Tony returned to the squad room to find McGee and Ziva strapping on their weapons and Gibbs hanging up his phone.
"Good timing," Gibbs said, noting Tony's slightly more relaxed posture and wondering if Abby had solved all his problems for him. It wouldn't be the first time. "Think you were right about the brother. He skipped sometime last night."
There was a little flash of pleasure and Tony smiled, making Gibbs seriously consider buying Abby a tanker truck of Caf-Pow!
"Maybe he'll lead us to Ryan," Tony said, grabbing his gun and following his team to the elevator.
Gibbs frowned and said, "Left his cell at the house."
McGee lifted his laptop case. "But if he uses a credit or debit card anywhere in the country, I'll know about it."
"And perhaps the mother will know where Daniel would hide his brother," Ziva said.
Tony slid into the elevator and hit the down button, frowning thoughtfully. "Do we know Ryan is the actual killer?"
"His own mother ID'd him," McGee said. "That's pretty strong evidence."
Tony winced as he thought back to the interview, trying to remember specific words instead of the fog of pain he had been in. He willed away the images of Kevin—both alive and frightened and dead and broken—and tried to concentrate.
"DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, concern in his eyes but his tone mild.
Tony shook his head. "She showed me a photo of Ryan, but she said, 'I watched my son kill that man'. I figured she meant Ryan—"
"Because you didn't know about the twin brother," Gibbs finished for him.
The team headed out to the car, still tossing theories that yesterday's tense silence had prevented.
"What if she realized you thought she meant Ryan," McGee said, sliding into the backseat and pulling out the laptop. "And then she just went with it."
"Ryan's life was already hell," Ziva said, picking up the thread. "Perhaps his mother thought he would be better off in a hospital?"
"If that's true," Tony said, "then both a killer and an unmedicated paranoid schizophrenic are in the wind."
"Or they're one and the same," Gibbs said, going back to the original theory.
"Right. Now we just need to find out which," Tony said, flinching and grabbing the door handle as Gibbs cut off a dump truck while pulling into traffic. He flicked a glance at Gibbs. "As long as you don't kill us all on the way, Boss."
Gibbs and McGee both smiled, but Ziva just lifted a shoulder. "I see nothing wrong with your driving, Gibbs," she said, her hands folded lightly on her lap.
"You wouldn't," McGee said, his smile dying as he winced at a guardrail flashing by only inches from the car. He glanced sideways at Ziva. "You almost took out that same guardrail last week."
"I was in a hurry," she defended with another shrug.
McGee gave her a look. "We were going to lunch."
She smiled. "I was hungry."
Gibbs turned to tell them to knock it off, but he caught the half-smile on Tony's face and held his tongue, wondering again what Abby had said. He realized he'd probably never know—not that it mattered: Whatever words Abby had said to soothe Tony's wounded spirit would likely have ruffled feathers coming from him. That realization made Gibbs wonder if this calming of Tony's emotional storm would be a lasting one.
His thoughts returned to the case as he pulled up outside the Jordans' modest, one-story brick home. He got out of the car, slamming the door slightly and thinking about how to deal with the useless agents inside.
"I'll take Mullins and Thompson," Tony said, naming those agents, "if you wanna take the mother, Boss."
"Take McGee with you," Gibbs said, catching the amused glint in his senior agent's eye. Yeah, he was getting his Tony back—if not all at once, at least progress was being made.
Gibbs entered the house first and found Samantha Jordan sitting on a piano bench in the living room. The instrument behind her was old but obviously well-loved, and Gibbs felt the familiar ache that grabbed him whenever he thought of Kelly—this time beaming at him as she finished her last practice session before her big recital. He felt a stab of pain when he realized that was the last time he had ever watched her play. But he shook it off; just because DiNozzo had started shaking off the black dogs didn't mean he could succumb to them.
Fortunately, Samantha stood then and slipped into hostess mode, offering them seats and drinks. He and Ziva took the seats, declined the drinks, and Gibbs began the questioning after getting those pleasantries out of the way.
"Which of your sons killed my Marine?" he asked bluntly.
Samantha's eyes went wide, flicking between Gibbs and Ziva, but no one spoke. Her eyes closed again and she shook slightly as she said. "Ryan."
"Then where is your son Daniel?" Gibbs asked, trying to keep the harshness toned down so he wouldn't frighten her into silence. He realized he probably should have ignored Tony's subtle suggestion and just went and ripped into those agents. It would have served multiple purposes: The agents would learn a lesson; Gibbs would be able to vent some of his frustration over the events of the weekend; and Tony would probably be a lot better at handling this broken woman.
"I… I don't know," Samantha whispered, her faded blue eyes on the faded green carpet.
"Do you think he is with Ryan?" Ziva asked, her tone gentle as she tried to connect with the woman when she really wanted to smack the answers out of her. "Perhaps Ryan made contact with him and Daniel is just trying to protect his brother?"
Samantha just stared at her hands.
Gibbs opened his mouth, but McGee and Tony returned, obviously having heard Ziva's question.
"That jives with what Mullins and Thompson said." Tony moved to stand in front of the shaking mother. "The phone rang around midnight. Daniel answered it, and then he was gone, right?" He crouched down in front of the bench, taking trembling hands in his and looking up into tortured eyes. "Did Daniel talk to you before he left?"
Samantha bit her lip and looked away.
"The agents saw Daniel for the last time right after that call," Tony said, still holding Samantha's hands. "They said it sounded like a wrong number, but it wasn't, was it?"
Samantha just sighed.
"Then Daniel said he was going to bed," Tony continued, his tone soothing, never accusing. "But he didn't, did he?"
Samantha gave in a little and shook her head.
"Did he come talk to you?" DiNozzo asked, silently thanking his team for realizing what he knew: One word from any of them would break the spell and they wouldn't get anything. It was as if Samantha Jordan had recognized a kindred spirit in him the previous morning and felt comfortable only with him.
"No," Samantha whispered, barely audible.
Tony just waited, sensing more.
"But I heard him clicking away on his computer," she said softly, flinching when McGee jumped up and headed down the hall.
"Samantha," Tony said, searching blue eyes, "tell me who killed that Marine."
Tears slipped down wrinkled, pale cheeks, and Samantha shook her head. "I don't know," she said, sniffling as she met Tony's eyes. "I just don't know. I know I'm their mother and I should be able to tell them apart but…"
"But what?" Tony asked gently.
Samantha sighed wearily again. "He was wearing that godawful bright yellow shirt with the smiley face on it. I hate that shirt. But he loves it—wears it for days at a time when he's off his medication." A helpless look flooded her watery eyes. "I could never get him to change it, though. Or let me wash it for him."
"Samantha," Tony said again, firmly but still gently. "So it was Ryan who killed that man?"
"Daniel would get so mad at him," she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "But it was only because he worried about him. When they were in school, Ryan would get made fun of so bad. He would come home crying, and Daniel would come home angry. And I'd get so confused, I'd just sit up at night and cry, wondering what to do for my boy."
Gibbs and Tony exchanged a glance, but Gibbs let his agent continue.
"Daniel heard you sometimes, didn't he?" Tony asked softly. He waited for her to nod. "And he knew why you were so upset?"
She dabbed at her eyes with a sodden tissue and nodded. "He…" She drew a shaky breath. "Daniel asked me once why I didn't put Ryan in a hospital. I told him it was because Ryan wasn't an animal and didn't deserve to be locked up."
Her voice was soft and faraway, but Tony asked, already sensing the answer, "How long ago was that?"
Tears fell down her cheeks and she whispered, "Last week." She shook her head, lifting her eyes to Tony's. "But then he came to me over the weekend and said I was right, that Ryan didn't deserve to be locked up like an animal. That we needed to take care of Ryan because he was family. Daniel said he knew how much Ryan means to me and that he knew I could never lock him away for no reason." She smiled feebly. "He said he wanted to take us to lunch to make it up to me."
Tony shot another glance at Gibbs but then looked back as Samantha sniffled. "But then he… then Ryan showed up. And he killed that man…"
"Samantha," Tony said, taking her hands again. "It wasn't really Ryan, though, was it? He wasn't the one who killed that man, was he?"
A tiny sob broke free of Samantha's quivering lips and she pulled her hands from Tony's and put them to her mouth, shaking her head hard. "No," she gasped, but Tony wasn't sure if she was answering or protesting.
"Daniel was right, you know," he said, moving from his crouch to join her on the piano bench. "Ryan doesn't deserve to be locked up. Especially not for something he didn't do."
"It was Ryan's shirt," Samantha said, sounding lost and confused.
"But?" Tony asked, knowing she was holding back, that she wasn't nearly as confused as she probably wanted to be.
"But there was no scar on his head," she said in a rush, as if letting open the floodgates.
"You watched Daniel kill the Marine, didn't you?" Tony asked.
"But Daniel hated that shirt so much," she said, disbelieving.
"The only reason he would wear it is so you would think he was Ryan," Tony said, putting voice to the words she couldn't. "It's why Daniel insisted you meet him at the restaurant instead of picking you up. Did he call you? Tell you he was going to be late? He asked you to wait outside for him, didn't he?"
She nodded. "I thought it was a little strange because it was so cold, but now I know…" She turned suddenly, gripping Tony's hand in hers and looking him in the eyes. "I love him. I love both of my boys. I never…"
He knew what she was implying and he patted her hand with his free one. "I know, Samantha. This isn't your fault. You can't hold yourself responsible for someone else's actions."
Gibbs cleared his throat and Tony met his eyes, realizing what he had said. He gave his boss a nod, thanking all things holy that he had Gibbs watching his back. It was an odd feeling, realizing he wasn't alone.
"We need to find your son," Gibbs said, finally speaking up. "Both of your sons. Do you have any idea where they would go?"
"I think I can answer that, Boss," McGee said, returning to the room with an excited grin. "For at least one of them. I found a deleted search for hotels in Aberdeen, Maryland."
Tony turned back to Samantha. "Did Daniel take Ryan there? Is Daniel meeting his brother at that hotel?"
"Daniel said he didn't know where Ryan was," Samantha said, and Tony believed her, based on the fear in her eyes, no doubt for her sick, missing son.
Gibbs nodded at the team. "Let's go."
They headed for the door, only to be stopped by Samantha's soft call. "Wait."
They all turned but only Tony moved closer.
"There's a cabin. It belonged to their father. In Shenandoah, near Front Royal. I think Ryan might have gone there." She bit her lip as tears flooded her tired eyes. "I didn't mention it before because I was afraid of sending a bunch of agents after him. I couldn't make his worst nightmare come to life."
Tony nodded his understanding and thanked her sincerely as she wrote down directions. There was no reason to berate the woman now. She was suffering enough already, and Tony knew, despite his own childhood, despite the tragedy at the Harris house, that most parents would do anything to protect their children. He took the paper and squeezed her hand. "We'll find them."
She nodded back and returned to the piano bench.
As the team left the house, the opening bars of "Amazing Grace" could be heard floating softly out into the cold, bright morning.