AN: First, this chapter has been ready for a few days, but I saved it for today because it's my mom's birthday, and she's been a big Breathe fan from the start. Happy Birthday, Mom! Second, I spent some time a couple of weeks ago figuring out every scene for the rest of this story and I've been chipping away at them. I still plan to finish writing this by the end of the year, but the posting will probably carry into January because I haven't been writing in order. In fact, the final scene in the story was finished last week, so really not in order.
Chapter 14
"Boss, you see this email from Ducky?" DiNozzo said, then head-slapped himself as McGee laughed.
Gibbs lifted an eyebrow and waited.
"He looked into the potentially gaslighting petty officer over the weekend, pulled social media profiles of people the sailor knows, looked at what was out there for the potential victims," DiNozzo said.
"And?"
"Nothing, Boss," McGee said. "He suggested the petty officer probably should get a psych eval, but from what he could find on the dependents who died, they all had some suicidal ideation before they met him."
"McPsych is right, Boss," DiNozzo said. "He's attracted to the crazy ones, but he's not modeling himself after Charles Boyer's character. He's just got weird taste in dates."
"Tony, I have weird taste in dates," McGee said, smirking. "He has serious mental health issues."
"Hey, I resemble that remark," DiNozzo said, head-smacking his husband. "Not nice, Probie."
Gibbs knew that look on McGee's face and he was not about to have some HR weenie writing them up for sexual harassment. "Don't answer that, McGee," he said. "Just- Don't." He heard muttering from Wilson and Cooper, and stared at each of the four in turn. "Cold case is no case, so what else ya got?"
"I've got some suspicious DNA," Abby said as she walked into the bullpen. "I need a team to reopen the cold case, though."
"Ya got one, Abbs," Gibbs said. "Talk." But when she motioned for them to follow her, he did, the three younger agents and the intern trailing behind like bickering ducklings.
When they reached the lab, he headed for the plasma, only to watch as Abby led the way into her inner office. He looked at Tony, who shrugged, and they all followed her. When she closed and locked the sliding glass door, his gut started churning.
"You found something," Tony said.
"She said that upstairs," Wilson replied.
"No, Tony means Abby found something about the real reason for the cold case contest," McGee said.
Gibbs moved so he could see all four of the other agents and lifted an eyebrow.
"Hey, don't glare at them, Gibbs," Abby said.
"Not just them," Gibbs retorted. "Does somebody want to fill me in, or is DiNozzo here going to get a concussion from the mother of all head-slaps."
"Not nice, Gibbs," Abby said.
He listened as DiNozzo, McGee and Abby filled him in. At least Wilson looked as confused as he did.
"So what does the DNA have to do with your theory?" Gibbs asked when they were done.
"It matches another case in the system," Abby said.
"Another cold case?" McGee said.
"No, one we solved," Abby said.
"So why didn't this one get closed then, too?" Wilson asked.
Abby crossed her arms. "Because the case agent never ran the DNA through the system," she said.
At the babble of voices, Gibbs whistled. "Explain."
"Why he didn't do it?" she said. "I have no idea."
"So what do you know?" McGee asked, sounding as frustrated as Gibbs felt.
"CODIS was created in 1990 by the FBI as a pilot project," Abby said. "It wasn't until 1994 that Congress passed a law allowing the creation of a national database, and it wasn't completely in place until 1998."
"The military databases weren't added to the list until 2003," DiNozzo said. "Before that, we could only use them to identify bodies."
"Right, so there were a bunch of years where DNA could be used, but things were fuzzy about whether you had to."
"Why wouldn't you?" Dwayne asked.
"DNA takes time," Gibbs said. "In the beginning, not everybody trusted it."
"Precisely," Abby said. "So this rape and murder case from 1998 had plenty of DNA evidence. The perp wasn't shy about leaving his DNA behind on the petty officer he killed at Camp Pendleton. But the case agent didn't request DNA testing. He investigated for a few months, between other cases, before classifying it as a cold case."
"And if he had run the DNA?" McGee asked.
"Two weeks after he killed the petty officer, the perp left his DNA behind at a series of rapes in neighboring Orange County," Abby said. "The cops there uploaded the DNA and got a hit off a case in a small town in Louisiana from the previous year."
"A small town?" Tony asked. "Really, a small town was using DNA when the Navy wasn't?"
"Louisiana was the first state in the country to mandate DNA collection from arrestees, in 1997," Abby said. "The town was so small and the parish was so big, the state police did the investigating. The sexual assault charge didn't stick because the witness wouldn't testify, but the guy's DNA was already in the system."
"So if the case agent had run the DNA, he would have known who killed the petty officer," Wilson said.
"But he didn't, so the case went cold until Abby looked at it and ran the DNA from evidence in the file," DiNozzo said. He slammed his hand against the steel table. "This case was more than 10 years ago. Nobody thought to run the DNA before now?" He turned to look at Wilson. "Cold Cases never looked at it?"
"For a case like that with evidence that might have DNA, Jarvis usually focuses on the older ones, from before the time we could test for DNA," Wilson said. "Cases with DNA are flagged in the system so if the person is linked to another crime, it pings."
"Even a serial rapist wouldn't be in prison after a decade," McGee said. "And they don't usually stop just because they might end up back in prison."
Abby moved over to her desk and pulled up the DNA results. "Shanked in prison five years ago," she said.
"So there's nobody to arrest," Cooper said.
"No, but there's a family of a dead petty officer who thinks her killer is still out there," Gibbs said. "Good work, Abbs. Close the case, write it up. DiNozzo, call the family. McGee-"
"Work with Josh to see how the agent in this case fits into the information we've pulled so we can narrow down a target," McGee said.
Gibbs nodded. "Wilson, pull all the cold cases this agent worked and see if there are any other boneheaded mistakes in there."
He tossed his coffee cup in the trash. "Today, people." He walked out.
~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~
Sarah whistled as she restocked the bags of coffee and boxes of tea near the register during the mid-morning lull.
"You're in a good mood today," Michaela said.
"It's been a good week," Sarah said. For the first time in a while, she felt like that was more than a front to put up to keep her coworkers from asking too many questions about protective details and evil exes.
When she clocked out a few hours later, she still felt energized — well, except for her feet — so she settled in at one of the tables and pulled a notebook from her bag. It felt like weeks since she'd even looked at the notes for her novel, and as she started reading, she realized how flat it was. Not enough tension, the stakes weren't high enough, and her characters — well, they were better than Tim's, but still not great.
Flipping to a new page, she started over with a new character, hearing the woman's voice in her head as she scribbled. Before she knew it, even with multiple bathroom breaks, she'd filled four pages in her notebook, and jotting down ideas for what came next filled another three.
She yawned, and checked the time, then stuffed her notebook in her bag. If she didn't head out right now, the Metro was going to be full of rush hour traffic and she'd be standing all the way to Bethesda.
~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~
Vance's secretary didn't even bother to protest as Gibbs headed toward the director's office.
"I have a door for a reason," Vance said when he walked in.
Gibbs shut the door behind him. "Cold cases." He walked over to stand in front of the director.
"What about them?" Vance said.
"My team has a theory," Gibbs said. "They're not buying your cold case contest anymore than I did, and they've been working together."
"Those weren't the rules," Vance said.
"Not on the cold cases," Gibbs said. "They're trying to figure out why you've got them chasing cold cases."
"And you want to know if their theory's right."
Not for the first time, Gibbs thought a card game against Vance would be dangerous. Man had a solid poker face. "I can't back your play if I don't know what it is," he said. "Hell, I'm still not sure if I should be helping them chase down their theory or shutting them down so it doesn't jeopardize whatever you're planning."
"When I was a green agent, some things happened," Vance said. "Blown ops, you know how it goes."
Gibbs stayed silent, waiting for more.
"Somebody I worked with at the time, from another agency, he thought that people higher up the food chain than I was were behind it."
"Espionage?"
Vance shook his head. "Not that I saw evidence of. Then."
"And now?"
"Over the last year, I've been doing some digging," Vance said. "Many of the people who could have been involved, I've determined that they weren't, or that if they contributed to problems with any op, it wasn't malicious."
"Many. Not all."
"The ones that are left, they have clout," Vance said. "They came before us, built this agency into what it was."
"You're not worried about a rogue agent," Gibbs said.
"I wish I was," Vance replied. "All my suspects influenced the careers of many agents, and in most cases, trained many agents."
Gibbs felt like one of those cartoons with the lightbulb going off. "That's why the broad sweep," he said. "It's not one case or one agent, it's the pattern. You need these cases investigated again and solved because that's the only way you'll get the evidence."
"It has to be clear and convincing," Vance said. "To use a name that's not one of my suspects, it would need to be enough to bring down Tom Morrow."
"Mo-"
"No." Vance cut him off. "Not Morrow, not Nedrow, not any director in between," he said. "This goes high, but not quite that high."
"Deputy. Assistant. SAC." Gibbs spoke the titles. "Somebody who rose high enough to supervise many agents."
"Your team's the best," Vance said. "No question. If you were in charge, I'd have ulcers and half the staff would transfer to another agency, but I'd know the people who were left were as good as it gets. Let them investigate. Don't tell them what you know, but if you see them getting close to anybody that fits the profile, bring me in."
"Can I tell-"
"No." Vance cut him off again. "That's not me being a hardass, Gibbs, it's for their protection, and yours. Your team walks the line, and you're experts at knowing where it is and knowing exactly what you can do without raising eyebrows."
"But?"
"If somebody were to start investigating, they could stir up a lot of mud that might hurt the careers of all your people. Your team's the future of the agency. I'm not letting the past damage that."
~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~
With dinner prepared hours before Damon would be home, Ziva looked around for something to do before Sarah arrived. She was not quite ready to spend a lot of time with Sarah, but also did not want to hide. The German shepherd slurping his way through his water bowl gave her the answer. She changed into a pair of her running crops and a T-shirt so her scars would not attract attention and gathered his leash.
Jethro knew what that meant and was sitting in the mudroom with barely disguised impatience, his hindquarters wiggling. "Yes, McGee has trained you well," she said, clipping on the leash. He popped up to standing and barked. "Come, let us go to the park." She took a ball from the basket of his toys that lived there and they headed out.
As they walked over, children in the neighborhood stopped to pat him. A few even knew his name, and answered their questions, and turned down a few offers for him to come play. "Another day," she said.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she turned down a street with no children outside. Still, things had been fine. She had been fine.
When Ziva and Jethro reached the park, she could see immediately that there were younger children playing, some just at the point of walking on their own, but also parents, usually mothers. A few also had babies in strollers, and Ziva knew this had been the right choice. Jethro loved children and they loved him back, and here she could talk to them and their parents until that became comfortable.
She had not made it more than 10 feet into the park before a small girl with blonde pigtails toddled up. "Doggy!"
Her mother sat on a nearby bench, a baby strapped to her chest. In Israel, that sometimes meant a suicide bomber. Here, it just meant she could push her older daughter in a stroller while the baby snuggled. "Chloe!" she called.
Ziva smiled at the mother and knelt down, and gathered up the slack in Jethro's leash so he could not move more than a few inches. "She can come see him," she said to the mother. "Jethro likes children." Chloe ran over, almost crashing into Jethro. "Doggy!"
"Yes, this is Jethro," she said. "Your name is Chloe?"
"Ko-ee!" she said and reached out to pat Jethro. Her hands headed for his face, and Ziva intercepted them. "Pat him here," she said, directing the girl to his side. She patted him lightly, and Jethro barked. "See," Ziva said. "He likes getting pats."
"Mama, doggy!" Chloe said.
"I see," the woman said. "He's a big doggy, isn't he."
"He is big, but gentle," Ziva said. "Yes, your daddies trained you well," she said to Jethro, scratching behind his ears."
"We've seen him before," the mother said. "You're not usually with him, though."
"Oh, that is the dog walker," Ziva said. She stood and led Jethro, Chloe following, over to the bench so she could sit there. "We are usually at work," she said. "But I'm off for a bit, so Jethro was able to show me his favorite park."
"Boyfriend?" the woman asked. "I'm sorry, I'm being nosy," she said immediately. "You mentioned Jethro's daddy."
Ziva laughed. "Oh, no, they are friends of mine, honorary brothers. We traded apartments for a few months, and my landlord does not allow pets, so Jethro is living with his aunts for a while." He woofed at his name. "Yes, you like when all your daddy's sisters come to play with you," she said. It was not the truth, exactly, but it was easy to explain, where the truth was not.
They spoke for a few more minutes as Chloe hugged Jethro, but Ziva could sense the dog getting restless, and the baby was starting to make noises. "Jethro, say goodbye to Chloe," she said. It took a minute, but Ziva and the dog were able to continue their walk.
That had not been bad. It had not felt completely natural, but it was easier than she had expected. Ziva promised herself that she would bring Jethro on a walk every day, until she was comfortable with children and their mothers, and the idea that she would always be the aunt, not the mother.
~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~
Gibbs pulled in the driveway and saw Jack next door, on the porch with Sean and Eileen. He raised a hand in a wave, then went inside to stow his gun. He changed into jeans and shed his sport jacket before heading outside to join them.
"Going somewhere?" he asked Eileen, who was looking at her watch.
"Basketball," she said. "I need to leave in about fifteen minutes."
"Leroy, come sit a spell," Jack said. "We were just talking about food for this weekend."
Before he could take a seat, Eileen's phone rang. She listened for a minute.
"That's terrible," she said. "Yes, I'll be there in a few minutes. Just sit tight. Where exactly are you?" She nodded, and as soon as she disconnected, started tapping on her phone.
"Everything OK?" Gibbs asked.
"Jocelyn, the woman who recruited me for their basketball team, had to drop her daughter at a swim meet and her car broke down on her way between there and practice," she said. "She called to see if I could come pick her up. Everybody else still has kids at home they're shuttling around, or comes straight from work."
"Give me a minute to grab my tool box and I'll follow you," Gibbs said. "Or is her husband coming to take care of the car?"
Eileen shook her head. "He died several years ago," she said. "He was Navy, but it wasn't line of duty, from what I gathered."
"Go, Leroy," Jack said. "Dinner is yesterday's leftover chicken, so you're not holding me up."
Gibbs was already crossing the lawn to his garage. His Challenger had a basic tool kit in the trunk, but he grabbed the more complete one he kept in the garage, stowed it, then backed out and followed Eileen.
She was good about signaling her turns — no surprise after seeing McGee drive — and he was easily able to follow her to the side road where a woman about her age waited. He got out and walked over.
"Special Agent… Gibbs? Right?" the woman said.
He nodded.
"Oh, you've met?" Eileen said. "Gibbs lives next door, offered to bring his tools and see if he could fix your car."
"I'm sorry, you won't remember me," the woman said, holding out her hand. "Jocelyn Wayne. We met a few years ago. There was some question about my husband's ashes-"
He nodded. "I remember," he said. He wasn't going to mention that the human chop shop was the reason he remembered the case. "I'm sorry we had to bother you then. I hope the ashes were scattered at sea the way your husband wanted."
"They were, thank you," she said. "And thank you for offering to help. It started making a clunking noise yesterday, but my mechanic couldn't fit me in until tomorrow afternoon. I was going to see if he could just tow it directly there."
Gibbs nodded. "Not a problem," he said. They exchanged information, and Eileen and Mrs. Wayne — no, Jocelyn — headed to the Y. Gibbs opened the hood and looked around before spotting the problem. Fixing it took about 40 minutes, and he realized basketball practice would be ending in about the time it would take to drive over to the Y, so he stowed his tools, locked the Challenger, and drove over. He could always get Eileen to drop him back at his car.
He parked by Eileen's car, got out, and settled back against the side of the car. Less than five minutes later, he saw the women leave the Y. They noticed him halfway across the parking lot, and he could see Mrs. Wayne, Jocelyn, smile.
"You fixed it?" she said as they approached.
"It should hold until you can get to the mechanic tomorrow," he said. "I'd keep the appointment, though, so he can make sure it's fixed for good."
"Thank you," she said. "I really appreciate it." She took the keys from him. "Since you need a ride back to your car, let me buy you a cup of coffee first?"
"He always says yes to coffee," Eileen said, smirking.
He resisted the urge to head-slap her. "No need. Happy to help."
"That's because you were a Marine," Jocelyn said. "But I insist. Chrissy has a ride home from swim practice, so I have time, and it's the least I can do."
He gave in, but insisted they pick up his car so he could follow her to the mechanic and she could leave the car there for its appointment the next day. "I'll drop you home after coffee," he said. "It's no trouble."
"You're sure?" she was still asking as they walked into the coffee shop.
He waved away her question. "Dinner was leftovers, so my dad's probably already eaten, assuming he and Sean are done planning for the weekend." At her confusion, he clarified. "Eileen's husband. They're hosting a cookout this weekend and Dad was over there when I got home."
"Eileen mentioned her son is on your team," she said. Explaining the connections carried them through ordering, and he followed as she chose a table near the window.
By the time he'd asked about her daughter — fifteen already? — he'd managed to ignore the reminder that he'd lied to her the first time they met. Besides, even if she was friends with Eileen, how often would he run into her.
~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~
By Wednesday, the team was neck-deep in a murder case, but Josh was still working mostly on cold case analysis. He'd managed to eliminate some possibilities, but the director had looked at so many cases that he hadn't narrowed it down much. Especially after Gibbs' comments the other day.
"Vance have anything to share, Boss?" Tony had asked.
"Keep digging," Gibbs said. "Follow the trail."
"So we are on the right track," Tony said. "This is another wink-wink, nudge-nudge thing isn't it?"
"Look for the common threads," Gibbs said.
After that, Josh and McGee had mapped out more things for him to dig into, and Josh was determined to finish as much as he could before Friday. He was so deep into his analysis that when it registered that Jimmy was talking to him, he looked up to see the ME's assistant snickering.
"How long were you trying to get my attention?" he asked.
"Not long," Jimmy said. "I'm headed out to get coffee. Want to come?"
"Sure, just let me save this," he said. They headed out to the coffee shop in the Navy Yard the team frequented. As they walked, Josh asked the question that he'd wondered for a few weeks now. "I heard you're graduating medical school soon."
"In December," Jimmy said. "I'm lucky that I was able to get my work with Dr. Mallard to count so I didn't have to leave and hope I could come back"
"So you're staying, even though you'll have your degree?" Josh asked.
"Oh, yes," Jimmy said. "I can't imagine leaving now and not being part of the team, even though I could after I graduate. I still learn a lot from Dr. Mallard every day, even after seven years." They paused to order coffee, and since both ordered drip, were soon headed back to headquarters.
"How did you decide you wanted to be a medical examiner?" Josh asked. "I mean, not to sound rude, but it's not exactly a typical job."
"Working here," Jimmy said. "I took the job because it was something in the medical field that didn't require a medical degree, so I could do it while I was studying. And somewhere along the way, maybe when Gibbs was gone that one time, I realized that even though we don't work on the living, we do help them because we help the team find answers for those left behind."
"So it wasn't what you'd planned," Josh said.
Jimmy didn't say anything at first. "Why all the questions?" he asked, after a minute.
Josh shrugged. "This was just supposed to be a summer job that would look good when I applied to ONI, and maybe a little chance to give back to NCIS after Tony helped me get my head on straight after my dad died," he said. "But… I like it. I mean, I'm not out there in the field, and I think all of you are crazy for working for Gibbs even when he's caffeinated enough to not be crank-" He stopped. "He's right here, isn't he?"
Jimmy laughed so hard he almost spilled his coffee. "No, he's not."
"See, I have been here too long," Josh said, even as he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Are you having second thoughts because you don't want to go to law school anymore, or because you like what you've seen at NCIS?" Jimmy asked.
Josh had to think about that one. "Classes haven't even started yet, so I don't know if I'm going to like law school or not," he said. "I guess just that this has been more interesting than I expected."
"NCIS agents aren't required to have a graduate degree, or any degree, but most have a master's or a law degree," Jimmy said. "The MCRT is the exception — I think only McGee has his master's degree. So even if you're thinking about NCIS instead of ONI, you'd want to finish law school."
"You're not going to try to talk me out of it?" Josh said.
"Why would I?" Jimmy replied. "We need good people, and if you did get the job, you'd already have passed the 'worked for Gibbs and lived to tell about it' test, which most people fail."
"Thanks," Josh said. "And, Jimmy, can you not tell anybody we talked about this, even Abby?"
"Sure," Jimmy said. "And if you ever want to talk to any of us after this week, you know where to find us."
"Yeah, at my neighborhood coffee shop giving Sarah a hard time," he said, smirking.
Jimmy held up his hands. "I am not one of the big brothers, even if I am older than Sarah," he said. "I leave driving her nuts to them."