Chapter 11

"McGee, you're sleeping on my computer," Abby whispered in Tim's ear. He came alert with a start.

"Goodness, Abby! You almost gave me a heart attack."

"Looks to me like you don't need much help there," Abby said seriously. "What's going on with you, Tim? Are you still mad at me?"

"I was never mad at you, Abby."

"Well, you're not acting very friendly."

"I'm just tired."

"Why?"

"I haven't been getting enough sleep."

Abby decided to switch tactics. She was doing exactly what Gibbs wanted, but in actuality, he'd never even spoken to her. He'd sent Tim down to wait for her. Abby, being Abby, just wanted to know, and Tim could be infuriatingly obtuse when he wanted to. "Why didn't you tell me about your dad before?"

Tim looked away, focusing his gaze on Abby's computer. "I never told anyone, Abbs. It wasn't just you."

"But why didn't you tell me? I thought we were friends, Tim."

"We are."

"Then, why?" Abby turned his face toward hers.

"I-I just got so used to not saying anything. I don't even really think about it anymore... except at this time of the year. I mean, how do you bring up that kind of thing in conversation? Hey guys, guess what. My dad committed suicide fifteen years ago today. What do you think of that?"

"Was it today?"

"Yeah."

Abby held out her arms questioningly. Tim smiled and leaned into her embrace. He felt the too-ready tears well up in his eyes and blinked them back.

"Will you tell me now?"

Tim pulled back and sat on a stool. "I was thirteen. My mom had told me to clean the basement when I got home from school. She was gone, helping Sarah with something. I really didn't want to clean the basement, and I figured if I stayed up in my room, Mom would forget until dinner at least." Tim smiled at the memory, then sobered. "That's what happened. Dinner rolled around and Mom suddenly realized that I was upstairs, not in the basement. I got in big trouble and she said I had to go and clean until-until Dad got home from work. I could eat dinner with him."

When Tim didn't go on, Abby prompted, "And then?"

"So I went down the stairs and turned the corner to where the broom was. Dad was there, just hanging. He'd been there all day, apparently. I still don't remember exactly what I did down there after I found him. Mom said that I was down there for about twenty minutes before I came back. I just remember that all I could see was my dad's body. When I came up the stairs, Mom starting yelling at me for not being done. I didn't say anything. I just sat at the table. She didn't understand what was going on until she looked at my face. I just said that Dad was home. He was downstairs. I think she knew what I was saying just by the way I looked, but she didn't want to scare Sarah. She asked if he was okay, and I just shook my head. She asked if she needed to call an ambulance, and I shook my head. I could tell he was dead even then."

Abby took Tim's hand. It was limp and cold. His eyes were empty and staring as he recounted the story. "Did you ever tell anyone else?"

"I didn't say anything after I told my mom where Dad was. The police tried to talk to me, but I wouldn't speak to them. I just went to bed and fell asleep. When I woke up the next day, I hoped it was a nightmare. I asked if Dad was really dead. The police nodded. They were there talking to my mom. The worst thing is, Abby, he didn't leave a note or anything. We never knew why he did it. No one had any idea."

"I'm sorry, Tim." Abby hugged him again. His body was stiff and unresponsive. After awhile he hugged her back and then pulled away again.

"Anyway, let's see if we can figure this out."

Abby wanted to protest, but she could see he wasn't in the mood to share any more details. Instead, she sat down next to him and they started to work through the evidence again.

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"Abby, we've got something for you!" Tony came into the lab, followed by Gibbs and Ziva. It was early evening, and everyone had been working all day.

"What is it?"

"A possible description of the killer!" Tony looked down at the papers in his hands. "Well, make that seven possible descriptions."

"How?"

"We talked to the victims' running buddies, the ones who weren't dead or senile anyway, and asked if they could remember any new guys that started hanging around them before their disappearance. They all described a similar guy. We want to get a composite and see if he turns up anywhere."

"Done and done!" Abby snatched the sketches and descriptions from Tony's hands.

"Hey, where's McGee?" Ziva asked.

"I don't know. He said he had to step out for a minute, but that was–" she looked at the clock, "–almost an hour ago."

"Let us know when you've got an ID, Abby."

"Will do, Gibbs." Abby turned to the computer and started to work.