Title: Facing Forward
Author: CSIGeekFan
Rating: T (mild language)
Disclaimer: [Insert Disclaimer that I don't own NCIS or I'd be rich here.]
Author's Note: Reviews are appreciated. I hope you enjoy.
X X X
After Gibbs' call to Abby's lab, the elevator ride to the bullpen took forever, or so Tony thought. His heart thudded wildly in anticipation, and he wondered if many forty-something burned out ex-agents went into cardiac arrests in the damn steel box. He didn't have time to contemplate this latest thought, though, because the door finally slid open and he strode rapidly to find his ex-boss rummaging through desk drawers.
"DiNozzo. Ziva. With me. McGee's getting the truck," Gibbs barked, without ever once looking up.
"What'd Breen say?" Tony asked. That Gibbs hadn't volunteered the information only served to shatter the police chief's nerves a little more.
"We got another crime scene," the team leader finally responded, his voice a little softer and sympathy in his eyes.
"Oh God."
X X X
The midday sun glared down like a big ball of fire in Tony's eyes by the time they got to the docks.
"Breen gave up three others," Gibbs explained as they made their way to the waterfront. "Apparently, your boy stumbled into something. When he couldn't get a hold of you, he followed them. The men on base were couriers. They handled the transport and the money from a cartel in Columbia to local distributors bringing the product up the coastline into Canada."
Unable to form any kind of response, Tony stopped mid-stride, suddenly terrified to step onto the wooden platform that would take them to the boats tied down near the end. His mind raced so rapidly, he couldn't keep a single thought still long enough to focus, and fatigue suddenly swamped him. Sure, he'd felt tired before. Now he just felt old.
"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked, bringing Tony's attention back front and center.
"Are you okay?" Ziva asked, and the former agent tried to muster some kind of a grin. That he couldn't seem to find one gave evidence to the sheer course of fear running through his blood.
Eventually, though, he pulled his shoulders back, thought of his responsibilities, and replied, "Yeah. I'm fine," and followed after Gibbs.
The storm that had hit hundreds of miles north may have made it all the way to Virginia, but without the gale-force winds or horrendous downpour. Rather, the misting drizzle had washed away the air pollutants, but otherwise left a lot untouched. If it had, the blood evidence on the nearly abandoned dock wouldn't have existed. As it was, light trails of the partially dried substance streaked the wooden platform, seeping down between the cracks.
Tony wanted to hurl at the sight of it. Instead, he breathed out loud and heavy before he whispered, "Aww, Curt. What the hell did you do?"
"Breen said they shot him down here. Tossed his body in the water," Gibbs said, stepping closer to Tony. "Divers should be here any time."
Those few words snapped Tony out of his distraught haze, and had him barking, "He's not dead. How dare you assume he's dead."
"I don't," Gibbs replied. "Doubted you would, either. But I gotta prove he's not a floater."
"What else did Breen say?" Tony demanded, stepping into Gibbs' space and surprising the older man.
With a feral smile, Gibbs replied, "He said he thought they shoulda shot your boy again, because he's so damn good at everything he does, he didn't think just two bullets would kill 'im."
"Hey Boss!" McGee called out, interrupting the two men. "I've got a blood trail over here, leading toward this boat."
While McGee documented the evidence, Tony vaulted onto the vessel. On the metal decking, the light rain had been enough to wash away the majority of the blood, except in a couple crevices where the wall met the floor, so he began a systematic search, starting with the hatch leading below. The lock, however, stopped him. In frustration, he headed up top of the thirty four footer to the captains perch. Under the cover provided, he found a small pool of blood, and his heart hammered in anticipation of the hunt.
He found palm prints smeared on the ignition panel. On the wheel, in dried brownish-red blood, he found a clear fingerprint.
"Gibbs!" he called out. "Got one of those portable fingerprint scanners?"
It took less than three minutes to confirm Curt had been on the boat. From the looks of it, he'd crawled up the old wooden steps at the end of the dock and onto the vessel. What happened after that, however... there were still too damned many questions.
If Curt lived long enough to get on the boat, why the hell hadn't he taken it? Wires had been pulled free, like someone had attempted to jump the motor. Tony cursed himself for not learning the ignition processes to boats. Sure, he might live in the remote regions of the northeast, but he'd never learned the mechanics. What the hell had gone wrong here?
Slowly, he followed another trail of blood leading over the edge of the boat, and his breath caught in his throat. Under an awning, Tony found a large pool of blood. How could anyone survive that?
His heart slammed down with the force of Thor's hammer. Because for the very first time, Tony truly wondered if Curt was still alive.