CHAPTER II: Number 2
Ziva was late. First, the used car McGee had helped her pick out a few months before refused to start. Not until she got out and kicked a tire in frustration did she think about taking the bus to work. She'd done that for a couple of months before getting the car, and she hated it. She hated its pokiness, the many stops to let passengers on and off; she even hated the other passengers.
The thought of having to take the bus made her get back in the car and try the ignition again. Her eyes rolled upward in gratitude when the engine coughed but then caught and started. In the rear view mirror, she saw a puff of smoke float out of the muffler and made a mental note to take it to a garage the next time she had a day off.
This endeavor having taken at least five minutes, she grimly put the car in gear and took off at an even more reckless speed than usual. Ten blocks away from her home, she watched with horror as the car in front of her was t-boned by some jerk running a stop sign. Jumping out, she ran over to assess the damage. No one seemed to be physically injured, although the older woman driving the car in front of her looked a little dazed. Yet another driver, having witnessed the scene also, approached, saying he'd already called 911. Ziva gave him her card, telling him her boss was a bear when people were late to work but that he could have the police give her a call if they needed a statement from her.
With that, she ran back to her car, but because the damaged cars were blocking the intersection, she had to retrace her path to the previous intersection. Once turned onto a parallel street, she immediately became lost, and it took her another 15 minutes to find her way back to the appropriate arterial street.
When David finally stepped off the NCIS elevator into the squad room at nearly 7:25, she looked around quickly to see if Gibbs would notice she was late, but his desk was empty. For a moment she felt relief, but then remembered—Gibbs was on vacation. McGee's desk was empty too. Only Tony was in the bullpen, standing in front of his desk and putting a clip into his pistol.
She tried to walk by him as quietly as possible, but DiNozzo, without looking around, said, "You're late, David."
"Yes," she said, giving a silent groan while wondering how he and Gibbs did that. "I ran into a couple problems. It won't happen again."
"You bet it won't." He turned finally to look at her. "Grab your gear; we've already caught a case."
He turned around quickly and headed for the elevator.
"And McGee…." she started to inquire.
"Is already getting the truck out," he said over his shoulder.
DiNozzo disappeared into the elevator; there was no way she could have caught up with him. Hurriedly, she checked her pistol and her bag, then headed for the elevator herself.
By the time she got downstairs, the van was already at the back door with its engine running. McGee, sitting in the driver's seat, looked a little anxious as usual. DiNozzo's face was unreadable beneath the NCIS cap, his dark glasses obscuring any expression in his eyes.
"So what do we have?" David asked him as she climbed into her seat and buckled her seat belt..
"A 19 year old female petty officer was found in her apartment this morning, shot in the head. Metro PD got the call first, and they've already started processing the scene." His reply was short, and David reflected that, whenever Gibbs was gone, DiNozzo was known for taking on the older agent's characteristics, especially his hard-nosed gruffness.
The remainder of the 20 minute ride to the apartment complex where the PO had lived passed in silence, although more than one occupant of the van thought it would have taken only 10 minutes if either Gibbs or David had been driving.
The scene was already well defined by yellow crime scene tape. There were four two-story buildings, arranged parallel to each other but perpendicular to the street. Each building was apparently one apartment deep, each containing four apartments on each floor. Based on the amount of activity nearby, the crime scene was the second apartment on the first floor of the second building. Outside the tape, clusters of onlookers watched their arrival with avid interest, commenting among themselves. There were also several people inside the tape, including both uniformed and plainclothes police personnel and some dazed-looking folks who might be witnesses. As McGee brought the van to a halt, a man inside the tape broke away from one of the groups.
Getting out of the van, DiNozzo assessed the approaching cop. He was at least as tall as DiNozzo himself, but a little beefier and a little older. He had straight black hair touched with gray and cut very poorly, with one lock falling over onto his forehead. He was dressed in a shapeless gray suit, probably right off the rack at K-Mart. But he had a business-like, shrewd look about him. He also looked infinitely weary. Typical cop, DiNozzo decided.
"Detective Johnny Delbart, Metro PD," the cop stated, sticking his hand out to DiNozzo.
"NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, but you can call me Tony," he countered, shaking the detective's hand. "Special Agent Tim McGee, Officer Ziva David," he went on, nodding slightly toward his teammates.
Stepping over the tape, the group headed across the parking lot toward the building. DiNozzo asked, "Can you fill in some of the details for us?"
Delbart pulled a small notebook out of the breast pocket of his jacket and flipped it open. "Vic's name is Jane Adamovski. 19 years old. Petty officer, working as a clerk in medical records at Bethesda. Her roommate's name is Shelly Tompkins, also a clerk at Bethesda, but she's on leave right now, visiting her family somewhere out West. Adamovski has a standing date with another friend, name of Julie Jordan, to run at 5:30 every morning. Usually Adamovski waits outside for her, but this morning, she wasn't there, and when Jordan knocked on the door, there was no answer. Jordan went around the back to look in the bedroom window. She saw Adamovski lying on the bed, but again, when she knocked on the window, there was no response.
"The super for the apartment complex was out hosing off the sidewalks and parking areas, so Jordan went and got him, and he unlocked the door. When he went into the bedroom, he saw the gunshot wound. He wouldn't let Jordan in, and he used his personal cell to call 911."
"Any reason to suspect either the running partner or the super?" DiNozzo wanted to know.
"At this moment, no." replied the detective.
"And both the front and back doors to the apartment were locked?" DiNozzo went on.
"Yup. Jordan did say that sometimes, if Adamovsky was running late, she would open the back door. Perp coulda gotten in that way and then locked the door when he left."
By this time, the little group had walked into the apartment. From the front door, one stepped to the left into the living room, at the other end of which was a small dining area, with a kitchen beyond. On the right, a small hallway led past one bedroom, the bathroom, and then ended with another bedroom. Delbart led the NCIS team down the hallway to the back bedroom.
DiNozzo stepped through the doorway and stopped with a short, sharp hiss of breath. The victim was lying on her back, still in pajamas, with her hands splayed out slightly to each side. She had a pretty face with long dark hair that spread out around her head like a scarf, and there was a single bullet hole right in the middle of her forehead.
DiNozzo stared at Jane Adamovski's body, and as a wave of dizziness came over him, her face morphed into that of another attractive young woman with long dark hair and a hole in her forehead.
"Tony?" McGee spoke softly behind him. "You all right?"
Tim had not seen Caitlin Todd dead on the roof where she'd been assassinated; only when she'd been placed on one of Ducky's cold, cold slabs in the morgue had he had the courage to look at her, but he sensed what Tony was feeling.
DiNozzo shook his head slightly to ward off the vertigo. "It's all right, Tim. I'll be okay."
Then he spoke to the detective again. "I understand your guys have already started processing in here?"
"No," Delbart replied. "As soon as the running partner told us she was Navy, we called you guys."
"Thanks. David, you go interview the two witnesses and talk to as many of the bystanders as you can, find out if anyone saw anyone or anything suspicious or heard the gunshot."
"Right," she answered as she turned to go outside again.
"McGee, do prints and any other evidence in here and then in the rest of the apartment."
"On it, boss," said McGee.
DiNozzo allowed himself one small grin of satisfaction for the unconscious acknowledgement of his leadership.
"I'll shoot and sketch," DiNozzo announced, putting down his bag and preparing to take out the camera and the sketch pad.
Delbart said, "Look at this."
Following the other man's gesture, DiNozzo noticed that under the victim's right hand was a piece of paper.
"What's that?" he asked.
"If it's what I think it is," said the detective, "it's a page from a Bible."
"And why do you think that?"
"Because we had another victim yesterday who had one under his hand, just like that."
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