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Chapter 7: Corpus Delecti
Gibbs phoned Fairfax as soon as he had cell phone service to let them know McGee was on the way. There were extenuating circumstances to his injuries that would require special care because of the potential for delayed effects from the explosion. Gibbs took his eyes off the road long enough to glance at Tim, who had succumbed to exhaustion.
When the car came to a full stop in the Fairfax parking lot, McGee woke up startled and at the edge of panic. "Oh shit! Tony!" he blurted before he realized where he was.
Gibbs spoke softly to his youngest agent. "We're at the hospital, Tim. You need a minute?"
McGee sat up straighter and looked around the parking lot, getting his bearings. He looked down at his bandaged hands, his splinted wrist. "It wasn't all a dream, then."
"Nope." Gibbs screwed the lid off a fresh bottle of water and handed it to McGee.
"Let's go check on Tony," McGee said as he tried to open his car door.
"Hang on, I'll get the door, McGee." Gibbs walked around to the passenger door. "Let's get you checked in first. You'll probably have some waiting to do, but I'll see if we can at least find you a place to lie down."
McGee eased himself out of the car and swayed. "Man, my hands are shaking again."
Gibbs offered a steadying grip on McGee's upper arm and shut the door. "Adrenaline's gone, McGee. People have collapsed under a hell of a lot less trauma than you went through. You okay to walk now?"
"Yeah, Boss."
"You ever been knocked out before, McGee?"
"Not really, no. I guess I held my breath long enough to pass out when I was a kid."
"Well, consider it a rite of passage."
"Does that mean Tony won't ever call me Probie again?"
Gibbs chuckled. "Don't count on it."
They stood at the threshold of the emergency room. The rain had stopped, the clouds had moved on, and now stars shone in the sky, making the night seem deceptively calm. But reality loomed on the other side of the door, complete with overly bright lights and the smell of institutional disinfectants.
"You ready?" Gibbs asked.
McGee nodded and they entered the hospital.
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*****NCIS*****
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Gibbs wished Ducky could have met them at the hospital to deal with the doctors and check on Tony's condition, but he knew that his medical examiner's obligation was to the deceased Marine in the freezer. Unraveling the details behind Turner's demise would in turn help bring Tony's attacker to justice. But, damn, did he hate hospitals . . . .
Part of Gibbs' mind knew that McGee should probably have gone to Fairfax by ambulance. But the poor kid had been through hell, sick with worry, second guessing himself, and Gibbs knew that driving him in his own vehicle had been the right thing to do. He was getting soft.
They approached the registration desk, and Tim's knees buckled. Gibb's quick hand steadied him, and that seemed to be enough triage to bump McGee to the top of the list. A nurse rushed a wheelchair to McGee and helped him into it, and then she whisked him off through a double door and to a trauma room bed.
Gibbs filled out the paperwork as well as he could and then asked about Tony. After verifying that Gibbs was, in fact, still listed as Tony's next of kin, the front desk clerk told him to have a seat and that someone would come speak to him.
Instead of sitting, Gibbs paced. The TV news in the waiting area caught his attention. The screen showed live coverage of the Bombing in Berryville, as they called it. The report was short on details—and long on drama—but one thing all media knew: NCIS had been involved (they showed a picture of Ziva speaking to a local investigator) and a man had been critically injured and taken to Bethesda.
Gibbs smirked when they cut to a live reporter at Bethesda, who stood outside the very quiet emergency room reporting that, due to HIPAA laws, they had been unable to obtain any details regarding the injured man.
"Leroy Gibbs? Is there a Leroy Gibbs here?" a nurse called out.
He turned from the TV. "I'm Gibbs."
"Come with me, please," she said with a smile. She led him to a much smaller waiting room with a couch, two upholstered chairs, and a muted television. The news had moved on to the weather report.
"You have questions about Anthony DiNozzo?"
"How is he?" Gibbs asked, unable to read her expression.
"They've clamped off the blood vessel and removed the tourniquet. He's undergoing an emergency transfusion right now, and when he's stable enough, he'll be headed to surgery."
"Do they know if they can save the leg?" Gibbs asked directly.
"I'm afraid I can't answer that, sir. It's very complex, and the surgery will take several hours. There really won't be much more I can tell you until after surgery. Someone will contact you when he is out of surgery, but you won't be able to see him for many hours."
Gibbs nodded. "Thank you."
"We've called in very good specialists for him, Mr. Gibbs. He's in good hands."
Gibbs was allowed to go talk with McGee, who was already hooked up to a variety of machines to monitor his blood pressure and heart rate. His eyes widened when he saw Gibbs."
"How's Tony? How's his leg?"
"They're getting him ready for surgery. He lost so much blood they needed to do a transfusion first." Gibbs relayed the information he had received from the nurse and then told McGee he was going to go to the parking lot to make some calls.
"Yeah, I'm going to be here a while, Boss. They're going to x-ray my wrist and clean up my scrapes. Then they said they need to admit me because of the possibility of delayed effects from the explosion. Plus they think I might have a concussion."
"I think that's a safe bet. You do what they tell you, McGee," Gibbs advised, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Boss, if they're worried about my lungs, what does that mean for Tony?" Fear showed on McGee's face again. A fear Gibbs shared.
"I don't know, Tim. I don't know."
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*****NCIS*****
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As Gibbs walked back to his car to make some calls, his phone rang. "Gibbs."
Ducky had routed a call through the Berryville/Leesburg emergency dispatch. "Have you any news on Anthony yet, Jethro? We shall all breathe easier when we know he is on the mend."
"Nurse said they took the tourniquet off and he's getting a transfusion. They're trying to get him stable for surgery. Sounds like it's going to be a long haul. We're not going to know much for a few hours."
"I have put in a call to Bethesda to see if Dr. Pitt could be brought in as a consultant, due to Tony's unusual medical history."
"That's good, Duck. Now give me an update."
"Mr. Palmer and I arrived some time ago. We were escorted to the freezer and what is left of Sergeant Turner's body. The remains are completely mutilated and have begun to thaw, but we were able to get some tissue, fluid, and fiber samples, which I shall drive back to Abigail tonight. I don't relish the thought of making that phone call . . . . Mr. Palmer will remain here with the body to maintain the chain of custody. We've been told it will be quite some time—perhaps days—until the freezer itself can be removed from the wreckage."
"Okay, Duck. At least we know who we're looking for now. Put Ziva on."
"She'll need to call you back, Jethro. She is getting a landline set up so that we'll be able to communicate more directly. Ziva is proving to be a very capable leader out here. You should be proud of her, Jethro."
"I'm proud of all of them, Ducky. And now I want to catch the bitch that did this."
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*****NCIS*****
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Gibbs waited until McGee was admitted and put in a private room in the early pre-dawn hours, then he drove directly from Fairfax back to D.C. His first stop was down at Autopsy. Ducky looked like he had been up all night as well.
"What you got, Duck?"
"Oh, I'm so glad you're here, Jethro. Will you please give me an update on Anthony and Timothy?"
"Tony just made it out of surgery, Ducky. I just got the call."
"And his leg, Jethro?"
"Still attached. They just moved him to Recovery."
Ducky looked heavenward. "Thank God for that. And Timothy?"
"They're going to hang on to him, watch him. He broke his wrist and got banged up."
"Have you talked to Abigail yet, Jethro? She is in a state, as you can well imagine. But, as always, she rose to the occasion and threw herself into her work. She is as determined as we all are to find Anthony and Timothy's attacker and bring her to justice. I am sure that you're not surprised to know that there's not much to go on here, Jethro, as far as a medical examination. I am dealing with photographs, measurements, speculations, fibers, and lumps of tissue. As you can see, there just was not much left intact. There are, however, a few curiosities that I have sent up to Miss Sciuto for further review."
"Curiosities, Duck?"
"Hmm, yes. For instance, there is possible evidence that the body was in that freezer for longer than Sergeant Turner was missing! Human tissue changes when it is submitted to subfreezing temperatures. The longer a body is frozen, the more pronounced the changes. Abigail should be able to tell much more definitively than I."
"Anything else?"
"Well, as far as a cause of death goes, it is possible that it was from blood loss, perhaps from stabbing or gunshots, given the amount of blood that was soaked into the carpet in the house. Abigail quickly confirmed that the blood inside Turner's car, the blood in the house, and the blood from the tissue samples inside the freezer are all one and the same, but she does not yet have conclusive DNA confirmation. It just takes longer, you see. The evidence is just so confounded from the explosion, Jethro! When we know more about the bombs, we shall know more about the state of the body before the explosion."
"Such as, Duck?"
"Such as, there were, for lack of a more precise anatomical term, 'chunks' of tissue that looked as if they might have had traces of powder burns. But whether that's from the bomb or from a gun, I have no idea! I've sent them to Abigail, along with a hair sample and fibers that are presumably from the sergeant's uniform."
"Ducky, is there any chance that this isn't Sergeant Turner? Could this be the sister?"
"But Anthony saw the body before the bomb, Jethro. He would not have mistaken a blonde female for a dark-haired male. And Timothy saw the uniform, but not the face."
"They were both male at one time, Ducky. Answer the question based on the evidence."
Ducky's lips were set in a thin line, matched by his equally tense face. "Based on the evidence, I do not know. Abigail will be able to answer that question. I am sorry I can't be of more help. I don't even have a body here to talk to! I'm afraid I'm feeling rather useless. For this poor soul—and for Anthony."
"Why don't you go on home, Ducky. You look beat."
"As do you, Jethro. But I shan't sleep."
"Why don't you on to Fairfax, then?"
The elder doctor reached for his coat and donned his hat, nodding. "Very well. Perhaps I can be of some use there. Or at least ensure that Timothy behaves himself. Do keep me posted, Jethro."
"You, too, Ducky."
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*****NCIS*****
Gibbs headed up to Abby's lab.
"Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!" She threw her arms around him and squeezed, showing no sign of letting go.
He patted her back gently. "They'll be okay, Abby."
"Any word on Tony? I haven't heard anything all morning!"
"It's only six a.m., and he's in recovery from the leg surgery. He got hurt pretty bad, Abby. Our place right now is to find the person who did this to him. He knows we care, McGee's there, and Ducky's on his way."
She released her hold and looked at Gibbs' face, reading the emotions that he tried so hard to keep in check.
"And McGee . . . is he really okay?"
Gibbs nodded. "Broken wrist, torn up hands, probably a concussion, banged up knees he never even mentioned. They want to keep him a full twenty-four hours to keep tabs on his lungs. That blast was pretty hard."
"And Tony's lungs . . . . He's gone through enough, Gibbs! It's not fair."
"What do you have for me?"
Abby shifted mental gears. "More than you could ever imagine! I was just getting ready to call you!"
"Nothing will surprise me on this case, Abby. Tell me what you've got."
Abby smiled and raised her eyebrows. "Well, for starters, our dead Marine is no Marine at all."
"You're sure?"
"Completely sure, because the blood from Ducky's blown up corpse, or BUC, as I like to call it, is full of synthetic female hormones. So is the blood from the house. But not the sample from the Sergeant's car. Matching DNA, well, for the most part, but we won't get into that esoteric debate. The effects of those levels of hormones would be pretty hard to miss in normal day-to-day Marine life."
"How so?"
"They cause breasts, Gibbs. You know, knockers, boobs, ta-tas, whatever you want to call them."
Gibbs rolled his eyes. "I'm familiar with the terminology, Abby, go on."
"Yeah, so, secondary sex characteristics. Kind of a big deal when you're naked. People would have noticed, trust me. Especially Marines—no offense. But there's more. The corpse chunk's testosterone levels are very low. Female low, without the presence of testosterone blockers in the blood. But wait, there's more." She clicked on her keyboard again, bringing up another picture, this time it appeared to be a strand of hair.
"Ducky also sent up a hair sample from the area of our BUC where one might have otherwise expected to find a head. This hair is not David's hair, unless he bleached his hair and then dyed it back to its original shade. Bleaching does horrible things to hair. Horrible things that dying merely covers up but doesn't change back."
"So, that's not David Turner down there. Are you saying it's Danielle? But that can't be, either."
"Yes it is, and yes it can," she countered. "But I'm not done yet.
"There's also the matter of the tooth. There was one intact tooth, and it does not match any teeth in David Turner's dental records. I'll bet you Sister Rosita's favorite china teacup that this tooth matches sister Danielle's tooth. And there's one more little tidbit I have for you. You're going to like this one, Gibbs."
She pulled up another slide. "Take a look at these little beauties. These little guys are from tissue samples from our BUC. I've evaluated them both by microscope and by electronic image analyzer, and I've found extended extracellular spaces and shrunken cells resulting from the freeze-thaw cycle. These spaces far exceed the spaces expected on a body that has been frozen only three or four days. These definitely fall more in the two week range, which is before David went missing."
"Then how can it be Danielle, Abbs? It's before she went missing too," Gibbs reminded. "We have video footage from just a few days ago of her withdrawing cash from a bank in Leesburg."
"No, actually, we don't. And this is where it gets good. When I heard Tony got hurt last night and that he was in surgery and I wouldn't be able to see him, or, you know, sleep, I came here to wait for Ducky to bring me some evidence to process. So, while I waited, I got to studying the bank pictures Tony got from the bank manager who had the hots for you. McGee emailed me copies yesterday afternoon, before, you know, the bomb."
Abby brought up pictures of the bank on her computer. "When we analyze the ratios of known structures in the bank—such as standard countertop height, door height, width— to the image of Danielle, the person in those later images is bigger than the real Danielle. By several inches in height, and a couple shoe sizes. See?"
She shifted between two pictures. "These are the numbers for Danielle on her birthday, when she made her big deposit. But these three here—" she clicked more thumbprint photos and enlarged them. "These have to be David."
"David pretending to be his sister. Withdrawing her money. Why didn't I see it before? Tony was on to something with those damn eyebrows. David is our killer; we're looking for the wrong person. That was his plan all along."
"Yep," Abby continued, "murder his sister, frame her for his murder, take her fortune, and reinvent himself as a different man while we're all out looking for Danielle."
"That's good work, Abby!" He kissed her cheek and headed for the elevator. "I need to make some calls and head back to Berryville."
Abby sat on her stool, exhausted. Her momentary elation faded fast in the sudden stillness of her lab, and her thoughts returned to her injured friends. She suddenly jumped off her stool and chased after Gibbs, catching him as the elevator doors opened.
"Gibbs! Can I go to Fairfax now?"