Gibbs was about to get into the car when his cell phone rang. "Gibbs," he said gruffly.
"Boss," McGee's agitated voice boomed through the small phone. "Greeley's dead."
"What happened?"
"When Ziva and I got here the door was cracked open. We went into the apartment and it looks like a tornado ripped through the place. We found Greeley on the kitchen floor, shot twice in the back."
"Block off the scene," Gibbs said briskly. "I'll have Ducky and Palmer come out to pick up the body. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
Gibbs arrived at the scene fifteen minutes later, leaving a trail of angry commuters behind him. He entered the small, one-bedroom apartment to find Ziva and McGee processing the crime scene. Entering the kitchen, he knelt down next to the body of David Greeley. Greeley was a large man, built like a linebacker. His face was scarred and his nose broken from a lifetime of fighting. Gibbs sighed; one good lead to whoever tried to kill Tony and it ends up dead.
"It looks like he was trying to get to the kitchen knives," Ziva observed from the kitchen doorway, "but he didn't make it."
"No," Gibbs said, rising to his feet, "he didn't."
Ducky entered the room. "Oh dear," he said. "Is this one of the men who tried to kill Tony?"
"Could be," Gibbs said.
"Well, I can't say that I'm sorry he's dead," Ducky replied. "But I suppose it would have been better for him to be alive to tell us who helped him."
"It looks like he put up a fight," Gibbs said. "There could be DNA on his hands, his knuckles are all scraped up."
"I'll have Mr. Palmer bag his hands to keep any evidence from being brushed away," Ducky said.
Gibbs went back into the living room. "Did anyone hear anything?" he asked his subordinates.
"No one hears anything in this neighborhood, Boss," McGee said. "They keep to themselves and don't butt into other people's business. At least, that's what everyone I talked to told me."
Gibbs watched as Jimmy and Ducky wheeled the victim out of the apartment. "Damn it," he growled. "We're getting nowhere. McGee, you and Ziva go pick up Rockwell and bring him to headquarters. Maybe he'll be able to identify Greeley ."
oOoOoOo
I'm bored. Now that I'm calmer, I'm bored out of my freaking mind. I can't watch TV. Well, I suppose I could, if there was a TV in the room and Abby put something interesting on. Abby's been called away to do some tests on stuff they got from a body anyway, so I'm alone for the first time since I got here. I have no idea how long I've been here, other than what Ducky told me. It feels like forever, but he said it's been over thirty-six hours. Gotta be longer than that, though.
To pass the time I try to get some sounds other than grunting out of my mouth. I get frustrated and try to raise my arm and flex my fingers. That's going better than the talking thing. Maybe I'll have a speech impediment. How am I going to work the DiNozzo charm on the ladies if I can't use my mellow voice? Okay, Anthony, don't think that way. You will recover completely. Ducky said you would and you know he wouldn't lie to you. Unless he wanted to spare your feelings. He is a pretty considerate man, very sensitive. It could have been an act of kindness on his part, telling you that you were going to be all right.
Gibbs said that, too, though. Gibbs isn't kind. Okay, he can be nice, but he doesn't like to show that side of him. He said I was going to be fine because that's what he expects of me. I've never let him down yet - at least, I don't think I have.
What movies are there about overcoming handicaps, not that I'm handicapped. I need inspiration. The best is The Miracle Worker, the original, not the remake, although the remake wasn't bad. Patty Duke as Helen Keller, and Anne Bancroft as Ann Sullivan - classic. Of course, I'm no Helen Keller. Okay, I know I'm wallowing if I can't even think of good movies to help me through this.
The door opens and a pretty nurse walks in. "It's time for your bath, Agent DiNozzo."
Oh yeah, things are looking up.
oOoOoOo
"It appears that our possible assailant engaged in a fierce battle," Ducky said, pushing his visor up, "and lost when his opponent pumped two bullets into his back."
"Well, yeah, Ducky," Gibbs replied. "I didn't need you to tell me that. Did you get any usable DNA from his hands?"
"Abby is testing the material we sent her," Ducky replied. "Is your witness coming to try to identify the body?" The doors whooshed open and Ziva walked in, followed by Everett Rockwell.
"Mr. Rockwell," Gibbs greeted the other man, "we were just talking about you."
"I knew my ears were burning for a reason," the other man grinned. He looked at the body on the table. "That the guy?"
"Yeah," Gibbs confirmed. "Can you identify him as one of the men you saw the night of the murders?"
Rockwell cocked his head and stared at the body thoughtfully. "Could be," he said. "I can't say for sure, but he could have been one of the guys."
"McGee is searching for any known acquaintances or accomplices," Ziva reported. "He says there's something he'd like you to see."
"Ducky, can you show Mr. Rockwell out?"
"Of course, Jethro," Ducky said in surprise. Gibbs and Ziva had already left the room. "Well, that was strange."
"Mr. Rockwell," he said jovially, "let me walk you to your car."
"Your agents brought me here," Rockwell replied. "I'll catch a cab out front."
"Oh yes," Ducky said. "I'll accompany you to the cab stand, then."
"Were you close to Tony, Doctor Mallard?" Rockwell asked as they headed for the elevator.
"Yes, I was," Ducky said sadly. "He was a good man, an excellent agent. He loved to joke around and make people laugh. He will be missed."
"He was a good guy," Rockwell agreed. "Fun and pretty intelligent. I'd be telling him about an old case of mine and he'd ask questions like he was right there with me – good questions, ones I'd asked at the time. He must have been a good investigator."
"He was deceptively good," Ducky agreed. "He projected an air of casual nonchalance, but he was always taking in things around him and making connections. Special Agent Gibbs lost his right-hand man, his 'second-brain,' if you will. We all lost a good friend."
"It must have been hard," Rockwell said. "Doing the autopsy, I mean, on someone you knew and liked."
"Indeed," Ducky confirmed. "I've done it before, but it never gets easy. It's even harder when you can't find their cause of death."
"He wasn't shot?" Rockwell said in surprise.
"No, but we don't know what killed him, yet," Ducky replied. "We're still waiting for test results." Ducky nodded to the security guards as they passed the front desk.
The two men left the building and walked toward the cab stand on the corner.
"I know what killed him," Rockwell said quietly. Ducky looked at him in surprise. "You do?"
Rockwell opened the cab door, nodding as he got into the car. "You did, Doctor Mallard."
"I did?" Ducky said, his brow furrowed in confusion.
Rockwell opened the window and looked up at the ME. "Tony wasn't dead when you found him," he said, a small smile forming. "All his systems were slowed down, but he was still alive. You killed him, when you cut him open. How does it feel to have killed a friend, Doctor Mallard?" His smile was cold, sending shivers down Ducky's spine. "To cut a living being open while he was still alive and able to feel everything you did to him, but not able to say anything, to scream in pain or beg you to stop? You murdered Tony, not some old enemy or random thug – you." Rockwell murmured something to the driver and the cab took off, leaving Ducky staring after it in shock.