Chapter 3
Abby exited the lab 5 minutes later. Hand in hand with the giant Caf-Pow. She stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the top floor. Director’s office.
“Ducky!” Tony called, peeking round the pneumatic doors and into the sterile room.
“I’m here.” A British accent called back.
“You got anything for me?” Tony asked, stepping up to the bench where the ME and temporary assistant were busy at work.
“Nothing good.”
“With this case nothing is going to be.” He stated, rounding the bench to face Ducky.
“Well, it appears cause of death was a combination on both wounds.” He illustrated on her body.
“Both?”
“Yes. Her throat was slit, and whilst she was bleeding out, the knife was thrust into her midsection.”
“How about time?” Tony asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.
“My estimation at the crime scene was correct, 15 hours from our arrival at the crime scene. That places it around 3pm yesterday. Which is odd for a murder of this nature, they are usually committed at night.”
“Duck,” Tony lowered his voice in an exasperated way, “Is it possible this could be a suicide?” he asked, hoping for a ‘no’.
“It is possible. Not likely, but possible.” Ducky explained.
“Ah, thanks anyway Duck.” Tony sighed, clapping the old ME on the back and exiting the way he entered.
“Tim?” Abby called quietly as she popped her head round the door to his office.
“In here.” Came a low grunt from the darkness. Abby stepped into the room and felt around for the light switch. She pulled the lever and the room was cascaded with light. McGee’s blinds were drawn and his desk was empty. Abby’s eyes found her husband lying on his couch. He wouldn’t let it show to the team, but he was a defeated man. His normally strong eyes were blotchy and red, and still a little wet. His usually formal and impeccable suit was absent a tie which Abby noticed hanging limp around his neck. The jacket was creased and when McGee sat up, he tossed it aside and left it in a bundle on his floor.
“How are you holding up honey?” Abby glided to the couch and sat down next to him.
“Not so good.” He admitted, rubbing his already irritated eyes. “I trust the team with the case, but I wanna be down there helping. I feel useless. My baby sister was murdered and I am sitting here like an idiot doing nothing and feeling sorry for myself.” The rage built up in his voice.
“No, you are not useless. There is plenty you are doing and you are in no fit state to be working.”
“I need to be Abs. I could easily sit around grieving and home and watching Oprah, but that is not me. I need to be involved.” He threw himself to his feet and started pacing.
“I know that Tim, but like you said, Sarah was killed. There is nothing you can do about that now. Except catch the guy who did it. And even though it feels like you are useless right now, you are doing what you should be. Grieving and staying out of the way. If you were down there, emotions would be flying and no work would be done. Hell, the case might even be compromised.”
“You sound like Mac. That is what she told me.” He let out a small chuckle.
“She is right. And Tim,” she joined him on the floor, “I am so sorry.” She pulled him into a tight embrace and didn’t let go.
“Thank you.” He whispered in her ear and he felt her nod.
“Sir,” Cynthia’s voice echoed from the door.
“Yes?”
“Sorry to interrupt…” she paused.
“No, it is ok.” He told her as Abby let go of him.
“Dr Mallard is here to see you.”
“Send him in.” McGee brushed his eyes, trying to dull the redness.
“Timothy my dear boy.” Ducky hobbled into the office.
“Hello Duck, what can I do for you today?” Tim scooped up his jacket, crossed to Ducky and placed it on the coat stand.
“First, my sincere apologies. I know what it is like to lose a family member so young. Staying strong is the key.”
“Thank you.” McGee nodded.
“Secondly, I am going to tell you something I probably shouldn’t. I will feel guilty but you have the right to know.”
“What is it Ducky?” McGee asked concerned. Ducky ignored Abby’s kill signs for the background and continued.
“Well, there is a chance of suicide.” He hung his head.
“What!” McGee roared outraged. “No.” he commanded.
“Listen to me a minute McGee, Mac found a suicide note in your sister’s pocket.”
“That’s not true.” McGee denied, trying to convince himself, holding back the tears.
“I am sorry.” Ducky put a withered hand on his shoulder.
“Where is Mac?” McGee asked frantically, shrugging off Ducky’s hand. He found no answer.
“She is in the lab.” Abby reluctantly explained. “From what I gather, analysing the note.”
“You knew about this?”
“Not exactly, but kind of.” Abby admitted, approaching her husband. McGee spun on his heels and slid through the door, leaving a guilty Ducky and Abby behind.
McGee crashed into the bullpen, sending Tony to his feet, “McGee…”
“Why didn’t you tell me you found a note?” he interjected, catching Tony by surprise.
“We uh….I didn’t…it was Mac’s idea.” He threw his hand out towards his partner who had just entered the bullpen.
“You would hold up terrible under torture.” She shook her head, placing a file on her desk.
“Mac…”
“I know we should have told you, but I thought it might be better if you didn’t know until we were certain.”
“Is it real?” he cut to the chase. He got different answers to his question; a resounding ‘yes’ from Tony and a ‘no’ from Mac. “Which is it?”
“No.” Mac answered first, handing the evidence bag to him.
“But this is Sarah’s signature and handwriting.” A sad and disappointing tone rang in his voice.
“I know but look.” Mac pointed to the note. “There are various inconsistencies, in the writing. The signature is legit, but some of the characters in the paragraph are not. For example, here there are capital letters in the middle of words and caps absent where they should be. Now, would you expect that from an English major and published novelist?” she raised her eyebrows.
“I still don’t get it.” McGee sighed and closed his eyes.
“If you were forced to write a suicide note by a stranger, you would naturally change the signature, handwriting or writing style to tell the authorities it was staged. Whereas is you are forced to write at gunpoint, or knifepoint in this case, by someone who knows your writing and signature, then you cant change anything major or they would notice.” A look of recognition was now spread across McGee’s face. “This note is a fake. Sarah was forced to write it by someone she knew and left us clues.”
“So the suicide was faked.” Tony reiterated.
“Yeah, it was murder, not suicide, and on some level that is better.” She turned to McGee.
“How?” he scoffed, staring at the floor.
“Because it means your sister was happy, well relatively happy to the point that she had no intention to take her own life.”
“So, now we know the how where and when…” Tony stood up,
“We just need to figure out the who and why.” Mac finished for him.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.