HINKY. It’s Abby’s word, but it fit.
Gibbs and Abby were walking hand in hand through the graveyard. Gibbs was unconsciously squeezing Abby’s hand. She had thrown him fleeting looks. He looked a little worried. He was preoccupied and she could tell his gut was working overtime.
Tim and the rest of the team were also making their way to the gravesite. They had parked away from one another on purpose. To walk into the cemetary at different points to get a good look at as many of the mourners as possible. They, of course, recognized many, many NCIS agents. There were uniformed police officers and many plain-clothed officers.
The service had been planned as graveside only, mainly to hide the fact that there was no body to bury. The majority of the morners, Gibbs suspected, had been coraled by the higher-ups. Who knew there were ‘graveyard groupies.’
Gibbs eyes continuously scanned the scene as he and Abby walked to the gravesite. His gut was churning. The guy was here. They each had pictures of the two men Tony had named, Guy Edwards and Harold Jacobs.
The team saw several people wearing sunglasses and hats. This was due to the chill in the air and the glare the new fallen snow produced in the bright sunshine. This could give this guy an extra advantage, making it easier for him to conceal his identity. They might have to rely on their memories of the voice recording after all.
The team believed he would think he was very safe, being a person from Tony’s past and having no connection to Tony’s life now or work at NCIS. They thought he might mill around in the crowd, taking sick pleasure in the grief he as seeing. They hoped he would chat. Tim and Ziva also tried to mingle. Staying out of conversations, but still, physically close enough to hear the voices of the people chatting, and hopfully close enough to recognize a voice. The service had not started yet and a small, stocky man with gray, thinning hair stood off to the side of a group of mourners. He had a hat on, but had not worn sunglasses. He seemed to be smilling, taking pleasure in the apparent pain he had caused.
Tim moved closer. He quickly made the ID, Guy Edwards. Gibbs gave the order to stand down until after the service was over. He then sat Abby down beside Ducky under the tent reserved for family. He, Tim and Ziva moved in behind Edwards, in a wide perimeter, blocking his escape.
The service ended and the crowd began to slip away. Care was taken to make sure Edwards had moved far away from the rest of the crowd before anyone approached. Ziva then moved ahead of him, walking faster. She pretended to drop her purse and bent down to pick it up, dabbing her eyes with the tissue she held in her gloved hand. Edwards soon caught up with Ziva. He bent down to help her.
“Lovely service, wasn’t it?” Ziva said, dabbing her eyes again with the tissue.
Edwards nodded. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.” He muttered under his breath.
“I’m sorry?” Ziva enquired.
Edwards shook his hand. “Nothing.” He said as they both straightened up. He handed the purse back to Ziva.
Ziva thanked him, opened the purse and pulled out her gun. She pointed it at him. “Federal Agents… you’re under arrest.”
Edwards began to protest…loudly.
Gibbs came up behind him and cuffed him. He whispered, Gibbs-like, in Edwards’s ear. “You will not do this here. Agent DiNozzo deserved more respect.”
“AGENT DiNozzo!” Edwards said,struggling and getting loud again. “Punk-ass rich kid, you know his daddy bought him his job. Probably bought him his promotion, too. “
Gibbs whispered, again in Edwards’s ear as he tighted his grip on Edwards and tightened the cuffs round Edwards’s wrists. “I SAID you will not do this here.”
“Punk, smart-ass, rich kid.” Edwards ranted. “He deserved what he got.”
Gibbs tightened his grip a little more and Edwards winced. “Police brutality!”
Gibbs whispered in his ear. “I’m a Marine, you Jack-Ass!” Gibbs fought the urge to accidently-on purpose, bang Edwards head against the door frame as he put Edwards in their vehicle.
TBC
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