Author's Note: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I feel so bad for not updating in such a long time! (I have nothing but my own laziness to blame!) Thank you all for your patience! Here's chapter 3!
"Grab your gear!" barked Gibbs, heading towards his desk. Ziva, Tony, and McGee all looked back and forth at one another in confusion.
"But, Gibbs," Tony began, "we just got that call, I don't think we-"
"Need to leave right now. Yes we do, DiNozzo," snapped Gibbs. "We have a serial killer on the loose and we know where he is!"
Gibbs slung his bag over his shoulder and looked back at his team. "Well?"
Taking immediate note of the seriousness in their boss's voice, the three field agents hurried to their desks and went for their gear like Gibbs ordered. Catherine and Pratt remained where they stood, unsure exactly what to do.
"By the way," a voice said in Catherine's ear. She turned to see that it was Gibbs. "Where were you going to say you were from?"
"Oh." Catherine didn't know whether she should tell them the truth or not. Of course, Pratt already knew she was from Vegas; that was where they had met. Catherine wouldn't really be lying if she didn't tell them.
"Um, it's, uh... not important right now," she finally answered. "Besides, we've got a killer to catch."
Conrad Ecklie slumped back in his seat, slamming the phone back onto the cradle. Rubbing a hand over his thinning hair he let out a breath, looking up and seeing D.B Russell stading in the doorway.
"Yeah, Russell? What can I do for ya?" His tone held a hint of frustration, dark cirlces forming under his eyes.
"I'm here to drop off those case files you asked for." The older man stepped inside, laying down the folders. "You alright? You're looking a little rough," he commented, throwing him a friendly smile.
Conrad sat up, pulling the files toward him. He looked at the phone, then back to Russell, sighing and beckoning the man forward.
"I just got a call from the Sherriff, apparently a serial killer from D.C. managed to skip town and hide in Vegas. FBI and NCIS are lending a hand in the investigation, they should be here soon to debrief you and your team."
Russell puffed out his cheeks, mentally assesing the situation.
"NCIS, you said? I'm not too familair with that agency." Conrad chuckled, pushing back his seat to perch on the end of his desk.
"Naval Criminal Investigative Service. Navy cops, basically," he finished.
"And the Navy ties into this because?"
"Last victim, killed about two to three days ago was a petty officer. Female by the name of Molly Perkins." He pulled out a photograph and slid it across the table.
"Oh man, he really went to work on her," Russell commented, noting the cut and ligature marks.
"His signature is carving a 'C' into their cheek after they've been tortured for two days before he finally strangles them." He pulled out another file, reading it aloud.
"The ligature marks found on the victims neck appear to be made by an item similar to a belt or scarf. Fibers were taken from the wounds and were sent to trace." He put the paper down and folded his hands. "Those were the autopsy reults from the coronrer at NCIS."
"Any word on what they were?" Condrad shrugged, putting his coffee mug to his lips. Swallowing, he stood and paced his small office.
"Now, this case is going to bring a lot of attention to the city. I don't want the citizens fearing for their lives because there's a killer on the loose." His voice was stern as he wagged a finger.
"Come on, Conrad, you're acting like we're amateurs," Russell joked, letting his booming laugh fill the room.
"Don't push it." His pager beeped, pulling it off his hip he waved it in Russell's face.
"Looks like they're here."