Tyler Strathford, his mind brimming with ideas, had headed back to his office, promising to stay in touch with them about his new plans for the former Wentworth site.
Robbie Everest was quickly found by the local cops, hanging out on a street known for prostitutes, watching the women with a predatory look on his face, according to the officers who brought the teen in.
"Watch him, and if you can bust him for something that'll get him off our streets for a while, we'll owe you," one officer said. "He's the kind of kid that will eventually go after women when they won't give him what he wants."
"Noted," Gibbs said, as McGee and Torres escorted a sullen Robbie to an interrogation room.
Before they'd even left, Robbie spoke.
"I want a lawyer," he said. "I don't know why I'm here, but I'm not saying anything without a lawyer. I know my rights."
"You're here because you're a suspect in a murder investigation," Torres said. "And we have evidence that puts you with our victim."
Robbie scowled. "Lawyer. Now. And my mom."
"Oh, trust me, kid, we'll be bringing her in too," McGee said.
"Why?" Robbie demanded.
"Because she's also a suspect in our investigation, and, in fact, our primary suspect," Torres said.
"She didn't do nothing! You leave my mom alone! You leave her alone, or I will hurt you so bad!" Robbie yelled, lunging at them from his seat, causing both McGee and Torres to grab him and force him down.
"Sit down and shut up!" Torres snapped, digging his fingers into the nerve point on Robbie's neck, causing the teen to yell in pain. "Now, you listen, and you listen good, you little pervert. We have you in our victim's car. Word is, you're a regular Momma's boy, and what that means is when Mommy says jump, you don't even ask how far, you just jump. So if she tells you to help her move a body, hey, Mommy wants, Mommy gets."
"Hey Torres, don't forget, he asked for a lawyer, so we have to stop questioning him," McGee said easily, seeing the evil look Robbie was giving him.
"I'm not questioning him," Torres said. "I'm telling him. We have him for obstruction of justice, and I'm sure we can come up with one or two more things, things that will have you in adult court before you can even say boo! Bye-bye Mommy dearest."
And Torres was on the floor, with Robbie's hands around his neck, yelling in rage while McGee tried to get him off.
"That was stupid, man, stupid!" Torres snapped, when they finally got the teenager off and cuffed. "You can sit in a cell for a while, cool your head off."
"No one insult my mom! No one! You're dead, dead, dead!" Robbie yelled, as he was hauled off by several other agents, who had come running at the sound of the yells.
"And that was stupid," McGee said to Torres, as they left the interrogation room.
"Yeah, I know, but now we know he's a loyal Momma's boy, which means if she says, he'll do, and he was strong enough to haul Petty Officer Scotto's body," Torres said, rubbing his neck.
"Point," McGee said. "I just hope a lawyer doesn't try and accuse you of deliberately provoking him."
"Problem is, he was pretty easy to provoke, and that's the part that scares me about this kid," Torres said.
"You and me both," McGee said.
In the other interrogation room, Bridget was the opposite of her son; quiet and sullen. May had been brought into the conference room and was being watched by a homecare nurse that had been brought in, who had been warned that May could be quite verbally abusive. As for Twinky, he was currently riding with Langston and Kasie, after he had been successfully wrangled by Langston, whom, according to McGee, had a magic touch with the yapping dog.
"So, what happened, Bridget? Did Petty Officer Scotto confront you? Tell you he was going to dig up Amanda?" Gibbs asked.
"How many times do I have to tell you? Amanda was a stupid story made up to scare kids," Bridget snapped.
"Except she wasn't," Bishop said, laying a crime scene photo of Amanda's body on the table. "We found her. We also found Paulie Jackson and Julia Wentworth," she continued, laying more photos on the table. "All three victims died from head injuries, but our medical examiner thinks Julia was beaten to death, more so than Paulie or Amanda. After all, a seventeen year old girl is a little harder to kill than a three or five year old kid, isn't it?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Bridget said sullenly. "I don't know any Julia, and I don't know anything about Paulie or Amanda."
"But you know plenty about Petty Officer Scotto," Gibbs said, slapping the victim's service file photo down. "He confronted you at your house, the one you share with your foster mother, May Wentworth, didn't he?"
"I said I don't know him," Bridget snapped.
"You were in foster care with him," Gibbs said. "You might not remember him, but our witnesses sure as heck remember you."
"Then your witnesses are lying," Bridget fired back. "Just like they're lying about Amanda and May and Robert Wentworth."
"Four witnesses are all saying the same thing; that you're extremely loyal to the Wentworths, to the point you followed him back to the old Wentworth house to try and stop him from finding Amanda. You didn't want him digging up the past, or Amanda, whose death he witnessed. So you hit him, again and again, until he was dead, and you got your son, Robbie, to move the body."
"No, you're wrong," Bridget said, shaking her head. "I didn't do anything wrong, and neither did Robbie. That asshole, stupid idiot, was sticking his nose where it didn't belong. The Wentworths were good to me, and all those other kids, they were nothing but trouble. If May hit Amanda, maybe she deserved it, like they all did."
"Amanda didn't deserve to die, and neither did Paulie, or Julia," Bishop said. "No matter what they may have done, or what any of those kids had done, none of them deserved that kind of treatment that they got, from what our witnesses are saying."
"Then your witnesses are a bunch of liars, just like the rest of them!" Bridget snapped. "That little punk stuck his nose where it didn't belong, and I made sure he got the message across! The Wentworths are my family and I will do whatever it takes to protect them!"
"Including murder?" Gibbs asked.
Bridget swallowed hard. "I'm not saying another word without a lawyer."
"Good luck. You're going to need it," Gibbs said, gathering up the photos and putting them in the file, before slapping the file shut.
Outside of the interrogation room, Torres and McGee were waiting for them. "She lawyered up," Bishop said.
"No surprise," Torres said. "Her son did the same, after he tried strangling me."
At the looks from Gibbs and Bishop, both Torres and McGee nodded. "He did," McGee said. "Very protective of his mom, too."
"She says jump, he jumps, even if it's over a cliff," Torres said.
Gibbs got a thoughtful look on his face. "Where is he?"
"Currently sitting in a cell, cooling off," McGee said. "What are you thinking? He won't talk without a lawyer, and he's underage."
"So get him a lawyer," Gibbs said. "And then we turn him on his mom. Especially if he thinks he's facing serious jail time."
"I don't know how well that's going to work, considering how ape he went at the mention of never seeing her again," Torres said.
"I wonder what would happen if we were able to put a face to those skulls," Bishop said, tilting her head. "Bring them to life."
"You know a forensic artist who can work fast?" Gibbs asked.
"As a matter of fact, I might have heard of someone," Bishop said. "She works for the Jeffersonian, and I've seen her work."
"Get ahold of Langston, boot her over there," Gibbs said.
Bishop called Langston.
"Her name is Angela Montenegro, no apparent relation to Tommy Montenegro," she said. "She's a forensic facial reconstructionist, who works at the Jeffersonian, and we're hoping she can put a face to our victims."
"Email th' photos t' me, an' I'll head over as soon as I drop Kasie off," Langston said. "Twinky's still at th' groomers, an' they said they would call me when they're done."
"Any luck with the fireplace?" Bishop asked.
"Scrubbed clean, from th' looks of it, but Kasie found blood trace in th' floor around th' fireplace. She's gonna work her magic at th' lab an' go from there," Langston said. "She also took lots of pretty pictures of th' thing, t' compare it against our vics. Might be nothin', might be somethin', an' right now, that's better than nothin'."
"I hear ya. Give me a sec, and I will send you those photos," she said, heading for her desk to do exactly that.
"How ya makin' out wit th' Everests?"
"Robbie tried to attack Torres, after Torres taunted him about his mother. And Bridget tried to claim our victims deserved what they got, without actually admitting to anything. Oh, and they both lawyered up."
"Urgh," Langston groaned. "Okay, I will let you know what happens, but do we still need those snare poles?"
"Can you make one strong enough for an angry sixteen year old who looks like he got hit by the back end of a bus?" Bishop asked.
"I'll talk t' the guys at the hardware store," Langston said easily, causing Bishop to laugh.
"Okay, they're sent," she said. "Keep us posted."
"Wilco."
A short time later:
There was a knock on the frame of Angela Montenegro's door; she looked up and spotted a woman in a tan cowboy hat, tan Carhartt coat, burgundy Washington Football Team shirt, jeans, brown boots, long black hair pulled back, and a visitor's badge clipped to her coat. On her hips were a holstered gun and a gold badge.
"Can I help you?" Angela asked.
"Angela Montenegro?" the woman asked.
"That's me."
The woman held up a black badge holder and flipped it open, showing an identification badge, and then a gold badge that matched the one on her hip. "Special Agent Jane Langston, NCIS. Word is yer a hella forensic artist."
"I have my talents, yes," Angela said, coming closer. "You have something for me?"
"I have three skulls tha' need faces, iffin y' wouldn't mind. Our medical examiner was able t' determine their ages an' genders, an' one we're fairly sure 'bout, but we'd like t' verify. They're in my email, since I got asked t' come yer way when I was on th' road."
"Okay, well, we can access your email from here, and I'll see what I can do," Angela said. She went over to the Angelatron and Agent Langston followed her. After accessing the Net, she handed the agent the keyboard, and Langston quickly accessed her account, pulling up the email and the attached files.
Angela found herself looking at crime scene photographs of three skulls. Two were very small, causing Angela's heart to whimper. She pointed to one of the photos. "There's something not quite right about this one."
"If it is who we think it is, she had Down's syndrome," Langston admitted. "Estimated age is 'bout five. We believe her name was Amanda, no known surname."
"Just a little girl," Angela said.
"This little feller is estimated t' be 'bout 'tween two an' a half t' six years, but a source says he may have been three when he died," Langston said, pointing to the second small skull. "He was last seen wearin' a blue He-Man an' th' Masters of th' Universe shirt, which we found 'im in. DNA says his name was Paulie Jackson, an' he was th' little brother of Lance Corporal John Jackson."
"And this one?" Angela asked, indicating the last photograph.
"Sources say she disappeared when she was seventeen. We found her in a green dress. Again, we have a pretty good idea who this one is, but, again, askin' fer verification. Iffin it is who we think it is, her name was Julia Wentworth"
"Understood. Have you identified the cause of death?"
"So far, wit th' alla 'em, it's blunt force trauma. Our medical examiner thinks Julia was beaten t' death."
"Oh my god," Angela moaned softly. "How did you find these poor kids?"
"My team is investigating th' murder of a petty officer, an' so far th' evidence is pointing t' someone he knew while he was in foster care. We found 'em buried at a house he was fostered at, where he claimed t' have witnessed th' murder of Amanda when he was a tyke 'imself. Other evidence says those three kids weren't th' only victims, an' our file on these particular foster parents is at least an inch thick," Langston admitted. "We're also looking at th' caseworker, as we suspect she may have deliberately turned a blind eye."
"Oh god. Okay, I will do my best to get these taken care of as quickly as possible," Angela said, saving the photos to her files. "Is there some way I can contact you once I'm done?"
Langston took out a white business card from a metal wallet inside her jacket, and handed it to her. "We're in th' Navy Yard. If I ain't there, ask fer my boss, Special Agent Gibbs."
Someone, a tall man with dark brown hair starting to show signs of silver, and wearing a suit with an unusual belt buckle, stuck his head in the office. "Hey Ange, you get those results yet?"
"I did. Booth, this is Special Agent Jane Langston, NCIS. Jane, meet Agent Seeley Booth, FBI," Angela said, introducing the two agents. "Jane's team is investigating the murder of a petty officer, and they found some bones that need faces."
"Was it at that house on Cedar Street?" Booth asked.
"It was," Langston said.
"Heard about that. Good work there," Booth said.
"Thanks, but we ain't done yet. An' on tha' note, I best be gittin'," Langston said. "Keep me posted, an' good luck wit yer case." She nodded politely at them, and left.
"Okay, I'm curious," Booth said, joining Angela in front of her computer screen.
"Three victims, two of them under the age of five," Angela explained, as she quickly got to work. "I don't know why NCIS is investigating, but I'm sure they have their reasons."
"NCIS handles the Navy and the Marines, so they must have another victim who's either Navy or a Marine," Booth said.
"Now I'm curious," Angela said.
An hour later:
"She's good. Email says these are the preliminaries, and she'll drop off some better sketches later," Langston said, reading her email.
A public defense lawyer was on the way for both Bridget and Robbie, both of whom were being kept separate for now.
Twinky was now sound asleep under Langston's desk, and also wore a head and body harness, in case Langston had to suddenly grab him. He had shown some signs of being emotionally neglected, as he was very eager for the attention Langston, and anyone else, gave him.
"You know, if this goes badly for the Everests and May, you could always adopt Twinky," Bishop told her.
"No go. I'm not home that often, an' I ain't got the patience t' try an' break 'im of his barking thing. A cat, maybe, or two, but not a dog. Maybe even a fish tank," Langston said. "Maybe. Anyway, here we go."
She sent the file photos Angela had sent her, to the plasma and the team gathered around it.
"I'm impressed," Gibbs said. On the screen were three faces, one that matched the last known photograph of Julia Wentworth. The other was a little boy that matched the boy in the photograph Lance Corporal Jackson had sent them. The third face was a beaming little girl with wavy dark blonde hair.
"According t' Angela, since we didn't know th' victims hair colors, she based her assumptions on her personal an' professional expertise," Langston said. "She also double checked wit someone named Dr. Brennan, who is, apparently, a noted forensic anthropologist an' specializes in crime victims, like ours."
"Print them up, and bring in the Everests," Gibbs said.
"What about the blood evidence Kasie found on the fireplace floor?" Torres asked.
"Our victim is Petty Officer Scotto," Gibbs reminded them. "If May did kill Amanda, and possibly those other two kids, we will deal with her, but right now we focus on Petty Officer Scotto."
"I would not recommend Torres talking to Robbie, not after what happened the last time," McGee said. "I would also highly recommend we have some serious muscle in the room, or at least nearby, in case he decides to attack again."
"He might respond better to a female presence, but that whole sexual predator thing's kinda got me concerned," Bishop said.
"He's also a kid," Torres said.
"A kid who still has rights," Langston reminded him. "Blow that wit th' lawyer, an' everythin' else gets blown."
"So how do you suggest we approach him?" Gibbs asked.
"Honestly? I have no clue. I've tangled wit a lotta suspects, but this Robbie is a whole 'other ballgame," Langston admitted. "Most of my suspects have been either kids wit no full understandin' of the law, stupid, or jest plain arrogant. Robbie Everest, he's a stick o' dynamite waitin' t' go off, an' all we know fer sure is he's got a temper."
"We also know he's loyal as hell towards his mom," McGee said.
"We approach with extreme caution," Gibbs said. "He's a kid. Show him the evidence, turn him against his mother. Langston, you're in the room, but stay behind him, and keep a pair of cuffs with you in case he fights. Bishop, you and me. McGee and Torres, Bridget Everest is yours. Get a DNA sample for Kasie to compare to, and check her hands. We stay in touch."
"If we can't get Bridget, what about Robbie? He's her son, which means familial DNA," Bishop pointed out.
Gibbs nodded. "Langston, do you know how to do DNA evidence collection?"
"Yes sir," Langston said. "I'll go see Kasie and meet you in the room," she continued, grabbing her hinged cuffs, which were in a case, and hooking them to her belt, where she could grab them fast. When it came to someone like Robbie, intimidation might be the name of the game, and they all knew it.