CHAPTER 8

He was home, or what constituted as 'home' these days – an industrial loft on the waterfront in Baltimore. A young and upcoming local developer had recently completed the renovation of a four-story warehouse near the old power plant, and Tony was one of the first people to purchase a condo on the top floor. It was expensive, but he'd fallen in love with the high ceilings, polished cement floors, and industrial feel of exposed brick, as well as the expansive view of the harbor from the huge window in the open living area. The paint had barely been dry and the kitchen not quite finished when Tony had moved in a few months ago, on the day after he had filed for divorce.

Having a large space to call his own had some positive aspects, but there were definite drawbacks as well. Being alone to do whatever he wanted to do, at any time of day or night, was all fine and good, but it was also terribly lonely.

It reminded Tony – and not in a good way – of his early days as a cop. Back then, without the support and communal feeling of a college frat house, and not yet knowing anyone on the Peoria police force, Tony had felt very much alone. He had always made friends easily, but they tended to be friends of the casual variety. It took time to get to really know and trust people, and he could count the amount of friends who fit that bill on one hand. When, by chance, Tony had run into Wendy in Baltimore, they had immediately rekindled their friendship. Seeing her familiar face after so many years had given him a warm and fuzzy feeling, and as they were no longer high school student and piano teacher, but two adults, it wasn't long before they grew much closer.

Now, once again, Tony was on his own, although he was so busy with work that he spent little time in his new place. Still, it was a relief not having Wendy breathing down his neck, finding fault with everything he did, and constantly putting pressure on him with regards to his career and political choices.

As soon as Agent Brown had ascertained the rooms were clear of any danger, he told Tony, "I'll be as unobtrusive as possible, Congressman, but I'll be sticking close to you to ensure your safety. You need anything, call me. I'll check back in a while, make sure you're settled in, sir." The FBI agent put his number on Tony's speed dial before he left to check out the rest of the building.

Tony tossed his bag in a corner with a tired sigh. He made himself a cup of coffee with hazelnut creamer, and unenthusiastically ate most of a bowl of cold Cap'n Crunch. He couldn't face anything heavier. A big pile of mail had accumulated in the week since he'd been kidnapped, but after sifting through the envelopes, he pushed them aside. He felt like crap, drained, and entirely without motivation. Holding his head, Tony groaned, and muttered aloud, "Get over it, DiNozzo. You've got things to do." First, a shower, and then he'd deal with contacting his office and responding to the backlog of emails that were clogging his inbox.

Finally, Tony had the extra long, extra-hot shower he'd been dreaming about for days. It was heaven, and couldn't help moaning when the hot water cascaded over his tired and battered body. He set the rain shower on the tropical storm setting, and worked up a lather with Kilauea lava soap, taking it easy over the bruised areas. He washed and rinsed, and washed himself again, trying to get rid of dirt that he knew wasn't really there any longer.

Spending time with his son last night had been the best kind of medicine, but now Tony felt very much alone. And tired, too, the bone-deep kind of tired that made him doze while standing in the shower, droplets gently raining down on his weary body. Finally, Tony turned off the water, dried himself with a fluffy towel he'd warmed up on the heated towel rail, and dressed in comfortable sweats and a tee. Sitting on his bed, Tony picked up his phone and checked messages; there were a dozen, but none yet from Agent Fornell, who had promised to call as soon as Wendy and Zack arrived safely at her parents' home. It would be a while before they got there, so Tony left the phone on mute. For the first time in a week, he was going to be able to sleep in his own comfortable bed. Climbing in, Tony pulled the comforter over his head, and with a big yawn promptly fell asleep.

There was a buzzing sound. "Hmmm," Tony mumbled. It buzzed again. "Whah?" Tony groped for his cell phone without opening his eyes, and brought it to his ear, mumbling, "Yeah?" There was only a dial tone, and still groggy from his much-needed rest, it took him a minute to realize that the buzzing was not emanating from his phone, but from the doorbell. "Oh shit. All right already!" He made his way to the front door, coughing as he went.

Agent Jerome Brown was at the door, looking relieved, and then a little annoyed once he had ascertained that Tony was all right. "You should never be unreachable," Agent Brown lectured.

"Is that an FBI rule or something?" asked Tony. He said unapologetically, "I needed sleep." His throat itched, so he headed into the kitchen to make himself some tea.

Brown followed him into the kitchen, but stayed near the doorway. "Actually, I think Fornell picked it up from someone over at NCIS."

The two men came to an agreement that a) Tony would keep his phone close to him and at least check the caller ID; b) he would answer all calls from the FBI; and c) he would give Agent Brown a key to the condo.

"You can use the key whenever you get scared and need to check I haven't been kidnapped again," Tony said with a smirk, handing over a set of spare keys on a ring.

"I wasn't scared," Brown retorted with a frown.

Tony scoffed, "Yes you were, Je-rome. S-s-s-scared. Like a girl." Jerome snorted and went to check that all the windows were locked, and tested a back door that Tony never used. Tony watched him and said, "Thought you did all that earlier."

"Can't be too safe," the agent said, then let Tony know that another agent would relieve him at midnight.

"So you can take me to the TV studio," Tony said. "Oh shoot, I'm due there in less than two hours. I'd better hurry."

"TV studio?" Jerome asked with eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, I'm scheduled to appear on The People's Word. It's a political discussion show. I was booked months ago," Tony said, trying to cover up a bout of coughing that made an inopportune appearance.

"Your doctor cleared you for this appearance?" Jerome asked suspiciously.

"C'mon…You think I'd be doing this if my doctor didn't okay it?" Tony asked. Back in the hospital, Eric Flaherty had tried to talk Tony out of going on the show, pointing out that the producer would surely understand if he postponed it until another time, but Tony felt that he needed to make this appearance. If he didn't go, if he gave in to the overwhelming desire to crawl into bed and stay there until all memory of his kidnapping experience – all memory of him – faded away, well, that would be like letting him win. And Tony couldn't allow that.

Jerome frowned at Tony, but there was nothing he could do beyond informing his supervisor, Fornell. Tony didn't stick around to hear the call. It was already four and he had to get dressed for the occasion. It was a toss-up between dark gray suit and blue tie that said 'serious but not too serious,' and what he really wanted to wear: pajamas. The suit won, barely.

"So," Tony said, straightening his tie. "Are you going to drive me, or should I get a cab?"

"I'll drive." Jerome sent a look Tony's way that clearly said he thought Tony was nuts if he thought he was going to let him out of his sight. "When do you want to leave?"

Before Tony could reply, his phone rang. A glance at the caller ID told him it was Fornell. He held up a hand and said to Jerome, "I need to take this. We can go as soon as I'm done." He turned away and said into the phone, "Fornell, are they safe?"

"Both your wife and son arrived safely in Lancaster, Congressman. An agent is going to remain with them until they return," Fornell assured Tony.

"Did her parents get all hot and bothered?" Tony knew how Wendy's parents could be, polite know-it-alls who could be as stubborn as all get-out. Much like their daughter.

"I made sure they knew that the presence of an agent was in the best interest of their daughter and grandchild," Fornell said, speaking formally.

"You put the fear of God into them?" Tony didn't need to hear Fornell's chuckle to know how things had gone down. After a pause, Tony said, "Thanks."

"Just doing my job, Congressman."

Tony suggested, "Think you can call me by my name?"

"DiNozzo," said Fornell, using the correct pronunciation.

"Got it in one," Tony replied with a wide smile.

"Now for the good news. Or maybe I'd better toss out the bad news first?" Fornell asked.

Tony moved into the living room and sat on the couch. It got dark early this time of year, and as he watched a large fishing vessel move slowly into the harbor, its lights came on, red and yellow beams shining across the dull gray water water. "Good news first. I need it."

"We recovered the ransom money, intact. It was buried underneath the old house."

"That's great! My insurance company's going to be thrilled," Tony said, relieved. "And…?"

"One of my men crawled under the trailer where you were held, and found Frank Beals' cell phones."

"Phones?"

Fornell confirmed, "Yup. He had several burn phones, all of them used. He may have been paranoid, but maybe not so crazy. He used the phones to take photos of you every day, proof of life. He must have run around town finding different location with free wi-fi for each call he made. Made it very difficult to track him down."

"Okay," Tony said cautiously. "Now you have the phones, your forensic guys can tell who he called, and when, correct?"

"That's true. Our techs have already pulled the records off the phones, and are just beginning to go through the numbers."

"Beginning to…?"

Fornell cleared his throat. "In the week prior to the kidnapping, as well as during the time you were in captivity, Beals made more than thirty phone calls a day. Often more."

"What was he, a serial telemarketer?" Tony scoffed.

"A fanatic is more like it. We're following up on every one of those people and organizations he phoned. However, in the preliminary review, we determined that he'd called a handful of numbers multiple times," Fornell said, with a hint of reluctance.

"Okay…who are all these buddies he called?" Tony wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"He called lots of politicians, as well as every anti-gay, anti-equality supporter and organization in the book. He also called his mother, Marian Tozier, a dozen times, even during the time he was holding you captive."

Had that been who he'd heard Beals talking to outside the trailer? "Was she…did she know what he was up to?"

"We brought her in," Fornell said. "According to Mrs. Tozier, her son, Frank Beals, was difficult to handle. Got ideas in his head that consumed him. He always phoned Mommy when he needed someone to hold his hand. She says he wasn't specific about what he had got himself into, but she could tell it was bad. Sounded like he was off his medications. The autopsy will tell us more." Fornell cleared his throat. "Mrs. Tozier also made a point of asking me to give her apologies to Senator DiNozzo and his family for the suffering they incurred."

"Nice of her," said Tony, not at all sincerely. "I'm telling you, she had a hand in it."

"There's no evidence of it. Mrs. Tozier says she had no idea that her son was involved in a kidnapping, or any other criminal activity. She said that as far as she can recall, Frank never mentioned you specifically, or indicated that he wanted to harm you."

"You mean kill me," Tony said bitterly.

"She swore all this on a Bible – which she brought with her, by the way. Oh, and apparently you and her other son, Robert, are treading a prickly path to Hell."

"That's old news," Tony said, wondering, not for the first time, how such a horrible woman could possibly be the birth-mother of his friend Rob, who was a generous, kind, and smart man.

"Well, she's praying for you. Just letting you know."

Tony shook his head. "Gee, thanks. So sweet of her. Go on."

"We don't have any evidence that Beals' mother knew anything about the kidnapping. Now…I'll tell you that Beals also made several attempts to phone Robert, his half-brother."

Tony nodded. "She married a second time. Rob's dad owned a chain of hardware stores, but he died years ago."

"Rob Tozier's number was disconnected a few days earlier. I tracked him down, and he said that he'd changed his number because Frank had been harassing him. Rob refuses to have anything to do with him, or his own mother. Tells us something, right there."

"Rob's a good guy, Fornell," Tony said, vouching for him. He knew they had to check into every call Beals had made, but just because a madman phoned you, didn't mean you talked to him – or, if you did, that you agreed with anything he was saying. "Rob's mother put him through hell all his teen years, and she made him go through gay conversion therapy, more than once. She… hell, she damaged him, Fornell. You have no idea…"

"I know what she did under the guise of running a youth center, DiNozzo. And I believe that Rob is in the clear." Fornell hesitated a long moment, then said, "There's more. Beals also phoned several politicians, mostly cronies of Mrs. Tozier. He…uh…he also called Senator DiNozzo."

Tony stared, unable to wrap his mind around what Fornell was telling him. "He called my dad?"

"He called Senator DiNozzo five times, all during the last two days of your captivity," Fornell said, sounding a little apologetic. "The first two times he couldn't get through and hung up."

"And the other times?" Tony asked, with trepidation.

"The subsequent three phone calls between Frank Beals and Senator DiNozzo lasted from five to twenty minutes."

Tony leaned forward. "Are you telling me that my dad actually talked to him?"

"Yes, the last phone call Beals ever made was to your father," said Fornell, looking grim.

"I…I…What's my dad saying about this? How'd he explain it, that he was talking to…why would he talk to him…shit…I have to…I…" He dropped the phone and rushed to the bathroom, afraid he was going to lose his breakfast, but the nauseous feeling passed after a minute. After splashing water over his face and drinking a handful of water, Tony emerged from the bathroom. Agent Brown was hovering, looking concerned, but Tony shook his head, indicating he was okay, and went back to the living room. He picked up the phone again. "You there? Sorry," he said weakly.

"You okay?"

"Just tell me the rest," Tony said. He started coughing and it took a while to get it to stop.

"You need a break?" Fornell asked when Tony came back on the line, still wheezing.

"No, I'm okay," Tony replied, breathing evenly in the hope he wouldn't start coughing again.

"We're just starting this investigation, and technically I shouldn't be telling you any of this," said Fornell, "but as you were in law enforcement, and I know it won't go any further than yourself…"

"It's between us," Tony promised.

Fornell spoke as if reciting facts. "I personally interviewed Senator DiNozzo. He admitted he's known Marian Tozier for over forty years. When her son, Frank Beals, phoned him, Senator DiNozzo talked to him for her sake. He said that their conversation was mostly one-way, with Beals 'talking nonsense' about conspiracies. Beals' main objective seemed to be to coerce the Senator into doing whatever it took to get his mother elected Governor. Senator DiNozzo insisted to me that he never promised Beals anything. He humored Beals to get rid of him, he said. In fact, the Senator phoned Marian Tozier immediately after Beals' second call, because he could tell that Beals seemed mentally unstable and needed immediate help. That was shortly before you escaped. He did not know, nor did he ever suspect, that Beals had a hand in your kidnapping."

"This whole thing…it's insane." Tony didn't know what to make of his father having known Mrs. Tozier for all that time, yet never mentioning it. "Did you believe what my father told you?" Tony knew that by asking the question of Fornell, he was admitting he didn't know whether or not to believe his own father.

"He seemed sincere. I don't have any reason not to take him at his word. Do you have any reason not to trust your father's speaking the truth?" countered the FBI agent.

With a bad feeling settling in his stomach, Tony replied, "Unless there's evidence to the contrary…I guess I have to trust him, don't I?"

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