Chapter Thirteen
Town Meeting
The Club House was set on a hill above a parking lot that had room for thirty cars and was vastly overcrowded by the time Gibbs' deep blue Charger arrived. He pulled into place beyond the lot on the gravel road that went from the main lake to its subsidiary, taking his place at the head of an increasingly long line that edged the road. The four Agents took note of the cars in this line and assembled on the packed lot; the variety ranged from carefully maintained sports cars to dirt covered trucks that had taken far too many beatings in their long, hard lives.
The only sounds about them were the perennial songs of crickets and katydids who would sing to one another all through the night. It was already quite dim, and they knew that with no lights to flood the area, when the sun already falling behind the hills in the west had set, it would be black as pitch. The Agents each carried flashlights in their pockets, knowing they would be hard pressed to find Gibbs' car or avoid a turned ankle without them.
They looked up at the concrete building, the first such that they had seen here, at the top of a small hill. The structure was clearly designed to take a lot of wear. Two steep dirt roads serviced it, one from the parking lot; the other from the road to the thinner side. The main entrance faced the lot. They ascended the hill and entered through the wide white double doors.
There was a short corridor about fifteen feet across. On their left were two bathrooms and on the right a ledge that serviced a closed refreshment area. Beyond this foyer was a huge open space. As they passed into it, they could see the opposite wall forty feet from where they stood and it was eighty feet from left to right. There was an elevated stage fifteen feet deep on their left, the focal point of scores of folding chairs that had been placed in rows, most of which were occupied with hundreds of residents who waited with strained patience.
The club house had clearly been designed to serve a variety of purposes, from meeting hall to movie house, from Bingo hall - courtesy of the now dark board above the stage - to basketball court; the baskets of which had been pulled by ropes to lay back flat to the ceiling, discreetly out of the way. Any number of other purposes could be served, but tonight it was filled with anxious people here to discuss a horror in their midst, one that they had thought could not infect them from the distant cities or even the nearest towns, but which had encroached into this quiet community to disrupt lives and fill everyone with fear.
x
They easily spotted Abby Sciuto sitting in the third row, off the other side of the center aisle. Aside from their familiarity with the woman, she was the only one dressed completely in unrelieved black. Gibbs noted the rather subdued blonde woman seated next to her who, dressed in white, seemed a negative image of Abby's dark aspect. Gibbs was about to step over to introduce himself when, on the stage on their left, Thomas Magnum nervously tapped a freestanding silver microphone set up center stage forward.
x
"If you could all take seats," he began, his discomfort loud, "we're ready to begin." He then realized that he and the NCIS Agents were the only ones not already seated, which only served to make him more uncomfortable. He waved a sharp signal to the Agents, urging them to approach the stage.
Everyone in the room could sense the man's discomfort and his uncertain manner flowed outward to make the assembled throng equally uncomfortable. Gibbs led his team forward. As they approached the stage, Magnum knelt down on one knee, the better to avoid the unit's pickup. "Would you four join me?" The question was a notch below imploring, and Gibbs felt sorry for the man. He might be a competent Comptroller, but he was by no means a confident public speaker – especially before a crowd that might, at any moment, turn hostile.
With a look to his team, he led them up the right side staircase to four white folding chairs that had been set along the right wall. From that vantage, the Agents could pick out the two young men they recognized from the Administration Office, accompanied by another they did not know, the previously absent Joe Burke. All of them had a vested interest in this.
As his eyes met Abby's, he noticed her hands moving subtly before her. In very brief gestures, the woman Signed that she had done a full forensics sweep of the Caldwell home, and had obtained nine pieces of useful evidence. Gibbs replied that he would speak to her in detail later. His were, he hoped, only cryptic signals visible to the crowd but there was little to be done about it now.
When the four guests were seated, Gibbs closest to the audience followed to his right by David, DiNozzo and McGee, Magnum again turned to the microphone.
"We've called this meeting tonight…" the portly man began with a quite detectable flutter in his voice, "…because of some incidents that … well … that have been taking place in our … our community."
'This is too painful to watch.' Gibbs signaled the others with his eyes. The man was suffering major stage fright, but was gamely trying to press on. Gibbs would not interrupt. This was Magnum's presentation – for better or for worse.
"We've had some … problems lately. Just this week, rather."
The audience was becoming restive, fidgeting in their seats in sympathetic discomfort. Those who didn't already know the purpose of the meeting in gruesome detail wished he would just get on and say it.
"There have been several … incidents … incidents involving some of the women … that is, three of the women … in our … our community. The people beside me … they are Federal Agents who have been investigating … what happened."
Beside Gibbs, Ziva sighed feelingly. This was too much. "Gibbs?" she whispered.
Gibbs opened his hand toward the microphone, whispered. "That was an introduction."
Ziva was on her feet, crossing the stage.
x
"They have come … that is, they've been sent–" Magnum felt a hand placed upon his shoulder, and turned to the dark woman who had come up beside him. She told him with her eyes what she intended, using her touch on his shoulder to gently turn him away toward her vacated seat. He moved away gratefully.
Ziva turned to the crowd, and by her initial manner they could see this was a woman who did not have stage fright.
x
"Good evening." Her clipped tones sliced through the room. The green athletic shirt she wore over black t-shirt, along with green pants, might have been military attire for the way it suited her. "I am Officer Ziva David of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service headquartered in Washington. I'm also an Operative with Mossad, the Israeli Secret Service. With me are Special Agents Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo and Timothy McGee. Seated in the third row before me is Forensic Scientist Abigail Sciuto. We are here to investigate the rape and murder early this morning of Navy Lieutenant Christine Martinka, as well as the rapes on Monday of Ms. Dawn Caldwell and on Tuesday of Ms. Dorothy Higgins."
It had already been decided that this was not going to be a routine briefing. Those kinds of town meetings Gibbs had no patience for. This was not going to be a series of platitudes and vague references to 'investigations'. The people here deserved to know what was going on in their midst; had to know if they were going to defend themselves efficiently. Any void in the story would quickly be filled by conjecture, rumor, fearful exaggerations and imaginings.
"These three rapes, characterized by increasing levels of sadistic violence culminating in brutal murder, are believed to be the work of the same man. Methods of operation and evidence found at the scenes of the three crimes are virtually identical, ruling out even a Copycat perpetrator, as thus far no details have been released by the Virginia State Police."
With her whip snap tones and piercing gaze, Ziva held each person in the room in the same way she would a first week's class of Mossad recruits.
"The victims have several things in common. Most notably they live alone; were assaulted in their homes; and most recently it has been determined that they all share the same occupation; namely that of Teacher." She watched the ripple, which had been building slowly to a wave, shoot through the crowd like a tsunami.
"While we have not yet identified the culprit, rest assured that we will. In the meantime, this meeting is called so that you may know these facts and take steps to protect yourselves. Since we have determined that the rapist is targeting women living alone, I ask if there are any women here tonight who live alone."
x
She waited, and after a few seconds a hand tentatively went up, no higher than to a shoulder. A few moments later another hand slowly moved, but only head high, and across the room another hand went up all the way. "Would you all please stand?"
They were even more reluctant to stand than to raise hands, but having already identified themselves they were 'trapped'. "Are there any others?" A fourth very reluctantly joined the standing women. All were of different ages and appearances. Ziva waited a few seconds more. No further people identified themselves.
"We have high hopes of resolving this quickly, but in the meantime we feel it unwise for anyone to remain alone. Is there anyone here who can assist these women?"
"Jackie?" A voice called from near the back. The second woman to raise her hand turned around. "You can stay with us."
"Thank you!" she exclaimed, releasing pent up breath.
"Margarite?" Another voice from the left side of the room drew the attention of the fourth woman.
In quick order, all four women had secure lodging with friends.
x
"Since we've also determined this predator preys on teachers, are there any teachers in the room, either current or former?"
From near the front right corner, a slight woman stood up slowly. She was easily seventy years old. "Cora Michaels. I used to teach grade school, but that was a long time ago," she said; her practiced voice cutting through the room. She looked down at herself. "I don't think your man is going to want me."
There were a few titters about the room, more a relief of the growing tension than from any real humor. Tim recognized her from the computer printout after Gibbs' order 'find me more teachers'. She had been the only one.
"Nevertheless, we want everyone to be very careful." At this, three bearded men rose from seats beside hers and kept on rising. They wore flannel shirts, well worn jeans and resembled small mountains next to the diminutive woman.
"Anyone tries to lay a hand on our grandmother," the one closest to the woman said, laying a huge hand upon her shoulder, "we'll let you have what's left."
This time the laughter was more relieved.
x
"Now comes the obligatory call for aid," Ziva quipped, though there was no humor in her eyes. "If anyone has any information on any of this, no matter how small or trivial you might consider it, please tell us." She gave the address and phone number of the cottage they were using, as well as Gibbs' cell phone number. She was gratified that enough groundwork had been laid by her presentation that many people wrote the information down.
"That is really all we can tell you at this point. We will try to answer some questions," three hundred hands shot upward, "provided the answers don't compromise our Investigation." Most of the hands gradually and sheepishly lowered, but a few remained firm.
"Yes?" she asked, pointing to one of the men in the ninth row.
"Are you working with State Troopers and Lake Security on this?"
Ziva turned to Gibbs, wanting him to take the questions, but he turned an upraised hand toward her, as if to say 'you're our spokesman'. She turned back to the microphone. "Yes. We are working jointly with the State Police on this matter, since there are issues such as jurisdiction to consider…."
xx
When the formal meeting was over, Gibbs and his team worked the departing crowd, answering questions and giving reassurances while primarily seeking input and insight.
Ultimately, though it was an hour later and night had fallen hard in the black windows, there were only seven people left in the huge building. "Thank you," Thomas Magnum told Ziva for the second time. "I was really out of my element up there."
"Think nothing of it," she assured him. "Public Speaking is recognized as the second greatest fear any person could have."
"What's first? Death?"
"No," she answered with an evil smile. "IRS Audits."
x
Dawn Caldwell didn't want to approach, despite Abby's gentle but unremitting insistence and sustained pressure of her hand in hers. She knew these people were Abby's friends and colleagues, and that meant a lot. The men were all handsome, particularly the distinguished man with the short military haircut, but they were all so freaking male.
At five nine, Dawn was not short in stature or mind, but she perceived the three men as giants, and felt so tiny around them. Worse still, they were men – and there were too many around her. She felt Abby tug her hand again, and reluctantly stepped forward. She tried to forget her fear, knew these men and the other woman, whom she had at least met, were here to help, but looking at them she was scared.
But then she stopped dead, suddenly angry. That bastard had hurt her and now she was recoiling from three utterly handsome men. Last week, about to be introduced into such a smorgasbord of male pulchritude, she would have been in her element, enjoying the moment to its fullest. Now was she recoiling from men she would otherwise have been expending her best efforts with in hopes of getting a date?
No way!
Gripping Abby's hand more firmly, she actually took the lead, a half step ahead of her friend while her heart pounded painfully in her chest and she prayed she wouldn't faint.
x
"Gibbs, this is Dawn." Abby presented the younger woman to her boss. Gibbs noticed the forensics expert wore her leather Warrior choker about her neck, the one generously studded with inch long sharp silver spikes that proclaimed to all who know her that she's seeking answers and woe betide the evidence that doesn't surrender them. She was otherwise clothed in a casual black dress. He was glad the irrepressible young woman had shown greater discretion during the meeting.
He had to admit that at least the silver relieved the blackness of the rest of her attire, which had been a sharp contrast to her slightly pale face and red painted lips.
The blonde woman beside her was looking up at him with a mixture of apprehension at war with a need for expression, as though she were trying to force her own personality to come through over a pervasive fear.
"Ms. Caldwell," he said with a smile, deciding to turn on the charm a bit to the lovely blonde, "I've heard a great deal about you."
"Some good, I hope," she said with a forced smile that was apprehensive at first, then evolved into something mostly coquettish.
"All good," he assured her.
"I've heard a lot about you too." She took a very deep breath and actually forced the fear away.
"Some good, I hope."
She looked him over, her natural manner managing to reassert itself. She was not going to crawl under a rock. "Very good."
"Dawn; Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Tim McGee … and Tony DiNozzo." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial 'stage whisper'. "He's the one I warned you about."
"Hey!" Both women laughed. "I'll sully my reputation myself, if you don't mind."
"Don't worry, Mr. DiNozzo. No reputations are getting sullied." Dawn was starting to relax, they could all see it. She'd been afraid, they had seen it in her eyes before she approached, but her natural manner seemed to be winning the night.
x
Dawn looked up at the tall man and decided she liked what she saw. Determined to drive the fear down, she went to the other extreme and decided her best – or her only – way to enjoy the moment was to do a bit of flirting.
She was still trying to discover herself in the wake of this nightmare, to learn who she was now, and decided to try anything tonight. After all, if these were Abby's friends, they had to be safe, didn't they? Then again, the way Tony DiNozzo was looking at her, even if he wasn't saying anything, was undermining her resolve. She did, however, remember the conversation she had had with Abby on the way in.
"Mr. DiNozzo…"
"Tony" he invited, turning the full force of his charm on her.
"Oh, I couldn't, Mr. DiNozzo. I was brought up to respect my elders."
"I–" Not about to wilt under the smiles from his partners, he looked at her thoughtfully, a rare thing for him. "Mr. Anthony DiNozzo's my father. How old do you think I am, anyway?"
She scrutinized him closely. "Forty? Forty five? Ever so much older than me; at least twice my age."
While the others derived their pleasure from this, Gibbs had to turn aside. It wouldn't do to let them see the grin that spread itself upon his face.
"I've gotta get more beauty sleep," Tony muttered.
x
"You know," Tony said, never willing to give up on a beautiful woman, "I actually find it hard to believe that our Abby would have been a baby-sitter. After all, who'd trust her with their child?"
"Plenty of people, thank you very much," Abby retorted, but Tony continued as though she had not spoken.
"I picture her more like a cross between 'Chucky' and 'Problem Child'."
"I was actually more the Problem Child," Dawn admitted. "She reminds me occasionally that I'm still Grounded by her, and that it was never lifted."
"Oh, when was that?" he asked, glancing at Abby, by his manner showing that he thought Abby should give the woman a reprieve.
"I was in High School," Dawn continued, "while she was in College. I made the mistake of telling her about something my friends and I did in the Dean's Office, and she put me on permanent Suspension."
"Oh, come on. What could you have done that was so terrible?"
"Well, you see, there was the Dean's brand new Xerox machine sitting there, all innocent, and …"
"Are you going to tell me you and your friends Xeroxed your butts?" DiNozzo asked, half incredulously, half wonderingly, picturing the event.
"No, I'm no fan of broken glass in my bum."
"Well then…"
"I was a Cheerleader, so I did splits."
x
DiNozzo's mouth fell open while his eyes grew large. Without another word but with wide grins, Abby and Dawn turned, giving their attention to McGee.
He'd been on his best behavior, considering what the young woman had gone through and that she was Abby's friend - and she had torpedoed him below the waterline.
He had to give her points.
Gibbs stepped past DiNozzo and his hand came up, whacking the man in the back of his skull. "Thanks, boss," Tony muttered, feeling his stalled brain jump started.
x
While these superficial conversations had been going on Abby, on the opposite side of the group from Gibbs and far enough back to be unobtrusive, had signed a full report of her investigation to the Agent. Thus, he was well informed when he stepped up to Dawn while Abby moved in from behind.
"Ms. Caldwell, I look forward to seeing you tomorrow," he told her, attracting her attention from McGee. "There are some questions I have to ask."
Dawn was suddenly apprehensive again. She'd been using the banter to bury her discomfort, but now had nothing left to fall back upon. She found herself curling the ends of her long blonde hair with her left hand, a nervous habit she hadn't had since she was a sophomore in College, already going for her Teacher's Accreditation and forced herself to stop.
"Well, sir, I'm actually going home tomorrow," she told him. "I'm half packed." She wanted to explain, but she had the feeling she was explaining more to herself than to him, trying to justify her retreat. Abby had offered the thought of telling her parents what had happened, something she had withheld doing until she could deal with it, and she'd chosen to return home instead. She just couldn't face the thought of doing this by telephone.
"In the morning I'm draining the pipes and shutting everything down. Clarkston Lakes has … kind of lost its appeal."
"Well, I can understand that." Gibbs told her, visibly hiding his disappointment. He'd already known all about this decision from Abby's silent report.
"Maybe …" she cast a reluctant look at Abby. She didn't want to answer any more questions or discuss this nightmare any further, but she tried to be understanding of the Agent's position. He was trying to help her. "Maybe if you come over early? I'm not getting on the road until after rush hour. Louisiana's a long drive."
"I'll be spending the night with Dawn." Abby put in, much to Gibbs' lack of surprise. There was a mounting pile of evidence in her lab, to say nothing of what Ducky was still accumulating at this moment, and what Abby would have to bring back from the other cottage, but that too had been in her Signed report. "I've been up since three in the morning. If I have to drive eighty miles on the Interstate at night, the next Forensic tests will be done on me." She offered this as verbal justification of her silent scheme, which he had already approved.
"All right." Unstated but understood between the two NCIS Agents was that Abby would use what influence she had on the younger woman to delay her departure as long as she possibly could.
"Well, ladies and gentlemen?" Thomas Magnum began with limited subtlety, considering the keys in his hand.
The groups split up with little more leave-taking, each praying that they, and the community surrounding them, would make it through a quiet night.
xx
On Abby's way to the 'batmobile', surrounded by the loud chirrups of hundreds of night insects, she could hold her laughter no longer. "Thank you, Sunshine!" she enthused.
"Don't mention it," Dawn replied, hoping her friend never would again. "I really hated to do it. I hope his feelings aren't hurt too badly."
"Tony's? He's got an ego twice the size of Gibraltar, and ten times as hard. It just killed him that there were so many women there and he could not flirt with a single one. He needs to have a woman blow him out of the water."