"A maze of maize."

"What?"

"Maize. It's the Indian word for corn."

"Native American, you dork."

The N.C.I.S. team approaches the realistic scarecrow perched on a wooden stake, blood of the victim staining his clothes.

"DiNozzo, process this." Gibbs tilts down his cap.

"Gibbs, several sets of footprints, some of them very small." Ziva gestures to the dirt below.

I tap the end of my pen on the notebook. "That would be the pair of kids who found him."

"These aren't kids' footprints." Tony crosses over to the back of the scarecrow. "Over here, those are big ones. Come from that direction."

"We've got drag marks, too."

"Which means that when they pulled our Marine, he was dead already."

At the sight of fresh corn, Ducky brings up the Thanksgiving dinner he'll be hosting in his home. . .although with the late notice, we've all made plans.

"Based on the viscosity of the blood, I'd say this is a recent demise." Ducky fiddles with the victim's dog tags. "My instinct tells me he was not shot here."

"Boss, this is Marine Lance Corporal Trevor Lozada, stationed out of Quantico." McGee reads off of his smartphone.

Lifting a sleeve of the flannel, the medical examiner reveals a bloody stub. "The corporal is missing a hand. He was killed prior to it being removed."

"Maybe the crows carried it off."

While Tony mimics the caws of a crow, Ziva tickles him in the inner ear with a black feather, startling him humorously.

"Eva, get on DiNozzo's shoulders."

"Huh?"

"What?"

The grey-haired man flashes a silent look, and all of a sudden. . .I'm perched on top of Tony's shoulders.

"West."

"I see our vehicles among police cars."

"North."

"A farmer riding a tractor."

"East."

"A barn. . .around two hundred yards away."

"This is like that movie about the chef with the rat in his hat." Tony mutters to me as the others discuss the crime scene.

"Are you calling me a rat, DiNozzo?"

". . .not at all, sweetheart."

At the building following McGee settling into his informative role by providing a descriptive background on the victim, Gibbs splits us up: him and Tony visit Sattler Institute while Ziva, McGee, and I head over to Lozada's current address.

But by the time we return, a sixth member's been added to the team.

"Water, soda, gummy bears, and every kind of chocolate."

I dump the contents of the grocery bag, sending sugary delicacies sprawling across my desk. A proud grin crosses my features when Angela reaches for a Hershey's kiss.

"So, have you ever killed anybody?"

"Of course not. The gun's just for show."

Her brow quips as I shove the weapon away into the first drawer. The deskphone chimes with an incoming call from Gibbs, who asks me to bring the young girl to the elevator.

"Be careful of her. She's quick."

"I know."

Before I can return to indulging in some sweets, Tony rings me to the interrogation wing.

"Do me a favor."

"I'm not messing around with you in there —"

"I need you to talk to a guy for me."

Tony passes me a manila folder labeled "Eddie Castillo" — the man who'd left six missed calls on the vic's cell.

"Are you handing off your dirty work to me?" My eyes narrow in suspicion. "You're racking up quite the tab, Mr. DiNozzo."

"I'll make dinner tonight."

"And?"

"And the rest of the week."

"And?"

"And do the laundry for an entire month."

". . .and?"

"What more do you want from me, woman?"

Reaching up on the tips of my toes, I pucker my lips and graze them over his. His stiff figure relaxes at the realization of me teasing him.

A three-minute conversation with the gang member brings more to the table: Trevor needed advice about Angela because if he went to the cops. . .

Her life would be in danger.

And only a moment away from the young girl as she resided in Ducky's home for the day leads to her abduction.

"Agents are canvassing the neighbors."

"Amber alerts? B.O.L.O.s?"

"No hits yet."

"Traffic cameras?"

"Checking with D.O.T. as we speak."

Ziva and I hurriedly enter the house through the backdoor, slight pants in our breaths from searching the woods behind Ducky's home.

"We looked everywhere." Ziva shakes her head.

"Found nothing." I slip the gun back into its holster. "Not a single trace."

Gibbs turns to the agent who was in charge of her. "Nothing? You didn't hear anything? Not car tires? No voices?"

"Nothing. By the time I came outside, she was gone."

Ducky trudges towards us, apron slung around his hips and hands gloved with remnants of turkey.

"It was all my fault. I was too busy preparing for tomorrow."

"No, it was my fault."

"I distracted you from doing your job —"

"It's both of your faults. Focus on fixing it." Gibbs interrupts their spiel.

McGee receives a call about Krista Dalton being in custody back in the building, leading to me and Tony leaving with the boss while Ziva and McGee stay with Ducky.

Once we've received intel, Angela and her mother are being held hostage by Gregg Norvell, the head of the youth program.

"Let her go."

Gibbs steps away from the driver's side of the government vehicle. I stand next to the bush to their left, Tony crossing the lawn from the right.

"Back off!"

"I'll kill her." Norvell threatens.

Then, Gibbs lowers his gun but keeps his gaze trained on the girl.

"Angela. . .look at me."

"Move back. Now!"

"Eva."

"I've got it."

The overly confident killer lowers his head to beside Angela's. "She'll miss."

"What's the probability of that?" Gibbs questions the smartest out of all of us.

"B-Based on the temperature and humidity. . ." Angela stammers slowly, her eyes lifting up to the night sky. "No wind, half moon, good light. . .97.6%."

"Pretty good odds." I click a bullet into place.

"Last chance, Norvell."

"Move, or I'll do it."

He raises his own weapon pathetically.

"Take it."

The gun pierces through Norvell's skull before he can make another move. The mother embraces her daughter tearfully, and the three of us grin in relief.

"Ev, where are you taking us?"

"Almost there."

"Is this a shortcut to Ducky's? Or did you wanna squeeze in a little quickie before —"

"We're here."

I drop the bouquet of purple lilies — Mom's favorite — in front of the small tombstone placed directly next to Jenny's.

"Sweetheart. . ."

"I obviously couldn't fly her entire coffin down here, but. . .I wanted to make sure they could be next to each other."

Even in the elegant Thanksgiving attire, I fall to my knees in front of their graves with tears pricking my eyes.

"I just wanted to pay my respects before we headed over." My fingers touch the name. "If you want, you can wait in the car. I'll only be —"

To my surprise, though, Tony kneels down next to me, his hands folded in his lap. I note the apparent disregard he has towards the damp grass staining his trousers.

"Ms. Giudice. It's a pleasure to meet you. Jenny, nice seeing you again."

He places a hand overtop mine where it rested on top of my mother's tombstone.

"You raised the most amazing person I've met."