"Shane Stevens, NCIS!" McGee yelled, bursting into the room, heading for the bank of computers that was against one wall of the room, where a dark-haired male sat, his back to them, facing a bunch of screens that were suspiciously blank. "Get your hands up, get 'em up!"
Stevens didn't move. As they got closer, with the REACT team clearing the rest of the room, the team noticed something odd; a certain smell.
"Oh hell," Torres mumbled, coming closer.
"Oh yeah," Bishop said, coming closer and taking a look at the still-not-moving Stevens. "He's a dead end, literally."
"I'll call Gibbs, you call Palmer," McGee groaned, seeing the mess. "And then I have to call my contact with the FBI Cyber Crime unit."
"Gotta be before we busted Mitchem," Torres said, calling Palmer.
"But why? He was their money maker," Bishop said.
"Maybe he got greedy," McGee said. "Hey boss, we found Stevens, but he's not going to be talking, not unless you know someone who can communicate with the dead, besides Ducky and Palmer. Yeah."
"Hey Palmer, we got a new one for you," Torres said. "Looks like a back-of-the-head shot. Yeah, I'll text you the address."
"Head shots are always messy, but I'm not seeing any blood here," Bishop said, looking around.
"Looks like a close contact shot," Torres said, shining his light on the back of Steven's head. "Something like that wouldn't have been that messy, especially not if it was a small caliber. Would've turned his brain to mush and he would've dropped like Pinocchio with his strings cut, but it wouldn't have been messy."
"Drag marks here," Bishop said, looking at the floor. "Fired here, dragged him there, set him up, and walked away."
"Hard drive?" Torres asked McGee, who was poking around the computer set up.
"Nope," McGee said, straightening up in frustration. "Whoever killed Stevens likely took the hard drive, and our evidence."
They dismissed the REACT team, with their thanks, and got to work processing the new crime scene.
"Guy's a slob," Torres said, looking under the camper bed that was against one wall. There were wrappers and other assorted junk under the bed, and some of them had mold growing on them, causing Torres to shiver in disgust. "Should've brought Langston with us, get her to do the dirty work."
"Quit picking on Jane," Bishop shot back. "I like her, and I don't want you to scare her off just yet."
"Ah, she's fun," Torres said, straightening up with a grin.
"Yeah? From what I'm hearing, that's not what you're going to be saying once Jane demonstrates her roping techniques, which she's promised to do," Bishop said.
"And I'm supposed to be scared? This is me you're talking about, the man who does the workouts and lifts the weights," Torres said. "No cowgirl roper is gonna get the best of me."
"Ten bucks says otherwise," McGee muttered to Bishop.
"Make it twenty, and you're on."
"Deal."
Other than the dead body, the rest of the scene turned up nothing, not even another laptop or hard drive. All of Steven's financial cards were in his wallet, along with some loose change. They found a cellphone, but it had been smashed beyond smithereens, to the point even the SIM card was broken.
"I really hope Kasie can find something on Mitchem's phones, 'cause otherwise, we got nada," McGee said, looking at the destroyed phone in disgust.
"I don't want to hear nada," came Gibbs' voice as he and Palmer joined them.
"How about the guy was a slob, someone put a bullet through the back of his head, and not only smashed his phone beyond any hope of any repair job, and I mean any, they also took his hardware?" McGee said.
"Why?" Gibbs demanded. "When?"
"Give me a few minutes and I can answer that," Palmer said, going over to the body. "The why part is your guys' job."
"Gee, thanks," McGee grumbled.
"Roughly four to five hours ago," Palmer said, a few minutes later, cleaning off his liver probe.
"We busted Mitchem over two hours ago, and tangled with him about an hour before that, so if it was him, he could have done it," Torres said.
"The gun?" Gibbs asked.
"A Taurus 905 revolver, which uses nine mills," Torres said. "Kasie should have it."
"Once I get him to Autopsy, I'll get the bullet to Kasie for comparison," Palmer said. Just before he loaded the body into his van, he spoke quietly to Gibbs.
"I spoke to my father-in-law. Took a little convincing, because he didn't understand the request, but with Breena's help, there'll be a lock on the inside of the bathroom door by tonight. I don't know how long this autopsy will take me, but my suggestion is bring Jane over tonight," Palmer said.
"You didn't talk to Langston?"
"Didn't get the chance," Palmer said.
Gibbs nodded. Then his phone rang. It was Kasie and Langston, and they had news.
"We got a name," Kasie said. "Brian Grady. He's a very big person of interest with the DEA, and just happens to have made several calls to and from the same number Agent Dawkins said belonged to Rocky, aka Richard Shephard."
"Th' guy's up t' his eyeballs in trouble, wit one thing or another, most of it drugs," Langston said. "Here's the kicker; th' head pharmacist? He's connected t' him by family."
"Why didn't the DEA pick up on this?" Gibbs demanded.
"I don't know. What we do know is Grady is the cousin to the brother-in-law to John Picken, the head pharmacist, who also happens to be one of the owners," Kasie said. "I think the DEA was looking at close in-law associations, not cousin-in-laws, which is a little further down the family line."
"Vital statistics records, fun stuff," Langston said. She groaned softly.
"Headache still bad?" Kasie asked sympathetically.
"I need t' think 'bout reading glasses iffin this keeps up," Langston said.
"Make an appointment with an optometrist," Gibbs said. "You got a location?"
"We might. We checked the file the DEA had on Grady, and got a couple of locations," Kasie said. "We can narrow them down if we can compare notes with Agent Dawkins."
"Let Monroe know. Have you had a chance to check out the gun from Mitchem's car?" Gibbs asked.
"That nasty looking revolver? Yeah, I'm running it through IBIS now," Kasie said. "Interesting thing; it had blood on the muzzle part of the barrel."
"We're bringing in a new body; compare the blood to him when he gets in," Gibbs said.
"Gotcha. Who?" Kasie asked.
"Shane Stevens. Someone put a nine mill though his head," Gibbs said.
"Ouch. An' I thought my headache was bad," Langston said.
Gibbs smirked as he snapped his phone shut, ending the call.
Later:
"Okay, with the exception of Agent Langston, who I still don't really care much for, I give you guys credit; you know your stuff. Thanks to you, we've managed to locate most, if not all, of the players in this game," Monroe said.
"You might want to say thank you to Langston for that; she found the connection in the first place, you know, the one that's going to help bring down the whole pharmacy," Kasie said.
It was late at night, and the team, plus Palmer, were in the bullpen with Monroe. Over the last several hours, between the DEA and NCIS, they had managed to close the fake drug making operation. The DEA was currently moving in to arrest John Picken and tear the pharmacy apart, Greene had begged for a deal when it was let slip that Mitchem had supposedly tried to have him killed, and Mitchem, himself, was looking at murder charges in the death of Stevens, as ballistics had come back a match to the gun that was in his car. Palmer's autopsy on Stevens', and Kasie's blood work testing had revealed that he'd been high on a mix of cocaine and Ritalin at the time of his death, plus enough caffeine in his system to amount to four or five large cans of high caffeine energy drinks.
Grady was the man with the connections, specifically to people like Mitchem and Stevens, and possibly dozens of others, and if the DEA could get Pickens to talk, they might be able to bring even more people down. And Richard "Rocky" Shephard? Well, he was about to get pulled over and arrested for drug-related charges. Agent Dawkins would also be arrested, and then his cover would be made to disappear into the system.
The missing hard drives from Stevens' place? Surveillance on Picken and Mitchem found that, just after the murder, Mitchem dropped off some computer equipment at the back of the pharmacy, equipment that was accepted by none other than Pickens. The agents who were about to raid the pharmacy had been instructed to look for the hard drives, as they were also part of a murder investigation, and the FBI Cyber Crimes unit really wanted a look at what Stevens had been up to.
Monroe grunted in acknowledgement, reluctantly.
"Here's the thing, pard," Langston said, crossing her ankles and her arms, as she leaned against her desk, "you don't have to like me. I ain't in this business t' make friends. I'm here t' do a job an' I aim t' do it well, fer as long as I'm able, an' given th' chance t' do so. An' if it means I gotta nut kick someone, t' git the job done, well, I have a pair of very comfortable steel toe boots tha' I'll be quite happy t' wear."
"What she said," Torres said, grinning. He was leaning against his desk, in the exact same pose as Langston.
"Understood," Monroe said, seeing the nods from the rest of the team. He left, with promises to stay in touch and follow up, so they could clear up their share of the paperwork.
"And we have another problem, Gibbs," Kasie said. "I checked the cameras around the locker room and we have a suspect."
"Boss?" McGee asked, confused.
"Someone tried to scare Langston while she was in the shower, and left some nasty words spray painted across the lockers, words that were specifically aimed at her," Gibbs said. "Who?" he asked Kasie.
"Someone by the name of Bernice Quigley, who works in IT," Kasie said, handing Gibbs a file. She had deliberately not put the person's face on the main plasma, until the rest of the team knew what was going on.
"What's her beef wit me?" Langston asked.
"She's buds Amanda Rinkles," Kasie said.
"Dale's ex-mattress? Again?" Langston asked, eyes wide.
"Umm, boss, how about we deal with Bernice Quigley and Amanda Rinkles, our way," McGee said, seeing the look in his boss' eyes, a look that usually meant trouble.
"Good idea," Palmer said. "In the meantime, Gibbs, you and Jane need to go visit a certain address."
"We do?" Langston asked, confused.
"We do," Gibbs said. "And you're driving."
"Umm, okay, I guess," Langston said, grabbing her coat, hat, and keys, and following Gibbs to the elevator with a puzzled look.
Palmer smiled and quickly sent Breena a message.
"What's going on, Palmer?" Bishop asked, curious.
"Breena and I finished renovating our basement, and turning it into a legal basement apartment," Palmer said, grinning. "For some reason, Gibbs wanted Langston out of her camper, fast, and even offered to pay me first month's rent and damage deposit if I would let Langston move in. He didn't say why and I didn't ask."
"I know why," Kasie admitted. "Let's just say Rinkles and Quigley may have dug up some very, very private information on Jane, things they had no business knowing about, and until Jane decides to publicly talk about it, I'm gonna respect her privacy."
"Fair enough," McGee said. "Now, what shall we do about those two, and this time we make sure they don't go after Jane again?"
"I have a few ideas," Bishop said, smiling slowly.
"Suddenly I'm very, very afraid," Torres said nervously.
As Langston and Gibbs drove through DC, with Gibbs directing Lanston, he asked her some questions.
"If you could get a place to rent, how would you feel about selling your camper?"
"I would consider it, t' the right buyer," Langston said. "Place's been my home fer a while, but it would be kinda nice t' have a place wit an actual, honest-t'-God bath an' shower, an' maybe a bigger kitchen."
"What about a fireplace?"
"Tha' would be nice, but places like that, they ain't cheap. Y'know somethin'?"
"I do. It's a basement apartment, newly renovated, belongs to someone we know," Gibbs said. "Only catch is, they have a kid."
"I can live with that, long as the rent's reasonable, an' they don' mind my weird hours, or th' guns."
"They already are," Gibbs said. When they got to the address, which was a nice, two-story house, with a walkout basement, Gibbs made a call. "We're here. Okay." He hung up. "We can just go right in."
Curious, Langston followed him. The basement was a walkout, with a tiled kitchen area that opened up to a living room with a nice fireplace and wood floors. The windows were big enough to allow for sunlight and an escape, but still allow for privacy. The bedroom had an interior door with frosted glass panels, and was big enough for a king-size bed with room to spare. There was no closet, but a Closetmaid set along one wall could take care of that. The bathroom was nice, and even had a full-size bathroom, complete with sliding lock on the inside of the bathroom door. The washer and dryer were hidden in a cabinet in the kitchen, which had all the major appliances, including a small dishwasher and built-in microwave. The walls had been painted a nice, neutral color and the kitchen cabinets were a nice, warm color.
Gibbs could see it in Langston's eyes; she liked the place, a lot, especially the fireplace.
"I don' have any furniture, an' my bed's parta th' camper," Langston admitted.
"Sell the camper. I know someone who would make you a very good offer; use the money from that to get yourself what you need, and I know plenty of places that will have what you need, without breaking your wallet," Gibbs said. "You are going to have to invest in a gun safe, but again, I know someone."
"An' a rifle rack," Langston said thoughtfully.
Gibbs grinned. "You want to meet the landlord?"
The landlord was a cheerful Breena Palmer and her daughter, Victoria. Also there was Ed Slater, her father.
"Jimmy mentioned you, said you had gotten shot in the line of duty and were living in a camper behind NCIS," Breena said, smiling at Langston. Victoria, who was familiar with Gibbs, smiled shyly at her.
"I was, an' I am," Langston admitted. "I also work a lotta crazy hours."
Breena smiled. "I've been married to Jimmy for over nine years, and known him for nearly twelve. I'm also a mortician. My hours aren't exactly normal, either. As for you being a federal agent, I know that means guns, and while freely admit I don't like them, I know they're part of the job. All I ask is that you be responsible about it."
Langston smiled. "I can make arrangements for a gun safe, if tha'll help."
"It would. Otherwise, if you don't mind Victoria, or my family, we're all good, and you can move in whenever you want," Breena said. She told the agent the rent, and Langston's eyes went wide. Then she was reaching inside her coat for a pen.
"Where do I sign? An' who do you know tha' wants a 2015 fifth wheel camper, complete wit hidden rifle rack?"
Gibbs grinned and got out his cellphone.