Chapter 5
Hey, here's chapter 5, sorry for the delay, school's kept me crazy stressed. Add writers block to that and well, yeah. So sorry if this is shorter than you'd like, but hey, at least it's up here, right? . . . Right?
I really hate the FBI. Do they honestly have to act all high and mighty all the time? 'Cause really, it gets annoying after the first five minutes. Most of these agents are better than a lot of the others that we've had to work with but their boss was just a bastard. Who pays that much attention to procedure and protocol, especially when lives are in danger?!
Someone with a major stick up their ass, that's who.
"Boss!" Tony's exclamation jolted me out my musings.
I looked up and snapped, "What, DiNozzo?" Damn Tony, always interrupting my thoughts.
"Abby got an ID on one of the newest victims. Talia Harper, arrested two years ago for illegal gambling." He grinned, as if finding this information was the most spectacular thing in the world.
I raised an eyebrow, "And?"
"Uh, a-and . . ." He stuttered. Am I that intimidating?
"Find me some information on her!" Really, was it that complicated?
"On it, boss!"
I sat back in my chair and sighed. At least we had the start of something now.
Does NCIS have to take personal offense to everything we do? It's not my fault that Strauss is a total rampaging bitch. Does he not understand the concept of follow the rules or being fired? Or does he just not give a damn? Humph. Bastard.
"What do we know about the victims?" I asked. It would really help if NCIS would share information, but they just had to bitchy about the whole thing…
The door to the conference room opened, and an agent poked his head in. "Hi! I thought I'd tell you that the newest female victim's name is Talia Harper, 'cause Gibbs probably wouldn't." he grinned and said, "If you need anything else, come ask. I'll be in the bullpen, Abby's lab or autopsy if I'm in the building. Name's Tony DiNozzo." He waved and left. Well. Now we have two names at least.
"Garcia, you hear that?" Prentiss asked. Speaker phone came in handy sometimes.
"Yup, cross checking her name with Petty Officer Bradley Trumpman. I'll get back to you if anything come's up."
"Coordinate with the NCIS tech. That might speed things along." I hoped their lab personnel were more like Agent DiNozzo than Agent Gibbs.
"When we know, you'll know." We ended the call and looked at the images of the crime scenes.
"He likes couples." Rossi observed.
"And secluded public places." Prentiss added. Isn't that an oxymoron?
"We know from the autopsy reports that he hunts at night, most likely to avoid detection." Reid noted.
"It could also mean that he's not confident enough to approach his victims during the day." I pointed out.
"Or that he lacks the strength or charm to subdue two victims without the element of surprise." J.J supplied.
"So we're looking for a smaller male with confidence issues." Reid has really perfected his monotone. It's more than a little unnerving. I mean, really, we all miss Morgan, but he seems to be taking it particularly hard. . .
"Judging by the way he uses the knife, and the fact there seems to be no sexual assault, I'd say he's either in denial and hates who he is, or he's simply a sadistic serial killer who prefers male victims." Prentiss surmised, forcing me to focus on the case. Something was up with Reid though, and I'm determined to find out what.
"This is bad, McGee! Really bad! Somehow, this guy is managing to leave his scenes without any useable evidence! He stabs his victims, repeatedly, and the only DNA at the scenes is the victims. There aren't any fingerprints, no footprints, not even a single strand of hair! It's maddening, Timmy! And we have to work with FBI agents who don't even really follow normal investigative procedures! And, to top it all off, Tony's not acting like Tony!" I took a breath, "Something's wrong, Tim, I can feel it. Tony's never like this."
"Abby, Tony's fine. He probably just had a late night, a really late night . . . for several weeks." I could hear the slight bitterness is his voice, but Tony was more important right now. I could worry about finding Timmy a new girlfriend later.
"That's not it, Tim. You know how Tony likes to brag when he has a date, and he hasn't said a thing in weeks! He hasn't been like that since -" I stopped dead. It couldn't . . . no Tony would never . . . he wouldn't . . . not again . . . "I have to talk to Gibbs!"
Tim looked at me funny. "About the case?"
"About Tony, McGee, haven't you been listening?" Honestly, how hard is it to follow a conversation?
McGee sighed, "Abby, Tony's fine, alright. Do you have anything that might help us with the case?"
Grrrr. Damn McGee and his lack of caring. Fine, if he won't help me help Tony, then I'll do it myself. Or maybe I'll enlist Ziva . . . "There might be something, but I'm not sure. I was looking through the victims' records with the FBI's tech, and I think we might've found a common factor. Miss Harper went to the same casino that the chips Tony and Ziva found in Trumpman's apartment came from. They were both at The Midas." McGee gave me a hug and left, saying "Thanks" over his shoulder as he did so. Now to worry about Tony.
"So, what do you think?" he asked.
"I don't know. We don't have an accurate profile yet. The location and the timing and the fact that there aren't any witnesses' suggest an organized killer, but the rage displayed during the stabbing shows a disorganized killer." I looked at Tony, "It doesn't make sense."
"Could it be that there are two of them?"
I shook my head, "It's unlikely. With two unsub's, especially if one of them is disorganized, the chance that physical evidence would be left behind is 78% higher, and since the scenes were so pristine. . ." I shrugged.
"So, one killer, organized, with rage issues . . ." he mused out loud. He smirked and looked across the bullpen, "That almost sounds like Ziva."
"You think I have rage issues?" She quirked an eyebrow. She reminds me of Prentiss . . .
"Well, if the shoe fits . . ."
"But I'm wearing boots . . ." she looked puzzled.
Tony sighed, "It's an expression, Ziva."
Agent McGee chose that moment to walk into the bullpen, "Abby and the FBI tech, Penelope, may have found a connection between Talia Harper and Petty Officer Trumpman. They both were at The Midas Casino. Where's Gibbs?" well at least that's something. Wait, Penelope? That's . . . interesting.
"Up in Vance's office. McGee, go through their phone records, see if they've been in contact with each other. Ziva, tell Gibbs and the FBI what Abby found. Agent Reid and I will go check out the casino."
"Are you sure that's a good idea, Tony?" Ziva asked as we both got up to leave.
Tony grinned, "Relax, Zeevah, we're just going to talk to the staff. What could go wrong?"
"So." I said, trying to break the awkward silence that had fallen over the car. We were sort of friends, weren't we? How far did that friendship go, though? What was a safe topic of conversation?
"So." He replied, not really giving me anything to work with.
Aw to hell with it. "You and Agent David seem close."
He tensed, and I knew immediately that I had said something wrong. Shit.
"We're partners;" he answered carefully, "We need to be close in order to do our job properly."
"Sorry. I didn't mean to pry." Arrg. Now he's going to be mad that I brought it up . . .
He sighed. "No, it's fine." Tony laughed dryly. "God knows that I've pried enough into your life for turnabout to be fair game. To be honest, Ziva and I are close, just . . . not like that. She's like a sister to me."
"Does she know that?" I asked before I could stop myself. Damn it, I really have got to stop blurting out the first thing that pops into my head . . . I bit my lip nervously.
Tony saw the action and laughed. "Yeah, she knows. She's already has herself a man, anyway." He must have caught my questioning look, because he continued, "A bartender named Teegan McKay. Nice guy, form what I could tell." He nodded, as if affirming that statement. "And besides I -" he cut himself off.
I knew it was pushing it, but I felt compelled to ask, "But you?"
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I . . . nothing. Look, we're here." He pulled into a paring space outside the casino. I knew the conversation was over, but that didn't help my curiosity any. What had he meant?
We walked into casino and made our way over to the front desk. After flashing our badges, I casually asked, "Is your manager about?" The clerk nodded apprehensively and ran off to find the boss, nervously muttering under his breath.
Tony grinned deviously. "He was certainly unhappy to see us."
"Most people who work in the gambling industry don't like to see government officials." I pointed out.
"True." He conceded. I liked talking to Tony. It was easy, comfortable. Almost like having an older brother.
The clerk returned, an older woman following him. For all that looked to be in her late 50's, she was striking. Her blond hair, most likely dyed, was pulled back into a bun, but a few strands fell out to frame her face. She had icy blue eyes that held a fair amount of intelligence in them. She was dressed in a deep red skirt suit, complete with three inch high black stilettos. There was an air of superiority that surrounded her, heightened by the arrogance clearly displayed on her elegant features. The kind of arrogance that showed on those who came from money, and were used to getting exactly what they wanted the first time they asked for it.
Tony, clearly not intimidated in the least, grinned charmingly, "Hi. Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, NCIS. This is Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid, FBI. We were wondering if you could answer a few questions, ma'am." He certainly knew how to get people to open up. He put just the right amount of charm into the introduction to make it seem like he might be there for more than simply his job.
"Gabriella Leduc." She introduced, "What kind of questions?" She rose an eyebrow in what she probably thought was a seductive manner.
Tony held up the pictures of Talia Harper and Petty Officer Trumpman, "Have you or any of the staff see either of these two here before?"
She looked at the pictures closely before replying, "I may have seen him before, but if I did, he wasn't wearing a military uniform. If he's the guy I'm thinking of, he comes in often for a few months or weeks at a time regularly, then not at all for, oh, I'd say anywhere from six months to a year." She looked at Talia's picture closer, "Her I don't recognize. It could be that she hasn't come often enough for me to really distinguish." She shook her head. "Sorry I couldn't have been more help." She smiled at Tony, "But, ah, feel free to come back anytime you want, for anything." I swear she was practically purring by the end of it.
Tony smiled again, although this time I could tell it was forced, "I just might take you up on that offer." We turned and headed back to the car. After we were out of the building, Tony shuddered. I laughed. I haven't laughed in a long time. It felt good, if even for a moment, to be able to forget why I no longer slept at night.
"Don't tell me you didn't like her?" I asked, deciding to tease him just a little bit. He gave me a look that said 'are you fucked up?' and shuddered again. I chuckled.
"She is definitely not my type." We climbed into the car.
"Then what is you type?" I asked, curious. Hey, he brought it up. And I might be able to figure out what he had started to say earlier . . .
"I don't really have a type." . . . or not. Damn. Would it kill him to give a straight answer? . . . Oh. Oh!
"You're gay, aren't you?" He slammed down on the brakes. Thankfully, there was no one around us in the parking lot.
"What?!" he looked over at me in shock and disbelief, "Where the hell did that come from?"
I shrugged, "Am I right?"
He sighed, and started driving again. We left the parking lot and moved onto the highway. Just as I thought he wasn't going to answer, "I'm bi. But it's . . . not something I advertize at all. Working in a government agency, for an ex-marine . . . I figured it would be better, and easier, to play the playboy." He smiled at his own joke. "People pay less attention to you that way. If you, well, if you fit a stereotype." I nodded. I did it a little, myself. I played up the geek aspect to try and stop a lot of the genius questions. No one really thinks it's odd for someone who's dressed as a teacher's assistant to be a genius, but if I were to dress goth or something . . . well, nobody would take me seriously.
"So . . . do you have a boyfriend?" I asked. Was that what he was going to say earlier?
" . . . No." he sighed, resigned. There was something in his voice . . .
"But?" I prompted, because already I could tell that if Tony wasn't forced to talk about himself he wouldn't.
"But there's someone that I can't seem to get my mind off of. It doesn't matter, though. He's straight. Very straight."
I quirked an eyebrow, "You sure it's not a cover?"
"Yeah, I'm sure." The defeat in his voice was clear. He'd resigned himself to unrequited love a long time ago.
Nothing was said for the rest of the trip back to NCIS HQ. There was nothing else to say.
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