The crime scene was a busy place. Squad cars and ambulances dotted the perimeter of the warehouse parking lot, and uniformed officers lifted the yellow tape as the NCIS team walked up. Their victim was covered in a tarp, which Ducky pulled back. "I'd say this one is fairly self explanatory," the Medical Examiner mused as Tony snapped his pictures and McGee started running prints. "Single gunshot wound to the chest. He was pronounced dead when the EMS arrived. Odd, though…"
"Duck?" Gibbs asked as he trailed off.
"I would have expected to see more blood," Ducky admitted, looking the scene over again. "This is a messy wound, and he would have bled out in moments." He shrugged. "Ah, well… yet another mystery to solve when we get him back to Autopsy. Come, Mr. Palmer; let's get this poor boy loaded."
Gibbs gave his team the signal, and they fanned out to process the rest of the scene. The police and EMS that had been first on scene were interviewed, and as Tony finished up with his duties, he looked around to see who he could help. McGee was also finished and walking towards him, Gibbs was still talking to one of the officers near where the shooting had happened, and Bishop was getting report from yet another officer near where the vehicles were parked. As Tony watched, the officer opened the door of one of the squad cars to reveal a handcuffed man in the back seat.
"Hey, wait; we have a suspect in custody?" DiNozzo demanded. "That would have been good to know!"
"I wonder if Gibbs knows about this?" McGee asked as they drew nearer.
Tony swept his gaze over the situation, and something didn't jive. While experience had told him that perpetrators came in all shapes, colors, sizes, ages, and genders, his years on the job also led him to recognize certain patterns. Shootings at warehouses on the shadier side of town involving young Navy victims led to the expectation of a certain kind of perpetrator. The suspect in the squad did not live up to that expectation at all.
It might have been the clothes. The cuffed man was wearing hiking boots, jeans, and a flannel shirt over a long-sleeved henley, looking more suited to be hiking in the woods or working as an Eddie Bauer model than hanging around an inner-city warehouse district. Tony came nearer and was able to get a good look at the man himself. His six foot tall frame was lanky and healthy looking. A younger perp would have fit the expectations better, but this guy's sandy brown hair was starting to turn to silver, and it appeared that the passage of time had softened once-chiseled cheekbones. If Tony had been pressed to guess his age, he would have pegged it in the mid-to-upper fifties, but he would not have been surprised in the least to learn he was way off. There was something in the weary brown eyes that spoke of a much longer and fuller life.
Bishop and the officer both sounded frustrated as DiNozzo and McGee came into earshot. The man in the back of the squad was obviously not happy either, and when one of his protests touched the officer's last nerve, the police officer pushed the squad's door closed, effectively drowning him out. As DiNozzo watched, an expression of, 'oh great; not again!' crossed the man's face as he rested his forehead against the window. DiNozzo found that strange; there was something about that expression that spoke volumes about the amount of trouble this guy had been in, yet he didn't have the stamp of a repeat criminal.
"What's the story, Morning Glory?" DiNozzo asked, turning his attention to Bishop, who was avidly writing information in her notepad.
"This guy here was found crouching over the body when the police arrived. His hands were covered in our victim's blood…"
"Because I was trying to stop the bleeding!" the man in the squad shouted, his voice muffled by the closed door. "If I'd killed him, why would I bother hanging around until the cops showed up?"
Ignoring him, DiNozzo looked at the police officer. "Was there a weapon recovered?"
The police officer handed over a plastic evidence bag with a reluctant shrug. "Our victim died of a gunshot wound to the heart…"
"So this obviously isn't our murder weapon," DiNozzo agreed, holding the bag up to eye level and staring at the bright red Swiss Army Knife inside.
"I want that back when you're done with it," the cuffed man in the squad car insisted.
Bishop scowled at him, then continued her report. "Our suspect refused to give his name, stating that he is currently working an undercover assignment for something called 'The Phoenix Foundation,' but he won't give us any information on what that organization is, or what his alleged assignment is. A search of his person turned up a single security card with just his picture on it. He demands that his cell phone be returned to him so he can call in to his organization and have his identity verified that way." At the confusion on McGee and DiNozzo's faces, Bishop shrugged. "He claims his phone has an encryption program on it, and he can only call in with that code. He's asked for it at least a dozen times since I started taking report."
"Yeah, so he can compromise our evidence? Not happening!" DiNozzo agreed. "If he won't talk, that'll have to wait until we get everything processed."
"It's gonna take a while," the man in the car promised, his tone sounding more exhausted than petulant. "Sorry to change the subject here, but I'm starving. Would it be possible to please get me something to eat? I've been trailing this kid for three days without a break."
Tony made sure to write that down. "Ah, was that just a confession?"
The car vibrated with the force of the man's banging his head against the glass. "Awwww, man! I am way too old for this!" he complained. He looked up, focusing on DiNozzo. "Look, just get me a sandwich and my cell phone, and we can talk about this until we're both blue in the face. And hey, buddy?" he added, swinging his dark gaze on the police officer, "You cinched these cuffs a little tight; they're cutting off my circulation."
"Sorry you're so uncomfortable," DiNozzo consoled, the condescension dripping from his tone earning him a grimace from their suspect. "Once we get you back to our Interrogation Room, we'll let you slip into something a little more comfortable… a bright orange jumpsuit and shackles, say?"
Tony was shocked when the suspect heaved an exasperated sigh instead of launching into a furious tirade. Turning to McGee, he gestured back to the suspect. "Get him transferred to our car," Tony ordered. "We'll let the Boss take a crack at him in Interrogation."
"If he lets me make my phone call and then tosses a sandwich at me, I'll sing like a canary," the cuffed man promised as McGee opened the car door and hauled him upright. "Seriously? Even a cup of coffee would be heaven right now."
Tony watched as McGee swapped cuffs (making sure not to cinch his too tightly) and loaded their prisoner in the back of the blue Charger. "Something about this guy…" Tony said aloud.
Bishop was nodding, her head canted to the side. "I know what you mean. Too experienced with being in this kind of trouble. Too secretive; he knows something we don't."
"Like why he killed our Petty Officer?" Tony wondered with a snort.
"No… I get the sense that he's positive he's going to get out of this. Our investigation is an inconvenience to him, but not just because we're holding him for murder."
"Bishop, sometimes you scare me," Tony informed the Probational Officer. "But I think you're right. We'll see what Gibbs can get out of him."
Author's Note: To those of you who know me, I couldn't resist that little shout-out to a former place of employment. I nearly died laughing when I realized that an outfit I had dressed a mannequin in a year and a half ago looked almost exactly like what the Guest Star in this escapade wore in the Pilot Episode of his own adventures...thirty-some years ago. As he says later on, "Appreciate the classics, right?"