Night began to set in when Ziva and Tony returned to Camp Lejeune. After speaking with Lieutenant Hackett and Corporal Chambers, they headed to Morehead City to talk to Conti's ex-girlfriend, Helena Bailey. They went to her high school, where the principal called her down to the main office. The girl already knew about Conti's death from the news, and cried throughout the entire interview. It turned out Helena had received a couple text messages from Conti recently. She hadn't responded to them, fearing her mother would make good on her threat to kick her out of the house. When Ziva asked her whereabouts the night of Conti's death, Helena responded she'd been at a friend's house. She directed her and Tony to said friend, who confirmed this.
Next they contacted Helena's mother. That woman certainly had reason to confront Conti, maybe even threaten him with a gun. But it turned out the night Conti died, Miss Bailey had been working as a waitress at a local Denny's, which was confirmed by several employees at the restaurant.
"Well, let's hope The Boss and McGee had better luck than we did," Tony said as he drove their SUV through the main gate of Camp Lejeune. "Damn! And I liked the mother, too."
Ziva turned to him, brow furrowed. "I wouldn't think her your type. She was a bit overweight, had to be in her fifties . . ."
"I meant as a suspect, David. Not for . . . ugh!" Tony shuddered. "I even had this great theory worked out in my head."
"And what was that?"
"Well, obviously Miss Bailey had to be mighty POed with Corporal Conti convincing her daughter to pilfer money from her. She could have discovered the text messages Conti sent her daughter, maybe called him up to arrange a face-to-face. Conti invites her out here. She pulls a gun on him and says, 'Stay away from my precious daughter or else.' Next thing you know, Abby's cryptid, or whatever, happens by and thinks, 'dinner time!' It takes down Conti. Miss Bailey fires three shots, misses, then books outta there. She obviously wouldn't call anyone because, well, she's scared the cops may find out she threatened Conti. Of course, since she has an alibi, that theory goes right out the window."
"I don't know. You have some valid points."
"Really?" Tony snapped his head toward her. "Is that a compliment, David? Should I be expecting more of those? Like how I have a gorgeous smile or great abs."
"Oh, I'll give you compliments on those last two things . . . if you ever get them."
Tony scowled at her.
"Anyway," she continued. "You can take out Miss Bailey, replace her with someone else, and your theory does have validity."
"By 'someone else,' do you mean Corporal Chambers?"
"Well, we know he's hiding something."
"They were also best friends. So why would he want to threaten Conti?"
Ziva chewed on her lip. "Well, Conti did amass a huge gambling debt. He could have asked Chambers to loan him some money. Conti doesn't pay him back, Chambers gets upset and threatens him. But that animal attacks before anything is resolved."
Tony shook his head. "Nothing like money troubles to ruin a friendship. See, that's why I never borrow money from you guys."
Ziva gasped in shock. "Excuse me? Who asked me for five dollars last week because you didn't have enough to tip the pizza delivery man?"
"Okay, that was one time. And it was only five bucks. And I paid you back."
"Actually, you didn't."
Tony hit the brakes. Ziva's seatbelt was the only thing keeping her from slamming into the dashboard.
"Tony! What the hell?"
He dug into his pants pocket, pulled out his wallet and extracted a five dollar bill.
"Here." He stuffed the bill into her hand. "I don't feel like waking up with you holding a knife to my throat because I didn't pay you back."
She looked over the bill, grinned and put it in her pocket.
A few minutes later they pulled into the parking lot of the building that housed base security. Colonel Walling had set aside a couple offices for the NCIS team. She and Tony found Gibbs and McGee in one of them.
"Find anything at Morehead City?" Gibbs asked as he leaned against the desk.
Tony ran down the details of their interviews with Helena Bailey and her mother.
"At least we eliminated those two as possibilities on who could have been with Conti when he was attacked," Tony concluded his report. "So, you guys find anything interesting back here?"
"Maybe." Gibbs turned to McGee, sitting at the desk, a laptop opened in front of him. "McGee. Show them what you found."
"Okay. Uh, well, I was able to recover a couple things that might be relevant from Corporal Conti's computer here. It was really easy, too. The guy had absolutely no security programs installed. No encryption software, no firewalls, not even anti-virus programs. I had no trouble getting into his files."
"Well, thank God for that," said Tony.
"I know. It saved me a lot of time."
"That's not what I meant, Probie. I meant thank God because we won't have to listen to all your technobabble about algorithms this and string attacks that."
The corners of McGee's mouth twisted.
Gibbs shot Tony a harsh look. He grinned sheepishly and looked down at his shoes.
"Um, anyway," McGee continued. "Since Corporal Conti was killed by an animal, I thought this picture was pretty interesting."
He tapped a few keys. Ziva and Tony took up position behind him as a photo appeared on the screen. She furrowed her brow as she studied it. The image was rather blurred. She thought she could make out some sort of face, one with white or gray hair. But it was hard to tell.
There was, however, no mistaking the fierce, yellow eyes.
"Okay. So what the hell is that?" Tony drew his head back, a perplexed look on his face.
McGee shrugged. "I have no idea. It looks like it was taken rather quickly with a phone camera."
"What then?" asked Tony. "Whoever was with Conti took a snap shot of the animal that attacked him, then came back here and loaded the image onto Conti's computer? What the hell for?"
"I-I don't know. I'm just saying that this could mean something."
"Uh-huh." Tony sighed and folded his arms. "Please tell me you have something else that makes more sense."
"Well, um, I did look over Conti's internet usage over the past two weeks. The one thing that stood out was three days before his death, he went to D-I-A dot mil twice."
"DIA?" Ziva spoke. "As in Defense Intelligence Agency."
"Uh-huh." McGee nodded.
Tony looked even more perplexed. "Why would a Marine armored vehicle jockey be interested in the DIA website?"
"I don't know," Gibbs answered. "But more and more it looks like there was something funny going on between Conti and whoever else was out there when that animal attacked."
"Maybe it's time to talk to Corporal Chambers again." Ziva looked around at the rest of the team. "And this time, press him until he tells us everything."
XXXXX
Sergeant Phil Thiessen continued to scowl as he followed the pot-bellied, middle-aged man through the calf-high shrubbery near the beach.
Why the hell do we need a civilian to help us? This was the sort of mission tailor-made for the Marines. Search and destroy. Though instead of enemy soldiers or terrorists, their target happened to be an animal.
An animal that killed a fellow Marine.
The attack happened on their base, so they should be allowed to handle it themselves. But since an animal had been responsible for this Corporal Conti's death, the federal government, in its "infinite wisdom," decided to bring in officers from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to take the lead in this hunt. Colonel Walling had assigned Thiessen and several other MPs to tag along with the FWS people, A, for back-up, and B, because you just don't let civilians roam around a U.S. military installation on their own.
Still, he hated playing babysitter to some government puke old enough to be his father.
I should be out here in a four-man squad, or maybe in a Hummer with a fifty cal. Not with a guy who may keel over from a heart attack if any crap goes down.
They stopped at the edge of a small retention pond. The Fish and Wildlife guy, Garber, shined his flashlight on the muddy water. That forced Thiessen to push his night vision goggles onto the top of his field cap. He groaned to himself. He'd asked Garber if he wanted his own pair of NVGs, but he declined.
"I'd rather do this with my own eyeballs," he'd said. "Have them adjust to the darkness themselves."
Idiot. You could see a hell of a lot better in the darkness with the NVGs, even though it turned everything a phosphorescent green.
"Well, no gators down there," Garber announced.
Thiessen scrunched his face in confusion. "I thought they said they didn't know what kind of animal killed Corporal Conti."
"Well there are only two sorts of animals around here that could have ripped apart your Marine like that. A bear or a gator."
"But I saw the photos of the footprints. They didn't look like ones from a bear or an alligator." Or so said Colonel Walling.
Garber grunted. "I saw those photos, too. I don't know why they looked the way they did. But gators and bears are the only large predators in this whole state. So it's gotta be one or the other. Now come on."
Thiessen sighed and followed the Fish and Wildlife officer. He supposed it had to be one of the two. It certainly made more sense than one rumor fueled by a couple Carolina-born Marines. That Corporal Conti was killed by some local legend called the Lizard Man.
Why can't morons like that do us all a favor and go into the Army instead?
Lizard Man. Where the hell did people come up with that kind of crap?
"Alpha Seven, Home Plate. Check in," a voice burst in his earpiece.
Thiessen grabbed the radio clipped to his shoulder. "Home Plate, Alpha Seven. All clear."
"Roger, Seven," the Marine back at the operations center replied.
He and Garber continued on, approaching a line of bushes and tall weeds. The sound of the surf drifted up from the beach. He tried to tune it out, listening for any signs of leaves rustling or twigs snapping.
He heard none of that.
They moved further inland, the foliage getting denser. Thiessen kept sweeping his head back and forth. No sign of any animals. At least any large animals. Disappointment flowed through him. He actually wanted to find whatever killed his brother Marine and put it out of its misery. Maybe it was a stupid way to think. Animals didn't deliberately target Marines like a terrorist would. Still, it had killed a Marine, and if they didn't find it, it might kill more Marines. No way could he let that . . .
A rustling of leaves caught his attention.
He swung to the left, M-4 assault rifle raised. Garber also turned in the same direction, his .223 Remington rifle at the ready. Thiessen's eyes flickered over the vegetation. He held his breath, concentrating on any more noise.
A twig snapped. More leaves rustled. He whipped his M-4 right, icy pricks creeping up his spine. Part of a bush moved. Was it the wind or something else?
"Where are you?" he whispered. His finger curled around the trigger, fighting the urge to just spray the bush. Don't fire until you have a visible target, his training screamed at him.
Thiessen heard scuffling. He tried to ignore the sweat forming all over his body.
There! A shadow flashed between a bush and a clump of small trees.
"I got it," he told Garber in a hushed voice. Thiessen moved forward, M-4 aimed at the trees. His ears perked up. Fear swirled within him. He thought about Conti being eaten. A shiver went through him. He couldn't imagine how horrible that must have been.
Thiessen moved closer to the trees. He fought the temptation to look over his shoulder and see if Garber was behind him. He had to assume so. He hoped so. That was the problem working with civilians. You just didn't know.
He got within a foot of the trees. Despite his fear, he kept his breathing steady.
Your ass is mine.
He leaned around the trees.
Weeds exploded next to him. He whirled around. A large, compact shape jumped out of the vegetation and slammed into him. Pain burst up and down Thiessen's left side. He fell to the ground. The M-4 tumbled from his hands.
A scream cut through the air. He rolled on his stomach.
Oh my God.
Some . . . thing straddled Garber. It brought up its hand, then dropped it in a flash. Garber screamed again, his legs kicking like mad.
Thiessen scrambled to his knees. He reached for his M-4 with one hand and grabbed his radio with the other.
"Home Plate! Home Plate! This is Alpha Seven! We're under attack! We're under . . ."
A piercing roar tore into his ears.
He looked up . . . and screamed.
TO BE CONTINUED