Oh, that's right, it's Thursday. My apologies. Anyway, blah blah, usual spiel, I don't own it, sorry if you think it's short, hope you enjoy the chapter. This is my last prewritten chapter so there's no telling when I'll find the time and/or motivation to write the next one. Plus, school's coming up soon and that means updates will be even less forthcoming (butt loads of homework, here I come). Well, thanks for reading!
Gibbs glared at the phone sitting on his tabletop when it started to ring. He grabbed it and flipped it open with more force than strictly necessary. "Yeah, Gibbs," he growled.
"Gibbs, it's Ziva."
"Ziva? What's wrong? You still upstairs with the kid?" He looked up as the elevator dinged and Tony, McGee, and Tyler Woodbury's parents stepped off.
"No. Yes. Ah- no, nothing is wrong and yes, I am still with Tyler. I have a lead in the case."
"I'll be right up," Gibbs told her. He shut his phone before he could hear Ziva's annoyed huff on the other end.
The Woodburys and his agents were standing in the center of the bullpen with various expressions coloring their faces.
Nicole Woodbury looked vaguely worried. "Is something wrong with Tyler?" She and her husband each had a black nylon duffle bag slung over their shoulder.
Gibbs shook his head. "Nah, he's fine. I have to go up there and talk to Agent David, I'll escort you up."
"Boss?" Tony called as they walked away.
"Wait here, DiNozzo."
Gibbs led Nicole and Jonah up to the conference room. He rapped on the door once before swinging it open and stepping into the room.
"Ziva," he said. He jerked his head in the direction of the hallway and then waved a hand through the air in a sideways motion to indicate that the Woodburys should head in and be with their son. Tyler still appeared to be doing exactly the same thing as when he'd left.
Ziva rose from her chair and slipped out into the hallway while Nicole and Jonah took her place in two adjacent chairs at Tyler's right.
"We'll be back to take you to the safe house in an hour," Gibbs informed them, and then made his way out, shutting the door behind him.
Gibbs and Ziva returned to the bullpen in silence.
"Boss," DiNozzo said. "McGee and I got nothing from King and Lopez's fellow Marines. We've a dry spell in this case. The only evidence in the woods was that shoe print and the bullets."
"Actually, Tony," Ziva interjected. "I may have something that will help us."
"And what would that be, Zee-vah?"
"Tyler Woodbury spoke to me."
"He did?" McGee interrupted. Gibbs glared and nodded at Ziva to continue.
"Yes. He told me a few things. One," Ziva held up her right index finger. "He does not like you, Tony, because you smell weird. And I agree. You are wearing far too much cologne today."
"Hey!"
McGee laughed. "It's true, Tony."
"Second, he has a pet lizard named Tangent which he got when he was seven years and two," she held up two fingers for emphasis, "months old."
"And how is this helpful to the case?" Gibbs asked angrily.
"It is not. But," Ziva raised her voice, staunching any impending protests, "he also told me something that is." She reiterated the story Tyler had told her earlier, inputting her theory that the white sugar was, in fact, drugs. Probably cocaine.
"So our victims were buying what was probably cocaine from a bald and sweaty drug dealer with a nine mil and a .32 wearing size eleven Doc Martin boots," Tony stated.
"Pretty much," McGee agreed.
"Get searching," Gibbs commanded. "Talk to the Waldorf cops. Talk to their CO. Figure out who this drug dealer is." He grabbed his keys, gun, and badge. "I'm taking the Woodburys to the safe house. I want something from you when I get back." He left without another word.
Tony, Ziva, and McGee returned to their desks.
"I'll go over their bank records again," McGee said. "I'll also try to get a subpoena for the bank records of the other platoon members to see if there's a connection."
Tony lifted his desk phone off the receiver. "I'll see if I can get ahold of the CO again. Could be something he's not telling us."
"And I will speak to the Waldorf cops and look into all of the bald drug dealers in the area," Ziva declared, only half joking.
Once they had all finished with their various tasks they gathered in the center of the bullpen in something reminiscent of the 'campfires' they'd had when Gibbs had been on his Mexican retreat.
"CO seemed genuinely surprised when I hinted at a drug connection. I'm inclined to believe him," Tony said. "I think we should check out the victims' apartments when Gibbs gets back."
"I agree," Ziva replied. "I spoke to Officer Joling from Waldorf. He tells me there have been some drug related deaths in the area recently but the Narcotics Division had not picked up the trails of any dealers. It is likely that PFCs King and Lopez met the dealer elsewhere and Waldorf was simply where the meet was set to take place. From what Tyler told me, I can gather that the bald man we are looking for is not the leader of whatever drug ring he is associated with."
"Well, the judge must have been in a good mood today because she actually granted my subpoena request despite the dearth of evidence we have so far," McGee said. He spun his chair and grabbed the remote off his desk, clicked it, and brought files up on the plasma.
"Don't do that," Tony ordered.
McGee furrowed his brow. "Do what?"
"Bring up bank records?" Ziva asked. She, too, was confused by Tony's command.
Tony shook his head. "Don't use words like 'dearth,' McDictionary," he clarified. "Makes you sound like a nerd."
"And why do you care if I sound like a nerd, Tony? I think you just don't know what it means. Don't worry, I'll try to dumb my vocabulary down more when I talk to you."
Tony glared. "Not true. I just- I-"
"You should stop while you are behind, To-nee," Ziva teased.
"Both of you shut up," Tony grumbled, verging on a pout. But DiNozzos did not pout. "Just tell us about the money."
"Well I took a quick look at all bank records and found something interesting." He used the remote to zoom in and highlight four of the fourteen bank records on the screen. "Two of these belong to Lopez and King," he told them.
"And the others?" Ziva asked. She rolled her chair forward for a better look.
"Two of the eleven people that Tony and I talked to at base."
"Janet Coleman and Thomas Hendrickx," Tony read. "I talked to Hendrickx, he said he didn't really know either victim very well. What's the connection?"
"Janet Coleman said the same thing. But don't you find it odd that four people, who supposedly barely knew each other, would all make equal withdrawals from their bank accounts on the same day, two days before two of those four are found murdered? By a guy likely to be a drug dealer?"
"How much did they withdraw?" Ziva asked.
"One-fifty each."
"Seems kinda sloppy," Tony speculated. "If they were doing drugs, if they were in it together, they should have covered their tracks better."
"They're all young. Maybe naive. They must've figured they were too good to get caught," McGee said.
Gibbs voice startled them. They had not realized he'd been standing there almost the whole time. "McGee, you're with me. Let's go pick up Coleman and Hendrickx." The younger agent closed out of the records and snatched up his gear. "DiNozzo, David, go check out the apartments now."
The aforementioned agents nodded and complied. They grabbed their gear and boarded the elevator.
"Lopez, King? King, Lopez?" Tony asked his partner as they drove out of the Navy Yard.
"Whichever is most efficient," she replied.
"King, Lopez it is then."
The drive to Preston King's apartment took twenty-five minutes. They slammed the Charger's doors shut and made their way up the building's front steps.
"That was a waste of time," Ziva complained. "You should have let me drive."
"Well pardon me for wanting to live."
Ziva scowled and bit back a retort.
They did not bother with attempting to locate the manager. They simply ascended the staircase to the second floor bypassing the clearly broken elevator- its doors were missing, the light fixtures dangling from the ceiling, a mysterious stain adorning most of the formerly burgundy carpet. King's apartment was 2E, at the very end of the hall. The building didn't look much better than the elevator did. Rent here was likely cheap and King probably didn't mind the conditions. Given his profession, it was doubtful he spent much time there anyway.
They reached the door to apartment 2E and Ziva swiftly picked the lock and swung the door open, allowing them entrance.
"Jeez," Tony exclaimed, feeling along the wall near the door for a light switch. "Maybe the drug dealer is his neighbor." Finally, he found the switch and flicked it to the ON position, bathing the apartment in a soft yellow glow.
The layout of the apartment was conventional: kitchen to the left, living room on the right, separated by a hallway containing three doors. The kitchen and hallway each contained the same cheap, tan colored 'wood' flooring, warped by water damage. The living room was covered in an even cheaper carpet, short, scratchy, and a color that appeared to be a mix between light blue and off white- though it was hard to tell with the lighting- and spotted with stains in varying shades of brown.
Ziva grimaced, running a finger along a table that was blanketed in what seemed to be an inch of dust. She shuddered and brushed it off on the raggedy sofa that appeared to have come right out of a furniture magazine from the seventies. It was facing a small TV situated in the corner. "Disgusting." She eyed the empty beer bottles and assorted men's magazines resting on the coffee table as well.
They slowly picked their way through the front rooms, skirting around discarded pairs of running shoes and combat boots and avoiding the piles of dishes covered in dried and moldy food. They found nothing of interest. The first two doors in the hall were closets, on the right side. One, a typical coat closet containing two clear boxes of tax records, a single black windbreaker, and a vacuum and the other, a linen closet filled with dark green towels and plain white sheets. The last door, on the left, opened up into a small bedroom containing another closet, a three-quarter bath, a queen sized bed, and a dresser. The room was in a state of disarray similar to that of the other rooms. The bed was unmade; shirts, jeans, and undergarments littered it and the floor; the laundry basket in the corner was overflowing.
"This place is terrible," Ziva commented as she yanked open dresser drawers. She swatted a fly out of her face.
"I agree. But it's a typical young bachelor's place, so I'm not surprised." Tony lifted the mattress and peered under it, not shocked in the slightest to find a couple of condoms resting on the box spring. Oh yes, typical young bachelor. He dropped the mattress, letting it fall back into place.
"Bongo," Ziva announced suddenly. Tony turned with a look of confusion.
"You hear bongos? Maybe the neighbors are playing them."
It was Ziva's turn to look confused. "What? No, I do not hear bongos, Tony. I meant that I found something."
"Oh. Oh! You mean bingo, not bongo. A bongo is a drum. Bingo is a dog, a game, and what you say when you, well, discover something," Tony explained.
"Whatever," she glared. "We have better things to do than correct my English." She turned around and reached back into the open drawer.
"I'm just saying, you've been here for over seven years now, Zee-vah. Plus you're an American citizen. Don't you think you should know these things by now?"
"Tony, if you do not shut up, I will find a bongo and kill you with it! Understand?"
He gulped and nodded.
"Now, like I said, I found something." She held up a small plastic baggie containing less than a teaspoon of what was undoubtedly cocaine. Tyler's story was checking out.
"Bingo," Tony grinned.