Capítulo 17: Echoes of Fear
Once the team gathered, Alex put up the pics of the last 4 victims.
"I ran their faces through the database," Abby said, her voice laced with frustration. "But nothing came up. No names, no IDs. It's taking longer than usual.
"Take a look at these," Alex said, his voice low as he pulled up 4 missing person reports on the screen.
"Four women, all missing within the last two years. And they all look exactly like the women in Boone's scrapbook. And the last one person...She only went missing 1 week back!!" said McGee, studying the report
"The reason Abby couldn't find these women from the database was because she was looking for them in the wrong time reference."
The room fell silent as the gravity of words sank in. McGee, who had been silently monitoring the conversation from his workstation, turned to face the group, his face pale.
"That means…" McGee began, but Tony continued.
"It means we have a copycat killer on our hands," he finished, his voice grim. "Boone's been in jail for ten years. There's no way he could have done this. Someone else is following his pattern, and they're getting better at it."
"This just became an active investigation."
"I've got a theory. Though there is no concrete evidence, there might be a way to find the dumping site and confirm the identity of the copycat killer." said Alex "Boone's lawyer, Adam O'Neill. I suspect he is the copycat."
He could feel the sense of doubt in everyone present.
Alex leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he outlined his plan. "We track Adam's phone signal. Boone killed his victims on the second day after kidnapping them. If Adam follows the same pattern, we can triangulate his phone's location two days after the kidnapping. That should lead us to the dumping site or the site of murder."
McGee's fingers were already flying across his keyboard, pulling up records and maps as Alex spoke. He was skeptical, but he trusted Alex enough to give it a shot.
"I've got the signal," McGee said after a few tense minutes. "It cuts off at a forest reserve about 50 miles out of town on the 2nd day after the kidnapping. And cell location is consistent after every kidnapping. On the 2nd day, it cut off at this place."
"I'll bring up the satellite images of the area of the place," said Abby
McGee and Abby brought up the images, and the room fell silent as they studied the screen. The forest was dense, with thick underbrush and towering trees that cast long shadows over the ground. The terrain looked similar to that of the Scarp book.
Gibbs gave out orders. "Tony, Paula. Get to that location and find whatever's out there. McGee, get a warrant for Adam O'Neill. Once you've got it, join Tony and Paula. Bishop, you are with me. Let's nail this son of a bitch."
The team sprang into action, the room a flurry of movement as they gathered their gear and prepared to head out.
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Tony and Paula Cassidy sat in the front seats of the truck, their eyes fixed on the road ahead, while McGee monitored their progress from the back seat, his laptop open on his lap.
"We're close," McGee said, breaking the silence. "The signal got cut out from here."
Tony nodded as he gripped the steering wheel. "We'll have to go on foot from here."
They parked at the side of the road and got out, the cool evening air biting at their skin as they made their way into the forest. The trees loomed overhead, their branches creaking in the wind as if they were alive, watching their every move.
"Stay sharp," Tony whispered as they moved deeper into the woods. "We don't know what we're walking into."
Paula nodded, her hand hovering over her weapon as they moved forward. The forest was eerily quiet, the only sound being the crunch of leaves underfoot. The farther they went, the more the unease settled in their stomachs.
They moved cautiously toward the clearing, their senses on high alert. As they stepped into the open space, the sight before them made their blood run cold.
There, in the middle of the clearing, body strung was up, the same way Boone did it, with his calling card etched out on her back in the shape of a heart. It looked like it's only been a few days since it happened to her
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After getting the warrant, Gibbs and Alex pulled up to Adam O'Neill's house just as the sun dipped below the horizon. The house was a modest, two-story home with a neatly trimmed lawn and a white picket fence. It looked like the kind of place where nothing bad could ever happen, but they knew better.
"Let's go," Gibbs said, his voice low as he stepped out of the car. He pulled his weapon from its holster, and Alex did the same, their eyes meeting briefly in a silent agreement. They were ready for whatever they might find inside.
"NCIS, open the door."
The front door was locked, but Gibbs made quick work of it; he kicked the door in. They entered the house, moving silently through the darkened rooms, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. The house was quiet, the only sound being the ticking of a clock somewhere in the distance.
They started searching the house; as he moved through the living room, Alex's eyes were drawn to a large bookcase that lined one wall. Something about it seemed off. He walked over to it, his fingers trailing over the spines of the books, until he found what he was looking for—a small, hidden latch.
He pulled the latch, and the bookcase swung open, revealing a secret compartment. Inside, there was another scrapbook identical to the one they had found at Boone's house.
Alex pulled the scrapbook from the compartment, flipping it open to reveal page after page of meticulously organised photos and clippings. Each page told the story of a life, carefully documented in chilling detail. And each life had been ended by the same brutal hands.
"Gibbs," Alex called out, his voice barely above a whisper.
But before he could say anything more, a noise from the kitchen drew his attention.
As Alex entered the kitchen, a gruesome sight greeted him. There, in the refrigerator, was a glass jar, and inside it were four severed tongues, each one meticulously preserved.
"Trophies," Gibbs said, his voice laced with disgust.
"And I've got his next scrapbook. He's continuing Boone's work."
Just then, Gibbs received a call. It was Tony,
"Boss, I...I messed up. Paula is missing; it looks like someone took her."
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Gibbs's mind raced, quickly assessing the situation. Paula was one of theirs, and there was no way in hell he was going to let anything happen to her. He turned to Alex, who was already moving toward the door, his expression grim and resolute.
"Let's go."
"Stay where you are. We're on our way." said Gibbs before he cut the call.
As they raced out to the car, Alex's mind was already turning over the possibilities. If Adam O'Neill had Paula, then she was in serious danger. O'Neill was methodical and cunning..
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When they arrived, Tony was waiting near the treeline, his face pale but resolute. The guilt was clear in his eyes, and as Gibbs approached, Tony stood a little straighter, bracing for whatever was coming.
"I'm sorry, Boss," Tony said, his voice low.
"Save it," Gibbs cut him off sharply. "It wasn't your fault, Dinozzo. What matters now is finding Paula. Fast."
"I think we might have been followed, Boss. Otherwise, the kidnapping makes no sense." said McGee
Alex stepped forward, his eyes scanning the area, taking in every detail. "Tony, tell me exactly what happened."
Tony took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus. "We were checking the clearing and found the dumping site. Paula went to scout the edge of the forest while I stayed with McGee to run the scanner. I heard a noise, something like a struggle, but by the time I got there, Paula was gone."
Alex used Focus Vision, a skill he honed and perfected over 3 years; it helps him analyse the environment, highlight tracks and trails, and identify objects of interest. It was also one of three reasons he became a pantheon. Alex could identify the tyre marks matched the Black BMW he had seen at the prison. He could see a trail, but he needs to act quickly.
"Adam O'Neill has her," Alex said, his voice tight. "He'll keep her somewhere secluded; I can track him down."
Tony stepped forward, his expression determined. "I'm coming with you."
Gibbs considered for a moment, then nodded. "All right. Bishop takes point."
They split up. Gibbs and McGee would head to the prison to question Boone, hoping to glean any information that might help, while Alex and Tony would track O'Neill. The air was tense as they got into the car. Tony was sitting in the passenger seat, his jaw set in determination.
Alex followed the highlighted trail, flooring the pedals.
"I should have been faster. I should have—". Tony said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was strained, the weight of his guilt heavy on his shoulders.
Alex glanced at Tony, his voice calm. "We'll get her back. O'Neill is smart, but he's not as smart as he thinks he is. We'll find her."
Tony nodded. The guilt was still there but was now tempered with resolve. Most of the time, Tony could be an insufferable jerk, but he was loyal to his friends and had a keen sense of justice.
Alex approached the end of the trail, and he saw an abandoned barn about 500 meters from his position. As they approached the location where they suspected O'Neill might be holding Paula, Alex slowed the car, pulling off the road a good distance away. They needed to be careful, to approach without being seen.
They moved quietly.
Alex signalled for Tony to stop, and they crouched behind a thick cluster of bushes. From inside the barn, they could hear muffled voices—Paula's, strained but defiant, and O'Neill's, his tone dripping with sadistic glee.
"…you really think you can get out of this?" O'Neill's voice was low, almost soothing, like a cat playing with its prey. "You're just like all the others. You'll beg for mercy before this is over."
"Go to hell," Paula spat, her voice hoarse but unbroken. "You're just a pathetic and miserable bastard."
'Brave lass.'
Alex could tell Paula was hurt, but it wasn't a serious injury. She was buying time, keeping O'Neill distracted, hoping for an opening to get the upper hand. The perp only had a knife, and there were no guns involved. The situation was basically under control.
He turned to Tony, outlining a quick plan in whispers.
"I'll go in first and draw his attention," Alex said, his voice low but urgent. "When he's focused on me, you move in from the side and take him down. We need to do this quietly—no gunfire unless absolutely necessary. We can't risk him hurting Paula."
Tony nodded, his expression set. "Got it."
They moved into position, Alex edging closer to the barn's entrance while Tony circled around to the side.
Taking a deep breath, Alex stepped into the open, making just enough noise to draw O'Neill's attention. He could see Paula's hand tied. Her face was bruised but defiant, her eyes flashing with determination.
"O'Neill!" Alex called out, his voice strong and commanding. "It's over. We've got you surrounded."
Just as he faced away from Cassidy, in a flash of movement, Tony appeared from the shadows, tackling O'Neill to the ground with a force that took him by surprise. The knife skittered across the floor, out of O'Neill's reach, as Tony wrestled him into submission, cuffing him with a swift, practised motion.
O'Neill struggled, his face twisted with fury, but Tony held him down, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "It's over, O'Neill," Tony growled. "You're done."
Alex moved quickly to Paula, untying her restraints and helping her to her feet. She was battered and bruised, but there was a fire in her eyes that hadn't been extinguished.
"You okay?" Alex asked, his voice soft but full of concern.
Paula nodded, wincing slightly as she put weight on her legs. "I'm fine, thanks to you two. You got here just in time."
They called Gibbs and let him know what happened.
"You did good, all of you," said Gibbs
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[Interrogation Room, NCIS]
"Stop. Look, you don't know what you're doing," said Boone, sobbing.
Gibbs had lit his 'precious' scrapbook on fire.
"Jethro, don't."
Boone leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, insidious whisper.
"Damn it. I don't know where she is. How can I? Gibbs, please. Just let me see them one last time. Please. I'm begging you."
"Where is she?" Gibbs demanded, his voice cold as ice.
Boone's sobbing morphed into a smile.
"Pathetic, Jethro. Do you really think that I need that to see them? When they're all up here," he tapped his temple, "anytime I want?"
"Your agent is gonna suffer," Boone continued, his tone filled with sick glee. "The obscenities unleashed on her. Do you know why? Because you weren't able to stop it. This is all your fault."
"He's cutting her tongue out of her mouth right now," Boone sneered, his eyes glittering with malice. "He's carving your name in her back right now, and, After I'm gone, bodies are just gonna continue to pile up."
Gibbs held his service pistol against Boone's head, his eyes cold.
"Shoot me," Boone hissed, leaning forward, his face twisted with anticipation.
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"That's the big plan you spent ten years working on?! Get me to murder you and ruin my own life?" asked a smiling Gibbs as he put back the pistol in the holster
"Game's over. Back to death row." Gibbs words cut through Boone's madness like a knife.
Boone's expression faltered, the realization beginning to sink in. Gibbs wasn't going to give him what he wanted. The power, the control, the twisted satisfaction—it was slipping away from him.
"Do you think she screamed when he cut out her tongue, Jethro?" Boone asked, trying one last time to shake Gibbs.
But Gibbs was done playing Boone's game.
"I don't know," Gibbs replied, his voice calm, almost detached. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"
The door to the interrogation room swung open, and a pair of guards stepped in, ready to escort Boone back to his cell. He saw the entire team, Paula included, looking at him; as he got taken away, Gibbs leaned in close, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.
"I'm afraid your lawyer is gonna miss your execution tomorrow," Gibbs said, his words sharp as a blade. "Don't worry, though. He will follow you soon enough."
Boone's eyes widened in shock, the colour draining from his face as the weight of Gibbs's words sank in. "No. No!" Boone screamed, thrashing against his restraints, but the guards were already dragging him out of the room, his cries echoing down the hallway.
Gibbs watched him go, the sound of Boone's screams fading into the distance. There was no satisfaction, no relief—only the cold, hard truth that justice had been served. Boone would die, but not before he faced the same fear, the same helplessness, that he had inflicted on so many others.
But all things considered, today was a good day.
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