"Grab your gear. We're going out."
The words, as always, came with no explanation. Kate and Tony dutifully hiked their bags onto their backs and headed toward the car, knowing better than to question an order.
The crime scene was the usual circus of police, MPs, and even an ambitious reporter or two. The NCIS team fought their way inside the small base-housing unit, flashing their badges as required. Finally arriving at what was apparently the master bedroom, they were greeted by a grisly sight. A woman lay on the bed in an unnatural position, her head twisted too far in one direction and a bruise developing on her jaw. She was covered completely, except for her head and hands, by her clothing: a sweater and jeans.
"That's weird," Kate commented.
"What?" Tony inquired, snapping photos.
"It's the middle of June. Why was she wearing a sweater and jeans?"
Gibbs didn't answer. Pulling on a latex glove, he stepped to the side of the bed and rolled up one of her sleeves. Kate gasped; Tony swallowed hard before taking a couple snapshots. The woman's arm was covered in bruises in varying states of recovery. There was hardly a patch of healthy skin to be seen.
Kate glanced at Gibbs. His jaw was set as he took measurements, his eyes narrowed. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure this one out.
When Tony went out to talk to the police, Kate stepped closer to Gibbs. "You gonna be okay?" she asked softly.
"Yeah," he answered, his voice dangerously low and laced with anger. "Soon as we lock the bastard up for good."
Tony came back into the bedroom. "Police have the husband in custody. Lieutenant Weylin Brinkley. They suspect –"
"Daddy?" a small voice interrupted. The three whipped around. A small boy, perhaps six or seven, stood in his pajamas in the doorway. Gibbs approached him, smiling gently.
"What's your name?"
"Peter," he answered shyly, promptly sticking his thumb in his mouth.
"Hi, Peter. I'm Jethro. Can I talk to you outside?" The boy nodded, his thumb still firmly in his mouth. Gibbs guided the boy out the door, careful to block his view of the body.
Kate and Tony exchanged glances before finishing up their processing of the crime scene. By then, Ducky had arrived and was making his preliminary analysis.
"Where's Gibbs?" he asked. "For once I can approximate the time of death and he's not even here to ask."
"He's," Tony started, before realizing he didn't know where Gibbs was.
"He's talking to the son," Kate provided.
"Still?" Tony asked incredulously.
"Yes, Tony, some people can have conversations lasting longer than two minutes."
"Whaddaya got, Duck?" came the familiar voice.
"Jethro! Just the man I wanted to see. Well, the bruising is definitely pre-mortem. Quite old, in fact. It appears she was struck repeatedly over a long period of time, years maybe. The only one that's really of our concern is this one, on the jaw." He gestured toward it. "I'll have to get inside to know for sure, but it appears something or someone applied such a force to her jaw that it broke her neck."
"Time of death?" Gibbs asked, his usual casualness only slightly missing.
"Aha! That I can actually tell you this time! Given the development of the bruise on her jaw, the relative body temperature and the status of rigor, I'd say about no more than 12 hours."
"Thanks, Duck. Bag her up." Gibbs led Tony and Kate back to the car.
"What's up with the kid, boss?" Tony asked on the drive back to headquarters.
"Heard his parents fighting last night. Hid under the bed. Cops didn't see him when they took Lt. Brinkley downtown, so he finally crawled out to see what we were up to."
"Does he know?"
Gibbs stared out the window for a few seconds before responding. "Yeah," he said quietly, then added, "You always know," so softly that they barely heard.
The words, as always, came with no explanation. Kate and Tony dutifully hiked their bags onto their backs and headed toward the car, knowing better than to question an order.
The crime scene was the usual circus of police, MPs, and even an ambitious reporter or two. The NCIS team fought their way inside the small base-housing unit, flashing their badges as required. Finally arriving at what was apparently the master bedroom, they were greeted by a grisly sight. A woman lay on the bed in an unnatural position, her head twisted too far in one direction and a bruise developing on her jaw. She was covered completely, except for her head and hands, by her clothing: a sweater and jeans.
"That's weird," Kate commented.
"What?" Tony inquired, snapping photos.
"It's the middle of June. Why was she wearing a sweater and jeans?"
Gibbs didn't answer. Pulling on a latex glove, he stepped to the side of the bed and rolled up one of her sleeves. Kate gasped; Tony swallowed hard before taking a couple snapshots. The woman's arm was covered in bruises in varying states of recovery. There was hardly a patch of healthy skin to be seen.
Kate glanced at Gibbs. His jaw was set as he took measurements, his eyes narrowed. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure this one out.
When Tony went out to talk to the police, Kate stepped closer to Gibbs. "You gonna be okay?" she asked softly.
"Yeah," he answered, his voice dangerously low and laced with anger. "Soon as we lock the bastard up for good."
Tony came back into the bedroom. "Police have the husband in custody. Lieutenant Weylin Brinkley. They suspect –"
"Daddy?" a small voice interrupted. The three whipped around. A small boy, perhaps six or seven, stood in his pajamas in the doorway. Gibbs approached him, smiling gently.
"What's your name?"
"Peter," he answered shyly, promptly sticking his thumb in his mouth.
"Hi, Peter. I'm Jethro. Can I talk to you outside?" The boy nodded, his thumb still firmly in his mouth. Gibbs guided the boy out the door, careful to block his view of the body.
Kate and Tony exchanged glances before finishing up their processing of the crime scene. By then, Ducky had arrived and was making his preliminary analysis.
"Where's Gibbs?" he asked. "For once I can approximate the time of death and he's not even here to ask."
"He's," Tony started, before realizing he didn't know where Gibbs was.
"He's talking to the son," Kate provided.
"Still?" Tony asked incredulously.
"Yes, Tony, some people can have conversations lasting longer than two minutes."
"Whaddaya got, Duck?" came the familiar voice.
"Jethro! Just the man I wanted to see. Well, the bruising is definitely pre-mortem. Quite old, in fact. It appears she was struck repeatedly over a long period of time, years maybe. The only one that's really of our concern is this one, on the jaw." He gestured toward it. "I'll have to get inside to know for sure, but it appears something or someone applied such a force to her jaw that it broke her neck."
"Time of death?" Gibbs asked, his usual casualness only slightly missing.
"Aha! That I can actually tell you this time! Given the development of the bruise on her jaw, the relative body temperature and the status of rigor, I'd say about no more than 12 hours."
"Thanks, Duck. Bag her up." Gibbs led Tony and Kate back to the car.
"What's up with the kid, boss?" Tony asked on the drive back to headquarters.
"Heard his parents fighting last night. Hid under the bed. Cops didn't see him when they took Lt. Brinkley downtown, so he finally crawled out to see what we were up to."
"Does he know?"
Gibbs stared out the window for a few seconds before responding. "Yeah," he said quietly, then added, "You always know," so softly that they barely heard.