Mentors Part II - Never Argue with a Gimme
Tony, Tim, and Ziva stood at the edge of the forest, looking through the trees. The full moon lit the entrance, but when they looked further in, all they saw was black. Tony and Tim wore their navy blue NCIS jackets over their rented suits, and Ziva was clad temporarily in a practical blue NCIS jumpsuit.
"I am going to kill Jen Shepard," Ziva muttered, her accent becoming more pronounced with each angry word. "Friends or not, her ass is mine," she hissed. Tony and Tim glanced at their friend and colleague. "You sound bitter," Tim observed, the light tone in his voice sounding forced.
"And you don't," Tony said, flatly. "She busted up your little sister's wedding, McGee. You should be more upset than this."
Tim turned his head and looked at first Tony, then Ziva. "Oh, make no mistake - I am pissed. I am very, very pissed." He sounded dangerously calm. "But the sooner we get this taken care of, the sooner we can leave. Anyway, Tony, if you've taught me anything, it's that revenge is a dish best served cold." Tony grinned at the evil gleam in Tim's eyes.
"Well, boys," Ziva said, sighing, "I suppose Ducky and Palmer should be here shortly. We should get going."
They heard someone approach from behind. "McGee, sketch. Tony, camera. Ziva, hold the flashlight for McGee."
Tim cleared his throat. "Uh, Boss… with all do respect, Ziva is better at ske…" he trailed off, and swallowed, as Gibbs glared at him. "Right. On it, Boss. Ziva, flashlight is in the bag."
"And what about you, Gibbs?" Ziva asked, a cheeky tone in her voice. Gibbs raised an eyebrow at her. "I'll be holding the flashlight for Tony."
Ziva waited until Gibbs had turned his back to her and headed into the trees, before softly giggling to herself.
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Jasmine sighed unhappily.
This sucked. Well, and truly sucked.
She slipped out of her dress, and into a set of scrubs, and an apron, leaving her elegantly done-up hair and makeup intact. She carefully slid a cap on her head, taking care to not ruin her spendy hairdo, and donned surgical gloves, as she heard the doors open, and a gurney being wheeled in.
She walked into autopsy in time to see Ducky and her husband, both looking decidedly unhappy, steer the body over to one of the tables.
"Not much of a start to our marriage, is it?" she said sadly. Jimmy smiled at her, regret and sympathy in his eyes. "Hey, at least you're almost a doctor too. You can help with this, so it's not like we have to spend tonight apart." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "It'll be fine, Jaz."
Ducky smiled regretfully at the newlyweds. He'd love to have a few words with Madame Director right about now, too.
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"Gunnery Sergeant Adam Winslow. He hasn't even been reported missing yet," Tony said, hanging up his phone. He, like Tim and Gibbs, sat at his desk, still dressed to the nines. He reached up and undid his bow tie, leaving it hanging around his neck. Not surprisingly, Gibbs had done the same, but Tim had not.
Old habits died hard, he supposed. Probie would probably always be anal about his work dress.
Tim looked up from his computer, still looking very, very pissed. He frowned and looked over, as Ziva entered the squad room. Like Jasmine, she had changed her clothing for the purpose of work, but unlike the bride, she had since changed out of the jumpsuit and back into her black cocktail bridesmaid dress, her hair and makeup remaining as it had looked at the wedding. "Ducky and Palmer have sent DNA to Abby. She's working on it right now, but it does look like this is indeed Gunnery Sergeant Winslow."
"That was too easy," Tony grumbled. Nothing ever went that easily in this job. There had to be a speed bump somewhere.
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Ducky was frowning deeply. Something about this body was nagging at the back of his skull, and he couldn't figure out what, and why.
He looked at the assistant M.E. Jimmy was frowning too, although Ducky couldn't decide if it was distinct lingering displeasure at having his wedding interrupted, or if he was just deep in thought.
Jasmine stood off to the side, thinking. Something about this was bothering her, too.
She walked over to the table, and stared at the corpse of the dead Marine that lay before them. She picked up an instrument, and studied the wound.
"How long has he been dead?" she asked.
"According to liver temp at the scene, not more than 12 hours." Ducky stood quietly, listening and thinking. Suddenly, his blue eyes lit up as he had a flash of memory.
"Oh, my. Jimmy… Jasmine. Wait, just a moment," he said, as he scurried off to his office.
Jasmine raised an eyebrow and Jimmy looked slightly perplexed, as the newlyweds watched Ducky hastily depart. "I wonder what he's up to?" Jimmy asked, then turned his attention back to the body.
"Oh, Jaz… wait a minute… look at this," he said, his voice becoming slightly excited with realization. "This wound, it's familiar. Rare - I haven't seen anything like it since the first time, 5 years ago." Jasmine looked down, and her face lit up. She reached up and grabbed his face, planting a kiss on his lips that made his head spin. "Wow. I never got that kind of reaction before," he said, amused. Jasmine grinned, giddily. "Corkscrew anchor. I was here for that, remember? It was odd, and deadly, and probably hurt like hell. The night after we met, remember."
Jimmy reached out, grabbing Jasmine's face, and kissed her back. "You're a genius. Of course I remember! That's what I was thinking too. When Dr. Mallard returns, he can give us a third opinion. Unfortunately, that means we may have a bit of a problem, as far as this case goes."
Ducky returned suddenly, walking quickly back to the table, a file folder in his hands.
"Five years ago. We had a murder victim on our table five years ago who had remarkably similar wounds. And we determined that they had been caused by a corkscrew-style anchor."
The Palmers shared a look, then grinned at Ducky. "You think this could be from the same type of weapon?" Jimmy asked. Ducky walked over to the table, studying the wound carefully. Finally, he looked up and said, "Yes, Dr. Palmer. I believe it very well could be."
Jasmine nodded, satisfied. "Unfortunately, the man responsible for the murder 5 years ago is in prison. Is this a copycat?"
"I don't see how, Jasmine," Ducky said, shaking his head. "As far as I'm aware, the details of that particular case were never made public."
"What about an accomplice, then?" Jimmy asked.
Ducky simply shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Well, let's see what else we can find out, shall we?"
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Gibbs, Ziva, Tony, and McGee all looked up as a young lady suddenly appeared before them.
"I seem to be lost… could any of you tell me where to find the morgue?"
Gibbs levelled a steady look at her. "Downstairs," he finally said. "And you would need the morgue… why?"
The young lady cleared her throat nervously.
"Jaime Sutherland. I'm Dr. Mallard and Dr. Palmer's new assistant."
McGee looked up curiously, frowning slightly. "I thought you weren't supposed to start until next week?"
Jaime seemed on edge, but Ziva looked at her with a warm smile, trying to set her at ease.
The stranger sighed. "I wasn't supposed to start until next week. But Dr. Mallard called me and asked me to start tonight. He said that Dr. Palmer had somewhere else he really needed to be, instead."
"You could definitely say that," Tony said, grinning.
"If you don't mind my saying so, Sirs, Ma'am… you all seem a little… overdressed. Is the dress code in this place strictly black-tie or something?"
Gibbs smiled at her, for the first time since she'd arrived. "We were at a wedding. Dr. Palmer's wedding, in fact. We were called back here unexpectedly, Miss Sutherland."
Jaime blushed and giggled. "Oh, so THAT'S where he's supposed to be then!"
Tony and McGee shared a look, then glanced at Ziva. Ziva stood and extended a hand. "Officer Ziva David, but please call me Ziva. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Sutherland."
"I thought NCIS had Special Agents?" Jaime seemed confused. McGee stood next, and smiled, extending his hand as well. "We do. Long story. Special Agent Timothy McGee. Welcome to NCIS, Jaime. You can call me McGee, Tim, Timothy… just don't call me late for work."
Tony chuckled, and stood as well, extending his hand. "He's never late for work, Jaime. Sometimes he cheats and does it by just not leaving. Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. Call me Tony, or DiNozzo, whatever melts your butter."
Finally, Gibbs stood, and smiled warmly, blue eyes sparkling. "Special Agent Jethro Gibbs. Call me Gibbs, or Agent Gibbs, but do not call me Sir."
Jaime seemed more at ease suddenly. "I'd better get down to autopsy. Don't want to be late my first day."
"Actually Jaime, you're not late. You're early. By about 4 days, 5 hours, and 12 minutes." Tony winked at her.
Jaime laughed softly and shook her head, as she headed towards the elevator.
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Abby looked up from her microscope as she heard the lab doors open, and a soft feminine voice curse under her breath.
"Can I help you?" she asked politely.
"I seem to have taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque," the stranger laughed, nervously.
"You're going where exactly?" Abby asked her. The newcomer sighed with frustration. "Autopsy. I'm the new assistant."
"Oh," Abby's face lit up with remembrance. "Jaime Sutherland, right? I'm Abby McGee, Forensics Specialist. Welcome to my lair," she said, mysteriously.
"McGee? There seem to be an awful lot of McGees around here, Ma'am." Abby frowned briefly at this, then smiled slightly.
"Special Agent McGee is my husband. And Dr. Palmer married his sister today. And don't call me Ma'am if you want to live. Call me Abby, but do not call me Abigail. Only Ducky gets away with that."
Jaime's eyebrows raised quizzically. "Ducky?"
"Dr. Mallard. Everyone calls him Ducky. Except Jimmy."
"Jimmy?" Jaime's confusion seemed to deepen.
"Dr. Palmer. You'll get used to it. Anyway I thought you weren't starting until next week?"
Jaime sighed. "I wasn't. Dr. Mallard called me in to pinch hit. Said Dr. Palmer had somewhere else he needed to be. I gather this case cut in on his marital proceedings?"
"That, it did," Abby said, rolling her eyes.
"Well, pleased to meet you Abby," Jaime said, turning towards the doors. "I'm looking forward to working with everyone here."
"Seeya around, Jaime," Abby said, smiling and waving before turning back to her microscope.
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Jaime smiled. Finally, it looked like she'd arrived at her intended destination.
She walked through the doors and was met by three sets of eyes looking at her in shock.
"Jaime?" Palmer asked, confused. "What are you doing here? You don't start for another - "
"Four days, five hours, and," she checked her watch, "3 minutes. Ask Dr. Mallard."
"Miss Sutherland," Ducky said warmly. "Welcome to NCIS. Thank you for coming in on such short notice. I apologize for that, my dear. We seem to have some extenuating circumstances."
Jasmine looked up, smiling. "Does this mean we can go, Ducky?"
Jimmy grinned. "Dr. Mallard, that was sneaky. But thank you."
"Goodbye," Ducky said firmly, smiling broadly and waving Jimmy and Jasmine towards the door.
"Oh! You're Dr. Palmer's wife? And Agent McGee's sister?" Jaime asked suddenly. Jasmine turned and smiled warmly. "Yes, right on both counts. You seem to have gotten to know the gang in a short time," she laughed.
Jaime shrugged. "I took a couple of wrong turns getting here. I have to admit I was worried to arrive and see everyone dressed so formally. But Dr. Mallard was kind've vague with his reasons for wanting me to report to work so soon."
"Well Miss Sutherland, I suggest you get changed, I will fill you in on what we have sofar, and if these two young people would kindly leave and go home…" Ducky said, again waving towards Jasmine and Jimmy to leave.
"Right. See you tomorrow Doctor. Jaime, welcome to NCIS," he said, with a friendly welcoming nod towards their new assistant. Jasmine took his offered arm and the two happily departed.
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Gibbs was frowning. Ducky had sent a preliminary report up with Jaime, and he wasn't liking what it said.
"The details of that case 5 years ago were never released, Boss," McGee said, frowning. "Could it be that Branson had an accomplice?"
Tony shrugged and added, "But our investigation never turned up any evidence of an accomplice. Maybe just someone close to him."
"Have there been any recent releases from the prison, a fellow prisoner, cellmate perhaps, someone who might have known him there. He was the type to boast about his victims." This came from Ziva.
Gibbs glanced at McGee, who nodded. "On it, Boss," he said, turning to his computer, his expression one of serious concentration.
"Maybe not necessarily a fellow prisoner? Could be anyone who was within earshot of his bragging stories," Tony pointed out. "Prison employee, guard, maybe." Gibbs looked at him. "Right. On it, Boss," he echoed McGee. Tony turned to his computer as well.
"The only recent releases have been completed sentences for non-violent crimes," McGee said, looking up. "One for fraud, and two for insider trading. Certainly no paroled murderers. Oh, here's one parole on a marijuana cultivation charge."
Gibbs growled slightly as he tipped back his coffee cup and came up dry.
"Well, let's check them out anyway," he said, sounding annoyed. "Tony?"
Tony looked up. "There's quite a list here. I'm pulling up the list of guards and other personnel for the maximum security wing. Maybe we'll get lucky there."
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Abby was bounding around her lab, on her second Caf-Pow already since arriving from the wedding.
She was slightly startled when Ziva suddenly appeared.
"Hey Ziva," she said, her head bobbing in time to her music. Ziva smiled, "Anything on the DNA yet?"
Abby stopped her dancing long enough to lead Ziva over to her computer. "In five, four, three, two…" she said, pointing to her printer…
The machine hummed as it spit out a page.
Ziva giggled slightly as Abby retrieved the paper. "Two contributors. One is the vic. Maybe the other is your killer?"
The two women frowned. "That's too easy," Ziva said cautiously.
"Oh, come on, Ziva. You've been with us long enough to know by now that some cases are just a nice big fat juicy gimme. If that's the case here, I'm not arguing. McGee and I had plans for after the wedding anyway."
Ziva looked at Abby, eyes wide in mock fear. "STOP! I don't want to hear anymore!" She winked, then turned back to the paper. "No idea who the unknown contributor is then?"
"Well, I guess that's my next job. Finding out." Ziva nodded at Abby, then curtsied carefully. "I shall pass this information on to the guys," she said as she turned towards the doors.
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The team sat around a table in the break room, tired, cranky, completely lost in their own thoughts about the case.
McGee sat, elbows on the table, chin resting in his palm. His fussy bow tie was finally undone and draped around his neck, and Tony sat with his feet up on an unoccupied chair. Gibbs sat ramrod-straight in his own chair, fidgeting with his coffee cup.
"Theories," he finally said. Ziva shifted in her chair, thinking that a nice comfortable pair of sweats would be heavenly right about now. Maybe she could sneak into McGee's locker and steal his. She'd borrowed them before. Anyway, he was the only one she knew for sure took his gym clothes home to launder, after every single session in the gym. She shuddered to think about Tony's gym gear. She was startled back to reality when Gibbs cleared his throat, staring at her.
"Hold that thought," Abby said, sweeping in to the room. She sat down next to McGee and patted his arm comfortingly. This was turning out to be one hell of a long day.
"DNA from the unknown contributor has been identified. Belongs to Peter Branson."
Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Abby, please tell me you're joking."
"DNA doesn't lie, Gibbs."
McGee sighed at his wife. "Abs, honey, that guy has been in prison for nearly 5 years now. He couldn't have done it."
"Well, his DNA had to get on this guy somehow, Tim." McGee heaved a heavy sigh and groaned, as he let his head fall down on his arms, resting on the table. "Shoot me now," he muttered under his breath.
"Siblings?" Tony suggested.
"Clones," McGee said, lifting his head. Gibbs glared at him, until McGee finally said, "Identical twins are naturally occurring clones. Did he have a twin?"
"Not as far as we know," Ziva said. "Maybe our killer planted evidence? If he had access to Branson, he could have found a way. Stolen a hair from a brush, maybe, or found a way to acquire a blood sample for planting at the scene later?"
"The unknown DNA came from blood spatter on Winslow's jacket sleeve," Abby said. "It could have been planted. I'd have to look at the spatter pattern to determine how it got there. It's really hard to fake authentic spatter. If it was planted, I'll know it."
"What about a sibling, not necessarily a twin?" Tony asked. Ziva looked at him questioningly. "The DNA would have alleles in common but not be identical," McGee pointed out. "Unless," he shrugged, seeming to toy with the idea in his head before vocalizing it, "unless something happened, like maybe a bone marrow transplant or something? That would give them identical DNA, provided of course, our sample came from blood evidence."
Tony turned as Faith appeared in the doorway, two four year olds in tow. "Not finished for the night yet, huh?" she asked, regretfully. Tony shook his head sadly, then held out his hand. JT left his mother's side and went to him, and Tony lifted his tired son into his lap.
"Come on, baby girl," Abby said, holding out her hand to Caitlin. The tired little girl went to her, and crawled into her lap, where she promptly fell asleep. Faith sighed, tired, and sat down next to Tony, pushing his feet off the chair.
McGee looked over at his daughter, and reached over, absently fussing with one of her ringlets. He seemed lost in thought for a moment.
"Abs, did you run tox on the unknown blood contribution?" he suddenly asked, turning to her.
"No, why?" She thought for a moment that she might know where he was headed with this, but wanted him to lead the way.
"If it was a stolen sample from Branson, it would have to be treated to keep it from clotting, right?" Tony asked. McGee grinned at him, and nodded affirmatively. "Exactly," he said, pointing at his older colleague. "You know, Probie, it scares me how much we think alike sometimes." McGee rolled his eyes at Tony. "Tell me about it."
"What would they have around a prison, or any place where a lot of people live? A lot of people who produce a lot of garbage? Especially if it's an old building." Gibbs was boarding their train of thought now too.
"Rat poison," Ziva said, her dark eyes lighting up triumphantly. McGee nodded. "Rat poison is an anti-coagulant. It's accessible to staff, in fact, it would be up to maintenance to use it."
Abby smiled, then gestured McGee to relieve her of their sleeping girl. He smiled as he quietly arose from his chair and gently lifted Caitlin from Abby's lap then sat back down, settling her on his own lap. Abby arose and said, "I'll get right on that," as she departed for the lab.
Ziva smiled, tired. Maybe Abby was right. Maybe this case would be a gimme after all.
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Abby reappeared in the break room, finding everyone fast asleep at the table. She shook her head and resisted the urge to make a loud noise. She didn't want to wake up Caitlin and JT, too. She thought to herself that she really should have brought Bert with her. Nothing like a good, resounding faux-fart to get everyone's attention.
She went over to Tim and blew in his ear until he woke up. He inhaled sharply as his eyes flew open, and his head snapped up. "Wha…?" he said as he was startled back into consciousness.
She went over to Tony and pinched his nostrils shut, until he choked and coughed, and his eyes opened as well. He frowned at Abby as she went over and gently nudged Gibbs awake, followed by Faith and Ziva. "They get a gentle little wakey wakey, and I get my air supply cut off. Nice Abs. Real nice."
Abby ignored him, and announced her results. "Traces of sodium hydroxide."
McGee raised an eyebrow. "Sodium hydroxide? Not raw rat poison then. Warfarin, from the prison infirmary maybe?"
Tony took a deep breath. "Someone with access to the infirmary and pharmacy, that might narrow it down, if that's where it came from. That would also explain how they laid their hands on Branson's blood, in the first place."
"So maybe we've got it narrowed down to someone from inside the prison," Gibbs said, yawning. "I want possible siblings looked into, but I think our main focus should be the prison itself, where Branson is incarcerated."
He looked around at his team. "I think we've done all we can tonight. Good work guys," he said, rising from his chair. "We'll pick up where we left off, in the morning."
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Ducky arrived in autopsy at his usual time, and was somewhat surprised to see Jimmy already there.
"Back again so soon?" Jimmy looked up. "Oh, good morning, Dr. Mallard. Yeah, I thought the sooner we got this case wrapped up, the sooner Jaz and I could leave on our honeymoon." They both turned as Jaime entered the morgue, smiling her greetings.
"Good morning, Jaime," the two men said in unison. Jaime waved at them as she headed in to change into a set of scrubs.
"She's punctual, off to a rather good start, I would say," Ducky observed thoughtfully. Jimmy grinned, shaking his head, and turned back to the report.
"I see Abby ran tox on the blood spatter found on the jacket sleeve," Jimmy said. Ducky walked over and nodded. "Yes. She found traces of an anti-coagulant. She's still analyzing the spatter pattern."
"She thinks it might have been planted," Jimmy stated simply. "That would explain Branson's DNA when it would be physically impossible for him to commit the murder."
"But, why would the killer try to set up someone who couldn't possibly have done it?" Jaime asked, as she strolled over towards the small desk.
"Most criminals aren't always that intelligent, Miss Sutherland," Ducky said. "In fact, the perfect murder is more an urban myth than anything. Every criminal leaves something of themselves behind at the scene of their crime, and takes something from the scene away with them. In fact, as a perfect example, I remember a case, back when…"
Jimmy cringed inwardly. To subject their new assistant to Ducky's stories, or not to subject her to Ducky's stories… that was the question.
After a moment's thought, he decided he just didn't have the heart to do that to her. Not on her first full day, at least.
"Um, Dr. Mallard, did you find anything else out, about the COD?" Ducky looked at him suddenly, and in true Ducky form, immediately changed the subject to the present task at hand. Jimmy gave Jaime a look that said, "I'll explain later," as Ducky said simply, "Yes, Dr. Palmer, we did. The fatal wound is remarkably similar, but it is flawed. We believe it was a blatant attempt at a copycat crime."
"Different, how so?" Jimmy asked. Ducky looked at Jaime, gesturing her to continue the explanation.
"Dr. Mallard and I noticed the direction of the wound path. Not unlike trajectory with a bullet, that would tell us from what angle and position it was fired from. The point of entry and the path itself on your first case, 5 years ago, angled downward. In this case, it angled upward."
Jimmy nodded thoughtfully, glancing at Ducky, and then back at Jaime. "Branson is right handed, hence the downward angle of the original path. You think the killer this time may be left handed?"
Jaime exchanged a look with Ducky, then turned back to Jimmy. "Yes, Sir, we do," she said.
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"She's a quick learner, Jimmy, but my God, the girl could talk the ear off an elephant." Jimmy chuckled softly at this, coming from Dr. Mallard, of all people. "I'm used to it, Sir."
He thought back to when Officer David had arrived. She had given Agent DiNozzo a run for his money. Whereas Agent Todd had merely rolled her eyes at some of his more juvenile antics and walked away, Officer David stood her ground, and fired the smartass remarks right back at him. So, perhaps this would be his own poetic justice of sorts, although he had to admit that, thanks to Dr. Mallard's rambling anecdotes, he rarely lost a game of Trivial Persuit anymore. In fact, he had become so used to the stories over the years, that he had come to appreciate them, and rather enjoyed them now. Clearly, they were an acquired taste.
Now, all he had to do was convince Jaime to not call him "Sir." He still felt like a kid himself most of the time. He was too damned young to be called "Sir" by anyone, least of all a fellow adult, not that much younger than himself. No, let Ducky keep that honoured title for himself. He didn't mind.
His attention returned to the task at hand, as Jaime returned to autopsy from running an errand. "Jimmy, hand me the forceps," Ducky said, suddenly. "What does that look like to you?" He turned the lit magnifying glass so that Jimmy could see through it, to study something of interest embedded in the winding wound path. The young M.E. looked up and grinned. "Now, how did that get in there?" He handed the instrument to Ducky and turned the glass back to him, and the older man grinned as he extricated the object in question from the wound.
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"It's fake. False. Bogus. Fraudulent. Hinky in every sense of the word."
Gibbs and Tim looked at Abby as she stood before them in the squad room, hardly surprised at her conclusion regarding the blood spatter.
Tim shook his head. "Why the hell would the killer try to frame someone who couldn't possibly have done this?" Gibbs grunted. "We're not exactly dealing with a criminal mastermind here, McGee. I want you at the prison. Take Ziva with you," he said, as he turned to leave. "I want names and background checks on every person who would have any reason to be in the prison infirmary."
Tim glanced at Ziva, who reached into her desk to retrieve her weapon, readying herself to go.
Abby watched them leave, and turned to leave herself, almost running smack into Jaime.
The morgue assistant was nearly breathless. "Abby, Dr. Mallard and Dr. Palmer found this. They almost missed it, but damn, those guys are good."
Abby took the small evidence jar from Jaime and looked at it, eyebrow raised. She grinned broadly as she signed the paper on the clipboard that Jaime held for her. "Gotta love a gimme. I'll get right on this," she said, as she headed back to the lab. "Tell Gibbs to get Tim and Ziva to collect DNA while they're at the prison," she called over her shoulder.
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"We have DNA from a third contributor," Abby reported giddily. "A hair found embedded in the wound, tag intact."
Gibbs grinned. Never argue with a gimme.
"I started with the southpaws," she said, her expression turning serious, as it always did when she had a report to give. "Based on what they found out in autopsy, it seemed the most logical way to go about it."
Abby paused for dramatic effect, while four sets of eyes drilled into her. "I got a match."
She handed the report to Gibbs, who glanced down at it. He studied it a moment, then looked up again. "Ziva, Tim. Back to the prison. Bring in Kenneth Decker for questioning. Tony, go with them. I want you to retrieve the pharmacy logs. Find out if there's any warfarin that's suddenly unaccounted for."
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Tony, Tim, and Ziva stood outside interrogation, observing through the window.
The more they saw and heard, the less impressed they were with Kenneth Decker's criminal prowess.
"This guy couldn't fart his way out of a paper bag," Tony said, with a snort.
"Mmmm," Tim mumbled in agreement. "There's no way he's smart enough to have engineered a copycat and frame-up."
"And how do you know that he isn't just playing stupid?" Ziva asked, a bit of a skeptical tone in her voice.
"Gut feeling," Tony said, while Tim said, "Experience." Tony glanced at Tim. "What he said too," he conceded. Ziva smiled, seemingly satisfied with their answers.
"Perhaps we're going about this the wrong way," Ziva suggested. The guys turned and looked at her, curiously.
Ziva's face took on a thoughtful look. "We've been approaching this from two different avenues of possibility - that he's either an accomplice, or a copycat." Tim raised an eyebrow. "Maybe he's neither." Tony nodded, thinking. "And what does that leave us with?"
"Student, and mentor," Tim said. "That could explain a few things that don't add up, considering how inept this guy seems to be." Ziva sighed. "Student, and mentor. I think, perhaps, Branson has been grooming Decker. To pass on the torch, to pick up where he left off, when he was caught five years ago."
They watched and listened as Gibbs expertly interrogated Kenneth Decker. They heard him confess to stealing from the infirmary pharmacy, and writing off the missing warfarin as expired and destroyed. They listened as he admitted that Branson had approached him, asking him to do a favour. When Decker said that he had initially been hesitant - something that the Officer and the two Agents suspected was him trying to minimize his involvement and cover his own ass - they noticed him glance off to the side, fabricating a story about being blackmailed into it. They might not have been trained profilers, but Tony and Tim remembered the basic lessons that Kate had taught them, and Gibbs had learned through years of interrogating suspects. They grinned, and exchanged high-fives, as the bumbling criminal stumbled his way through a confession that just confirmed what they had already figured out.
And they couldn't wait to inform Gibbs that they already knew.