Gibbs and Tony had just spent four hours in MTAC, participating in an unbelievably unhelpful series of video conferences and phone calls. They'd talked to the police chief in Ohio who had run the original case and then the prison warden in Philadelphia, which is where Trey had been sent at the request of his father. The police chief had no further information to impart, but the prison warden had spoken well of Trey, in general. Over the past few years, Trey had helped other inmates study for their GEDs and had been instrumental in updating the prison's computer lab, but the warden also mentioned that Trey was known for having a temper. The first few years he was in prison, Trey was disciplined dozens of times for mouthing off to guards or inciting fights in the exercise yard. But about eight years in, after he lost his final appeal, his lawyer had urged him to shape up, and by all indications, he did.
Next, they got in touch with Trey's parole officer, who had put out his own BOLOs on the man when he missed his initial appointment. The officer promised Gibbs any help he could provide in tracking Trey down and getting him back into the system, but had no manpower and no budget to do more than just make the offer.
Gibbs and Tony had spoken to two different prison psychiatrists, both of whom had weighed in on Trey's parole and found him fit to re-enter society. Not "totally rehabilitated", one of them had stressed, but "not deemed an imminent threat either." Tony had crushed his coffee cup and thrown it across MTAC in response.
Finally, they had spoken to three separate assistants – business, personal, and social – to manufacturing magnate William Thompson Delray Jr., all of whom insisted that their boss had not heard from his son since he was released. Delray Jr. himself called them back after they spoke to assistant #3 to confirm this, and had willingly offered both his private and business phone and e-mail records, along with any other paperwork they might need. Delray Jr. remembered the rape trial well, and was still under the impression that his son had been falsely accused and wrongly convicted. In his mind, Jess and Tony were the ones who should have been punished. He went into a short tirade about the DiNozzo family having paid for the conviction by influencing a judge, and did not lighten up even a little when Gibbs made it clear that a DiNozzo was listening.
"Nice guy," Gibbs said, after they got off the phone with Delray Jr.
"Yeah," Tony said, with a smile and a shake of the head. "Just like I remember him. My father is suddenly not looking so bad."
Gibbs looked at him with raised eyebrows.
"He may have yelled a lot … and totally humiliated me from time to time …," Tony said. "And he may have cut me off when I was twelve..." He stopped in confusion, not entirely certain of the point he was trying to make.
"But he always had a reason, however … obtuse?" Gibbs offered.
"Yeah," Tony said, looking over at Gibbs. "Thanks, Boss. I wasn't quite sure where I was going with that."
Gibbs chuckled.
"The guy still won't ever win 'Father of the Year'," Tony began again. "But …"
"Stop talking, DiNozzo," Gibbs said.
"Yes, Boss."
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Meanwhile, McGee had reached Adam Carmichael in Grand Rapids. Carmichael maintained that he had not heard from Trey in over 15 years – he'd heard from him for a year or so after Trey was first put in prison, but the Carmichaels had moved four times since then, and hadn't had any further contact. Carmichael had also not spoken to Neil Jacobs before he died or to Mark Torrington. He said that everything he knew about the original attack on Jess was already part of court record. When asked about the attack that had put him in the hospital for six weeks, Carmichael had said, quietly, that he'd gotten what he deserved. Gibbs had ordered a basic monitoring of Carmichael's phone and e-mail, to see if he tried to get in touch with Trey after the conversation with McGee, but it was doubtful they'd find anything. No one really believed that Carmichael was a key player – or a player at all – in any of this.
Abby had processed all of the evidence that Tony and Jess had collected and had come up with only two prints that were unaccounted for. One of them ended up belonging to the florist who had sold Trey the flowers; the other belonged to the sporting goods clerk who had sold Trey the lacrosse ball. All she got from the note was proof that it had been printed the same day it was left behind, but she couldn't find anything about the paper or ink that was in any way remarkable.
Ziva had also run into one dead end after another as she tried to track Trey's movements once he left prison. He'd obviously made it from Pennsylvania to Alaska in a very short amount of time, but there was no paper trail at all. If he flew or drove or took a bus, there was no record of it, and the only person the local LEOs could find who even recognized his photo was a clerk at a dollar store in Barrow where Trey had purchased some greeting cards, gloves, and two rolls of duct tape. The clerk remembered him as being unusually polite, but somewhat uncomfortable around people.
Ziva had just hung up her phone after talking to the clerk when she heard Jess' frustrated growl from Tony's desk.
"How can one person cover his tracks so completely?" Jess asked, to no one in particular. "He's traveled cross-country twice in two weeks, and there is no record of it anywhere!" She slammed her fists onto Tony's desk in frustration.
McGee looked over at Ziva. "Maybe you guys should, um … take a little break?" McGee said, ignoring Ziva's incredulous look. "Go downstairs for a cup of tea or something?" There was no response. "Ziva?" McGee prompted.
Ziva sighed. She hated being a "people person."
"Come on, Jess," Ziva said, trying her best to be supportive. "McGee is right." She shot a look to McGee that made him quickly return to his computer screen. "We need a break."
Jess looked up at Ziva, and Ziva met her eyes, with an expression that indicated that this was a mandatory, not voluntary field trip. Jess sighed.
"Yes," she said, defeated. "Tea. Of course." The two women walked to the elevator, and McGee was both relieved that he could work in silence and slightly fearful about what Ziva was going to do to him for having made the suggestion.
Tony and Gibbs were waiting for one last phone link in MTAC before calling it a day. They were trying to reach the warden at the prison in Ohio where Mark Torrington was still an inmate. The connection had been giving them trouble all afternoon due to a batch of severe thunderstorms in the Midwest that were taking out phone lines left and right. As they waited for the storm system to move through, they both took a break to stretch and refill coffee cups. Tony ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes, tiredly.
"So…" Gibbs began. "You and Jess go back a long way?"
Tony nodded. "I can't remember a time when we weren't friends. We did everything together. I took a lot of heat as a kid for spending so much time hanging around a GIRL." He screwed his face up into a relatively accurate representation of a fourth-grade boy looking at the opposite sex with disgust.
"Yes," Gibbs laughed. "'Cooties' – I remember." Tony chuckled.
"We were each other's fallback on everything – homework, alibis, advice. We were the lords of the playground in grade school – spent more time in the principal's office than in class. And then in junior high, she made sure I passed algebra, and I made sure she passed US History." Gibbs looked at him with raised eyebrows. "We were studying the Civil War," Tony said, with a shrug. "In high school we got each other through more bad dates and break-ups than I care to think about." Tony blew out a breath. "And then in college …" he smiled a small smile. "Well … you've heard the college highlights." He worked another kink out of his neck, before looking up, thoughtfully. "She saved my life once."
"I've got the warden, Agent Gibbs," the communications tech interrupted. Gibbs filed Tony's comment away to ask about later.
"Warden Stone," Gibbs said, putting his headset back on. "How's the weather in Ohio?"
"'Thunderstorms are us' tonight, I'm afraid," the warden replied. "What can I do for you?"
"We're looking for information about one of your inmates – Mark Torrington. He was incarcerated about eighteen years ago."
The warden chuckled. "I know him well," Stone said. "He was a jackrabbit … a runner. We had to keep him on a pretty tight leash."
"Was?" Tony asked. "Is he not there any more?"
"Oh, he's here," the warden said. "He just doesn't try to run any more. The last time he broke out, he was supposed to take some messages with him – gang orders from one of our lifers – and pass them on to lieutenants on the outside. When he got caught, as he always did, our guards found the messages on him. Torrington offered to provide names and places to the local police and their gang squad in return for a more lenient punishment. Didn't make Mr. Torrington too popular with the rest of the prison population. He's been in solitary – for his own protection – for the past three years."
"And how's he been, since that happened?" Gibbs asked.
"Model prisoner," the warden replied. "We haven't had a problem with him. He should be out of here in another 12 to 18 months."
"Does he have any visitors – get any phone calls, e-mails?" Tony asked.
"I can send you a log," the warden said. "But there's not much on it. His sister stops by once a year, and he calls his parents once a week on Sundays. That's pretty much it. The only Internet sites he accesses are sports related."
"Thank you warden, we appreciate that," Gibbs said. "One last thing … does the name William Delray or Trey Delray show up on any of Torrington's paperwork?"
There was silence as the warden scanned the documents. "Nope," Stone said. "Nothing other than the original arrest warrant. I'll send that along too. Is there anything else you need?"
"No, sir," Gibbs said. "Thank you for your help. I'll get you an e-mail address for those documents."
"10-4," the warden said.
"You think there's anything there, Boss?" Tony said, as they both took off their headsets and collected the few notes they'd taken.
"I doubt it," Gibbs said. "If every gang in the Midwest is mad at this guy, it's not likely that he'd find any help on the outside for getting a message through to Trey. McGee can go through the phone and e-mail logs to see if there's something there, but my gut tells me that Trey's doing this on his own."
"Yeah," Tony said. "That's what I get too."
NCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS
Ziva and Jess were sitting in the cafeteria, drinking tea and not talking, when Ducky walked in. Both women's faces lit up a bit when the coroner arrived.
"Ducky!" they exclaimed in unison, each one glad to have someone else to talk to.
"My goodness," Ducky replied with a smile, "I haven't received a welcome like that since the morning I vacated my tent on the island of Pago Pago and saw fifteen virgins waiting for me."
Jess laughed, and Ziva smiled. "Perhaps you can relate the details to Jess, while I go check on Abby," Ziva said, standing to leave. She smiled sweetly. "I'll be back in … oh … an hour or so."
"Perfect!" Ducky said. "That will be just enough time." He sat down as Ziva headed to the exit. Jess chuckled and shook her head.
"What is so funny, my dear?" Ducky asked.
"Well," Jess said, as she glanced back to watch Ziva leave, "I'm not sure what they call it in Israel, but in the US, it's called 'payback'." She shifted her attention back to Ducky. "So," she said, "tell me about Pago Pago."
Back upstairs, Tony and Gibbs came out of MTAC to find McGee and Ziva both working at their desks, finishing up some tasks and stacking files.
"Uh … Ziva?" Tony asked, with his eyebrows raised and a glance over to his desk. "Where's Jess?"
Ziva looked up. "She's in the cafeteria having tea with Ducky," Ziva said, with an innocent expression. "When I left, they were talking about the virgins of Pago Pago."
"You are an evil woman, Ziva David," Tony said, with a half-smile.
"She started it," Ziva replied, under her breath.
