After a lighthearted Halloween detour, NCIS Season 23 snaps back into shape with Episode 4, “Gone Girls”—a tense, soulful hour that reminds fans why this series still has fire after more than two decades. Directed by the always-reliable Rocky Carroll (who also stars as Director Leon Vance) and written by the ever-sharp Amy Rutberg, this episode doesn’t just tell another procedural story—it redefines what NCIS does best: unearthing humanity in the unlikeliest of places.
And this time, that humanity hides in something as deceptively gentle as a women’s book club.
⚓ A Case That Begins With Fire and Ends With Heart
From its opening moments, “Gone Girls” feels different. Marine Sergeant Molly Delgado (played by Bosch: Legacy breakout Denise G. Sanchez) bursts onto the screen mid-confrontation, taking down a man who appears to be threatening her—until the reveal that he was actually trying to save her life. What follows is a layered mystery that keeps viewers on edge, slowly peeling back the truth behind Molly’s silence and the strange, coded network of women around her.
Sanchez plays Molly with a mix of grit and grace that commands every frame. She’s a fortress of strength, her eyes flickering with a story she’s unwilling to tell. Even as she stonewalls the NCIS team, you can sense her pain, her protection instinct—and the secret she’s fighting to keep. In a procedural landscape full of disposable guest stars, Molly feels like someone the series could—and should—bring back.
🕵️♀️ When the FBI Comes Knocking
Opposite her stands Nazneen Contractor, best known for 24 and Chicago Justice, as FBI Agent Beth Rollins—a role that could’ve easily fallen into the “obstructive agent” cliché. Initially, she’s every inch the hardline bureaucrat, locking horns with Parker (Gary Cole) and Knight (Katrina Law) as agencies clash.
But as Rutberg’s script deepens, so does Rollins. Contractor finds subtle ways to unravel the layers—her clipped tone softens, her eyes betray empathy, and we realize she’s just another soldier in the quiet wars bureaucracy forces people to fight. By the time the case’s true shape emerges, Rollins isn’t an obstacle—she’s a mirror, reflecting how far our NCIS heroes have come from their early black-and-white days.
🔥 A Secret Society of Survivors
The central twist—that Molly’s “book club” is actually a covert network helping women escape abusive relationships—is where “Gone Girls” transcends formula. What starts as a typical cat-and-mouse chase turns into something deeply human: a story about survival, solidarity, and the unseen heroes who heal what justice alone can’t fix.
Rutberg and Carroll handle this reveal with sensitivity and restraint. There’s no grand monologue, no heavy-handed sermon—just quiet grace. In a single glance between Knight and Molly, the series speaks volumes about trauma, redemption, and how heroism often wears civilian clothes.
🎭 The Subplot That Stumbled—but Still Sang
While the main story soars, the comedic subplot involving Barbara from accounting’s musical theatre gala doesn’t quite hit the same note. It’s sweet that the team rallies to build her a makeshift stage, but after an opening scene where nearly everyone tries to avoid going, the resolution feels slightly unearned. Even the Hamilton jokes land with a thud—perhaps intentionally, a wink to the fact that even heroes can’t escape bad puns and forced rhymes.
Still, it serves one purpose: to remind us that NCIS thrives not just on the crimes, but the community. For a show that’s spent 23 seasons balancing life and death, it’s the small gestures—like Jimmy Palmer (Brian Dietzen) showing up with a hammer instead of a scalpel—that make the show’s world feel real.
🧭 Why “Gone Girls” Matters
After two decades and countless cases, NCIS doesn’t need to reinvent itself—but “Gone Girls” proves it still can. It’s a testament to the show’s willingness to evolve, to find new shades of empathy and courage in a genre that too often trades them for plot twists.
Rocky Carroll’s steady hand behind the camera gives the episode quiet elegance. Amy Rutberg’s script turns trauma into strength without sensationalism. And Sanchez’s performance reminds us that even one-off characters can leave a lasting mark when written—and acted—with care.
In a television landscape where spectacle often overshadows sincerity, NCIS Season 23, Episode 4 dares to whisper instead of shout. It’s not the biggest case. It’s not the flashiest. But it’s the one that lingers.
Because in the end, Gone Girls isn’t about people who vanish—it’s about the ones who refuse to stay gone.
