Chapter 12

When Fornell and Gibbs arrived at Denise Rimbauer's hospital room, they found a woman waiting in a chair outside. She was crocheting with profound determination, and Gibbs thought he could see a glitter of tears in her eyes. She had similar features to the woman in the photograph, but she was heavier and possibly a little younger. When she looked up and saw them approaching, her expression grew resigned. "Cops?" she asked. "Are you here for Denise?"

"Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS," Gibbs said holding out his hand. She put her crochet aside in a well-used project bag and stood up, taking his hand in a firm handshake. "This is Special Agent Fornell, FBI."

Her eyes widened as she turned to Fornell. "Two different agencies?" she said. "That can't be good. What's she done now?"

"Why do you assume it's about something she's done?" Fornell asked.

She sighed. "Because it's always something Denise has done," she said. "I've already answered a half a dozen questions for the police."

"Unfortunately, we're going to have to take you through some of them again," Fornell said. "I'm sorry, but it can't be helped."

She shrugged. "I hope we can do it here, because I don't want to leave her."

Fornell gestured towards the seat next to her and they sat down side by side. Gibbs remained standing as he watched Fornell handle the interview. "May I ask who you are . . . your connection to Miss Rimbauer?"

"Marcia Collins," she said. "Denise is my sister."

Fornell made a note and nodded. "All right, what can you tell us about what your sister's been doing over the last several weeks?"

Collins shook her head. "Not a lot, I'm afraid. I asked her not to tell me stuff, but she did babble sometimes. It was impossible to stop her, but I told her I'd turn her in if she told me about anything illegal, so she would be all coy about details."

"You told her you'd turn her in?"

"She got our youngest brother into serious trouble a while back. Mom had to bail him out a couple of times, and we finally convinced him to go into the army to get him away from her. That was five years ago, in 2000." She grimaced. "He wound up in Afghanistan. He died in 2003."

Both men nodded. That could cause a rift in a family. "So, you don't know anything about what she was doing?"

"All I know is that she was looking forward to a big payday. She said she was working with some high rollers and she'd be able to buy us all big presents for Christmas." Collins shrugged. "I told her high rollers didn't sound like her style and she got mad at me, said she was meant for big things. I'm glad Mom wasn't here to hear about her getting shot and left for dead in an alley." Gibbs would have thought she sounded cold but for the pain in her eyes.

"Did she mention any names?"

"Well, there was Aaron, but there was always Aaron," Collins said.

"Aaron Thornburg?" Gibbs asked.

She shrugged. "I've never heard his whole name," she said. "Big guy, buff and full of attitude."

Gibbs fished out a photo. "This him?"

"Yeah," she said, peering at it. "So, Aaron . . . and Tommy something. She made a big deal about him being a college football star, but I figured he was just feeding her a line of crap, you know how it can be. This Tommy had a friend named Tony, and Tony had money, but after she said that, she got kind of cagey. I figured that's where the illegal stuff came in." Gibbs nodded to himself. It certainly was.

A couple of people in scrubs came out with some equipment. "Mrs. Collins? We're done with the procedure now."

"Thank you," Collins said. Glancing at Fornell for permission, she gathered her things and went into the room.

"Gibbs and Fornell, working together? That must be interesting." Gibbs looked and saw Lt. Timmons of DC Metro coming down the hall. "What's your interest in this case?"

Before Gibbs could speak, Fornell said, "I'm asserting jurisdiction."

"On what grounds?" Timmons asked, his lazy tone not fooling either of the other men. If he didn't think the grounds were sufficient, he'd fight them tooth and nail, and he might just obstruct them on general principles. Gibbs would plow him under if he tried that on this case.

"On the grounds that Miss Rimbauer was involved in the abduction of a federal agent," Fornell said.

"What evidence is there of that?"

"Did you ask her sister what she was involved with?" Gibbs asked mildly. He could see that his tone fooled Timmons as little the police officer's tone had fooled him.

"Yeah, she spun me a tale about some guys named Aaron, Tommy and Tony and big bucks, but she didn't have any details."

"Yeah," Fornell said. "It appears that at least four people conspired to kidnap a federal agent. Aaron Thornburg, Thomas Alkire, someone named Peter, and Denise Rimbauer."

"Aaron and Tommy, huh?" Timmons said, giving them a fishy look. "What else do you have that links her to your case?"

"Thomas Alkire was killed with the same gun she was shot with," Gibbs said. "Less than a day later. And we've recovered the weapon."

"What about Tony whoever with . . ." Timmons paused for a moment. "I didn't know DiNozzo had money," he said after a moment.

"He doesn't," Gibbs replied. "His father does."

"Ransom?" Gibbs nodded. "Tough break. Hope you find the body. It can be rough when –"

Gibbs turned towards Timmons with a level glare. "DiNozzo's not dead!" he growled.

"Come on, Gibbs," Collins exclaimed. "You don't kidnap a federal agent and let him live, and your guys have already killed once and tried a second time."

"We've got what we came for, Tobias," Gibbs said and turned away. He heard Fornell instruct Timmons to see to it that DC Metro passed their evidence, every iota of it, over to the FBI within the hour, then follow after him.

He was pissed. His mood wasn't improved by the fact that he knew Fornell secretly agreed with Timmons on the likelihood of Tony's death. Their arguments made sense, and no one had even pointed out that a sick prisoner was even more of a liability. It didn't matter. He simply knew that DiNozzo wasn't dead, and he didn't feel like discussing the issue. Not with Fornell. Not with Jenny, who had hinted at the same possibility. Certainly not with Timmons.

DiNozzo was alive. For now. They just had to move quickly enough to make sure he stayed that way.

Lola shook her head as she fixed dinner. DiNozzo was in a bad way, and if Peter wasn't careful, the toy he'd so painstakingly acquired for himself was going to die of natural causes. She gave the soup a stir as it continued to simmer and checked the timer. The casserole could come out soon.

"Why don't we just kill him?" Butch asked.

"It's not happening, Butch," she said, turning around to lean against the stove. "Let it go."

"He's a federal agent, and at the rate this is going, he's going to die anyway. It's not like we were ever letting him go after he saw all our faces, so why are we keeping him alive? His daddy knows we have him, he's spoken to him. Once we get the money, he's dead anyway, so why not cut him loose a few days early?"

"Peter doesn't want to," Lola said. For her that was all the answer that was required.

Butch rolled his eyes. "Peter doesn't know everything, Lola. I don't get why you just do everything he says."

"Because she knows what happens to people who don't do everything I say," Peter said from the doorway. She hadn't heard him approach, but she was used to that.

Butch jumped and turned. "Don't do that, man!" he exclaimed. "Anyways, I don't get it. We're not going to let him go, so we might as well kill him now as later."

"There is a third option," Peter said mildly. "Lola, is that your Italian sausage casserole I smell?" She snorted and got into the fridge for the shredded cheese. "I'll have to take some to Tony later."

"What do you mean, a third option?" Butch demanded. "Kill him or let him go. What else is there?"

Peter smiled, and Lola knew he had it bad this time. "I plan to keep him. Lola, would you let me know when the casserole is done. I've got some DVDs to sort."

"Sure, Peter," she said and watched him leave the room. "You'd better let up on this, Butch."

"What does he mean, keep him?"

"Haven't you picked up on it yet? Look at that room he's got him in. You could keep someone in there for a long time and no one would be the wiser. Hell, you could have the sheriff himself to dinner, and he'd never know you had a prisoner upstairs unless you showed him."

"A serious search would find him," Butch pointed out.

"Which is why we don't give anyone a reason to make a serious search." She sighed. "If you want to keep working with Peter," she said, "you want to keep on his good side. And you haven't earned the right to question him yet."

"Maybe I don't want to keep working with Peter."

Her brows went up. "I would avoid thinking like that if I were you, Butch," she said.

"I hate that name."

"You think I chose Lola?" she asked. "Get over it. It doesn't mean anything."

He glowered and looked around. "This is the weirdest damned set up. I've never been with a gang who set up house like this. I mean, he's sorting DVDs for reasons I don't get, and you're cooking dinner like a good little wifey."

She shrugged. Gang? "Someone has to cook, and I like it," she said. "Besides, I don't want to eat Peter's cooking."

"Does he suck?"

"I don't honestly know. It's just that, knowing Peter, I'd never be sure all the ingredients were kosher."

"You're not Jewish," he said, and Lola rolled her eyes.

"In some ways, we're all Jewish, Butch," she said.

"I don't get it."

"Why don't you get some plates down?" she suggested.

"This is nuts!" he said, but he pulled the plates down. "Next thing you're going to ask is for me to set the table."

"I don't want to eat with you. I just didn't think you wanted to eat off your hands." She pulled the casserole out and made up two plates. Butch made up his own plate and sat down at the kitchen table while she was getting silverware for Peter and herself.

She went up the stairs to the room where Peter was carefully placing DVDs into an enormous changer so that Tony would have something to watch if he didn't want what was on TV. Meanwhile, he was keeping an eye on DiNozzo on the four monitors he'd placed in the walls of the room. It was bizarre, but Peter was an eccentric man. His obsessions were unpredictable and could be scary. This one, for example, had come up out of nowhere. Tommy had worked a couple of jobs with them, and then he'd suggested that he knew a guy with a rich father who might be of use. Peter had deprecated the idea initially, but said he would do some observations and see what he thought. He'd come back from one day spent watching DiNozzo with a determination to get hold of him. Neither Butch nor Tommy had recognized the light in his eyes – they hadn't known him long enough – and Lola hadn't seen fit to enlighten them.

She left the plate on the side table next to Peter. She was at the door when Peter spoke. "Close the door and have a seat," he said. It was an order, not a suggestion, so she did as he wanted her to. She began to eat her own dinner. "Tell me, Lola, what do you think of Butch?"

She considered the question carefully for several moments. "I don't believe he'll work out in the long term," she said with mild regret.

"Can we let him go?"

"Well, he knows nothing about either of us personally. The only thing he does know is the location of this house. How important is that?"

"Tony's here," Peter said.

"We could move him," she said diffidently.

"It will take time to come up with another location that's even half as suitable," he said, gazing around at the room. "Wealthy, paranoid recluses build such perfect houses. I don't really want to give it up."

"Well, then, that's your answer," she said. Movement on the screens caught their attention, and Peter was on his feet before she'd fully registered that DiNozzo had kicked all his blankets off again. She stayed where she was. Peter could handle his chained federal agent on his own. Between the fever and the coughing, DiNozzo was more of a hindrance to himself than to Peter.

Peter entered the room scolding gently, and she watched curiously. She'd never seen him quite like this. He seemed almost fond of DiNozzo, not just fascinated by him.

DiNozzo coughed for a bit, then rolled over and looked around. "Where's Lola?" he asked.

"She's not here, Tony," Peter said.

"Didn't think she was here last time, but she was," Tony pointed out.

Peter had gotten the covers fixed again and now he sat down beside Tony. "Well, she's not here this time."

DiNozzo's head lolled on the pillow and he began to speak in an oddly syncopated rhythm. "Whatever Lola wants . . . Lola gets . . ."

Peter laughed out loud. "Very perceptive, Tony. Now, attractive as the scenery is, you need to keep these blankets up."

"Hot."

"You certainly are, but you'll make yourself sick if you let yourself get too cold."

DiNozzo pushed the blankets off again, baring his assets before Peter and all four cameras. Lola was amused. The man would die of embarrassment if he weren't nearly delirious. He rolled over on his side and began to cough up a lung.

"Lola!" Peter called sharply. "Get me some aspirin and the new cough syrup."

She rose and fetched the drugs he was asking for. It might be kinder to put DiNozzo out of his misery. It wasn't as if they could fetch him a doctor. Nevertheless, she wasn't about to suggest it. He was Peter's pet, and Peter would make his own decisions. DiNozzo hadn't stopped coughing when she got there, and she shook her head. "Peter, we need to get him sitting up," she said. "He can't clear his lungs in that position."

Between them, they got DiNozzo upright, and his coughs subsided gradually. She fed him a couple of aspirin for his fever and gave him a dollop of cough syrup. He looked at her suspiciously. "You said Lola wasn't here," he said to Peter in a voice that sounded like sandpaper.

"She wasn't then, but I sent for her."

"Oh." After that he settled down and went back to sleep. He was burning like fire, and she was concerned about the coughing. Still, it wasn't her problem.

"Keep Butch out of trouble," Peter said. "I'm going back to the monitor room."

Lola nodded and went back downstairs. Butch was sitting in the kitchen, but he seemed faintly out of breath. She'd left the door to the monitor room open, so he might have taken the opportunity to peek. If so, he would definitely have to go. Nosy bastards tended towards blackmail, and she wouldn't play that game. Not with anyone. Then Butch started coughing.

"Damn DiNozzo anyway," he growled. "He gave me his cold."

She set on a kettle to boil. Both DiNozzo and Butch could use a spot of tea. And if DiNozzo's cold was spreading, Peter would undoubtedly have it before long.