With a vengeance: chapter 3
Let me just point out that this is no supernatural story, so the ghost of Jenny won't kill anyone.
Chapter 3: Messages
When they had arrived he had still been ducking behind the desk. Only after they had made sure that there was no more danger, he got out and everyone got to work. Ducky had first tended to his wounds, which were only flesh wounds. So, in true Gibbs fashion, he had refused any further treatment, knowing he would just drink away the pain with bourbon later that night.
The pathologist had brought Mr. Palmer along, McGee started bagging and tagging, DiNozzo took pictures and looked for clues and Ziva was out in the night, doing god knows what.
"You think this was the same killer, boss?" McGee asked while he put Jenny's scarf into a plastic bag.
"Do I look like a damn fortune teller, McGee?" he asked and hoped he kept the longing out of his eyes as he watched the cloth that still smelled like her being bagged.
"Liver temperature suggests that these gentlemen have been dead for less than an hour," Ducky said, still looking at the thermometer.
"DiNozzo, you're with me. We're gonna take a look around," Gibbs decided, knowing that the cause of death was more than obvious and all there was to find in the study McGee would find.
His agent merely nodded and followed him, plastic bags in hand. He seemed stunned into silence by the obscurity of the location they found themselves in.
He knew that DiNozzo had been here before, during the time Jenny had him go undercover. And now they were both back here, in the ruins of her house, while she was dead.
"Pay attention. Don't step on the footprints," he ordered him unnecessarily, because the original prints were buried under the shoeprints of the team by now- at least in the entrance area and the study. The prints would guide them from there. He opened the door and they stepped into the kitchen. Both made a noise of surprise when the room was clean and white sheets were thrown over the furniture.
"Exactly how burned was this house, boss? I thought it was completely destroyed on the inside," Tony said quietly, the surprise audible in his voice.
"That's what I thought," he nodded and walked further into the room. Carefully he lifted one of the sheets and glanced underneath.
"The kitchen must have been spared," Tony commented when he looked at the furniture as well.
"No, smell it," he pointed out. His trained nose had picked up on it instantly.
"Fresh wood. This is new kitchen furniture," the agent caught up with him.
"Exact replica of Jenny's old kitchen," he nodded. Curiously and carefully they walked around the kitchen, but couldn't find anything else other than the odd fact that someone had installed a completely new kitchen in Jenny's burned down house. From the kitchen they made their way to the dining room, which was as burned as the rest of the house, with the exception of the kitchen.
The shoeprints led them to the ruins of the stairway.
"Boss, you can't seriously want to go up there?" Tony exclaimed when he set a foot on the first step to test its stability.
"Killer went up there and must have come down alive again," he stated and climbed the stairway, one step at the time. He heard DiNozzo muttering under his breath as he kept following him.
The doors to the bathroom and two guestrooms were open. The fire seemed not to have reached the second floor, as the furniture was only covered by dust and ashes, but otherwise intact.
"Looks like she will come back any moment," he heard Tony whisper behind him. The comment stung, because the younger agent had said out loud what he was thinking.
Following the shoeprints on the floor again they saw that the killer had looked around the rooms, going from one end of the hall to the other, walking a few steps into the rooms and then turned around again. They ended in front of the closed bedroom door, and he put on a fresh set of gloves before he pushed the handle down and opened the door.
The dark wooden four poster bed was still there and so were the night tables and the red lamps on it. The bookcase stood as if nothing had happened on the left side of her bed, the large sideboard still standing along the same wall with the antique lamp on top of it.
Her closet to the right of the door was standing open, showing the incredible amount of clothes and shoes Jenny had accumulated during her lifetime. All of that didn't matter, though.
The only thing that earned more than a brief recognition in his brain was the bed. He stepped towards it and lightly placed a hand on one of the posts. It was made, and he knew only too well that the day Jenny had died her bed hadn't been made. Damn woman never made her bed.
He had come here one last time after Svetlana had been taken care of. It was where he had said goodbye to Jenny, because it was the room, beside the study with the dead body in it, that had held the most memories for him.
The sheets and the patchwork blanket covering it were familiar. New was the open hymnal which was placed in the middle of the bed, with a tea light and a single lily.
"That's just creepy," Tony commented and he would have liked to slap him, but he was already on the other side of the bed, picking up the hymnal. "This page is all corrugated," he observed and handed the book over to him. Out of an impulse he opened the first page of the book, while making sure that the other page remained still open.
"Jennifer Sheppard, in honor of the first communion" he read aloud the signature that announced the owner of the hymnal. The script was curvy and child-like and he suspected that Jenny had had this book since she had been a little kid. He went back to the page that had been left open.
There were doodles on the page which Tony had described as "corrugated", but they were old and faded. As he looked at the lyrics of the hymn, he found that he knew them. They hit him like a ton of bricks and stole his breath.
When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
when sorrows like sea billows roll;
whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.
Refrain:
It is well with my soul,
it is well, it is well with my soul.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
let this blest assurance control,
that Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
and hath shed his own blood for my soul.
(Refrain)
My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
(Refrain)
And, Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
the clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
the trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
even so, it is well with my soul.
He read over the text several times, blinking against the tears that were pooling in his eyes. He was damned if he would start crying now.
"They played this at Jenny's funeral," Tony remembered and sounded as chocked up as he felt. To save his composure he thrust the book in the hands of his agent.
"Bag it and don't forget the other stuff," he ordered snidely and walked off into the bathroom that was connected to the bedroom. Nothing seemed out of place at the first look, but upon closer inspection he saw that Jenny's perfume was missing on the shelf, where it had always stood. Looking around the corner he found it shattered in the shower, mingled with something that looked like blood. Must have cut herself, he though. Slowly he crouched down in front of the open shower stall and could still smell the perfume, which meant that the bottle hadn't been broken too long ago. He reached out to touch one of the shards, but pulled his hand back quickly when he saw something odd out of the corner of his eyes. On the shower wall, halfway covered by a towel hanging over it, was written something he couldn't read. He pulled the towel off, not caring that he was destroying a crime scene and possible clues.
לַעֲזֹר לִי
It was written in blood, slightly washed off and already dry.
"DiNozzo!" he yelled as loud as he could, his voice echoing in the bathroom. "Get me Ziva in here! Now!"
"Boss, what did you..." Tony didn't get much farther because he yelled again.
"I said NOW!"
He couldn't take his eyes of the message on the shower wall, stared at it, as if it would start translating itself. "God damn it, Jenny, what is going on here?" he asked helplessly into the empty bathroom. He was past confusion by now. If he had had any confidant nearby he would have admitted that for the first time in years he felt vulnerable and scared- and it didn't make any sense. He had no reason to be scared, even if he had been shot at. Deep down he knew that if the shooter had killed the three guys downstairs, his injuries had been on purpose. One had meant to scare him, but not to kill him.
He leaned forward again and squinted at the bloody message. He thought he saw something, but wasn't sure. Stepping into the shower he paid attention not to step on the shards and leaned forward again. On the tiles he could make out a round spot that looked different. McGee would have to take a photo of it and swab it.
"Gibbs? I found six bullet casings in the neighbors garden. Looks like someone left in a hurry," Ziva reported when she stepped into the bathroom and found him standing in the shower, staring at the tiles.
"Come here," he waved her over and stepped aside so she could see the writing on the wall. "What does it say?" he asked her.
"La'azor lee," Ziva read quietly. She halted, looked at the words again and her eyes widened, as if she only now understood what the message said. "Eykh, neshomeleh?" she asked in a whisper and added "Izri lanu!"
"Ziva!" he barked, annoyed that she seemed to talk in Hebrew now, when she knew he couldn't understand her.
"It says 'Help me'," she finally told him and had to clear her throat before speaking. Seeing her reaction and remembering her whispered words his gut suddenly started screaming again. He needed to know what was going on. Now. For Jenny and her memory, he wouldn't let it get desecrated right in front of his eyes.
TBC
I apologize in advance if the Hebrew is incorrect. I don't speak Hebrew and had to rely on internet translations, which are often wrong.
Also I thought about it, if I should give you the trabslations or not, simply because Gibbs doesn't know what it means and it is a story from his point of view. However I decided, that it wouldn't hurt or destroy the story. Just maybe give you one more hint.
La'azor lee means 'help me',
Eykh, neshomeleh means 'How, darling?'
Izri lanu means 'Help us' (addressing a woman)
Again: Theories are welcome!
Happy Halloween!