EDGES
It took a lot to let Kate whisk Tony away instead of doing it himself, but as soon as they got to NCIS, that was exactly what he’d done. At least he knew that Tony would be safe at his house. He watched the car go and thought about the ramp that he’d had installed the day before. It had been a rush job, something he'd done on a hunch that it might be needed, but it better have been done right or he'd take it out of the installer's hide.
Once the car was out of sight, Jethro turned right back around to the cemetery, leaving McGee to work the electronic angle. Or even to find an electronic angle, which had been missing so far. Even though they’d gleaned everything they could about the crime scene the first time, Jethro wanted a second look. Whoever had shot at Tony hadn’t left any traces, even though finding his blind hadn’t taken very long at all.
Once there he’d took several minutes to scout through both scenes on his own, without the young agent hovering around the edges of his perception. There was more going on here than he’d thought at first, that was for sure. The MO’s were completely different. Lt. Whitcomb had been beaten to death while someone was now taking shots at Tony. It was like he’d told Tony.
Whoever it was missed deliberately, Jethro thought. He could’ve killed Tony at any time. This
was a message.
But what kind of message and from who?
Jethro’s attention was currently focused on the files that Tony had already gone through, taking a second look in case something triggered a gut reaction. It wasn’t at all scientific and he’d get plenty of teasing from Abby when she found out, but it was part of his routine. There had to be something in Tony’s past that explained the bad assassination attempt.
“Boss?”
Looking up at the tense call from McGee, Jethro saw him glaring at his computer screen. Eyebrows lifting, Jethro answered, “What is it, McGee?”
“Just got an anonymous email with pictures in it,” McGee reported, meeting his gaze. “Whitcomb and some guy.”
Jethro stood to walk over to McGee’s desk, peering over his shoulder. ‘Some guy’ was definitely not Tony and they were in a compromising position that could have been equally as responsible for McGee’s blush as his obvious anger. The team had taken to Tony, there was no doubt about that. They weren’t all compromising pictures. Some of them were at restaurants and bars and one at a horse track.
“Find out who that is,” Jethro ordered.
McGee nodded and said, “I’ll use facial recognition software and compare it to…”
Jethro interrupted sharply, “Don’t tell me, just do it.”
“Yes, Boss.”
Leaving him there, Jethro returned to his desk and wondered just how he was going to break this to Tony.
* * * *
It was a different safe house that Kate brought him to and Tony looked over the simple, suburban house with interest. There was a porch that held a very new looking wheelchair ramp and either a blue exterior. He’d never been big on the types of houses, but he thought it might be a craftsman or bungalow style. Whatever it was, it looked comfortable and he gave Kate a curious look.
She shrugged and said, “Gibbs wanted you to be safe, so here we are.”
“And where is here?” Tony questioned.
“Gibbs’ house.”
Surprised, Tony waited as she got out of the van and then brought his wheelchair up to his side. He transferred to it automatically, swinging himself over without any trouble, and then rolled himself after her to the ramp. It looked a little steeper than he was used to, which he discovered to be true, needing to use real effort to get to the top.
“You know, I am here to help,” Kate pointed out with a grin. “Schlepping is part of the job description around Gibbs, so I’m used to it.”
Tony chuckled a little breathlessly and answered, “Sorry. I’m used to doing for myself.”
He was surprised when she simply opened the door without unlocking it, but didn’t comment.
Kate must’ve caught his expression, though, because she asked, “Would you try to rob Gibbs?”
Tony laughed outright. “Good point.”
Inside was as comfortable as
outside. He looked around at the worn furniture and neat placement of
everything and thought, Definitely ex-military. Not that I hadn’t already thought
that just from how he stands, but still. Confirmation is nice.
“There’s a guest room at the end of the hall, your bag’s already there, the bathroom’s midway, and you can see the kitchen and living room here,” Kate told him. “Fridge is open season. And Gibbs wasn’t sure if your chair would get through the bathroom so we should check that now.”
“I think it’s in the building code with all newer houses but yeah, this isn’t exactly a new house,” Tony agreed, rolling towards the bathroom.
He fit through, but it was a tight squeeze. He had to move his hands to the very front of the wheels and propel himself that way or his hands would get squashed. The room itself had plenty of space so he spun around and rolled back out, rejoining Kate in the living room. “So now what?”
“Now we settle in while Abby does her thing in the lab and Gibbs and McGee work the crime scene. You know the drill,” Kate replied.
Tony did, but it was different being on this end of things. A thought that kept resurfacing as time went on. He hadn’t dealt with Ben’s death in the least, but then, he hadn’t really had time to do it between looking at old cases and getting shot at, at the funeral.
“You okay?”
Meeting her gaze, Tony forced a smile and answered, “I’ll be fine, thanks, Kate. How about something sports-related on tv?”
She smiled, not seeming in the least bit fooled by his cheerful tone, and said, “Whatever you want. I have work to do.”
Tony shifted to the sofa where he almost paid attention to a football game, but his thoughts were mostly on Ben. The funeral had been long and painful on so many different fronts. The dirty looks he’d gotten from his erstwhile in-laws were nothing compared to the open hatred he’d gotten from the guys in Ben’s unit. If Gibbs hadn’t been there, Tony wasn’t sure he’d’ve had the guts to go through with attending the funeral.
Which brought up another subject he didn’t really want to think about. Gibbs. The man was a conundrum and no doubt about it. On the one hand, he was everything Tony had looked for in a man. On the other, his heart literally still ached in his chest like a physical hole had been stabbed into it. He wanted Ben back, badly, but that wasn’t going to happen.
Sighing, Tony looked at the gray sky outside and then realized that it wasn’t just the cloud cover. A quick look at his watch confirmed that it was getting late and he shifted onto his chair to go check out the fridge. His appetite had definitely returned, which was supposedly a good sign. It seemed like a kind of betrayal to keep on living so easily while his lover was in the ground. Of course, it seemed like even more of one the way Gibbs kept intruding into his thoughts the way he did.
The inside of the fridge had a mix of stuff; cold cuts, cheese, fruits, vegetables, and several bags of coffee beans. Eyebrows rising, Tony wondered what the man would be like decaffeinated.
“See anything you like? We can order in,” Kate said.
Looking over at her, Tony shrugged and said, “Sandwiches are fine.”
She shook her head, countering, “No, they’re not. We’ll order. You like Chinese? Thai? Greek?”
“Greek?” Tony echoed, grinning.
Kate winked. “You never know. Come on, you pick. I could eat pretty much anything.”
“Really? You look pretty high-maintenance to me.”
“Funny man.”
Tony snickered a little and said, “Chinese is fine.”
He did grab a soda while he was there and headed back to the living room. Dinner arrived a half hour later, which Kate insisted was due to their address. Gibbs put the fear of God into everyone, including delivery people and restaurants. Tony could well believe that. He enjoyed the benefit of a fast delivery and chowed down on the really good Mandarin food while chatting with Kate about nothing in particular.
Gibbs showed up about an hour later, just as Tony’s legs were starting to vocally protest being in one position for too long. The pressure had been building, but he’d been ignoring it for as long as possible. It was annoying in the extreme that while he didn’t have the musculature to actually walk anymore, his legs could still hurt like a sonuvabitch.
The agent took one look at him and ordered, “Pills.”
Making a face, Tony retorted, “You know, I am over the legal age of being able to decide things for myself. Have been for a number of years now.”
Gibbs just folded his arms across his chest and glowered.
“Oh fine. Whatever,” Tony muttered, shifting over to his chair.
He wheeled down the hall to his new room and found his duffel on the bed. It took a few minutes to rifle through for the pill bottle and then get a glass of water in the bathroom. By the time he’d returned to the living room, Kate had left and Gibbs was in the kitchen, rooting around for something. The other man glanced over at him as he pulled down a glass and then a bottle of what looked like bourbon.
Tony’s eyebrows lifted as he questioned, “Bad day at the office, dear?”
Snorting, Gibbs answered, “I’ve had better. Have a seat.”
“Wow. Humor. It must’ve been a bad day,” Tony teased.
Gibbs flashed a brief smile at him and sat at the kitchen table while Tony pushed aside a chair and rolled into place across from him. Gibbs downed the bourbon and then poured another, prompting Tony’s eyebrows to near his hairline.
The other man just held the glass, though, he didn’t drink it. Instead, he said, “It looked like Ben was involved in something he shouldn’t have been.”
Tony froze in shock. “Excuse me?”
“Ben was cheating on you, Tony.
He was having an affair with a guy who wasn’t nearly as good as he was
charming,” Gibbs said flatly. “This man, Greg Naples, was in over his head with
all kinds of loan sharks. We think he hooked up with Ben in order to give
himself some breathing room. That he gave Ben’s address to the bookies and they
killed him as a warning to
Tony felt sick, but shoved aside the emotions to demand angrily, “Then why come after me at the funeral? That makes no sense!”
“We think that they’re two separate incidents,” Gibbs replied. “I don’t know why someone took a shot at you, but I don’t think they’re related.”
Shaking his head, Tony stated vehemently, “No. No way would Ben do that to me! If he didn’t love me anymore, which he did, then he would have broken it off. He would have sat me down and explained everything in great detail from Point A to Point Z because that’s how he was. There’s no chance he would’ve taken up with some shady guy. None.”
“We have pictures of them, Tony.”
“Pictures can be faked. Easily.”
Gibbs stared at him for a long time, but Tony stared right back. He was pissed, but also dead sure that Ben wouldn’t have done what the agent had claimed.
Finally, Gibbs nodded slowly and said, “Okay. All right, Tony. I needed to see your reaction to know for sure that what my gut was telling me was right. I don’t think Ben did any of that either.”
Letting out a shaky breath, Tony’s hand went to his roiling stomach and he said, “You’re a bastard, Gibbs.”
Gibbs reached across the table to grip his shoulder briefly, agreeing, “I can be, yeah. So. Now that we’re sure that it’s a set-up and everything really is aimed at you, who comes to mind with the kind of resources to pull this off?”
Only two names surfaced at the
question, but he didn’t like either of them. Reluctant, he admitted, “My father
and Commissioner Fredrickson from
Gibbs’ eyebrows rose, but he
only pulled out the ever-present notebook and ordered, “Tell me about the
Commissioner. You left
“Extenuating circumstances,” Tony answered wryly. “The man beat the crap out of me when he found out I was gay. I agreed not to press charges in return for him not blackballing me.”
The only outwards sign that the information had any impact on the other man was that Gibbs’ jaw tightened.
He sighed and continued, “I don’t know why he would suddenly come after me or why he would choose this method, but he’s got the money and power to do it.”
“And your father?”
Tony snorted bitterly. “My father hates that I’m independent. First, he hated me being a cop. Then he hated me being gay. Then he hated me not crawling home when the disease struck. It would be just like him to blame Ben and think that by taking him away, I would just suddenly be what he considers normal.”
“No one else you can think of?”
“Not off the top of my head. I mean, we went over all the guys I put away and Ben wasn’t the enemy-making type.”
“Why didn’t you bring up Fredrickson in the first place?”
Tony rubbed a hand through his
hair and said honestly, “I didn’t think of him. And you know, I really can’t
think of a reason that he would suddenly just snap and decide taking me out is
the way to go. I haven’t set foot in
“Okay. We’ll start with Fredrickson first thing in the morning, see what he’s been up to,” Gibbs announced.
Tony was glad he didn’t ask why he’d named his father to start so easily.
BACKGROUND PIECES
Jethro downed his third and final glass of bourbon long after Tony had gone to bed, trading it for the sanding plane that he was no longer steady enough to use. Springing the news on the other man had made him feel like much worse than the bastard Tony had named him. The sawdust scent comforted him, as did the knowledge that he now had a solid place to start. Jethro would take down whoever was responsible for killing Ben and then trying to sully the memory of a good man. A good officer.
And the one responsible for hurting Tony like this, Jethro thought, stretching out on the bench under the ship’s frame.
If possible, he’d like to deliver a personal justice to the man responsible for hurting Tony. He hated the fact that without all of this, he would never have met the younger man; something that was fast becoming unacceptable. He hated that Ben had had to die in order for Tony to come into his life. He hated even more that he could no longer deny wanting to keep Tony in it as more than just a victim in a case or even a friend.
Sighing deeply, Jethro stared up at the grain of the wood, trailing the whorls and natural stripes with his eyes while letting his body slowly relax. Between one blink and the next, his cell rang, startling him awake. Clearing his throat, Jethro pulled it out of his pocket and answered, “Gibbs.”
“Gibbs, it’s Kate,” she announced, sounding far too cheerful and awake. “Did you fall asleep on your boat again?”
Under it, he thought, pushing upright and rubbing his face in an attempt to wake up more. “What’s going on?”
“Strangest thing happened when
Abby put the pictures of Ben and
“They’re fakes,” he told her.
She grumbled, “I hate it when you do that.”
Grinning to himself, Jethro told her, “I’ll go wake up Tony and we’ll head in after. Oh, and check out what Commissioner Fredrickson of the Peoria PD’s been up to the last year.”
“Okay. And why would I…”
Jethro hung up on her and
stood, stretching backwards with a groan before heading upstairs. He was surprised
to find Tony already dressed and sitting at the table, eating toast and reading
the paper. An odd feeling twisted in his stomach, seeing the other man so
comfortable in his home. Sternly telling himself not to get used to it, Jethro
greeted, “Abby confirmed the pictures of Ben and
A subtle tension he hadn’t spotted left Tony, the younger man’s expression a little more relaxed as he nodded and said, “I knew they would be.”
But you didn’t, not completely one hundred percent, Jethro mused. His visceral reaction had been positive, but once Tony had had time to think about it, apparently he’d managed to throw some doubt into the situation. Not voicing that, Jethro poured himself some OJ and offered a refill for Tony, who nodded. Jethro sat and said, “I’ll take a shower and then we’ll head out to NCIS.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Tony agreed easily.
Taking a closer look at him, Jethro noted the circles under the eyes and the tired air and wondered just how much sleep he’d gotten. “How’re the legs?”
Tony grimaced. “I’ve had better days, but I’ve had worse, too. They won’t get back to normal until the stress gets better. Psychosomatic, to a certain extent. Some people even think I’m faking it.”
Jethro’s jaw tightened. He wanted to find that someone and put his fist in their face, but only observed, “Stress causes the whole body to tense. It stands to reason that your legs would be affected.”
“Well you know that, and I know that, but…” Tony winked at him.
It was amazing that the man could joke about such a serious accusation. Forcing a smile, Jethro stood and said, “Back in ten.”
Tony called after him, “Should I time you?”
Jethro snorted, glad his back was to the younger man so he could grin. Just for fun, he kept himself to the deadline and walked back out, fully dressed and showered, nine minutes later. It took more effort than it used to, which he didn’t like to admit, but he managed it and walked casually to the living room, where Tony had moved to watch television.
The large television that Jethro had ordered after the funeral when he’d realized that he wouldn’t trust Tony’s safety anywhere else.
“Wow. I’m impressed. Nine minutes and twenty-six seconds,” Tony replied, grinning.
Jethro shrugged and said, “You get used to fast showers.”
“I couldn’t,” Tony replied.
Smirking a little, Jethro accused, “Hedonist.”
Tony nodded firmly. “You better believe it.”
They were in the car and on their way a short five minutes later. After a stop at a drive-thru for coffee, Jethro turned towards NCIS and asked, “You up for a long day?”
Tony looked over at him, which he saw out of the corner of his eye, and answered, “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Jethro shrugged as he pointed out, “It’ll be rough if we have to question your father.”
Tony snorting derisively was not the expected response. Jethro glanced at him to find a faint smirk on the younger man’s face just before he countered, “When you question my father, it won’t be me you need to worry about. He’s got friends in high places, Gibbs.”
“I follow the evidence,” Jethro stated firmly. “If it leads to your father, I’ll have him arrested and tried in a military court.”
Tony sighed a little and said, “If it is my father, and the more I think about it, the less I think it is, I’ll testify to whatever you want.”
“What do you mean, you don’t think it’s him now? You seemed convinced last night,” Jethro said.
“There’s no profit in Ben’s death. Or mine, for that matter. You said you thought the two were unrelated.”
“He gets you back, or thinks he does.”
Tony shook his head. “My father’s brain doesn’t work like that. Even if I did go crawling back to him and begged forgiveness, which everyone knows would never happen, there’d be no use for me. He couldn’t put me into the business at this late date; I have no experience in that world. I would be a drain, not a resource. My only use to him now is as a baby maker so he can skip my generation and mould the next DiNozzo properly.”
It was a harsh judgment, but delivered simply. Jethro could see that Tony believed every word he’d just said and it made him want to punch his father out. They arrived at NCIS then, so he concentrated on getting Tony through security and then to the team area.
“Tony!” Abby exclaimed, rushing over and hugging him. “How are you? Are you all right?”
Laughing, Tony popped a wheelie and boasted, “Better than ever.”
That caused Abby to reach out without looking and punch McGee, who’d walked over to join them.
McGee exclaimed, “Ow! What was that for?”
Abby stuck her tongue out at him and replied, “For not making sure those pictures were fake before showing Gibbs!”
Jethro hid a grin and asked, “Abs?”
“Yeah, Gibbs?”
“Don’t you have work to do?”
“Well, yeah. But I wanted to welcome Tony back.”
“Consider him welcomed.”
Abby made a face at him, but jogged over to the elevator.
Still grinning, Tony observed, “Wow is she enthusiastic.”
“You have no idea,” McGee replied, rubbing his shoulder.
Jethro cuffed McGee upside the back of the head and ordered, “Progress, McGee!”
“Sorry, Boss! I mean, right. So, it turns out that Commissioner Fredickson died last year after a two-year battle with cancer.”
Stifling the urge to smack McGee again, Jethro prompted, “And the email source is…?”
McGee swallowed convulsively and stammered, “S-still back-tracing it, Boss. We’re getting close.”
“Well don’t let me stop you,” Jethro said pointedly.
McGee hurried to the elevator, presumably to go to the lab.
When Jethro looked at Tony, it was to find the grin still in place. “And what’s your problem?”
Tony snickered and replied, “Just thinking about how much HR must love you. How many sensitivity training seminars do they make you go to in a year?”
Jethro snorted and turned to Kate, who was leaning against her desk, watching them. She straightened at his pointed look and said hurriedly, “I also was able to get time to see Commander Stinson this morning. That’s Lt. Whitcomb’s CO.”
“I know that Kate,” Jethro reminded, testy. “We interviewed him already. Why do we want to see him again?”
Her mouth opened and then closed again before she gave a helpless little shrug. “My gut?”
Eyeing her a long moment, Jethro finally nodded and ordered, “Get some information to back it up before we go.”
“What should I do while you’re off site?” Tony asked.
Jethro wanted to tell him to go take a nap and try to get rid of those dark circles under his eyes, but knew it would go over like a lead balloon. Instead, he just replied, “Run background checks on these files here. See if you can dig up current addresses and aliases, since they’re the only ones we can’t find. Here, you can use my computer.”
If Tony recognized how much trust was placed in him by giving him that much access, especially unsupervised, the younger man didn’t mention it. He just watched as Jethro brought up the right screens and typed in passwords.
“If they time out on you, get McGee to start them back up.”
“Got it.”
Jethro straightened and moved aside so Tony could wheel behind the desk. “And take your damn medicine when you’re supposed to.”
Tony grinned at the very light tap to the back of his head. “Aw, Gibbs! I didn’t know you cared!”
Clearing his throat, Jethro glared at Kate, who grabbed her backpack and hurried towards the elevator. He followed, turning back once inside it and seeing Tony already finger-pecking at the computer.
Kate chuckled. “Figures he can’t type.”
Jethro just rolled his eyes as the doors closed.
* * * *
Tony was actually able to track down three of the thugs that Gibbs wanted him to find even though he knew none of them had anything to do with the whole thing. He figured it would just be better to let Gibbs bang his head against that particular wall to see for himself. Of course, it did beg the question as to who had been behind it all.
Can’t be Dad, he thought tiredly. Not just because of the reasons he’d given Gibbs in the car, but because he couldn’t believe his father had fallen that far off the morals wagon. All the reasons he’d given were valid and true, but he also just didn’t have it in him to believe his own father wanted him dead.
Might have killed Ben, though.
The tiny voice deep inside couldn’t be squashed, no matter how much he wished it. Fact was, his father could easily have hired someone to kill Ben, even if it didn’t make any sense to do so. There was no logical reason for it, but if his father was still drinking, logic wouldn’t necessarily enter into the equation.
Gibbs thinks that they’re unrelated.
Tony doodled idly on a slip of paper as he thought about both cases analytically. He’d been a damn good investigator, once upon a time, and those weren’t skills that really went away.
Me Ben
Enemies: Fredrickson, deceased Antony DiNozzo, Sr., motive?
Dad, motive?
Ex-cons: Vanson, Ferarra, Delfino,
Paulson, Michaelson, & Mijka
There were more ex-cons for the list, but the others had all been accounted for. He didn’t know Greg Naples from a hole in the wall and decided that should change. There had to be a reason that whoever was behind it all had chosen him, after all.
It was an hour later that his
legs began to protest and he remembered Jethro’s words about taking his
medicine. Even though he was pretty sure the other man wouldn’t force feed him,
he couldn’t completely bet against it. He half-grinned and thought, I guess if Ben had threatened the way Gibbs
did, I’d’ve taken them more often.
Wheeling into the men’s room, Tony relieved himself and then washed up before going into the break room to find water and take his pills. He really needed to get to physical therapy to get his legs worked on before things went really downhill, but had no idea how to bring up the subject. He’d already missed two appointments because of all this insanity and didn’t want to miss another, but then, someone was taking potshots at him. Would it be ungrateful or bad form to ask a detour be made to his therapist’s office?
“Everything okay, Tony?”
Tony jumped at Gibbs’ voice and then looked over to find a concerned expression on his face. Offering a brief smile, he explained, “Just working something out in my head.”
“Anything I can help with?” Jethro offered.
Tony hesitated and then admitted, “I should go to physical therapy. I haven’t been since before all this started.”
Gibbs nodded and told him, “Not a problem. I’ll have Kate make the arrangements. Just give her the office number.”
And just like that, what had seemed huge was now very manageable. Smiling for real, Tony wheeled over to him and asked, “Find anything out?”
“Kate’s got a very good gut,” Gibbs answered.
There was a fairly proud smirk on Gibbs’ face, though it dropped off when they returned to the team area where McGee and Kate waited.
“McGee! You better have something for me!”
McGee nodded rapidly and answered, “We back-traced the email through several servers in the DC Metro area and internationally, too. It kept looping back on itself and…right, you don’t need all that background. We locked down the ISP and it belongs to Greg Naples.”
Tony’s lips pursed in surprise.
“Do we have background on
McGee winced and answered, “Despite the name in the email, there're no official records on Greg Naples. I'm still running facial recognition through the major databases and…”
Tony wheeled over to Gibbs’
desk and picked up the remote. He aimed it at the plasma and interrupted, “Greg
Naples, born Larry Henderson. Which actually reminded me of Harry and the Hendersons, but other than a lot of bad facial hair, there
wasn’t any real resemblance. Changed his name back in 2000 when he moved here
from
“Henderson, aka Lenny Faraday
aka Denny Denson, don’t get me started about the unoriginality of his name
choices, racked up quite the gambling bills wherever he roamed. His MO is to
find a friend of a friend of a cousin to get into big money poker and dig very
large holes. He’s got outstanding markers in Vegas, LA, and
McGee gaped at him before demanding, “How the hell did you find all that out?”
Gibbs cuffed him upside the head again and countered, “How didn’t you?”
“Don’t be too hard on McProbie, Gibbs,” Tony said. “I have friends in a lot of
low places, thanks to a couple years in Vice and Narcotics in different cities.
Sent
It didn’t seem to diminish
Gibbs’ anger any and McGee added rapidly, “What I did find,
was an address on
“And you’re still here why?” Gibbs questioned.
McGee practically jumped for the elevator and then had to come back to get his backpack. Kate followed at a slower pace, clearly fighting a grin.
Tony asked Gibbs, “So what did you find out about Ben’s CO anyhow?”
“Why don’t you watch and see?” Gibbs offered. “I’m heading down to interrogation now.”
Startled, more than a little curious, Tony nodded and wheeled his chair swiftly after Gibbs to the elevator.
CONNECTIONS
Jethro left Tony in the viewing room before heading into Interrogation Room 1. Commander Stinson sat stiffly in his chair, waiting patiently, almost stoically. He might have admired that if not for the distinct ‘dirtball’ vibe the man had proven to have. When Kate had said she’d booked time with the commander, Jethro had assumed she’d meant face-to-face time. Instead, she’d used that ‘sisterhood solidarity’ thing she and Abby had down so well and secured information about where Stinson would be at a time when he thought himself unobserved.
And observe they had. Jethro’s stomach churned at the way the bastard had abused his authority to intimidate the young ensign under his command. It had had a definite sexual edge to it and Jethro wondered just how Stinson would react to someone he couldn’t intimidate. Someone like Ben Whitcomb.
Sitting opposite the commander, Jethro leaned back in the chair and just stared at him. He did that for several minutes, drawing things out, determined that he wouldn’t leave without the damning truth from Stinson. He knew in his gut that this man had, at the very least, organized Whitcomb’s death and very likely had participated in it.
“I want a lawyer,” Stinson finally said.
Jethro shrugged. “You haven’t been formally charged with anything yet.”
Wary, Stinson asked, “So I can leave?”
“Now, I didn’t say that,” Jethro countered. “Just a few things we’d like to clear up first.”
“Like what?”
“Like why Special Agent Todd and I found you in a…compromising position with Ensign Charles.”
Stinson flushed and didn’t answer for a long moment. He finally said, “That wasn’t what it looked like.”
“Really? Because it looked to me like you were attempting to coerce sexual favors from a kid who’s barely old enough to shave,” Jethro stated flatly.
Stinson shook his head. “The kid came on to me, he’s the one who should be in here. I’m not gay.”
Shrugging again, Jethro responded, “Didn’t ask if you were.”
He returned to waiting and watching, content to let the commander unravel at his own pace. It could take a while, but it would happen.
“You can’t keep me here without charging me,” Stinson said at last.
Leaning on the table, Jethro asked, “How well did you know Greg Naples?”
Stinson flushed instantly and then asked gamely, “Who’s that?”
Jethro’s fingers tapped an even beat on the table. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Right now, my agents are in your apartment and taking your computer into custody. They’re going to do their thing and will find the pictures you manipulated. Then I’m going to charge you with murder. Just you. The other two men who helped you will get off scott free because you’re the only one I can tie to it. And let me tell you, since it’s going to be a Hate Crime charge, I’m pretty sure that means you’ll get the death penalty.”
Stinson went from beet red to sickly pale with every word that Jethro uttered.
Still tapping evenly on the
table, Jethro continued, “On the other hand, if you were to give me a real
motive and the names of your accomplices, it would just be plain old murder and
you could live out your life in
Sinking back in his chair, Stinson said, “Whitcomb was going to press charges. He didn’t seem to care any more that it would out him. He was, you’re right, I, ah, I abused my position to get sexual favors from some of the men under my command but Whitcomb, he wouldn’t do it, he never caved. We got into it one afternoon about three weeks ago and that was when he told me he’d had it, he was going to JAG.
“So, I ah, I got a couple of friends together and told them he was threatening me, was going to kill me, that he was crazy. Everyone knows, knew, that Whitcomb stuck to himself. He wasn’t really part of the unit. He did his job and left as soon as possible. They bought it, thought he was like a serial killer in the making.”
“And
“
“And shooting at Tony DiNozzo?”
Stinson shook his head and said, “I didn’t! Man, I haven’t even looked at that queer.”
“You were at the funeral,” Jethro pointed out.
Stinson insisted, “And he hadn’t told DiNozzo anything or you would’ve been all over me sooner. I wasn’t going to risk rocking the boat!”
Jethro pushed the notepad at him and snapped, “Write it down. All of it. Names and addresses.”
As Stinson began to write, Jethro left the room. Seeing that had to have been hard for Tony and he wanted to give the younger man any support he needed. When he walked into the viewing room, he gestured for the video tech to leave, which the young woman did instantly.
A strangely proud expression was on Tony’s face and Jethro asked quietly, “What?”
“I didn’t know he was going to come out, especially not like that,” Tony replied, just as quiet. “It doesn’t surprise me that he kicked Stinson’s ass, but the Navy was his life. Getting discharged for being gay, for standing up to that asshole…I wish he’d told me.”
Jethro nodded. “You didn’t suspect anything?”
Tony sighed and admitted, “Nothing. He came home a few weeks ago with a black eye, but he said some jerk had been throwing elbows in a pickup game. Didn’t have any reason to think he was lying.”
“I’m sorry, Tony,” Jethro said, knowing how inadequate that sounded. He gripped Tony’s shoulder and finished, “He was a good man, an honorable one.”
Tony sighed, “Thanks. I know.”
Jethro squeezed Tony’s shoulder and said, “It’s going to be okay, Tony. You’re going to be fine.”
Canting his head up at Jethro, a vulnerable expression in wide, changeable eyes, Tony whispered, “Promise?”
“I promise,” Jethro vowed.
And then he did the stupidest thing he’d done in a very, very long time. He bent down and pressed his mouth to Tony’s in a soft kiss.