Washington DC—Bullpen

Gibbs sat at his desk, scowling at his computer that wasn't giving him the answers he needed and drinking his umpteenth cup of coffee.

He knew Callen had checked out the entire apartment, and he trusted his eye. Still… His gut was telling him to go back and check for himself.

He picked up the phone and called the lab. If anyone would be able to find something that might shed light on this case, it would be Abby.

"Hello?" the voice on the other end of the line answered.

"McGee?"

"Yeah, Boss. Abby's a little… caught up in finding Tony and Ziva. You know how she gets when something like this happens, though I haven't seen it this bad since you retired—"

"Where is she, McGee? I need to talk to her."

"Are you sure?"

"Would I have picked up the phone if I wasn't?"

"Guess not. Okay, here she is…"

"Gibbs!" Abby yelled into the phone. "Can you believe McGee just left them there?"

"Abs…"
"I mean, I know Tony told him he could leave, I guess, but he should have waited until Callen got there!"

"Abby, I did not call to hear you yell about McGee.":

"Oh, right, the case… I'm doing everything I can, Gibbs. I'm running he picture Eric got off the traffic cam through facial recognition, and I'm waiting to come up with a match on the blood sample. But it's going too slow! I feel so helpless!"

"Well, grab McGee and your coat and come up here. I might be able to fix that.

He hung up then, and Abby did as he told her.

"Come on, McGee. We're going to clean up the mess you made."

"Abby, for the last time, it wasn't my –"

"Eric, call us if we get a match!" she hollered over her shoulder, cutting McGee off.

Washington DC—Ziva's Apartment Building

"You know," Abby was saying to Sam as the four of them walked along the hallway leading to Ziva's apartment, "I haven't been out in the field since I was in L.A. with you guys."

"I wonder why," McGee muttered.

She whirled on him, glaring. "That wasn't because I went into the field! Besides I was fine, and we got the Phantom!"

"Abby, you were not fine!"

He would have kept talking, but Gibbs suddenly froze and put a finger to his lips. The three men pulled their guns, and McGee grabbed Abby and yanked her back the way they'd come.

"What's going on?" she whispered once they were a safe distance away.

"The door was open," he murmured back. "It could be the guy coming back to make sure he didn't leave anything. He could still be in there."

Gibbs and Sam silently took positions on each side of the door. After a curt nod from Gibbs, Sam kicked it in.

"Federal agents!"

They checked the apartment to assure that all rooms were clear, then Gibbs called McGee to tell him they could come back.

While they were waiting, Sam pulled back the curtain on one of the windows.

"Hey, Gibbs, check this out."

Gibbs walked over and looked out the window, where he had a plain view of the window, and, in it, their car. He swore.

"So, that's why he left when he did and didn't bother to shut the door; he didn't have time. He saw us coming and ran."

"So, the question is," Abby said, walking in, "did he leave anything behind for us?"

"I would say, 'yes,'" McGee answered, crouching down to take a picture of one of Ziva's coffee tables.

"What do you got?" three voices asked him.

"Well, it's probably no good to us now, but look here. There are three streaks here on the table, where someone in a hurry tried to clean something up."

"What am I supposed to do with that?" Abby asked, exasperated.

"Well, Abs," Gibbs answered, "you could take a sample and see if you can find anything out from that." When that didn't seem to make her feel better, he added with a hug, "Abs, now we know this guy makes mistakes. Next time he slips up, we'll get him. Let's get to work and see if next time comes sooner than we think."

After a few minutes of futile searching, Abby's cell phone rang.

"Hey, Eric!"

"Something she heard made her quickly turn on the speaker phone.

"Go ahead, Eric."

"So, are you guys finding anything there?" he asked, trying to make conversation that will delay what was inevitably coming next.

"Eric…"

"Right. Sorry, Sam. Okay, so we got matches on the blood samples."

"So, there's more than one?" Abby was telling herself to be optimistic; Tony or Ziva could have fought back. It didn't necessarily mean that…

"The sample from the living room matched Tony, and the one from the bathroom was Ziva's."

"No!" Abby yelled. She would have collapsed if Gibbs hadn't caught her and gently guided her down to the floor. "Nonononono…"

"Abby? Abby, we'll find them," Eric encouraged, concerned.

"Thanks, Eric," Sam said, taking Abby's phone and hanging up.

"McGee," Gibbs ordered tiredly from his position next to Abby on the floor, "go back to the lab and get Bert. And Caff-Pow, we're going to need it."

"Yeah," Sam added. "Along with a lot of luck."