Standard disclaimer: I don't own Glee or these characters, but gosh golly if I did...

Also, thank you all so much for the views, reviews, favorites and follows! I seriously didn't expect anyone to pick this up, I was just writing to write. I'm glad you like it though and hope you enjoy this next section (which, fyi, picks up a month after Chapter One). Yay!


Mercedes woke up hours before her alarm and remained in bed, her puffy eyes adjusting to the darkness and her thoughts racing. It was a never-ending battle – one moment she was trying to forget everything that had happened last month and the next she was painstakingly going over the details, attempting to make sense of it all.


The day of Nick's murder.

"Miss –"

"Jones," she whispered.

"Miss Jones, can you please describe the nature of your relationship with the deceased?"

Deceased. She felt her eyes fill with tears.

"Miss Jones?," he said softly.

She looked at the officer.

"I've been Nick's assistant for the past two years."

"And you were here this afternoon because…"

Mercedes explained how Nick called and asked her to pick up some files he needed for a meeting the next morning.

"He said that he couldn't get them himself because he'd be heading to the office directly from his flight. He asked me to bring the files in and leave them on his desk."

"Did Mr. Clemmons know what time you were planning to pick up the documents?"

"No… He asked what I was doing and I told him I was on my way to lunch. It wasn't until after we hung up that I decided to come straight here since I was already on the road."

"Do you know what the files were?"

"Not quite sure. He told me where they were and what they would look like. He had a meeting with a client named Donovan scheduled if that helps."

The officer – Arthur Abrams she finally learned - wrote something down on his notepad.

"Miss Jones, what was the nature of Mr. Clemmons' business?"

"Mergers and acquisitions."

More writing.

"Miss Jones, did you ever have contact with Mr. Clemmons' clients?

"Some, not all."

The interview went on for what seemed like another hour before Officer Abrams closed his notebook and gave her a small smile.

"Miss Jones, thank you for your cooperation. I think that's all we need tonight. We'll be in touch if we have any follow up questions and if you think of anything, please don't hesitate to call or come by the station," he said handing her his card. "I've included my personal number as well. Feel free to use that day or night."


Mercedes rolled over and threw back the covers, resigned to the fact that it would be a while before she fell back asleep. She reached over to her nightstand and turned on the light, glancing at the textbook that sat beside the lamp. Since she was taking a break from performing, Mercedes enrolled in a music business program offered through UCLA's extension school. At first she was hesitant, but quickly found that the program was a great fit for her ultimate goal of music management, both her own and that of other artists. She was a couple courses shy of certification and was excited to see what doors would open when she was finished.

She walked out of her room and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water, immediately struck by how cold it was in the hallway.

"What the – Didn't I close this?" she asked out loud as she walked over to the living room window. She pulled it shut and looked around the room, her heart racing. She always closed the window before going to bed.

Mercedes grabbed her phone and started dialing Officer Abram whose number she'd stored in the device. Before she completed the call she pressed "end" and shook her head.

Don't be ridiculous, she thought to herself. It was four o'clock in the morning. The man was probably asleep. Given the past month, the nightly task had probably slipped her mind.

She sighed and walked over to the kitchen cabinets, turning on the faucet to let the water run cold and filled a glass, taking a long sip as she leaned against the counter.

When she was done, she turned back to the sink and mindlessly went through the motions of rinsing out the glass. It wasn't until she felt the scalding sting of the water that she realized she had been lost in her thoughts again. She turned off the faucet and put the glass on a drying rack.

Get some sleep, she thought to herself.


The next morning Mercedes pulled into the parking garage of her office, the first time she had been back since the murder. She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach and let out several shaky breaths as she exited the vehicle and made her way over to the building.

Just go in and get your things. Don't talk to anyone. Don't look at his office. Just walk into yours and close the door.

She stepped out of the elevator and quickly waved to Gwen as she walked into her office, locking the door behind her. Mercedes felt bad for brushing her off, especially after all the woman had done for her. Gwen had been the sounding board Mercedes needed when she first started and as she gained her footing around the office, the two remained good friends. Gwen was like the aunt she never had and had checked in on Mercedes periodically in her absence.

After making a mental note to speak with Gwen on her way out, Mercedes scanned her office and noticed that, although it looked normal, there were little things out of place. The closet door was open as if someone had gone through it and her desk looked like it had been searched as well. The intruder had tried to cover their tracks, but was unable to recreate her meticulous organization system.

She immediately attributed to the disruption to Rachel, the new assistant for the other section of the office. Normally she would ask Mercedes for case files, but had probably tried to locate them herself throughout the month.

Mercedes sat down and prepared to check the phone messages that had undoubtedly piled up while she was gone. As she looked in her desk drawer for a pen to replace the one missing from her desk, she blindly reached over to the phone and pressed a button.

"So where do we stand at this point?"

She looked up at the sound of Jesse St. James' voice fill the room through the speakerphone. Instead of pressing the "voicemail" feature, she had pressed the extension for his office's intercom.

"Shit," she whispered and reached over to end the connection. Her finger had barely reached the disconnect button when a second voice came through the speaker and made her blood run cold.

"Same as before. The disks we got give us some information, but there's nothing about where he put the money."

Mercedes lowered her hand. It was the same voice she had heard as she hid in the closet. It was one of the men who murdered Nick.

She held her breath as she listened to Jesse let out a slew of curses.

"What the FUCK did that prick do with that money?!" he shouted. "You listen to me and you listen well. Donovan is starting to ask questions and I need to have answers. HOW THE HELL DO YOU HIDE 50 MILLION DOLLARS!?"

The second man began to speak. "I don't know Mr. James, we've looked –"

"'I don't know Mr. James'," Jesse mimicked with disgust. She heard him slam something on his desk. "You mean to tell me there was no information anywhere in that fucking house? Fucking idiots. If you want something done…"

There was a long period of silence and Mercedes was afraid they had somehow realized that the intercom was on.

"Mercedes Jones."

She jumped at the mention of her name.

"Sir?"

"If anyone would know anything about that money it would be her."

"We've already checked her office and there was nothing there. We checked her house last night too… Do you want me to deal with her directly?"

There was a pause before Jesse answered.

"No, I'll handle her. You get the hell out and don't come back until you have something substantial to tell me."

"Yes sir."

Mercedes quickly disconnected the line, her heart pounding and ears ringing. She had to get out of there.

She pushed herself away from her desk and stood up on shaky legs, willing her hands to grab her purse and jacket. She rushed out of her office and walked quickly to the elevator.

"Are you okay honey?," Gwen asked as Mercedes rushed by her desk.

Mercedes nodded and got on the elevator, unable to speak. Nick stole money? Jesse had him killed? Those men had been in her house? She thought back to the open window. A million and one questions raced through her mind as she mentally replayed the conversation she just overheard.

As she raced out of the building and into her car, a furious Jesse St. James was storming out of his office upstairs.

"When is Mercedes Jones due back in the office?" he demanded as he made his way over to Gwen's desk.

The confused woman looked at the newly appointed president of the company. Unbeknownst to her, she was about to say the words that would send Mercedes' world into a tailspin.

"You just missed her. She literally just bolted out of her office. Poor thing, it was as if she had seen a ghost."