A/N: Hey everyone. This is my first Navy NCIS fic. I have written two stories for Charmed (Xovers with Harry Potter). I love both NCIS and Criminal Minds and I hope you enjoy this story.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or locations from either NCIS or Criminal Minds . I have the utmost respect for the writers, producers and directors of both and do not intend to infringe copyright laws. I am not making any profit from this story and am writing it for my enjoyment and the enjoyment of others.
Chapter One: A Chilling Discovery
Ziva was photographing the crime scene. Never before had the team been faced with so much blood. The walls, the floor, the bed and the furniture, all was tainted by the rich red arterial spray. Their victim, a thirty-two wife of a Navy Commander, had had her throat slit ear to ear, but not before she was subjected to a gruesome torture.
Ducky's preliminary findings had indicated that she had been burned with a cigarette on several parts of her body and her fingernails had been removed, though it was unclear to them if it had been done while she was still alive. Ligature marks on her wrists and ankles signified that she had been restrained, however, the body was found on the floor of the bedroom and there were no signs of any restraints. The body was found by one of the victim's friends, who had come by to drop off some Tupperware that she had borrowed.
Calleigh Woodridge was indeed a beautiful woman. Dark, wavy hair, green eyes and curves that any material would cling to exotically. Her husband had recently returned from a two-year stint in the Persian Gulf, but was now away on Navy business. Ziva picked up a few pamphlets that were lying next to her bed. As she flicked through the pages of blearing sunshine and vacant beaches that belonged to the islands of the South Pacific, she knew that this was the last thing that the young couple expected.
"It's a bad one, isn't it?" Tony asked as he came back from interviewing the neighbours.
"You think, DiNozzo?!" Gibbs asked wholeheartedly as he walked up behind his senior field agent, staring at him as though he expected him to continue.
"Uhh, neighbours said they didn't hear or see anything, boss," Tony announced, "Though one very attractive young blonde did ask me for my num-"
Gibbs cut him off with a slap to the back of the head. Ziva merely sniggered, raising her camera to photograph the blood spray pattern across the wall and curtains.
"Not a good time," Tony muttered, "Got it, boss."
"If Ducky's right about the torture," McGee began as Palmer strapped the body to the gurney, "It's strange that nobody heard her scream."
"I think I can answer that," Ducky said walking up behind the agents, "It seems that there is skin missing from lips. I think she was gagged with duck tape, Jethro. I'll know more when I get her down to autopsy."
"As always, Duck," Gibbs answered as his medical examiner followed the body out the front door.
"If she was gagged, then where's the duck tape?" Ziva piped up.
"I'm guessing that the psycho took it with him, along with the restraints," Gibbs replied, "McGee, David, finish up here and run everything you know about this woman, her husband, her entire family, through the system. DiNozzo, with me."
"Where to, boss?" Tony asked as he jogged up behind his team leader, who was exiting the abode.
"To contact NSAWC," Gibbs replied shortly, without turning around.
"The Naval Strike and Air Warfare Center?" Tony asked, clearly confused, "Why?"
"To inform Commander Woodridge that he is a widower," Gibbs answered, opening the car door and hopping into the driver's side. Tony got into the passenger side, bitterly despising the job of notification.
"We've got another body," JJ announced, walking into Hotch's office.
"I'm sorry?" he answered, "We're working a case?"
"The one from two weeks ago," JJ replied dismissively, "He's killed again."
Hotch got up and followed JJ to the conference room. JJ signalled to the team in the bullpen to follow them. Hotch knocked on Rossi's door and invited him to join them in the conference room.
"What have we got?" Rossi asked as he entered the room.
"The case we had two weeks ago here in D.C." JJ answered, "I just got this." She passed files out to the team.
"This is a different target," Morgan announced as he read through the file, "A Navy Commander's wife?"
"She still fits the original victimology," Prentiss responded, "Early thirties, brunette, housewife, no children."
"And the method of killing is the same," Reid piped up, "Throat slit ear to ear, the torture. It's his MO."
"This is not in our jurisdiction," Hotch proclaimed, "Murder of a Navy Commader's wife is NCIS jurisdiction."
"It was already our case," JJ protested, "Metro called us in on this."
"But NCIS hasn't," Hotch replied.
"Hotch, are you going to let this guy get away again?" Morgan asked dejectedly.
Hotch hesitated for a moment, his conflicting interests clear. "Get your stuff. We're going to Washington Yard."
"What have you found so far?" Gibbs asked his team, walking into the bullpen with coffee and Tony directly behind him.
"Nothing to suggest a reason for her murder. Calleigh Woodridge," McGee answered as he brought her photo up on the screen, "She helped out with Meals on Wheels, got her hair done every Wednesday, taught at a ballet centre on Thursday nights and visited her father with Alzheimer's at his nursing home three or four times a week."
"The husband," Ziva began as she clicked on the remote and brought his Navy file up on the screen, "Commander Adrian Woodridge. They were married for three years. He was recently transferred off the USS Ronald Reagan to spend more time with his wife. He was placed in the Naval Intelligence Office, but for the last three weeks he has been liaising with the Naval Strike and Air Warfare Center in Nevada. There was nothing untoward in his file."
"We do have something, boss," McGee piped up, noticing Gibbs' frustration.
"When were you going to tell me this?" Gibbs half-shouted at the two.
McGee clicked on the remote and brought up the bloody images of several other women that had been killed in a similar fashion on the screen. "Five women, all murdered in the past month, throats slit, tortured. They were brunettes in their thirties and housewives. Do you think it's possible that this is part of a serial killing? Maybe this has nothing to do with the husband?"
"Two weeks between this kill and his last one?" Gibbs asked, squinting to read the file.
"You think that's important?" Tony asked, taking a file.
"Two days between the first and second," Gibbs read aloud, "Two days between the second and third, one day between the third and fourth and six hours between the fourth and fifth. Then two weeks between the fifth and sixth? Yeah, DiNozzo, I'd say it's important."
"Who's case was it before?" McGee asked ripping through his file to find the answer.
At that moment, the elevator pinged and a tall, handsome man in a suit walked out, a beautiful, blonde woman flowing behind him. "I'm looking for Special Agent Gibbs," the man exclaimed loudly.
"Right here," Gibbs answered, walking towards the two strangers.
"SS Aaron Hotchner, SSA Jennifer Jareau," Hotch said, "We're from the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit."