Chapter 21

Gibbs was sitting there, actually fuming a little bit. People had been worrying about Tim for months, and now, apparently, someone knew where Tim was and wasn't telling. He knew that the police had to honor the requests when it was an adult who was missing. People were allowed to leave others if they wanted to, so long as no laws were being broken. Gibbs knew that, but it just rankled.

So why was he just sitting here? He knew that it was a person who ran a local grocery store who had told the police where Tim was. There weren't many grocery stores around here. Surely, he could find which one. He was good at reading people. He could figure out which one had made the report even if every single one of them denied it.

He pulled out a map of Maine and began to look at the small towns in the area. He jotted down the names of them based on how close they were to Tim's address. Tim would likely have found a place to shop that was close to the house he had purchased.

Gibbs looked over his list and then decided he needed some extra help. The two people he would automatically call on couldn't help him. Abby was dead and Tim was the one he was trying to find. He took a breath and hesitated. He was still struggling with knowing that the lab wasn't Abby's anymore, but he still needed help, and he just needed to do it and stop worrying about it.

He pulled out his phone and dialed.

"This is Oliver Felt, how can I help you?"

Such a formal greeting. So different from Abby. Gibbs firmly shoved that thought away and focused what he needed.

"It's Gibbs," he said shortly.

"Oh, Agent Gibbs. What can I do for you?"

"Can you tell me which of the towns in this area have grocery stores?" Gibbs asked.

"Of course. Can I ask why?"

"Police called me and said that McGee is here somewhere but he doesn't want to talk to anyone. They said that one of the grocers told them. I need to find him."

"So you're going to talk to every grocer in the area?"

"Yes."

"Okay... that could be a lot."

"I'll give you the list."

"List?"

"Based on where the house is. McGee wouldn't want to have to go too far to get there, especially not in the winter."

"Gotcha. Well, lay it on me and I'll check it out. Can I send you the results in an email or do you need to have me call back?"

"Email is fine."

"Okay."

Gibbs gave the list of about ten towns, all within twenty miles of Tim's house.

"Got it. I'll do this right now. You should have a list within half an hour, Agent Gibbs."

"Thanks."

Gibbs hung up and then sat on the bed in the motel he'd chosen. There had been no options really close to Tim's place, but since he obviously wasn't there, that didn't really matter. Gibbs just knew that he didn't want to be in Augusta, where he'd flown in. That was too far away.

The question was how combative he was willing to get with the person who was apparently deliberately not sharing where Tim was. Gibbs knew that he could be way more abrupt than he should be, often than he had any right to be, but he couldn't get that box of paper out of his mind, the absolute confirmation that he had screwed up so incredibly badly with Tim that he had been stuck in that mind set for nearly a year and apparently had no one to help him with it.

He had to do something now, and he hated that there was a person keeping him from doing that.

He just had to sit here and wait.

But Oliver was true to his word. Twenty-five minutes later, he got a ding stating that he had an email. He pulled it up and was grudgingly impressed. Oliver had not only got him the information on the grocery stores, he had marked each one on the map and provided directions on how to get to each to place.

Gibbs didn't even hesitate. He went to the front desk and got permission (and help) to print off the map and then he headed out to his car. As he got in the front seat, he paused and then pulled out his phone once more and called.

"Hi, Agent Gibbs."

"I got your list. Thanks."

"No problem. I hope you find him."

"I will."

Then, Gibbs hung up again and started the car. He spent the next several hours driving around to the various grocery stores, talking to the owners and to all the staff at each store. Pretty much half of his time was just spent driving. Sometimes, "all the staff" meant one other person who helped out on occasion, but he talked to them all. And he was striking out. None of them hedged. All of them tried to be helpful. None of them were... except as a name to strike off the list.

However, he kept at it. He had promised to find Tim and he was going to, no matter what it took to accomplish it.

He stopped in front of one of his last stores. If he struck out here, he'd be grasping at straws for the last two. They were further away and just hadn't seemed as likely. This was his last likely option.

He took a deep breath and walked into the store. There was only one man there, behind the counter. He was very large, over six feet and strong if Gibbs was any judge. The man glanced up.

"Hi," he said. "You on vacation?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. The man smiled.

"I make a point of recognizing people. Keeps me in business. I don't recognize you."

"Jethro Gibbs," he said.

And there it was. A flicker. This man had heard his name before, and it wasn't from the police.

"Doesn't sound like a Maine name," he said.

"Nope. If you remember everyone you meet, then, tell me where this man is," Gibbs said, holding up a picture of Tim.

There was another flicker in the man's expression, only this time, it was regret. It was gone as quickly as the first flicker had been.

He looked up and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"The police already asked me about him. Who are you to be asking me again?"

"I'm the one looking for him," Gibbs said. "I'm also a federal agent."

The man looked unimpressed.

"Well, I haven't committed a crime. This is my property and you have no right to come in here and demand that I hop to. So if you have a question, you can try again... when you feel like being polite about it. For now, I have work to do."

Then, the man actually walked away from him. Gibbs was so surprised that for a second, he couldn't think of how to react to it. It was rare that someone could take him by surprise. Most people were intimidated by him, and this man wasn't at all. Of course, it helped that this man was obviously much bigger and could probably pound Gibbs to a pulp if he so chose. However, more importantly, Gibbs could see no sign of guilt. He knew Tim. That much was obvious, but he wasn't guilty of anything. That meant Gibbs would have to change his approach...which admittedly was probably the wrong one anyway.

He took a breath and let it out quickly. Then, he walked over to where the man was stocking a shelf. He glanced at Gibbs but said nothing.

"Look," Gibbs said, "he's been missing for almost a year. We're worried about him. His parents have been scared of what happened to him. He wasn't in his right mind when he left."

The man looked at him again.

"If you knew that, then, why did you let him leave? That doesn't seem to show too much concern."

Gibbs hated sharing personal information about himself. He didn't like letting people know his feelings or who he was. It was a way of weakening his position. However, he could see that his usual methods wouldn't work on this man.

"Someone was killed. We didn't even realize he'd left until he'd been gone for more than a day."

"Why not?"

"Because he shot someone and that meant he couldn't be a part of the case. I sent him home. I shouldn't have, but I did. I wasn't thinking about him. I was only thinking... about Abby. I'd worked with her almost since I'd started my job and... and it was hard to watch her die. But it was hard for Tim, too, because they were really good friends, and I just didn't think about him."

The man still didn't seem to be relenting, but a conversation was happening, even if he wasn't outright admitting to knowing where Tim was. This was the best chance Gibbs had and so he kept up with it.

"So why are you here?"

"To find him," Gibbs said.

"Yes, but why you? Why not family? Why not close friends? You work with him. Why you?"

"Because I need to talk to him."

"Why?"

"That's really not your business," Gibbs said. "You haven't even admitted that you know where he is. You run a grocery store. What gives you the right to decide whether or not I see someone I've known for more than four years?"

The man finally stopped pretending to stock the shelves. He turned and faced Gibbs directly.

"I have the right because of what I've seen. What you haven't seen, I have. You haven't seen him drinking himself drunk. So drunk that I found him passed out on the floor of his house where he'd been for at least a day. You haven't seen him drinking to get away from the pain of what happened. You haven't seen him so terrified of causing someone harm that he literally ran away from a minor accident. You haven't see him completely break down and start screaming about never letting anyone help him ever again because it leads to death. You haven't seen him fall apart again and start sobbing just because he broke a lamp. So I don't care what right you think you have. You haven't been here for him. I have, even when I had no idea what to do. I was still trying. How long did it take you to start trying to find him?"

Gibbs was shocked by what this man was telling him. He had been able to tell that Tim was in a bad way. But drinking himself into a stupor? Screaming at someone? Sobbing? This was way beyond what he had expected. Tim was so restrained most of the time. To hear someone describe his behavior as something so extreme was shocking.

Then, the man spoke again. "Why are you here? Why you first? What do you plan on doing? Tim said that he was sure that you would insist on being here first, and he thinks the only reason for that is because you'll want to lecture him. Is that what you're planning on doing?"

Gibbs wanted to just say no, but at the same time, he could see himself giving in to his tendency to want people to get over things without having to discuss them.

"I don't know," he admitted.

Then, the door to the store opened.

"Well, you need figure it out before I let you anywhere near Tim. He said he didn't want to see you and I have no interest in going around what he says he wants unless I can trust you. And right now, I don't."

"Hey, Mark. My order in yet?"

The man who must be Mark gave Gibbs one last look and then walked away.

"I told you that I'd call when it was in, Van. Stop coming here to ask me about it."

"Well, maybe you'll forget."

"How could I? You've been so excited about it that I'm surprised you haven't spilled the beans to everyone in town, let alone to Jodi."

"That's why I want to know if it's here. I can't keep the secret forever. I need to know when I can start talking about it!"

"It's not here, Van. When it comes in, I'll call you. I promise."

"You'd better."

"I will. Now, either buy something or get back to work."

Gibbs heard the friendly chuckling. These were people who knew each other well. Whatever this Van was wanting to pick up, it was important but they both knew that Mark would take good care of it.

And Gibbs could see that this was a good man who had somehow met up with Tim and then chosen to try and help him. And if Tim was as bad as Mark was saying, then, he'd be very hard to be around, hard to deal with, and yet, for whatever reason, Mark had. These last few days, Gibbs had been thinking that Tim was all alone in whatever he was doing, but apparently, he wasn't. He had someone looking out for him and even if it was bad enough that Tim still was in need of help, he could have been much worse without that help.

Then, the door to the store opened and closed again and Mark walked back.

"So, you make a decision?"

"Thank you," Gibbs said.

"Huh?"

"Thank you. For taking care of Tim. No one else was here to do it, and we would have if we'd known where he was, even me, but I'm not good at taking care of people."

"Then, why are you here?" Mark asked.

"Because Tim being here is my fault, and I need to be the one to tell him that he shouldn't feel guilty about what happened to Abby. Whether it should or not, that will matter to him. He cares about what I think."

"You sure of that?"

"Yes," Gibbs said.

And suddenly, he was struck by a memory. It hadn't been a long time since he'd thought about it before, but it was back again.

"Why didn't you come to me?"

And Tim had tacitly apologized for what he'd done, but he'd been so different in that moment. He'd been worried, anxious and maybe even afraid of what might happen to Sarah, but he had simply stood there and explained himself. And at the end, Gibbs had known what Tim needed to hear from him.

"Apology accepted."

This time, the circumstances were different, but Tim needed the same thing. He needed to know that Gibbs didn't blame him. Maybe he wouldn't believe it. Maybe he'd pretend he didn't need that. Regardless, Gibbs knew that this was important. He wished that he could go back to that night and simply say, it's not your fault. Even if he had still sent Tim away from the crime scene, he could have said something that might have kept Tim from thinking he had to leave.

"Even if he needs others later, he needs to hear from me, and I need to apologize for not caring enough to help him in the beginning." He paused, not liking to ask, but seeing more and more that Mark wouldn't accept anything less. "Would you let me?"

Mark stood there, staring at him for a long time, but Gibbs had spoken more in the last few minutes than he usually did in a day, so he was out of words.

"I can't let you see him, not right now."

"Why not?" Gibbs asked, feeling a little more irritated.

"Because... I convinced Tim to go to a psychiatric hospital in Augusta and he's there until the beginning of next week. They're going to do an evaluation and if they think he's made enough progress, he'll be released and come back here. How long will you be here?"

"Until we get McGee back."

"Okay. My name is Mark Brown. I'm here every day. I own the store, but I've visited Tim a couple of times. Please, for Tim's sake, don't try to get at him while he's in the hospital. He really needs this right now."

Gibbs nodded.

"Where are you staying?"

"A hotel about ten miles south of here."

"Okay. If you're willing to wait until Tim gets out, leave me your number and I'll call you when I'm picking him up."

"Will you?"

"Yes, but if you do anything to make Tim feel worse, I'm not above giving you a smackdown, and that can be verbal or physical. Whichever is necessary."

"Understood."

"Good. Now, I have work to do, so unless you're buying anything..."

"Thanks."

Gibbs left the store. Part of him wanted to drive right to Augusta and demand they take him to Tim right then, but if he was really changing, he had to acknowledge that part of wanting to see Tim right away was because he wanted to feel better.

He'd wait if that would help Tim.

And just hope that it truly would.