One afternoon at the camp, Brother Jerome watched all of the boys having showers. There was something about the case they had just closed that had deeply affected his youngest agent. Unfortunately, his apparent exhaustion had once again made him pass out at his desk. The author would like to thank you for your continued support. God, I'm so tired, Tim thought, his body feeling drained and heavy as once more, Toby Kline's young haunted face came to his mind's eye, morphing into his own face as a child. How can we improve foster care in Australia?
They had finally managed to track him down and bring him into custody.
Abby had been the first to dub Toby "Mini McGee," and no one had missed that the kid was obviously quite gifted when he'd quickly solved the Rubik's cube McGee had given him to play with, and a perfect little gentleman, if a bit on the shy and quiet side, very much the way Gibbs would have pictured a young McGee. I'm not feeling too great. Tim swallowed, and glanced at Gibbs, who had now backed away and was leaning against the filing cabinet between his and Tony's desks. Toby had been handed off to Social Services. Gibbs had been worried that McGee wouldn't be able to let Toby go with them—they had bonded, and McGee had shown an obvious mistrust for the agency that was taking their charge—but he seemed to understand that it would be best for Toby to go with them instead of keeping the boy with him, and hadn't argued, simply giving the child a long hug and his card, telling him to call anytime he wanted to talk. The rest of the case had been very much open-and-shut, as the evidence also showed that Lieutenant Jacob Kline was indeed the killer.