Tony didn't know how long he had slept. There was no time inside the cavern, no sun rising or setting, no birds chirping their morning songs. He couldn't tell how long he had been lying in the same position because his body ached all the time. He noticed marks in the wall and realized that they were marks left by the pickaxes of the old miners. They had to be at least twenty or thirty years old. Tony closed his eyes and tried to imagine what life was like back then. He found himself humming, and then he began to sing the words.
"Heigh ho, heigh ho, it's off to work we go." His whistle wasn't very musical, but it conveyed the rest of the melody. Tony started chuckling to himself. He remembered going to see Snow White and the Seven Dwarves with one of his nannies. Sometimes he felt like Snow White, but that was silly, he wasn't a princess, he was a little boy. Maybe he was the handsome huntsman. Yeah, that was more like it, he was the handsome huntsman.
Gibbs would be Grumpy. McGee was Bashful. Ducky had to be Doc, who else would he be? Abby, that was easy too, Abby was Happy. What would that make Ziva? There's no way he'd call her Dopey, he liked living, thank you very much. Sneezy? No, that wouldn't work. She would either have to be Sleepy or Sneezy, or share the name of Grumpy with Gibbs. If Kate were alive she'd be Sneezy. He wondered how Kate and Ziva would get along, if they would get along.
He missed Kate. He wouldn't trade having Ziva around, but he wished Kate was still there, too. She was so much easier to get to; Ziva was too much like him. He hoped she got her paperwork straightened out; he'd hate to see them deport her.
Tony coughed, doubling over in pain trying to brace his ribs. The cold, damp air was getting to his lungs. If he didn't die of dehydration or starvation he'd probably die of pneumonia. Shivering, he curled up as tightly as possible to keep warm and feel asleep.
Gibbs and Ziva had made their way along the small roadway that served as the Hicksville's 'main street,' talking to everyone they met. No one admitted to seeing Tony, no one said more than two or three words to them, if they spoke at all. They just looked at the picture and shook their head.
"This is going nowhere," sighed Ziva, leaning against the car, frustrated. "Do you really think that the Sheriff has something to do with Tony's disappearance?"
Gibbs' cell phone rang, he answered it in his usual manner.
"Boss," McGee's voice came crackling through the line, "I found out some more about the Sheriff's Department."
"Go ahead, McGee."
"I spoke to one of the people who filed a complaint about excessive force. A Joshua McHenry. He moved out of Dawson County after the incident. He says the Deputy by the name of Luther Johnson is a real psychopath; he gets off on power. I looked into Johnson's background and he was in the Army Special Forces with Nelson, but he received a dishonorable discharge for almost killing his lieutenant in a fight. McHenry says he's got a quick temper and he's very protective of his sister, Sally. She's a waitress at the local diner."
"The waitress at the diner is Deputy Johnson's sister?"
"Yeah, and she's also Sheriff Nelson's girlfriend." McGee confirmed.
"Tony must have caught their eye when he flirted with the sister," Gibbs speculated.
"You think Tony flirted with… what am I saying, this is Tony we're talking about. Is she pretty?" McGee asked.
Gibbs chuckled wryly. "With Tony, does it matter?"
"What do you want me to do now, Boss?"
"Get down here. Talk to the Director, tell her to send Lewiston and Rodgers and their teams."
"You want me to tell her?" McGee sounded nervous.
"Yes, McGee; explain what's happening, tell her about the Sheriff and his deputy and get down here with more agents."
"On my way, Boss." McGee hung up.
"McGee's coming down?" Ziva asked.
"Yeah." Gibbs looked around, distractedly. "Something isn't right about this town. The people aren't unfriendly, they're afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"Afraid to talk to us," he said, thoughtfully. "They could be afraid of what would happen to them if they told us anything."
"If someone knows what happened, but they're afraid to talk to us, how do we get them to not be afraid?" Ziva asked.
"I'm not sure," Gibbs said, his eyes on a bench in front of the hardware store. An old man was sitting there, talking to himself, but he was staring straight at Gibbs and Ziva. Motioning for Ziva to stay with the car, Gibbs walked over and sat down next to him.
"Yellow is too bright for this room, need something softer, cooler… maybe blue," the old man mumbled. "Honey tastes good, mix it with lemon, pour it over biscuits. Millie made good biscuits, best in the county. Clem can't make 'em, his are like rocks."
Gibbs sat quietly, looking around casually.
"Don't mess with the girl, he gets mad, real mad. Don't even talk to her. She's a she-devil, she'll tempt you. She likes to see him mad."
"Who gets mad," asked Gibbs softly.
"My Emma made a good rhubarb pie. She's gone now, long gone. No one makes rhubarb pie no more, just apple, sometimes strawberry."
Gibbs waited patiently.
"The two of 'em, both of 'em, they're evil. He killed someone just for saying hello to her. Slit his throat. She thought it was funny. They're bad, stay away."
"Did you see this man?" Gibbs showed the man Tony's picture, but he didn't look at it.
"My boy's gone now. Went over to fight in the war and came home in pieces. Killed Emma. Wish it'd kill me, but I'm still here. I'm still here. You talk to those two. They know what happened. Maybe he's dead too. Maybe he's in pieces."
The old man started mumbling incoherently, his eyes closing as he drifted off to sleep. Gibbs sighed and stood, returning to the car.
"Did he tell you anything?" Ziva asked.
"He tried to, in his way. I think he knows something but he's so far gone he can't articulate it coherently. One thing I did get, though, the Sheriff and his deputy know what happened to Tony."
"Let's go talk to them," Ziva said.
"We will, just as soon as McGee gets here," Gibbs said firmly. "We'll talk to the two of them and the waitress."