Upstairs, Gibbs was greeted by both of his young agents leaping to their feet and starting to report. Simultaneously.
Holding up a hand to achieve silence, he informed the overeager puppies, "I'm going to talk to the director. When I get back, I assume you'll have worked out how to speak one at a time." Infused in his words was his complete lack of faith that they could accomplish this task.
Gibbs jogged up the stairs, ignoring DiNozzo's trailing, "That's fine, I've got to make a phone call anyway!"
Come to think of it, why was it that the kid hadn't had to check in with his own office yet today?
Entering a darkened MTAC, Gibbs moved silently to sit next to Morrow in the stadium-like seating towards the back. Lately the man had spent more time here than in his own office.
He waited until Morrow acknowledged him with a nod. Then, "You wanted to see me, director?"
"I did, though I have yet to tell anyone that."
Gibbs allowed a brief smile. "Anticipate."
The director nodded, used to his agent's ways. "When it's convenient, at any rate."
Shrugging, Gibbs waited. He certainly did ignore half of what he anticipated.
"Rumor has it you're working with a homicide detective."
"Rumor?"
"And that you requested him, rather than being forced into the partnership." Morrow finally turned to look at him. "I considered having the man who told me this thrown in the brig for such an obvious lie, but then you show up here with him in tow. Can it be, you've found someone you can tolerate to work with?"
"Did you want to discuss the case, sir?" Damn, where did he get his information? That was fast.
"As I understand it, the case isn't far enough along to bear discussing. I'm more interested in the possibility of you finding someone to add to your team permanently."
"I just met the kid last night. Don't you think it's a little soon to marry myself to him?"
"The whole point of creating a Major Case Response Team was to have an actual team who could respond. Not just you."
"I'm still the best damn agent you have."
"Perhaps, Jethro. But one man does not a team make."
"I've got Greene and…the new probie." Shit. He had to fire the younger of the two, his name was too hard to remember.
"You need someone who already knows what he or she is doing. Someone to watch your back."
Gibbs stood. "Call me if you have any questions. About the case."
Morrow let him stalk off, but Gibbs knew the conversation wasn't over. Morrow had been on a kick lately to get someone permanent assigned to the team.
But it wasn't so easy to find a competent, trustworthy investigator that would follow another's lead. The few Gibbs had encountered already had their own teams, or were searching out lead positions.
It didn't help matters that he didn't really want to go through the hassle of breaking a newbie in.
Scowling to himself, Gibbs shoved those thoughts away and took a quick detour to the head. When he made his way back to the bullpen, he chose to approach silently and see what the trio was up to.
DiNozzo was off the phone already, and had stolen Greene's desk. He was currently spinning in the chair, absently fidgeting with his sunglasses and staring off into thin air, either lost in thought or completely thoughtless.
There were two empty desks in their immediate area, so the detective's chosen location was significant. Gibbs' own spot had been chosen for visibility – he could see both elevator entrances, the stairwell entrance and the main stairs to MTAC and the director's office. He liked forewarning, even if it was only a half second.
The detective could have chosen a desk nearer to the head that was relatively hidden from sight. He could've taken the other open desk next to Gibbs – closer to the main walkway. This spot also had decent sightlines, though it was more difficult to see the primary elevator doors.
No, DiNozzo would only have kicked Greene out of his spot if he felt significantly more comfortable in that particular seat – or, Gibbs acknowledged, if he wanted to see if he could get away with bossing the probie around. But as that didn't present much of a challenge, he doubted that was the motive.
Tony's current location gave him the best view of the primary external elevator. It left him hidden to and yet exposed to the smaller internal elevator that went down to the labs, and to the internal stairs leading up to MTAC. It also afforded him arguably the best view of Gibbs' own desk, and the best counterpoint to his own view from that desk.
He'd have written that last part off to coincidence, if he believed in them.
One of the probies noticed his presence, and they both scrambled to their feet. DiNozzo stayed where he was, idly spinning in the chair, as though he'd known Gibbs was there the entire time. Or didn't care one way or the other.
"Report!"
The order went unanswered, as both probies glanced at each other, not wanting to speak at the same time.
DiNozzo sighed. "Greene, phone records!"
The probie in question ducked his head in acknowledgement. "The academy doesn't have landlines in each room. There's a communal phone in each dorm we're going through right now, but no one has to sign a log or anything for local calls, so it's near to impossible to tell who made them. Collins had a cell phone, but he didn't use it much. Some texts from Friday, school friends asking if he wanted to play laser tag. No calls, incoming or outgoing, for the last four days. Before that, it's all school-related and school friends. There are a handful of calls to one number registered to a clinic in Baltimore made over the past year. Tried calling them, but they won't give out any information, even to confirm if he was ever a patient there or not."
Silence fell, and with it, DiNozzo's face fell into his open palm. "Wadusky, that's your cue." 'You idiot' was left unsaid.
"Financials don't show any major surprises. He had some money tucked away from a life insurance policy his mom had taken out, but he didn't spend much. Kept his own car, had some expenses relating to that but nothing major. Only pattern is Friday evenings – every Friday he wasn't on duty he had a charge either from a bar or restaurant in Baltimore or the Wilson Clinic. Same clinic from the phone records."
DiNozzo stopped spinning so he could look Gibbs straight in the eye – a habit not many people had. "Now why would a Midshipman be going to a clinic off base?"
Gibbs eyed the probies and ordered, "Call the academy medical services, see if they were aware of any conditions Collins may have had that weren't in his records. Get a warrant from legal for the clinic's records – and get it now. Was there a charge yesterday?"
"Yes boss, from a place called Bowser's."
"I know it, Gibbs," Tony offered. "It's a bar and grill. Mixed crowd; some families during the day, younger bunch at night. Got a little bit of an old-school gaming theme going, board games and Ataris and stuff set up for the patrons to use."
"How far is it from where Collins' body was found?"
"About a mile."
Turning back to the probies, Gibbs added, "There's a stack of papers on my desk from Collins' room. Get someone to translate them, let me know what they're about. And find the damn car!"
DiNozzo added, "I put a BOLO out on the car myself. Baltimore PD will notify me directly if they find it. Faster that way, no agencies to cross."
"Let's go." Gibbs grabbed his stuff and headed out. By the time the elevator doors opened, Tony was beside him.
As they made their way down to the garage, Gibbs expected a leery sideways glance or even a plea from the detective to take a turn behind the wheel. Not only did he not do either of those things, he seemed quite cheerful as they got into the car.
This kid was weird.
"Gotta stop at my house, pick up another change of clothes in case I need to crash in Baltimore again."
"Okay. Shouldn't we be checking into what made the postmortem crushing injuries?"
"Ducky's on that. He'll ask Abby if he needs help."
"Did you talk to him again before we left?"
"Nope."
With an inquiring look and hands held wide, Tony silently asked how the hell he knew the doctor's intentions without speaking to him.
"Just know that's what he's doing."
Nodding wildly, Tony sarcastically enthused, "Oh! Right! The super secret psychic spy method of communicating. I didn't get my decoder ring yet."
Gibbs considered smacking the kid upside the head again, but in the end settled for glaring.
Muttering about crystals and federal agents, DiNozzo pulled out the case file again and proceeded to stare at it.
The car stopped, and Gibbs ordered, "Stay here," with a scowl.
Tony ignored him and kept staring at the file. He wasn't reading it; he'd memorized the details already. He needed to decide how much of his own investigation he wanted to share with Gibbs, and what the potential fallout could be if the man responded the same way that Mallace had.
Once Gibbs disappeared into the house, though, Tony found himself examining the neighborhood and the exterior of the house. It wasn't what he'd expected. This was a nice little area with smaller but well taken care of houses, manicured lawns, and kids' bikes and toys strewn over half the yards.
It was a family neighborhood. Gibbs didn't seem the family type. No ring, either. Tony would've pegged him for a bachelor apartment more like his own.
He let thoughts on Gibbs' home swirl into thoughts of the case, and go where they would. Sometimes letting them flow freely allowed him to pull out a theory or conclusion he may not otherwise have arrived at. He noted, but disregarded when Gibbs returned and started the car.
The drove on in silence, each preoccupied. It wasn't until nearly an hour later, right outside of Baltimore, that Tony heard a distant wail and came out of his trance-like state.
He fought hard to keep his glee – and just a tiny bit of guilt – off of his face.
The wailing grew closer.
He wanted to squirm, but forced himself to stay still, his eyes focused on the file again.
When the wailing behind them approached their back bumper and did not seem inclined to pass them, Gibbs swore a streak of expletives worthy of a pirate and pulled over to the side of the road.
The state trooper followed, and parked two car lengths behind them.
Two minutes passed, and finally the trooper slowly climbed out of his car and ambled up to Gibbs' window.
In an attempt to head off the annoyance, Gibbs had pulled his badge and ID and immediately shoved them into the trooper's face. "NCIS. We're on a case."
The trooper, whose name badge identified him as S. King, pushed up his hat. "That may be, but you had no lights on."
"We're investigating a murder."
King loftily replied, "Just because you're trying to solve one crime doesn't give you the right to perpetrate your own. License and registration, please."
"You're comparing a murder to a traffic violation?"
"Sir, do you mean to tell me you don't consider traffic violations a serious offense?"
Gibbs sounded like he might actually lose it. Tony considered what he'd do if that happened. Should he restrain the man and keep him out of trouble? Or see how far the wild streak would run?
Either way, this was fantastic entertainment.
Puffing out his chest, King repeated, "License and registration, please. Don't make me have to take you in."
Tony masked his sudden bubble of laughter as a hiccup-cough, then helpfully reached into the glove box to pull out the registration as Gibbs pulled his license out of his wallet and handed it over. Both documents in hand, the trooper returned to his car to run them.
Gibbs' jaw was clenched, and a little muscle over his right eyebrow was tic tic ticking away. He slowly turned to face Tony with a terrifyingly fake smile. "Did you have something to do with this, detective?"
"Me? I wasn't driving the car, Gibbs. I'm not on the state patrol. I'm just a lowly homicide detective."
The NCIS agent's face was turning red. It was rather fascinating to watch, as the red was creeping up slowly in streaks from under his collar. Tony found himself placing internal bets on one streak in particular – it wasn't a thick one, but it was extremely red and advancing rapidly. It looked like it had the power to go the distance all the way across his face.
King interrupted them. "Everything here seems in order, Agent Gibbs."
"Like I said."
"I'm still going to have to give you a ticket."
"What did you say?"
"You were going 29 miles over the speed limit. That's a very serious matter."
Gibbs restrained himself from speaking. Tony followed with his own head all the bobbing and grinding Gibbs' head did before he managed a move close enough to a nod to satisfy King.
The trooper finished writing up a ticket on his pad and handed it over to Gibbs. "You drive careful now, you hear? I'll follow you back into town to make sure you get there safe and sound. Seeing as you're on a case and all."
A low sound was rumbling in the region of Gibbs' throat, but he managed to keep his head and face still.
Before he walked back to his car, the trooper waved. "Good to see you, Tony."
A snort of laughter escaped through DiNozzo's nose – it was rather uncomfortable, like snorting pixie sticks. "See you at the court next week, Sam."
As King walked away, the remaining two men sat in silence, both twitching slightly as they struggled to control themselves from two very different emotional highs.
Eventually, Gibbs rolled the window up and started the engine. As he pulled back onto the highway with painful slowness, he tossed a heated glare at DiNozzo.
Tony let a small sly smile escape. "Well I never said I didn't have contacts."