Chapter Nine
Black as the Pit
The tomb's blackness surrounded Abby as she lay in silent repose, hands clasped over her stomach, in her closed coffin. Even were the lid left completely open, rather than propped open half an inch, just enough to allow air to circulate, the blackness in the bedroom would be complete. Heavy theatrical blackout curtains covered the windows and kept out the most minute light.
Abby lay motionless as death, the darkness so complete behind her closed eyes that she could well be entombed, sleeping the eternal sleep. The silence was so complete even her breath was loud in her ears, so the blaring chimes of her telephone blasted her eyes open. As the ringing continued she groaned, pushed up the lid of the coffin, shoved it aside and sat up.
Before her now a flickering red light flashed rapidly in time to the jangling ringing and she muttered a curse when the answering machine beside it perversely refused to intercept the intruding call. She remembered now she'd forgotten to turn it on.
Climbing out of the coffin with the ease of long practice, she crossed the room toward the light, the thin folds of her full length white funeral shroud fluttering teasingly about her bare body. Reaching the phone, she picked up the annoying pest, bringing the receiver to her ear.
"This is Abby Sciuto speaking to you from the grave. Wish you were here!"
"Abby?" The plaintive voice was heavy with tears.
"Dawn?" She touched a button on her desk, finding it from memory. The numbers 3:17 lit up in a red glow.
"Abby, I'm sorry! I'm really sorry! I didn't mean to say it. Please don't hate me! Please don't hate me! I – I was – I was…" the words dissolved into soul wounded weeping.
In the background, Abby could barely hear the muted strains of Haydn's 'Symphony #104 in D minor', the lively galant style a terrible counterpoint to the woman's broken sobs.
"Hey, Sunshine, easy, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
x
Dawn's words were barely comprehensible. Between sobs Abby could piece together her regret at hanging up so often, of accusing Abby of betraying her, but the words were nearly lost in a flood of bitter grief. Abby pulled out a chair, sat down and let her friend continue until she wore down, interjecting reassurances at intervals when she thought Dawn could hear her. It was a long time before the sobbing at the other end quieted enough for Abby to speak.
"You okay now?" she asked quietly.
"No. I'm an idiot. You're the one person here that I can go to and I acted like a bitch."
"No you didn't. You needed time to sort things out." She refrained from pointing out that that time didn't have to be a quarter after three in the morning.
"It was a nightmare. He was here again!"
Abby's blood froze. "He was–"
"In my dream."
"Oh," she sighed. She had forced the girl to go back home, alone, so if anything had happened to her friend as a result, it would be her fault. "But not real?"
"Not real, but real!"
"Oh." She didn't point out either that the dreams would be 'real' for a long time to come.
"I was an idiot. I should have taken your calls. I shouldn't have hung up on you."
"Look, forget all that. We're together now."
"I wish I could be–." She cut herself off. She couldn't bring herself to ask for what she most deeply wanted. Abby waited a few seconds, long enough to know her friend couldn't finish.
x
"Look, Dawn, things are a bit of a mess here. I'm not really sure of a lot of things." 'Like whether or not I still have a job.' she finished silently. "I don't know if I can have you over, or whether I'll come down there. I'll call you later this morning. There are a couple of things I have to clear up with my boss. Meantime, call me if you need to. I'll move the phone closer to the bed."
"Bed?"
She could hear the forced grin in her friend's voice as her natural personality fought to reassert itself. "Don't start, or if you come here I'll make you use the urn."
"Ha."
"Meantime, double lock all the doors, put your cell phone on 911 speed dial and keep it with you. I'll call you later this morning."
"Okay." She was about to hang up. "Abby?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you." There was more feeling in it than just the simple words.
"Like I said yesterday, 'don't thank me until you get my bill'."
"Was your boss really mad?"
"Mad doesn't cover it. Try Chernobyl."
"What did you say?"
"I told him I'd castrate him by way of his tonsils." Abby yanked the phone away in time to protect her ear from Dawn's shriek of laughter. When things quieted, she advised. "Get to sleep. Neither of us looks good with worry lines."
"Okay."
She put the phone down, but spent several moments sitting at her desk, thinking. There wasn't much to think about. She had failed, and had used up the last of her good karma. There was going to be no reprieve this time, not when she had disobeyed orders more times than she'd counted and violated more regulations than she thought she even knew. She had been given a measure of leeway and had utterly failed.
Well, there was only one honorable thing left to do - and sitting here was not going to accomplish it. She stood up, walking unerringly through the blackness of her room, out into her living room, finding her workstation by Scuitodar. Sitting down, feeling the white shroud fall over her bare body, she turned on her computer.
The monitor was painfully bright.
xxx
The bullpen at 0900 hours was the antithesis of her home for Abby as she stepped off the elevator and made her way toward Gibbs' desk. She'd finished downstairs saying her goodbyes to Major Masspec, Captain Centrifuge and the rest, promising them she'd make certain, if she could, that the next human here would take care of them with the same loving attention she'd showered upon them.
The Operations Center was bright with the lights of fluorescent bulbs and the glaring sunshine streaming in from the skylight, loud and bustling with morning activity and far too alive for her tastes.
Wearing a floor length dress of unrelieved black, her long black hair combed out instead of bound in her characteristic pigtails, no silver studded leather collar and no make-up beyond red, instead of black, lipstick, she seemed more funeral than when in her normal attire. Her normal attire, accented with silver studs or spikes, with unexpected flashes of color or outlandish exclamations, spoke of a 'joie de vivre' that was wholly missing now. There was nothing of joy in her, only darkness and despair. As she approached the desk of the Supervisory Special Agent, she hitched the long black rope of the black purse she wore up upon her shoulder.
Leroy Gibbs looked up as she stopped before him. She was struck by his perennial appearance; gray suit jacket, slightly darker tie, white shirt that seemed pressed five minutes ago, he was every inch the 'executive' as well as the rough and ready Field Agent, all somehow comprising a single package.
She was going to miss him.
The telephone on his desk rang, but DiNozzo, across the space from him, intercepted the call, feeling the tension flowing in waves from the woman.
"Yes, Abby?" his voice was mild. With Gibbs that was sometimes a bad sign. She swallowed hard.
"Gibbs, I've come to apologize." He looked up at her quizzically. "I failed."
"You found no links to a Marine, Naval Serviceman or anyone else?"
"No." She took an almost painfully deep breath to calm her tone. "Gibbs, I disobeyed your orders. I was insubordinate – ."
"Yes, you were."
"And I used Agency resources for personal purposes and violated regulations. I admit to everything." She became embarrassingly aware of the level of noise dropping around her as more and more people became aware of her words. "Gibbs, I respect you and this Agency too much to have you have to make an Official Action out of this, so…" She reached into her purse and pulled out a folded sheet of paper and handed it to him.
"What's this?" he asked, opening it and starting to read. He had to squint a bit, still resisting – or denying – the growing need for glasses. She had at least used 12pt type.
"My Resignation."
x
She heard the room go utterly silent as the surrounding Agents stared, no longer even pretending not to notice. "It'll save you the trouble of firing me, or putting me on …." Her voice trailed off as he turned the paper sideways, grasped it in the middle and very slowly tore it in half. The ripping was loud in the silence. He turned the halves and tore them as slowly into fourths, then into eighths. Then he held them fanned in his left hand, crooking his right index finger at her to compel her to bend down, so his words would carry more clearly. They did, quiet though they were in the silence, cutting through to the entire room.
"If you ever give this to me again without my asking for it, I will make you eat it. Understand?"
"I understand," she answered, shaken. She most emphatically did not.
"You followed your gut, and if anyone can appreciate that, it's me. The fact that you were wrong …" He lowered the papers off the side of the desk and threw them into his wastebasket.
x
"Boss, I'm sorry to interrupt, but you're going to want to hear this." DiNozzo spoke up.
"What is it, DiNozzo?" He did not appreciate being interrupted, but knew his Senior Field Agent wouldn't do so if it was not important so he put his intended reprimand onto the back burner.
"That call I just took, it was for you, Abby. It rang here when you weren't down there to pick up." He directed the next to Gibbs as well. "An Instructor out of Annapolis has been found murdered. She was on furlough, rented a time-share vacation house five days ago. Last night neighbors heard what sounded like a gunshot, saw someone running away through the woods. They didn't get a good look at him, however. Victim's name is Lieutenant Christine Martinka. She was found in her kitchen, hands taped over her head, ankles taped to a mop handle."
He watches all the blood drop from Abby's face.
"Don't tell me." Gibbs is not an imploring man but
"Sorry, boss. Clarkston Lakes, Virginia. State Troopers had Abby's card."
Gibbs looked up at Abby who stared at him, a terrible expression on her face.
x
"Gas up the truck," he said, tossing DiNozzo the keys. DiNozzo caught them, already heading for the garage. Gibbs pulled open the top drawer of his desk, pulled out his Sig and holster, secured them on his belt and the still white face of the black clad woman halted him. "You all right?"
"No!" she exclaimed. "If you and the Director had just listened…"
"We did listen. Now we can act. Grab your gear, but do it fast. We're all going on this one." He knew that Abby could do more good laying the groundwork with the only witness they had thus far, that she could do no real work until the evidence was transported to her lab, so she might as well be the one to drive it the eighty miles. "Ziva, notify Ducky," he said as Abby ran from the room.
"Let's roll."