Chapter 8
"Boss, we got him," McGee said as Gibbs and Sloane came back into the bullpen. "Private Moses called Davey Jones on the prison phone and they got a number, which I just ran."
"You got him," Sloane said.
"By his tighty-whities," McGee said. "I'm running his phone number now and he called or texted Commander Lavery's phone several times. I can ping him, but I need a warrant."
"Do it," Director Vance said, joining them. "I'll get you your warrant. How's Ami Lavery?" he asked Gibbs. He was uptodate on the case and had been advised of the current situation regarding Ami's truck.
"Scared," Sloane said. "But she's got Corporal Lavery and Sarah Lavery for support."
"Good. Be warned, Dani has been fielding phone calls from Captain Lavery for the last two days," Vance said.
"He causing problems?" Gibbs asked.
"If you call constantly demanding an update on his son's murder case a problem, then yeah, he has been," Vance said, scowling.
"It's going to get worse when he finds out the truth about Commander Lavery," Sloane warned him.
"Major General Andrews offered us his services if Captain Lavery gets out of hand," Bishop said.
"Might need him," Gibbs said.
"Got him," McGee said, throwing up a map on the plasma. "Looks like he's at home. Might be trying to make a run for it."
"Get him," Vance said.
And four agents tore out the building.
As they drove to the address in two separate vehicles in case Donald decided to run, McGee kept a close eye on the cell phone in case Jones moved.
"He's on the move," McGee said. He winced as Gibbs increased the speed.
"Where?" McGee told him.
"Uh-oh."
"What uh-oh? McGee!"
"This route takes us straight to Fort McNair," McGee said.
"Where are Ami and Corporal Lavery?" Gibbs demanded.
"Finding out. Ami, it's Agent McGee. Where are you?"
"I had to visit my boss, and he's at the job site at Fort McNair, and David needed a few things from his apartment," Ami said. "Why? What's going on?"
"Davey Jones, the guy we think killed Commander Lavery, is headed straight for Fort McNair and Gibbs doesn't believe in coincidences," McGee said.
"Neither do I. What does this guy look like? And should David get his gun out?" Ami asked.
"We need this guy in one piece," McGee said. "Not up to his neck in the ground."
Ami grunted. "Don't bet on it, especially if half my guys get their hands on him. Picture. I'll pass it around." And she ended the call.
McGee quickly sent Ami a copy of the picture they had of Donald Jones, and she replied with a confirmation.
"Vehicle?" Gibbs asked.
"He owns a black 2015 Chevrolet Malibu," McGee said, having checked earlier.
At the gate, the guard remembered Donald Jones and his car. "Said he was here to check some buildings and showed his insurance adjuster badge," the guard said.
"Where's the site?" Gibbs snapped. The guard pointed in the general direction, and Gibbs sped off, Sloane and Bishop right behind them.
Several minutes ago, Ami's face had been going bright red. She had entered the construction site lunch room to talk to one of the guys, a fellow Journeyman, and was now being stared at by several of the guys. That day, on Corporal Lavery's encouragement, she had gotten a bit dressed up, with a white lace and velvet leotard, slim jeans, dress boots, and her favorite denim and sherpa jacket. She had even worn her hair, which was shoulder-length, down, her favorite pair of Minnie Mouse cubic zirconia earrings, and make-up. Then she had gotten the call from McGee about Davey Jones.
Finally, one of the younger guys, a fellow just out of high school, that she had been working with for the last six months, piped up.
"Ami's a girl!"
Ami's face went red, and Corporal Lavery grinned. He grinned even wider when two older men, both in their late sixties, both with years of experience between them, head-smacked the younger man, causing him to nearly do a face-plant into his lunch.
"Of course she is, you moron!" one of the men snapped.
"You've worked with her for the last six months!" the other man snapped.
"Yeah, but she always looks like one of us, not, well, pretty!" the younger man protested, his ears going red.
Ami groaned, rubbing the side of her face with one hand. "Help me," she moaned softly, causing Corporal Lavery to laugh. "When you're done?" she said loudly, getting their attention. "NCIS is on their way in, and they say a guy by the name of Davey Jones is looking for me. This is his picture." She handed one guy her phone and they started passing it around.
"What's so special about him?" one guy asked.
"He murdered Michael before I could have the satisfaction of divorcing the bastard," Ami said, "and he vandalized my truck. It's in the paint shop right now because he was a little liberal with the black spray paint. Oh, and NCIS has some concerns he may try and do something stupid."
"You were going to divorce that asshat husband of yours?" one guy asked. "About damn time, woman!" Several cheers followed that, as Michael had not been popular with the men the last time he'd visited one of their construction sites. In fact, Shane, their Master Electrician, had called Michael a pompous ass in a fancy suit and threatened to introduce him to a concrete bath if he ever set foot on one of their sites again.
Ami's face went red again. "Oh, and NCIS wants him alive, preferably not buried up to his neck in the ground. I told the senior agent, Agent Gibbs, not to bet on it." There were several whoops of laughter over that.
"Hey Mace, where's that sledgehammer of yours? You know, the one that nearly broke Private Wannabe's toes when he tried to lift it?" one guy called.
Mace, a black man who stood over six feet tall and was as wide as he was tall, solid muscle, bald, and had his fair share of construction scars, said, "She's in my truck. I'll go get her."
"Should I be worried?" Corporal Lavery asked Ami softly.
"Only if you drop Mace's lady on your foot and you're not wearing steel toes," Ami said just as softly. "She's a thirty pound, custom-made, sledgehammer, and Mace can swing her around like a feather. Some donkey private tried to take her from Mace one day, saying it was a weapon, yada yada yada, and wound up in the infirmary because he dropped it on his foot. Mace hadn't bothered tell him that his lady was heavier than she looked."
Corporal Lavery chortled.
Gibbs slid the car into a spot in front of the portable construction office and got out. "Where is she?" he demanded to McGee, seeing Davey Jones' car.
"Calling her now. Never mind," McGee said, seeing Ami and another coworker walking together. Then the team noticed something; Ami was signing rapidly with the coworker, a man with long black hair in a ponytail, under a battered yellow hard hat.
"She's fluent," Gibbs said, watching them. He whistled sharply, getting her attention, and quickly signed something. She signed back, and he signed something, to which she replied, shaking her head.
"I asked her where Corporal Lavery was, and she said he's checking in with his CO but is aware of the situation and is letting his coworkers know," Gibbs said. "So far there's no sign of him, but that's his car."
"Could have changed his appearance," Bishop said.
Then a yell went up, and as the team watched in amazement, a blonde man was seen running through the construction site, several very angry workers hot on his heels. The man Ami had been signing with pulled her out of the way.
"Get him!" someone yelled.
Gibbs winced as Donald was slammed into the ground with enough force to give the guy whiplash. Then four other men joined in on the fight.
"We need him alive!" Gibbs yelled.
"You said alive, you didn't say not bloodied!" one of the other men shot back, hauling up a bloodied Donald Jones. "That's what you get for messing with one of ours!"
"Help me," Donald begged Gibbs and McGee.
"Or you could always walk away for a few minutes and we soften this sorry excuse up," another guy said, cracking his knuckles, causing Donald to whimper. "Teach him not to mess with one of our own."
Gibbs grinned. "Tell you what; we take him in, chat with him, and if he doesn't cooperate, I'll let you guys have a crack at him."
"Deal!" the first man yelled, followed by several whoops.
In the end, Corporal Lavery was seen giving Ami a very public kiss, and Ami admitted to Gibbs she had told her guys the truth about what had happened and what was going on. There had been nothing but support and compassion from them.
At NCIS, Donald Jones turned silent and sullen, invoking his right to remain silent. His scuffle with the construction workers had given him a split lip, cut cheek, and black eye. A search of his car had turned up a photograph of Ami, likely taken at a JAG officer outing, because she didn't look happy in it. A search of Donald Jones had turned up a switchblade, which was illegal in D.C. and would have caused a lot of problems if he'd managed to get his hands on it during the fight.
He'd also refused to give a DNA sample, or even allow his fingerprints to be taken. He didn't even ask for a lawyer or something to drink or anything to take care of his injuries. He just sat there, in the interrogation room, not even moving once he was seated.
"Nothing," Gibbs said. "No protest, no explanation, nothing, other than refusal to submit a DNA sample or even his fingerprints."
"Not even a request for a lawyer?" Vance asked. They were behind the two-way mirror, watching Donald Jones.
"Nothing," Sloane said.
"Kasie is going over his car and already had several fingerprints by the time I left," Gibbs said. His phone rang. It was Kasie, and she sounded very pleased with herself.
"He had a used coffee cup in the car," she said happily. "And we found a receipt for it, about a day ago. Guy's a slob, because we had our pick of used coffee cups and soda bottles and water bottles in the car. And I'm running it as fast as I can. Oh, and plenty of prints."
"Good," Gibbs said. He hung up. "Guy's a slob. Kasie found plenty of stuff in his car with DNA all over it."
"Prints?"
"Plenty."
"We've got him for the knife and the confession," Vance said. "That's enough to hold him for a while, long enough for Kasie to do her stuff. Maybe a little time in a jail cell will help loosen his lips."
The next morning brought more answers, as Kasie finished her work in her lab.
"We have matches across the board," she said to the gathered team. "DNA is a match to what we found in the hotel room, same with prints, which we got when Donald Lavery was booked for the switchblade charge. McGee checked his computer history and found a search for Ami Lavery's address."
"How'd he get her address in the first place?" Gibbs asked.
"Probably off of Commander Lavery's driver's license," Kasie said.
The night before, after arresting Donald Lavery, Bishop, McGee, and Sloane had hit his house and come back with a few interesting things, like a copy of Private Moses' casefile.
"I'd love to know how he got his hands on this," Bishop said, holding the file up now, which was in an evidence bag and had been dusted for prints.
"Well, I got several prints off of the file, one of which is Commander Lavery's," Kasie said. "I also found Donald Lavery's prints, and four other sets of prints, all from JAG officers." She threw them up on the screen.
"Any relation to our Davey Jones?" Torres asked. His ribs had nearly been cracked by the hug Bishop had given him earlier, when she'd discovered what he'd done.
"Not seeing anything yet, but it is fair to say Donald Jones may have had an inside man at JAG, because there were several calls to the switchboard there, on his phone in the days before and after Private Moses' case," McGee said.
"Turn it over to Major General Andrews," Gibbs said. "This guy is ours."
"How's Captain Lavery doing?" Sloane asked.
"Vance said he got a, quote, very loud phone call from Captain Lavery that he let go to voicemail," Gibbs said.
"That good, huh?" Torres asked, grinning.
"That good," Gibbs said. "I want a confession from Donald Jones."
During the night, Gibbs had gotten a frantic call from Sarah.