One Less - Part Five

by joykatleen

Gibbs and McGee pulled up in front of the self-storage warehouse Nicky had described. It was one of many abandoned, dilapidated structures in this part of town. The District of Columbia ran the gamut from high-end architect's dreams in Georgetown to some of the country's worst residential ghettos. This area had certainly seen better years. It was mostly industrial, but the remains of some small shops and even a few houses could be seen here and there.

"We're being watched," McGee said as he shut the passenger door on the blue government sedan they'd arrived in.

"Uh huh," Gibbs said softly in response. He, too, had seen movement from several doorways and broken-out windows in the buildings around them as they pulled up.

Gibbs closed his own door. "They're not likely to bother us. Just stay sharp."

They both shouldered their equipment packs and headed into the warehouse. The light snow and overcast sky diminished whatever light might have otherwise come in through the few small, high windows. Most of the interior was in shadow. Gibbs pulled out a heavy-duty Maglite and clicked it on, letting its powerful beam lead the way.

Inside the receiving area, Gibbs shone his light around. The place was remarkably tidy, with none of the piles of junk and trash he would have expected in an abandoned building. He supposed – he hoped – that the Metro cops had gathered up everything that had been on the floor and that it was all now sitting at NCIS waiting for Abby. Though tidy, it was still far from clean. Dirt, oil, and other unidentifiable stains marked the mostly dry floor. There was a faintly foul smell in the air that Gibbs didn't want to try to identify.

Gibbs held up the picture he'd had DiNozzo print, turning until he found the view that matched the photo. He moved forward slowly, carefully placing every step so as not to disturb any evidence that might still be there. When he was within a few feet of the large blood stain that marked the place Petty Officer Ferrara had come to rest, he stopped and shone his light in a slow 360 degree circle.

"Take some shots in here," Gibbs told McGee. "Make like we don't have any yet."

"Got it, Boss," McGee said. He set his pack on a relatively clean spot on the floor and took out his camera. He started taking photos, his flash filling the space like lightning.

Gibbs left him to it and began to explore the receiving area. The building was six stories of small storage rooms, the upper floors formerly accessible by four large service elevators, two at each end of the first floor. The rear of the receiving area contained a loading dock with five roll-up doors. A small office sat in one corner, a staircase to the upper floors beside it. Gibbs could only see the one staircase. That must have been where Nicky was when he saw the assault. Gibbs went over that way and took out his own camera. He shot several frames looking into the receiving area from a few steps up. The view from there to where Petty Officer Ferrara's body was found was unobstructed: Nicky would have had seen everything. Gibbs could see the streetlight pole outside the window where Nicky said the light was shining through. When it came on, it would illuminate the area around the bloodstain nicely. Which meant that Nicky would probably be able to identify the attackers, when Gibbs and his team came up with some suspects.

A sudden sound from the stairs made Gibbs look up sharply and reach for his Sig, resting on his hip outside the bottom of his NCIS field jacket. In the same breath, he spun and shone the light up into the dark. The beam caught a retreating leg as someone disappeared around the corner of the upper landing. Gibbs stayed his hand, leaving the gun in its holster.

"Hey! It's alright!" Gibbs shouted after the figure. He heard the footsteps fade into the darkness and swung the light away. The leg he'd seen definitely hadn't been wearing fatigues, so it probably wasn't anyone he was looking for. Whoever it was, the person most likely lived here. Might be a witness. But Nicky hadn't mentioned anyone else being present during the beating.

McGee had moved in his direction at Gibbs' shout, and had his hand on his own gun.

"Just one of the locals," Gibbs said. He stepped down out of the stairwell. "You done?"

"I think so. Yes," McGee said.

"See anything?"

"Blood stains, nothing damp enough to collect. Nothing else. Hopefully Metro got everything we need."

Gibbs gave a small snort that told McGee what he thought of that. "Alright, let's wrap it up. There's nothing here."

Back at headquarters, Gibbs went to autopsy first. Dr. Mallard had been with NCIS almost as long as Gibbs himself. He was a small man, around 5'6, somewhere in his 70s but still in great physical shape with a full head of gray hair. His job at the agency was actually a retirement position: He'd served a full career in the British Navy before coming to America in the late 1980s. Ducky, as he was known by all, had been Gibbs' team's medical examiner and occasional field medic for many years, and the two men had long ago become friends.

"Jethro, you're a little early," Ducky said as he looked up at the sound of the doors swooshing open. "I've only just begun work on our newest guest."

"Just wanted to be sure you didn't have any problems getting him here."

"Quite the contrary. Metro was pleased to be able to strike one unidentified body off their to-do list."

Gibbs moved next to Ducky, standing at the middle of three autopsy tables in the room. A young male body was laid out in front of him. The medical examiner had cleaned him up and taken multiple samples from the surface of his body, but had not yet started to cut.

"This is who you picked up from Metro?" Gibbs asked. Ducky looked at him through his plastic face shield, eyes curious.

"Yes. Is he not who you expected?"

Gibbs looked again. The young man's face was badly damaged, misshapen, swollen and purple. He noted the missing right lower leg, then focused on the man's dead eyes, and finally nodded.

"That's him. I wasn't expecting the damage."

"He was badly beaten," Ducky said. "Likely over several hours before he died. Tissue doesn't swell after death, and some of this has aged."

"If the beating was short, but he lived for awhile after it stopped, would that account for the swelling?" Gibbs asked. He had a bad feeling in his chest.

"Perhaps," Ducky said. "I'll know more when I finish."

"Time of death?" Gibbs asked.

"Dr. Thompson, one of the District's Deputy Medical Examiners, tentatively established it as between 48 and 56 hours ago, depending on how cold it got."

"Saturday night?"

"It would seem. I'll be able to narrow it further…"

"When you finish," Gibbs completed the thought. "Let me know." He took another look at the young sailor and headed out.

Gibbs made a detour to the commissary and bought Abby a large Caf-Pow before returning to her lab in the first basement. He was pleased this time to hear her music at a background level. That meant she had company.

"Abby," he called as he entered.

"Gibbs! You're back!" she squealed and clomped over on her platforms. "We had so much fun, you should'a come with us. Look!" She made a sweeping gesture toward the other side of the lab. DiNozzo and David were sitting on Abby's high swivel chairs, and standing between them with a hand resting on the back of Ziva's chair was Nicky. He was looking down at the floor, shifting slightly from foot to foot. He was nervous, Gibbs realized, then took in the rest of him.

Nicky was wearing the new clothes Gibbs had bought him: Blue jeans, a bulky multi-colored wool sweater with a dark turtleneck underneath, boots very similar – if not identical – to the ones Gibbs himself was wearing. He had an NCIS ball cap on, with no ski mask or beanie. He looked clean and neat, and still nervous.

"Well, what do you think?" Abby prompted. Gibbs handed her the jug of Caf-Pow.

"Looks fine to me. What do you think, Nicky?" Gibbs asked. Nicky shrugged, an embarrassed grin appearing on his misshapen face.

"She made me try on everything in the store," Nicky said.

"Not everything," Abby objected. "I just wanted to be sure you got something nice. It's not every day the boss man hands out his credit card." She moved back over next to Gibbs and took a long pull on her drink. "We also got him a couple of pairs of long-johns and some other necessaries, some gloves, a scarf, a hat, and a really warm jacket."

Gibbs flinched slightly, imaging the bill she'd run up. Abby pulled his credit card and a long receipt out of her lab coat pocket, handing them both to him before leaning in to whisper in his ear: "You didn't pay for all of it, Gibbs. Relax." Then she backed off and twirled away.

"I've got something for you," Abby said as she abruptly changed the subject.

Gibbs turned to Nicky. "You ready to earn your keep?"

"Sure," Nicky replied.

"I'm going to have you talk to Tony. It'll be good to have a fresh set of ears on it. That alright?"

"Um… can Ziva and Abby come?" Nicky asked. Gibbs smiled inwardly but his face betrayed nothing.

"Abby's busy. But Ziva can come. You tell them everything you remember. They're probably going to need to go over it a couple times, alright?"

"Alright," Nicky agreed.

"Here." Gibbs pulled one of his cards out of his wallet and scribbled his cell number on the back. "If they don't treat you right, you give me a call, okay?"

"Okay," Nicky said and took the card, examining it for a moment before tucking it into his pocket.

"Take him to the conference room, Tony."

"This way, Nicky." He ushered Nicky and then Ziva out ahead of him.

"What do you have?" Gibbs asked Abby when they were gone.

"Petty Officer Ferrara was a busy guy on Saturday." She turned to one of the computers on the center console of the open lab and started tapping keys.

"He used his debit card almost everywhere he went, so it was easy to track him. He took a cab from the Norfolk shipyard, picked up at 12:15. Stopped on the way at Blue Bell Florist, bought $50 worth of mixed flowers to go. The cab dropped him off at a residential address in Portsmouth, tax rolls say the house belongs to Michael and Constance Ferrara."

"His brother's house," Gibbs said, remembering what McGee had told him.

"Next stop was a Denny's Restaurant in Portsmouth. No cab, so someone must have driven. Meal for four paid for at 1405 hrs, two ordered off the kids menu."

"Probably his nieces or nephews."

"He must have taken them out for lunch. Why only one other adult?"

"His brother's on board the Roosevelt. Petty Officer First."

"Oh, that's sweet. The flowers must have been for his sister-in-law."

"Sweet," Gibbs repeated skeptically. Abby turned to face him.

"Sure, haven't you ever bought flowers for a lady you weren't trying to get into bed?"

"Bought flowers for you, haven't I?" Gibbs reminded her.

"That you have. And it's sweet every time you do it. Moving on." She turned back to the computer and tapped a few more keys.

"Another cab came to the house just before 1500. Took him to the Newport News Amtrak Station, where he caught the 1620 to D.C. The train arrived only 20 minutes late, putting him into Union Station at 2045. He took another cab from the station, stopping to pick up some unmentionables at a drug store near the convention center before being dropped off in Georgetown at 2115."

"Unmentionables?" Gibbs asked.

"You know, young man, alone on a Saturday night, going out? Unmentionables, Gibbs." Abby was grinning at him, and Gibbs shook his head.

"I get it. What next?"

"He got $200 cash back on the purchase and didn't use the card for anything but cab fare the rest of the night. But he moved between four different locations in the District. The time difference between cab rides was…" more tapping, then: "An hour and 15, 45 minutes, little under two hours, then the last cab at 0115 hrs. He was probably bar-hopping."

"Where'd the last one drop him off?"

"In the Dupont area, 1500 block of 17th Northwest, at 0130."

"What's there?" Gibbs asked. Abby looked at him, her eyes raised.

"You don't know?"

Gibbs considered it for a moment, then frowned. "Should I?"

"Probably not your kind of neighborhood. It's like, gay central, Gibbs. There's probably a dozen gay-oriented establishments in that block alone."

"Any other reason why he'd be in that neighborhood at that time of night?" Gibbs asked. Abby looked incredulous.

"C'mon, Gibbs. Did you hear what he was wearing? Doesn't 'don't ask don't tell' end at death?"

Gibbs sighed. "If we don't have to put it in the report, I want to keep it out. It's no one's business."

Abby punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Nice, Gibbs. Very nice." She returned to the computer and worked for a minute. "According to Google Maps, there are 516 businesses and almost 600 residential units within easy walking distance of that block. Take your pick."

"Good. Give me a list of businesses that would have been open at that time of night. Note the 'gay-oriented establishments.' We're going to have to do some canvassing."

"Coming up." The printer started up. "Metro hadn't started working the forensics, so we've got plenty to work with, if any of it's related. There's fluids on his clothing, blood for sure, don't know whose it is yet. Some other liquids, but I haven't had a chance to run it through Major Mass Spec yet."

"Any other DNA?"

"Maybe. I'll try."

"Anything else?" Gibbs asked.

"This." Abby reached into one of several plastic evidence boxes that had been lined up on the workbench and pulled out a baggie with a small piece of paper inside. She held it up for him.

"What is it?" Gibbs asked, peering through the plastic. The paper was tinged with blood, two words written large but indistinct.

"Piece of notebook paper, torn from a small spiral notebook. Metro pulled it out of his shirt pocket. There's two words on it, written in black sharpie. Says 'One Less'."

"One less?" Gibbs asked. "I've heard that phrase before."

"It's from the commercial," Abby said. When Gibbs looked confused, Abby elaborated. "You know, 'I'm gonna be one less, one less!" she sing-songed. Still no recognition. She rolled her eyes.

"It's the slogan for a new vaccine for HPV, the virus that causes two of the most common forms of cervical cancer. It's recommended for sexually active women and girls starting at age nine."

"Nine?" Gibbs said, shock clear in his voice. "Sexually active nine-year-olds?"

"It takes awhile for full immunity to develop. So they recommend it early, so by the time girls start to experiment, they're already protected."

"Yeah, but nine?" His own daughter, Kelly, had been eight when she was killed. She'd still thought boys were yucky.

Abby shrugged. "Girls know more earlier these days than they ever did before. Lots of parents won't let their girls get vaccinated because they don't think their daughters could possibly be sexually active. I mean, really." She shook her head. "By the time I got into high school I'd already…" Gibbs put a hand over her mouth.

"I don't want to know." He paused for a moment, then dropped his hand and asked: "Did you get the vaccine?"

"Too old." She shrugged. "But don't worry. I always have plenty of unmentionables."

Gibbs closed his eyes for a second. He was not going to go there. Not where his Abby was concerned.

"I haven't seen the commercial. But I've still heard that somewhere before. One less." He tried to focus, then shook his head.

"Is that it?"

"For now. I've got a ton of stuff here, most of it's probably trash. I'll keep working on it."

"Alright. Call me if you get anything more." He headed out.

Gibbs and McGee headed for Norfolk to talk to Petty Officer Ferrara's brother. They'd called ahead to confirm that CACO had completed the notifications, and that the elder Ferrara was aboard. He would be waiting for them, the duty officer assured him.

In a rare departure from normal, Gibbs let McGee take the first shift in the three-hour drive. The snow had thickened a little, enough to be noticeable, not yet enough to impair visibility or slicken the roads. Gibbs sat in the passenger seat with his head back and his eyes closed, letting his thoughts carry him. This case was going to be a nightmare. The Military's policy of simply ignoring the presence of gays in its ranks had been a problem from the moment it was instituted. Don't ask, don't tell, my ass, Gibbs thought. Gay service members had served in silence alongside their comrades for generations. Served honorably and with distinction. Gibbs had read somewhere that there were more than a million gay veterans in the United States, and about 65,000 who were in active service. Yet the moment it came out that their sexual orientation was anything other than man loves woman, they were dishonorably discharged and lost it all. More than 12,500 soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines lost to that asinine policy since it was instituted in 1997.

Gibbs had served with three gay Marines that he knew of. Two he'd liked, one he could have lived without. But he'd counted all three among his brothers, still did. The idea that who a man chose to sleep with could have any effect on his ability to serve his country was ludicrous, and it was one of the few things that truly pissed Gibbs off about the country he served and the Corps he loved.

If it became widely known that Petty Officer Ferrara was gay, chances were pretty good the level of cooperation he got from anyone in uniform would drop to nothing. Everyone was afraid of guilt by association. Chances were even better that if did come out, Petty Officer Ferrara would be dishonorably discharged posthumously and any benefits due his family would be lost. Suspicion would fall on the elder brother for hiding Ferrara's sexual orientation, and he might also lose. Somehow, Gibbs had to identify the three men Nicky had seen and bring them to justice, while at the same time try to keep Petty Officer Ferrara's private life private. And if they'd killed him because he was gay, as Gibbs suspected, he'd have to somehow keep that from becoming public as well. A damnable nightmare.

Pushing that aside for the moment, Gibbs considered the paper Abby had shown him. 'One Less.' That meant something. He knew he'd heard it before. And not in connection with any television commercial.

Unbidden, Gibbs' mind travelled down that road. Abby. It wasn't like he didn't know she was sexually active. Hell, she was an adult, had been for as long as he'd known her. Listening to her joke with DiNozzo and McGee, he knew she had her share of flings. God knows she'd taken advantage of past conquests to help them get what they needed on many occasions. But still, hearing her talk about 'unmentionables' like she was discussing breakfast: That was too much.

Ducky had introduced Gibbs and Abby almost 11 years before. The medical examiner had read an advance copy of her forensics thesis and invited Gibbs to sit in on her defense. While much of the science had been over his head, listening to her defend her ideas had been amazing. The level of intelligence coming out of the mouth and mind of such a strange girl had been a breath of fresh air when compared to the cookie-cutter, high-falluten scientists he'd been working with since joining NCIS. Ducky had taken them both out to lunch afterwards, and they'd hit it off. When she applied for a position as a forensics tech four months later, Gibbs had personally convinced the director they had to hire her. Two years after that, she'd been running her own lab.

They'd only grown closer over time. They'd been through some things together that rivaled the toughest challenges he'd ever faced as a Marine. Horrible cases that had damaged them all in one way or another, life-threats to friends they both loved, the death of colleagues. He'd almost lost her last year, when an abusive former boyfriend had beat her nearly to death in her apartment. It hadn't helped any when they discovered the boyfriend was also a serial rapist they'd been hunting for weeks. It had taken a long time and a lot of work before Abby went out on her next date. He supposed he ought to be happy she was dating again, but still. This was his Abby he was talking about. He was pretty sure he'd be perfectly happy if she never looked at another man again.

He'd done a lot of thinking, while Abby was working through her trauma last year. His own love interest at the time, Army Lt. Col. Hollis Mann, had told him he treated Abby as if she were his lost daughter. In a way, he supposed it was true. If Kelly had not been killed by a drug dealer out to eliminate the only witness to a murder – Gibbs' wife Shannon – she would have been only a couple of years younger than Abby. He certainly treated Abby like a favored child, letting her get away with things no other member of his team would dare try. And in that mindset, it freaked him out to think of Abby sleeping with anyone. Ever.

One Less. The phrase still bugged him. He knew he'd heard it somewhere before. With his thoughts focused inward, and McGee driving smoothly through the light snow, Gibbs let himself drift.

to be continued...