She snatched up the knife and stood over him, placing one of her boots on his chest. She pressed down, making it even more difficult for Tim to catch his breath. "This all could have been avoided if you'd just been the man you were supposed to be."
"Sorry…to…disappoint you…" he said between gasps.
"Not half as sorry as you're going to be." She gave him another kick, this one to the stomach, leaving Tim lying on the floor in a fetal position, his mind spinning. He watched as she walked to the bed, but he was unable to do anything.
He hated himself for that.
"Wakey-wakey, Agent DiNozzo," she purred. "I don't want your friend to miss a second of this."
She brought the knife up…
…Then a shot rang out and she fell backwards, toppling over the nightstand and knocking its contents to the floor. She landed on her stomach, the knife still in her grasp, but she didn't get back up.
It was painful to even move, but Tim managed to pull himself to the foot of the bed and peek to the other side. Gibbs stood in the door way, gun still pointing to where she'd been. Kate was there too, pushing into the bedroom to restrain Imogene—assuming she was even alive.
"Boss…" Tim rasped. "Ambulance."
Gibbs was already in the room and beside Tony. He checked for a pulse. "He's still alive, but he'll need medical attention, and soon. And so will you," he told Tim.
"How…d'you know?"
"DiNozzo's car was in the parking lot."
"'m so stupid…"
"We missed it too, McGee."
"She's still got a pulse too," Kate said as she kicked the knife out of reach and handcuffed Imogene's hands behind her back.
Tim rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. His chest was shaking with every breath he took, but he was breathing just a little bit more easily now. At least she was in custody now. She couldn't hurt anyone.
But that didn't diminish his own bout of guilt.
Gibbs—having freed Tony of his binds and supplied a tourniquet to the wound in his leg—knelt down beside Tim, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder. "It's over," he assured him, feeling Tim tense beneath his touch. "You did good, Tim. You did good."
Tim wanted to believe him. But he knew he couldn't. Her voice was still in his mind.
All of this was your fault.