| Subject: Empty Reflections Part Nine |
Author:
Karen
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Date Posted: 14:31:29 10/09/08 Thu
In reply to:
Karen
's message, "Empty Reflections-Prologue" on 14:52:42 08/05/08 Tue
A/N: Sorry for the delay. My computer has been acting up for some time now and it finally decided it didn’t want to play at all. Some combination of software and hardware conflicts just the sort of stuff that’s not supposed to happen in XP. In addition, it corrupted my internet connection and I had to get the tech out here to fix it.
There is an intimate moment between Harm and Mac in this chapter. Nothing graphic or fully descriptive, but there are definite inferences of where they are going. If this offends you or you’re too young, please skip the first few pages.
Empty Reflections
Part Nine
Chesapeake Grand Hotel
Baltimore, MD
Fifteenth floor
August 2004
Saturday 1215
Harm unlocked the door to the mini suite he shared with Mac, and stepped inside.
After their interview with Morgan, he had accompanied McGee to his room. They had spent the next forty-five minutes examining and discussing the copies of police and forensic reports that Ben had provided.
When Harm left the young agent, McGee was on his laptop busily ordering official copies of the police reports, and certified autopsy and forensic reports that they could use as evidence if necessary. It would keep him busy for quite a while. These reports had to come from four different countries, all in different time zones.
Since Mac wasn’t expected to return until later in the afternoon, Harm had headed to the coffee shop for a light lunch. Now there was little to do but try to make sense of the morning’s interview, write a report on the questions he’d asked, and more importantly make some notes exploring Morgan and Stanley’s reaction to them.
He had crossed the main room and entered the bedroom, when he heard the shower running. Mac had apparently returned early from the conference. Her vision of the young Ensign’s death of the previous evening had seriously interfered with her sleep, and what little she’d had was restless. She ought to take a nap, but he’d bet she was trying to use the rejuvenating shower to take her through the afternoon. He had other ideas.
He removed his uniform and hung it neatly, before pulling on a pair of jeans and t-shirt. His bare toes sunk into the thick carpet as he padded toward the bathroom. Standing in the doorway, he watched her as she slowly turned under the spray allowing the tiny droplets of water to dance on her skin.
Though her pleasure in the warm bath was evidenced by her movements, there was still more of a suggestion of exhaustion than renewal in her body. As she shut off the controls and reached for her towel, he stepped forward holding it draped across his big hands.
“Come here, Mac,” he invited gently. She hesitated for only a heartbeat before stepping into his outstretched arms. Moving close he toweled her body, rubbing lightly across her skin.
“You should take a nap.” He kissed her gently on top of her damp curls.
“I’ll be okay, Harm.”
“I’m not talking to the Marine, I’m talking to the mother,” he coaxed. “Your sleep was interrupted last night. You promised the doctor you’d get enough rest. When do you have to go back to the seminar?”
“It’s over. This morning was mostly a follow-up question and answer session. Since most of the questions revolved around the death last night, it didn’t take long for the moderators to call for a dismissal. We weren’t really accomplishing anything other than speculation and second-guessing the investigation.”
“I collected the session recordings that the Admiral wanted for the office, they’re on the dresser,” she waved a hand in that general direction. As her right arm came up, he took advantage of the opportunity to wrap his towel-covered hand around her side, further drying her skin. He nudged his other hand under her left arm, struggling to keep his assistance companionable.
“Hmm, sneaky move, Navy,” she purred as he continued to stroke her dry.
“Glad you like my moves, Marine, now about that nap,” he reiterated.
“Oh, Harm,” she pouted. “Ben said he would bring his files by this afternoon. You know I won’t sleep.”
“What if I promise to wake you when he gets here,” he gently turned her and pulled her back against his chest. Reaching around her, he toweled the front of her body carefully. He didn’t want to leave a single drop that might chill her.
“What if you help me get to sleep? I’ll take a nap if you…” she gasped slightly as his hand passed lightly over her lower abdomen.
“Hmmm. Are you sure Mac? You do need your rest.”
“I know I do,” she sighed in resignation, then continued suggestively. “But honestly, I’ll just toss and turn, unless I have something to relax me.”
“You can’t have sleeping pills, Mac,” he teased. His hand movements became more sensual
“I know…pills didn’t even cross my mind,” she replied leaning her head back to kiss him under his jaw.
“You’re a devil woman, and you’re testing my resolve.”
“Suppose we dissolve your resolve?” She giggled into the kiss she applied to his lips, as she turned in his arms snuggling her bare length against him.
“Funny, Marine,” he murmured.
He surfaced from the kiss only to discover her hands slipping beneath his shirt. In a heartbeat, she had slipped it over his head and down his heavily muscled arms. She smiled seductively as he struggled to untangle the shirt from the towel he was holding. Finally, he shook it loose allowing it to land on the floor. Stubbornly he continued his attempt to dry her skin, but followed her lead willingly as she backed him toward the bed. When the edge of the mattress hit the back of his legs, he reached down and grabbed the blankets, tossing them aside. He pulled her into a deep loving kiss then slowly turned her, releasing her carefully as she sank to the bed. Kneeling before her, he ran the towel up and down her long legs. At this point, it was nearly impossible for Harm to tell where the drying process ended and the foreplay began.
Mac had no trouble finding the distinction, however, her body was responding quickly to his caresses and her eyes sparkled in delight and anticipation. He was never a thoughtless lover, but today he seemed to be in an especially playful mood, intent on both relaxing and arousing her. His efforts were working beautifully.
Finally satisfied that she was dry enough he stood. Pulling himself to his full height, he allowed his muscles to ripple seductively with the effort. It left no doubt that his excitement was rising with hers, but to accomplish his purpose he had to seduce her into a state of complete relaxation. Exhausting her further wasn’t his goal.
Turning slowly he took several steps away before tossing the towel in the general direction of the bathroom. He hesitated for the barest faction of a moment, standing with his back to her, before he turned and gazed down at her with a mock predatory smile. She returned his heated gaze. Suddenly a slight shiver ran up her spine and a soft moan escaped her parted lips. It was all the invitation he needed.
Holding her eyes, he slowly unbuttoned the top button on his jeans, then another. He took a step towards her undoing another button for every step he took. Stopping just short of the bed, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband, shoving the well-worn denim pants down his long legs then stepping out of them. He took the final step, then reached out to cradle her face with his big hands. Bending to her, he engaged her lips in another long slow kiss before he lowered himself to her, gathering her into position with her for one of their favorite activities.
~*~*~
Some time later, they relaxed together on the bed wrapped in each other’s arms.
He heard and felt the deep sigh that permeated her frame.
“Harm about my dream…” she began tentatively.
“Do you really want to do this now?” he worried.
“Yes, I think so. I need to get this out,” she answered.
“Go on, then” he urged cautiously.
“It was…it was weird.”
“Weird how?”
“I could hear their voices.” He could feel the tension building in her and unconsciously his hand began a soothing journey up and down her body.
“I remember you saying that,” he encouraged patiently, as stroked her gently. He accepted that she had to tell this her way. There’d be time for probing questions later.
“I’m not sure I could ever actually recognize the voices, but I heard the words…I don’t know… maybe I was just deeper into their minds…maybe I was hearing what they were saying in their heads.”
“What were they saying, Mac?”
“They were in the ladies room I’m sure. The blonde was brushing her hair and fixing her lipstick, looking in the mirror, I could see her clearly.”
“And the other?”
“No…no, just a shadow…Harm do you know what this means?”
It was a rhetorical question; he waited for her to explain.
“It means the person who did this was a woman…Harm why would a woman kill like this?”
“Maybe she was jealous.”
“Hmmm…perhaps. She seemed to think ‘he’ was in some kind of danger that ‘he’ needed to be protected.”
“Odd. ‘He’ I assume meaning Michael Morgan?”
“That’s what I think,” she agreed.
“What did you ‘hear’, Mac?”
“The blonde was saying how she’d danced with him, how exciting it was, and how sexy he was.”
“I’m sure for a young woman it would be a typical reaction to that situation,” Harm responded dryly.
“Of course, but the other woman seemed disturbed by her response and asked if she would tell her friends…no wait, first she invited the Ensign up to the suite to have a drink with him.”
“She what…?”
“She asked the girl if she’d like to have a drink with Morgan.”
“Is he sending someone to set these women up?”
“I don’t know maybe. Maybe it’s because they are people who upset him, made him feel vulnerable. Remember the reports of the woman in Thailand threatening to tell all to the tabloids about his bedroom talents, or the male fan in Brisbane who was disgusted with his utter lack of knowledge about the show.”
“Yeah, well, that was a little nuts,” Harm allowed.
“Maybe, but how many people do you know who can quote Shakespeare or other famous authors?”
“Maaaac, this stuff is hardly Shakespeare.”
“That’s not the point, Harm.” Mac struggled to a sitting position and looked down at him.
“Then what is?”
“The point is that regardless of whether you or I feel this is classic writing, or high drama, it creates a deep interest in the people who follow it. To them it’s valid.”
“And Morgan was an utter disappointment to this particular fan, the same as if the Admiral met Shakespeare and the man didn’t remember his own writings?”
“Exactly!! I read somewhere that actors, and celebrities, are pretty insecure, that their public personas are sometimes their best act. If this man threatened to expose Morgan as a fraud in the fan world, as being shallow and out of touch with the character, he portrayed, it could have frightened him. What if his public suddenly turned off to him?”
“I suppose that’s possible, but to kill people…”
“People have killed for less,” she pointed out. “A TV show, a role that nets him a five million dollar a year salary or a liquor store robbery that gets someone a couple of hundred bucks. It’s a question of what someone needs most.”
“Hmmm,” Harm mulled that concept. “So you’re saying you think the woman, whoever she was, maybe was signaled by Morgan that someone made him feel uncomfortable or threatened, and she used her ability to access Morgan’s penthouse to lure these people to their death?”
“Something like that, but remember only two of them might have been in his suite, the others all died somewhere else. I think it’s a case of opportunity, and the drugs and alcohol have a lot to do with it. Somehow, the drinks get spiked with the barbiturates, then this woman comes along and lures them away from the party.”
“You think he spikes the drinks?”
“I don’t know, nothing was said…I didn’t hear any thoughts. I don’t know, Harm. Maybe I’m way off base.”
“I don’t think so. It actually makes sense in a twisted sort of way. We know for a fact that drugs and alcohol were involved. I could go for Lieutenant Hancock’s theory of party-time coincidence, except for two things. One, that young Ensign was a straight arrow, she wouldn’t have taken drugs voluntarily, and two, all the drugs matched chemically. That stops it from being a coincidence right there. Someone connected with all this must have obtained those drugs in Southeast Asia and is still using them.
Mac’s stared at a spot on the wall for a minute, as she thoughtfully mulled his interpretation.
“Tell me the rest, if you can,” Harm urged.
She looked up at him, her eyes sharp with trepidation.
“Look, Mac, if…”
“No, Harm, you need this. I can do it.” She took a deep breath and proceeded slowly. “She told the girl to come up to the suite. Once inside, she offered her another glass of wine to calm her nerves, then the Ensign said she felt dizzy, like she was going to throw up.”
“The other woman led her to the balcony rail and told her to lean over, the next thing… Oh god! Harm!” Mac literally buried her head in Harm’s chest.
He wrapped his arms around her and held her for a moment, then tipped her head back. “Look at me, Mac, it’s okay, you’re not there, look at me, you’re here with me.”
She looked up at him finding safety and trust in his eyes. Slowly she rose to her elbow and took several deep breaths ending with her signature Marine huff.
“I’m okay now, Harm. It’s just…”
“Don’t think about it, don’t visualize it. I get the picture. Let it go.” It came as close to an order as he would give her in their private life.
She nodded forcefully, and accepted his coaching. “Okay,” she huffed again. “I’m okay.”
“Good, then come here,” he invited, pulling her back against him. It was almost as though she had deflated, like a balloon that had lost its air. “You need to relax now; we were supposed to be getting you some sleep.”
“I know. I just needed to get it out, Harm.”
Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I will be, just give me a minute.” She snuggled tightly against him, and as the minutes passed, he could feel the tension slowly ebb from her.
“Better now?” he asked a bit later.
“Actually, I’m really sleepy,” she yawned, “I think I could use that nap now. You can go work on your case if you want. Now that I’ve given this to you…well…it almost seems more like a movie I’ve seen or something. It’s disconnected, does that make sense?”
“It works for me,” he smiled down at her, then reached up and kissed her forehead. Somewhere during the kiss she moved in such a way that he soon found himself kissing her lips again.
Pulling back after a very long very deep kiss, he studied her he face intently, watching where her emotions would take her.
“There,” she said, satisfied. “Maybe that will take me back to where we were when you were so busy relaxing me.”
He chuckled softly, hoping and praying that would be the case. Above all, she needed to take care of herself first. He’d like to catch whoever was responsible for this murder, but he would not sacrifice Mac or their baby to do it.
Though their hands played softly over each other, it was a soothing motion now, without the intention to arouse. Mac loved to have her back stroked, and with her lying against him, he was able to run his hand lazily up and down her spine. Soon he heard her breathing change, and felt her entire form relax, as she drifted into a relaxing sleep. In a few more minutes, she’d rolled onto her back, sleeping so deeply that she didn’t even stir when he withdrew his arm from under her neck.
~*~*~
More than an hour after he’d entered their suite, he left her sleeping soundly. He picked up his jeans and shirt from the floor, took a pair of socks from a drawer, and grabbed his running shoes from the closet. Silently he slipped from the bedroom, dressed quickly, and pulled his notes on the inquiry from his briefcase.
He took a bottle of water from the small refrigerator and sat at the large round table. He added several pages to cover this morning’s interview with the actor and his personal assistant, and his own impression of the answers he’d received. He also made notes on Hancock’s comments and questions, and their reaction to the detective’s behavior. Rereading everything he had, he still wasn’t finding what he knew was there. There was something, blatantly evident, yet elusive about this case. Perhaps they just didn’t have enough information yet. The problem was he wasn’t certain where else to look.
After forty-five minutes of frustrated searching, he had just started a pot of coffee when a soft rap sounded on the door.
Harm hurried to the door, hoping the sound wouldn’t awaken Mac.
“She sleeping?” Ben’s quiet voice inquired, as he and Agent McGee entered, their arms laden with computers and a small printer.
Harm nodded.
It never ceased to amaze him how intuitive this man was about Mac. Ben posed no actual threat to their relationship, he was very much in love with his own wife, but he didn’t seem to mind pushing the lawyers’ buttons from time to time with a little harmless flirting. No, not actual flirting in its normal sense either. He just shared a deep camaraderie with Mac; he truly enjoyed her company, and on some deep, fundamental, level they instinctively shared her dubious gift.
“I thought she might be. She looked mighty tired this morning. I figured you’d get her back to bed one way or another.” Harm gave the sheriff a puzzled look as he passed into the room, however if there was a double meaning to Ben’s comment it wasn’t revealed on his face.
Wasting no more time on the subject he commented, “That coffee sure smells good is it ready?”
Harm nodded absently as the other man set his fifteen-inch laptop on the table and plugged it into the wall socket then hooked up the printer.
“Some of these files are big, and there’s a lot of photos,” Ben commented. “The battery won’t hold up for long. I sent out a whole bunch of emails last night after I got back to my room, and I’ve been downloading the results ever since I got back from the conference. I tried to sort them by event. I think I have them arranged in some kind of useful order.”
“Did you find anything?” Harm inquired pouring three cups of coffee.
“I may have, but we don’t dare start until the Marine gets up or she’ll have both our heads. We still have stuff coming in that needs organizing,” he answered as he booted his laptop.
McGee took his place at the table and started his laptop as well. “I’ve started receiving certified copies of those files we requested. All except the Turkish authorities have promised to follow with hard copies by air express. I’m going to send everything I’ve received to your computer so we can compare them with the ones you have. There’s no sense in following false leads if your copies aren’t accurate.” Ben’s nostrils flared slightly, but he was smart enough to accept the possibility that someone may have been altered his unverified information for any number of reasons. The big Sheriff wouldn’t have been happy to learn he’d been mislead on this information, but it only made sense to be cautious on something as big and potentially explosive as this.
“The Turkish authorities aren’t co-operating?” Harm asked.
“Not so far,” Tim grumbled and pulled a face, as he worked through his complicated sign on. “But if it turns out we need it, I’m sure the director knows someone who knows someone.”
After signing on to his computer, Ben turned the device towards Agent McGee. He would cheerfully admit the NCIS agent was probably twice as fast at using the program he’d written as Ben could hope to be. Right now, it was more important to gather information than indulge in power struggles.
Harm handed the men their coffee then he and Ben moved to stand behind McGee as he connected the two computers and started a file-sharing program that would duplicate the specific information regarding this case on each computer. As his program sorted and classified files, photographs, reports, and news articles, it placed an exact duplicate on Ben’s computer. The program was largely automatic, but it occasionally needed help in identifying oddly labeled files. Tim McGee’s hands flew over the keyboard as he selected, downloaded, and reassigned the files, trying to find some pattern in the quickly moving images and multi page documents.
“Can I have a cup?” a sleepy voice startled the three men from their rapt concentration. Mac stood in the doorway of their bedroom dressed and groomed, but with a soft sleepy look about her that never failed to touch Harm’s heart.
“How about a nice hot cup of green tea?” he offered gently, as he walked to her and gave her a greeting kiss on the cheek.
“I’d rather have coffee,” she wrinkled her nose. “Then I’ll drink tea, okay?”
“Okay, the doc said one cup a day. But with extra milk,” he bargained.
She wrinkled her nose again. She knew Harm would heavily lace the drink with milk. He was taking the doctors instructions very seriously. The coffee would be dreadful that way, but at least it would be coffee. It was about the only thing that really bothered her about being pregnant, having to give up her Marine grade coffee, black as night with extra sugar, but she knew in the end it would be worth it.
As she moved to stand behind McGee, she asked, “Have you found anything?”
“Not much, we just started sorting this stuff. It could be hours before we have everything I’ve sent for, and then there’s the certified files that Tim requested through official channels. We’ll have to compare them visually to mine just to be sure we aren’t taking any wrong turns,” Ben answered as Harm handed her the steaming mug.
“What exactly is this program doing?” Mac inquired as she watched the documents file themselves. She smiled her thanks up to Harm as he handed her the warm mug. She’d nearly sworn off the stuff, her intake had been so restricted, but today she just wanted one.
“Basically it first sorts and converts to a common extension same type files, Ma’am,” Tim McGee answered. “Then once everything is classified by type, it looks for similarities and groups them. Words, phrases, names, dates and places in the documents, and faces, clothing, backgrounds, in the photos. It sorts by original dates if that information is attached to the file or photo. There are several other levels of sorting I can set, but right now I’m only compiling in a few categories. It’s slow due to the variety of software used to produce the material and the fact that some of it is coming in on my fax and has to be converted into documents or jpegs once it reaches my program.”
“Wow! And you invented this? I’ve never seen anything like it. We could certainly use this at JAG.” Mac sounded truly awed. It was an accepted fact that she was seldom awed by anything.
“Mmmm hmmm, I wrote it for a class in college,” McGee verified somewhat smugly, as the program paused to reassign several files then resumed downloading again. “It still needs some tweaking, but I certainly wouldn’t mind a government contract,” he turned to smile over his shoulder at the Marine.
They watched fascinated for over half an hour as they slowly sipped their coffee. It was nearing 1600 when suddenly Mac’s stomach growled.
Harm was on it immediately. “Didn’t you eat lunch?”
She shook her head. “I was too tired. I wasn’t hungry.”
“Are you okay?” he questioned. It was truly rare for Mac not to be hungry at mealtime.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I was just too tired, but I’m fine now. I think I’ll order a sandwich or something,” she reached for the room service menu.
“Actually, I’m kind of hungry too, that sandwich I had earlier didn’t do much for me,” Harm admitted.
“I could use something to eat, too,” Tim McGee joined in.
“Looks like I’m the only one who ate a good lunch around here. If you all want to go downstairs, I’ll wait here and watch this. I’ll pick up something later,” Ben offered.
“Sounds good,” Tim agreed. “We aren’t going to have a significant result for a couple of hours. There’s too much information coming in.”
“I have a better idea. I’m tired of the coffee shop. I hear there’s a good Chinese restaurant down the street. Suppose I go get takeout,” Mac offered. “Then we can all eat whatever we want, and we can reheat the rest later if someone gets hungry. Anyone have any preferences?”
Harm and Ben exchanged a quick glance. There was no way either one of them was letting her out of their sight. They both felt the possibility of danger too strongly.
“I’ll go with you,” Harm volunteered, skillfully cutting off her protest. “You’re going to need help carrying enough food for all four of us.”
“Okay, Sailor. I guess I’m not going to be able to convince you I can take care of myself,” she smiled, but relented almost too easily. Harm wondered if she felt it too.
Thirty minutes later, they returned laden with bags of folded cartons. The combination of aromas was so delicious it made them all a little weak with hunger. Harm had insisted that Mac have a small bowl of soup while they waited for their order, but all it did was delay her need for a complete meal. Pushing the computers to one side of the table, they set up the food in the middle and pulled up their chairs.
Once the food was spread before them, they all found their appetites. They didn’t rush the meal, but they didn’t waste any time with it either. The Chinese restaurant proved to be an excellent choice.
After a leisurely meal, Mac relaxed enough to turn to Harm, “Did you tell them?”
“What?” Harm pretended distraction, he wasn’t sure they should go into this now. Still uncertain of McGee, he’d wanted to find a time when they were alone with Ben.
“About my dream,” she prodded.
“No.”
“You feeling good enough to tell us now?” Ben asked, intensely curious.
“What dream?” McGee inquired.
“Let her tell it,” Ben gestured toward Mac.
McGee sat quietly watching their familiar byplay while Mac recounted a basic outline of her dream. As she began speaking, the Special Agent’s face showed startled disbelief, but he’d quickly recovered and pulled his computer around, typing every word verbatim into a document, as Mac told her story.
When she neared the end Harm gripped her hand tightly, however after taking a deep breath she managed a simple clinical description stopping short of the actual fall. Feeling McGee’s doubts she finished her tale, accepting strong re-assurances from both Harm and Ben. The two men explained briefly to the NCIS agent that this had happened several times before, that she had been instrumental in both finding lost friends, and solving some nasty murders with her talent. Though still skeptical, McGee finally appeared to accept her unusual abilities.
“Uhm, would it be okay if I asked a few questions?” he inquired carefully. Both Harm and Ben’s protective radar came fully online.
“What about?” Ben bristled.
“Its okay, Ben,” Mac touched his arm lightly. “I’ll answer what I can.”
“Nothing about the end,” Harm’s warning was both cryptic and stern.
“No, not that,” McGee agreed. He’d seen how just a brief mention had unsettled Mac. “It’s just that you said she invited the girl up to the suite.”
“Yes,” Mac replied.
“But there was a security guard in the hallway outside the door, and he said no one had come up there.”
Mac looked uncertainly at Harm who nodded
“Then maybe they didn’t go to…” Mac started.
“Wait a minute, he said…” Harm recalled.
“…the service elevator…that’s it. She told the girl to meet her at the service elevator,” Mac suddenly remembered.
“But Harm, the guard told us the occupants couldn’t access the service elevator,” McGee objected.
“No, but what if the person we’re looking for is on the hotel staff.”
“That’s kind of a stretch,” Ben chimed in. “They’d have to have traveled here in advance and taken a job knowing this group would show up. It’s too premeditated. We already know that all the drugs found in the victim’s matches, so it has to be the same person. I’m not buying it.”
“Then someone with this group has gotten their hands on a hotel master key, or at least a key to the elevator,” Mac concluded firmly. “That part was strange, but it was very clear. The victim questioned why they came that way, and the other person responded that it was more private.”
“Uh, Ma’am,” he tread carefully, ‘I don’t want to doubt you, but maybe part of what you heard…uh…saw…was a dream.”
“Not likely,” Ben muscled back in. “Look, I know this is hard to believe, and just isn’t very scientific, but my Gramma saw the same kind of stuff. It messed with her head. A bunch of people though she was crazy up until the day she died. She never quite got a handle on the dreams like the Colonel here.”
“I wouldn’t exactly suggest I’m controlling this, Ben,” Mac protested.
“It’s changed, I can see that,” he continued. “What you have is more distinct, more precise than last time.”
The comment definitely got Harm’s attention.
“I guess so,” she agreed slowly.
“Look, little lady, the last time you thought Harm was the killer because he was acting as a conduit, at least you have that part more clearly now, and you’ve heard their conversation. Whatever is going on you’re deep inside this persons head. I don’t like it, but I don’t doubt it.”
“How…how did you know? About Harm I mean, I was terrified you’d find out.”
“I know you were, and if he was guilty I’d have had him in cuffs before you knew what happened, but I had an idea your fear was interfering with your visions. I had to let you think I had no idea, so we could get to the heart of what you were seeing.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, I knew the minute you figured it out. You relaxed and started trusting me,” he grinned.
Agent McGee had followed this cryptic conversation like a spectator at a world-class tennis match.
Finally, he sighed and shook his head at the paranormal mystery.
“That’s okay, son,” Farraday brought his large hand gently down on the agents shoulder. “Some things just defy science.”
“I’m sure I have a lot to learn, sir,” McGee agreed turning back to his computer.
Ben, Mac, and Harm stood in unison and cleared the remnants of their dinner from the table giving the young NCIS agent room to work. Even if all this turned out to be perfectly true, McGee doubted he’d include it in his report to Gibbs. It wasn’t something he cared to even try explaining to the former Gunnery Sergeant.
She hadn’t claimed to have seen who the killer was, or to even be able to identify the person, but Mac had suggested she thought it was female. A shadow of a woman with long dark hair who was somehow associated with Morgan, and she had heard a conversation that held specific and damning clues. Both Ben and Harm were satisfied that if Mac ever encountered this person she would instinctively know her. They also knew the person would know Mac.
Not long after the somewhat bizarre revelation, they discovered there were some very interesting results beginning to compile in the parameters that Agent McGee had given his program.
In a witness statement from Brisbane, the bartender reported serving a glass of red wine to a beautiful dark haired French girl. He claimed to have seen her take it across the room to the man later found dead. “She was just lovely, although she wore this heavy exotic makeup that didn’t quite suit her,” he was quoted as saying. “We chatted a bit. It gave me a chance to practice my French. I thought of asking her out, but she looked a bit young for me. You know sort of eighteen going on thirty? I thought she might have been the man’s daughter. He had some kind of accent, but also spoke English fluently. They talked for quite a while after she gave him his drink.”
The bartender accused of the crime in Turkey reported a similar incident in the folio of witness statements that had just arrived. A young woman of the same description ordered a glass of white wine and gave it to the woman who was found dead. “I do not speak French,” his statement translated. “I do not speak any language except for drink orders. She was very pretty. I asked her to meet me afterwards. I made signs to go eat. I pointed to my watch for midnight. She moved her shoulders like ‘perhaps’ but she did not come.” The statement was found buried in the less significant Turkish files because as far as the authorities were concerned they had arrested the right person. McGee hoped they would co-operate and he wouldn’t have to call his boss to get the remaining information on the case.
It would take a while before all of the reports were complete, but things were looking interesting. Now if they could just match this ‘French girl’ to a photograph, and if possible find a photo of her with one of the victims.
End of nine
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