Deep Lacerations: Chapter 17
Tony DiNozzo glanced over at the desk to his right as he stored his Sig. "You know, I had nannies growing up," he began.
"If you're implying that my children will turn out like you, DiNozzo, I'm quitting now to become a stay at home mother," Agent Sonja Gracy replied, not glancing up from the file she was studying. Officer Ziva David chuckled at her partner's expense.
"There was this one I remember, Brunhilda," DiNozzo continued as if he hadn't heard Gracy. "That wasn't her real name, of course, but that's what I called her. Well, what I called her behind her back, because there was no way—"
"How scary could she have been, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked as he appeared out of nowhere.
"Not nearly as scary as you, Boss," the field agent said quickly. Gracy ducked her head toward the desk, covering the beginnings of a smile.
"That's the way it should be," Gibbs declared. "What've you got?"
"Abby confirmed Sonja's analysis of Hawke's lacerations. They were made by a standard K-Bar, could be purchased online or any knife store," DiNozzo informed him.
"Consistent with Scott's wounds," Gracy added.
"What about the crime scene?"
"Two sets of footprints," Ziva jumped in. "Neither is Captain Hawke's size, but both are consistent with standard Marine combat boots."
"Not exactly helpful on a Marine base," DiNozzo commented.
"No," David agreed. "Whoever did this knows to blend in."
Gibbs opened his mouth to comment, but his phone rang, distracting him. "Gibbs," he barked into it. After listening for a minute, he declared, "We're on our way." Knowing what that meant, DiNozzo and David were already on their feet, getting ready to head out. "Grab your gear," Gibbs said. "That was Norfolk NCIS. They have a body that fits the pattern."
"ID?" Gracy asked as she slid her Sig into her holster.
"Not yet," Gibbs replied. "The Norfolk team took one look at the body and called us. All we know is that the victim is male with multiple lacerations."
"Well, that certainly fits the profile," DiNozzo commented as the elevator doors closed.
Special Agent Sonja Gracy pulled her NCIS windbreaker tightly to her chest, attempting to ward off the chill that she knew had nothing to do with the cold. As if detached from the crime scene, she observed everything going on around her: Gibbs was talking to the supervisory agent of the Norfolk team, DiNozzo was playing around with the camera and earning annoyed glares from Ziva as she jotted notes from one of the other agents. Tearing her eyes from her new team, her gaze slowly swept the scene, as if she could figure out what was wrong from her position near the passenger side of the crime scene truck.
"Gracy!" Gibbs called out, snapping her back to reality. She headed over to where he was standing. "I want you to take a preliminary look at the body."
"Shouldn't we wait for Ducky?" she asked with a frown.
"It's just a look," he repeated. "You're the only one who's seen every body."
"You mean, every body so far," she replied. He didn't say anything for a moment as he continued to study her. He understood her reluctance, but if each of these bodies was related to Major Scott Gracy, they needed the set of eyes that examined Gracy in the first place.
"We'll get this guy," he said, repeating his words from the night before. She slowly nodded and walked away, heading toward the body as she pulled a pair of gloves from the pocket of her jacket. As focused as she was on her task, she didn't notice Gibbs following her until he ran into her when she stopped abruptly.
"Du meine Güte," she said involuntarily, not even realizing she was echoing the words she had spoken when she saw her husband on her dining room table.
"You know him?" Gibbs asked, concerned. She nodded, remembering.
She glanced toward the clock as she heard the sound of the key in the lock, smiling slightly; right on time. If there was one thing Scott had learned from four years of ROTC and ten years in the Army, it was punctuality. "Hey," she called out as the door opened. "Did you get the hot dog buns?"
"Would you believe me if I said the commissary was out?" Scott called back. She rolled her eyes as she exited the kitchen toward the townhouse's entryway.
"No," she said bluntly. Her eyes traveled from her husband to the man standing just next to him, her head tilted slightly to the side as she waited for Scott to make introductions.
His eyes still fixed on his shoes as he untied them, he completely missed the expression on her face, but the new visitor didn't. "Good God, Gracy, you never told me your wife was so hot," he said, leering slightly.
"Oh?" Sonja asked, amused. Scott finally straightened and rolled his eyes.
"He's lying," he said bluntly, leaning over to give his wife a quick kiss as he passed over the bag of groceries, complete with the hot dog buns she had requested. "That's all I talk about at work. Sonja, this is Lt. Louis Farver, Naval Intelligence. Lou, my wife, Sonja."
"Welcome," she said, shaking the Navy officer's hand. "You must be part of Calypso."
"Yes, ma'am," he replied with a grin. She rolled her eyes at the address.
"I may be a major, but you can call me Sonja. I'm glad you can make it. I need to meet everyone who's going to be keeping my husband company for the next twelve months. The more of you low-lifes he'll be associating with, the more eager he'll be to come home to his workaholic wife and two bratty kids." She gave him a wide grin to let him know she was joking before gesturing vaguely toward the back of the condo. "Almost everyone's over in the complex's social room, which they so kindly let us use for this Fourth of July/Pre-Deployment gathering."
"Lt. Louis Farver, Naval Intelligence," she finally vocalized. "He was part of the initial deployment of Calypso, with Scott. I met him on July 4, 2007."
"You remember the date?"
She turned to him, a quizzical expression on her face. "It was a Fourth of July party. That's not too hard to remember." She turned back to the body. "It was also the day before they deployed." Shaking her head slightly, she continued. "He came the party alone; Scott picked him up on base and gave him a ride, so I'm assuming he's unmarried—at least, he was then. I didn't spend too much time talking to him at the party."
"Do you know what he did with the group?"
Shaking her head, she finally bent down closer to the body. "No idea," she murmured, already focused on her work. She gently probed some of the cuts on Farver's body, stopping at a deep one on the left side of his chest. "This is the same as Hawke," she said. "Fatal stab wound to the heart, likely the cause of death." She frowned as she examined the ground around the body, concrete stained with years of salt water and dirt, but no blood. "He was killed elsewhere and dropped here—a wound like that would mean liters of blood in seconds, and the ground is bare."
"Time of death?"
She shook her head, slightly amused. "Ducky did mention you like to jump the gun on that one," she murmured. Picking up the victim's hand, she gently moved some of the fingers before moving on to the jaw, opening and closing it gently. "Not long. He's cold, but rigor hasn't begun. Two hours, maybe three."
"He must have been dumped right before NCIS got the call."
"The call?" she echoed, confused.
He nodded. "They got an anonymous tip about a body by the docks. They came out here to check it out and found this."
"I hope that call was taped," she said with a frown. "It could have been the killer." A sudden look of alarm crossed her face, mirrored instantly by his as they both arrived to the same conclusion. "This could be a trap."
"DiNozzo, Ziva—," Gibbs barked into his wrist piece, but was cutoff by the sudden report of a gun, followed immediately by a splash and a scream. Both agents were instantly on their feet, running toward the water, in the direction of the shot. Gibbs had his gun drawn, but Gracy kept hers on her belt, peeling off her jacket and kicking off her shoes as she ran.
"Where's Tony?" Gracy demanded as Officer David came into view, her Sig drawn, her eyes sweeping the scene for any sign of movement.
"He fell in," the Mossad officer said grimly. "I do not know if he was shot."
Knowing that hypothermia would set in within minutes at those temperatures, and DiNozzo's only chance of survival, gunshot wound or not, was to get him out, Gracy took a deep breath and continued to run toward the end of the dock. Realizing what she was about to do, both David and Gibbs yelled for her to stop, but she ignored them, entering the frigid water with a perfect dive.
Swearing under his breath, Gibbs saw movement out of the corner of his eye. "Stay with them!" he ordered David as he set out after the mysterious gunman. "Freeze! Federal agent!" he shouted, continuing to run. If he had heard Gibbs, the man gave no indication.
He fired a shot, knowing that at that distance and while running, it would go wide, which it did, but it caught the gunman off-guard. Slipping slightly on a patch of ice, he grabbed for a railing before righting himself, continuing on his way. "Freeze!" Gibbs shouted again. Instead, the darkly clothed man jumped into an idling boat, an accomplice already at the wheel. Gibbs emptied his chamber as the boat sped away, with no indication that he had hit anything.
He called in the boat's registry number to the Norfolk NCIS team for a BOLO, feeling the familiar surge of anger at himself when the suspect got away. Before he could dwell too much on that fact, he remembered that he had two agents in what must have barely above freezing water. Holstering his gun, he broke into a run in the direction he had just come, hoping it wasn't too late.