Quinn, like Kurt, was thankfully a morning person, so his early wake-up call hadn't disturbed her in the slightest. Once he had finished with a quick shower, dressing in casual yet stylish traveling clothes, he wandered into the kitchen, where Quinn wordlessly handed him a cup of coffee prepared to his exacting standard.
He thanked her and took a long pull, humming appreciatively.
"Have you spoken with the others?" she asked, voice the epitome of nonchalance.
He nodded. "Except for Brittany, yes."
She nodded in kind and returned to scanning one of her several newspapers, intermittently checking her phone.
Kurt cut up several pieces of fruit and arranged it artfully on a platter from which they could both nibble.
"What about the other man, Alaric Saltzman?" she asked, spearing a chunk of pineapple with her fork. "Also, that name."
"I'm unsure," he confessed, ignoring her addendum. "I know nothing about him, other than that he had been dating Jenna at the time she died. He obviously must care for Elena and Jeremy, outside of his love for Jenna, or he wouldn't have assumed temporary guardianship. That's a lot to take on if your heart's not in it."
"Maybe he feels responsible," she suggested.
He cocked his head and frowned, sure there was some hidden meaning behind her words. "Explain."
She looked up at stared at him, raising an unimpressed brow. "Are you so far removed from high school politics that you've forgotten the necessity of gathering information before making a strike?" She clucked her tongue and shook her head. "You're assuming this man has good intentions." She shrugged. "Perhaps he does. I truly hope that is the case, but we don't know." She hesitated. "You don't know how Jenna really died, Kurt," she said quietly.
He digested her several valid points and ruminated on them.
She pushed her iPad toward him. "Santana sent this late last night."
He took it hesitantly and began scrolling through the police report, his frown deepening. "What is this?"
Quinn nodded. "There's a lot missing, isn't there? At least as far as I would suspect."
He nodded absently. "Some of this has been redacted." His lips pressed into a thin line. "They're in on it."
"The police force?" she asked, before nodding. "It's not surprising. Given what you told me about what you discovered about Mystic Falls, the local government at least has to be aware, if not in collusion with, the supernatural element." She took a sip of her coffee. "Look at the autopsy report. That's definitely more your area of expertise than mine, but there were several items of information which didn't quite add up."
He blinked slowly and did as she suggested. He studiously read the autopsy results and then read them twice more. That medical examiner was certainly competent, and thoughtful, but Quinn was right in that the report read as a series of medical oddities.
"I was told it was a fire," he murmured in confusion.
Quinn said nothing.
Indeed, Jenna's body did present as having been involved in a fire, but the damage was minimal, and the examination of her lungs suggested she had died prior to inhaling a lethal amount of smoke.
Even more confusing was the examination of her neck, which clearly showed recent trauma, despite the fact that, somehow, it had healed. Miracles aside, bones do not lie, and the evidence of severe cervical injury remained.
"She had a broken neck."
Quinn stared at him.
It was then he read about the gaping wound to her chest, suggesting an implement had been thrust directly into her heart. Said implement had left splinters of wood in the surrounding tissue.
"Oh, god," he whispered, face paling. "She was a vampire, Quinn. Someone had turned Jenna into a vampire and she was then staked."
Her eyes darkened with rage. "Well, I would take that to mean that the Gilbert/Sommers family is somewhat aware of what goes on in that town. At the very least, they're being targeted."
He nodded, staring off. "I wonder what I would find should I ask for the autopsies of Miranda, Grayson, and John."
Her brows gathered. "You think the family is being stalked? Picked off one by one?"
He winced, but nodded. "There's a very good possibility, but this has been going on for over a year. As you said, Elena and Jeremy, and most likely Alaric, know what's occurring." He paused. "That said, they're still alive, so either someone or something is protecting them."
She nodded in kind. "Santana is conducting a deep background check on Saltzman. She should have it before you arrive in Mystic Falls and will email it to your phone."
He closed his eyes and released a slow breath.
"I have to get going soon," she said sadly.
He nodded and stood. "As do I. I can't thank you enough, Quinn. Not only for your hospitality, but for being my family."
She held him tightly and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "That's always been my privilege." She stroked his forehead, smiling when he closed his eyes and hummed. "Will you be calling Brittany soon?"
He hung his head, flushing slightly. "Yes, but I'm nervous."
Quinn shrugged, not interested in coddling him. "She's Brittany, and you're her Dolphin. In the end, that's all that matters to her."
He smiled, almost against his will, and nodded. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
Forty minutes of unsavory Beltway rush-hour traffic later, Kurt crossed into Virginia. By his estimation, he would arrive in Mystic Falls in just over two hours, giving him another two to find a motel and dress for the funeral.
He had just driven past Quantico when his phone beeped. Glancing at the screen and seeing a text with an attachment from Santana, he quickly made his way over to the far right lane and then pulled off at the nearest rest stop. After using the facilities and grabbing a Diet Coke, he locked himself inside the car and began reading the file.
It was certainly illuminating.
He'd never precisely understood just how Santana was so easily able to unearth information which had been buried deeper than Middle Earth, but she somehow always managed.
So, Alaric Saltzman had once been married to Isobel Flemming, a resident of Mystic Falls, whom he'd met while both were studying at Duke University. Alaric had majored and graduated with a degree in History. He had become certified as a high school teacher and was presently employed at Mystic Falls High School, where Jeremy and Elena were students.
Well, that was certainly convenient. Especially in light of the fact that Isobel had disappeared several years previous and been legally declared dead. It was certainly curious that the man had moved to the hometown of his dead wife to teach high school.
His record showed a few meaningless arrests which had ultimately amounted to nothing, while his name was listed as a potential witness in several unsolved cases, most of which had been declared cold due to lack of evidence. He wasn't a person of interest and never considered a suspect, but it suggested a pattern of, if not behavior, knowledge.
He shook his head and sighed before moving on to the other documents, the heading of which was circled in red and screamed READ ME! in Santana's handwriting. So he did.
As his eyes scanned the pages, they widened to the point where they began to well in response to the additional air flowing across them.
Isobel Flemming and John Gilbert had an affair while in high school, the result being Elena, who was adopted into her own family, courtesy of Grayson and Miranda.
As Kurt's only biological ties were to Miranda, that meant Elena was not technically related to him. It didn't bother him; in fact, it meant nothing. He still considered her family, as he did Finn and Cosette. He did, however, wonder if Elena was aware of these facts. If she wasn't, he debated whether he should tell her, coming to no firm conclusion. He supposed he would cross that bridge when he came to it.
Thus, Alaric Saltzman had not only dated Jenna, the aunt and guardian of Elena and Jeremy, but was also - legally, at least - Elena's stepfather.
Interesting.
He put on his seat belt, cracked open the can of Diet Coke, and slowly pulled back onto I-95.
He hit the city limits even sooner than he had anticipated and checked into a quaint motel located about seven miles from the Gilbert home. He ignored the colorful chatter of the smitten hotel clerk whose gaydar must have been in the repair shop.
Stepping into his room, which he had tentatively reserved for the week in case things with Jeremy and Elena did not go well, he almost passed out. The room appeared as though Laura Ashley had literally exploded over every available surface. The portraits of adorable cats frolicking made him ill. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't have to stay here any longer than necessary.
He had taken a shower at Quinn's apartment that morning and determined he didn't need another, yet he did unpack his toiletries case and thoroughly cleansed his face, taking the time to reapply a touch of product in his hair. He brushed his teeth for good measure.
He turned on the hot water spigot to the shower and reentered the room proper, closing the door behind him. Unzipping his garment bag, he removed his black Prada suit, last worn at Sam's funeral and would probably be burned later that day, and hung it from the shower rod to steam out the few wrinkles.
He collapsed in upon the chaise longue by the fireplace and texted Quinn and Mercedes to let them know he arrived, explaining he would be out of contact for a while, due to the funeral and reception. He then texted Santana, telling her he had read the file and thanking her for digging deeper into the history of the town itself. He also asked if, when she had the chance, if she could focus particularly on the older families that still maintained a presence. He figured it was a good idea to find out as much as possible. He knew how small towns operated.
That done, he sighed, reached down, and withdrew his laptop from his carrying case. He booted it up, searched for a wifi signal, which was present but weak. He navigated toward the website of the local police station, read the crime sheet, which was almost nil, and then studied the page dedicated to Sherriff Elizabeth Forbes, including her résumé.
He found himself having a good opinion of the woman and decided to pay her a visit. As a stranger, he would do well to introduce himself to the head of law enforcement.
Nodding, he quickly crossed the room, opened the bathroom door, inspected his suit, which met his satisfaction, and divested himself of his travel ensemble.
He buttoned the fitted ivory Oxford shirt, stepped gingerly into the suit, as though it might attack him, and began knotting his charcoal tie in a perfect Windsor. He blinked back tears, missing Sam more than ever. Against his better judgment, he spritzed his wrists with Sam's cologne, his nose filling with the scent of grapefruit and rain.
He exhaled slowly, double-checked his reflection, deeming himself suitable, and then left the room, locking the door behind him and setting a ward which would alert him if anyone crossed the threshold.
He was betting someone would.
Parking in the town square was more than slightly ridiculous, but after circling twice, he found a space directly in front of the police station.
He exited the car, shut the door, and took a moment to revel in the soft spring breeze wafting over him. The air was different here, heavier and without bite; soft. He was betting the humidity of the summers, however, would wreck havoc with his hair. He frowned.
He adjusted his tie and quickly ascended the steps of the police station, marveling at the Thomas Kincaid layout of the town. It looked like a postcard. He supposed he wouldn't be averse to living the next few years of his life in Mystic Falls, despite the preponderance of vampires. Besides, it wasn't as though he had anything else to do.
He stormed into the building and instantly noticed that his walk had attracted attention. He no longer strutted about as he had in high school, but instead had accustomed his stride to better match the large city in which he had lived the past six years. He quickly reminded himself that he was now in the South, where people moved more slowly, almost a meandering trot, and where good manners were paramount.
He slowed his roll, approached the main desk, removed his sunglasses, and smiled politely at the secretary, who was hungrily eyeing his suit and had dollar signs flashing in her eyes. Good lord, weren't there any gay people in this town? Was it Lima all over again?
Or perhaps it was just a lack of available men in his age group. Either way, gross.
"Good morning," he said, injecting a musical lilt in his voice. "My name is Kurt Hummel. Would it be possible to speak with Sheriff Forbes for a few moments? If not, I would be glad to make an appointment."
The girl, who he estimated to be about his age, flushed slightly, and proceeded to attempt to interrogate him about his business. He raised an eyebrow, making it clear that he was aware she was well outside of the remit of her job but was willing to placate her for the sake of appearances. She flushed more darkly.
"Abby, get it together," sighed a voice behind and to the left of her.
Kurt adjusted his line of sight and nodded at the woman he recognized to be Elizabeth Forbes. "Good morning, Sheriff Forbes."
She smiled slightly and nodded in return. "Good morning, Mr. Hummel. How may I help you today?"
His eyes drifted back to the nosy assistant, who was nonchalantly shuffling papers and looked primed for gossip.
"Please come into my office, Mr. Hummel," Liz said politely, glaring at Abby.
Kurt nodded his thanks and followed the elder woman into her inner sanctum.
"Please have a seat," she directed, taking her own. "May I offer you coffee or another beverage?"
Kurt's gratitude was plain on his face. "I would welcome some water if it would be no trouble."
"Not at all," she said, waving him away. She pressed the intercom and relayed the order of two bottle waters to Abby, who quickly delivered them, leaving the door open after her exit.
Liz curled a lip, eyes alight with annoyance, and moved to stand.
"Please allow me," Kurt said, smoothly rising to his feet and shutting the door.
She offered a more genuine smile and thanked him upon his return. "How may I help you today?"
"Thank you, Sheriff. It's a pleasure to meet you. As you know, my name is Kurt Hummel. I am the cousin of Jenna Sommers and Miranda Gilbert."
Her eyes widened in shock and her mouth fell open slightly. She blinked heavily and shook her head. "Forgive my surprise," she said. "I was unaware Jenna had other family."
Kurt smiled thinly. "Most people are." He swallowed. "Now that Jenna is gone, except for Elena and Jeremy, there is only me."
Some emotion presented itself in her eyes. He wasn't sure what it was. He detected sympathy, but also some wariness. "Please accept my condolences on the loss of your cousin, Mr. Hummel..."
"Kurt, please."
She smiled. "Kurt, then," she said, nodding. "Jenna was a lovely woman and a valued member of this community." She cleared her throat. "I presume you're here for the service?"
Kurt nodded. "Yes, as well as to accept guardianship over Elena and Jeremy."
Her stare was blatant and she appeared at a loss for words.
"Please, Sheriff," he said, "don't censor your thoughts on my account."
"I'm sorry," she said, biting her lip, "but are you serious? You can't be much older than Elena!"
He raised a brow. "Then I've held up even better than I realized," he drawled.
She giggled and looked surprised she had.
"I'm twenty-four," he said, smiling. "Jenna designated me as guardian, and I intend to fulfill that role, pending the approval of my cousins." He then drained half the water bottle, suspecting it had been infused with vervain, which it was. Telling. Still, he figured he might as well set her mind somewhat at ease.
Indeed, she appeared relieved.
"I find that an incredibly kind and decent act for one so young," she said quietly but with respect, "but don't you think it will be an unfair burden set upon you?"
"Of course not," he said staunchly, with just enough fire to ensure his seriousness. "They are my family, the only family I have left." He paused. "My mother died when I was a child; my father during my senior year of high school." He blinked several times. "I have a stepbrother who is married with a child and living on Long Island." He shrugged helplessly. "I'm alone. I'm determined that Elena and Jeremy won't be made to feel the same."
Approval brimmed in her eyes and she nodded. "Would you mind if I asked a little about your background?"
He raised an amused brow. "Am I to assume you're really asking about whether or not I'm able to support Jeremy and Elena financially without raiding their trust fund?"
She flushed.
"Please don't feel embarrassed," he said. "I appreciate that you're looking out for them. To answer your question, I have my own trust funds, which far outweigh the Gilbert Trust."
Her eyes lighted with the curiosity of a question she would never dare ask.
"I'm worth well over thirty million dollars," Kurt said.
There was no need for discretion in this matter. Money bought power, which he would need in this town. Besides, that number was so conservative as to be ridiculous; he easily had twice that amount, thanks to the shrewd investments of his grandmother, mother, and father. As an only child of only children, one who had maintained an extremely lucrative business and the other who had come from money and a family far older than any in the United States, he was well aware of his privilege.
Liz's slight sigh of relief was louder than she had intended, but she didn't care. The last thing she needed to deal with was a gold-digger out to rob two teenagers blind.
"I have degrees in Music and Physics from Brown University, where I was a premedical student," he continued, ignoring her impressed look, "and recently graduated from a Masters program in Pathology, also at Brown. Though unnecessary, I do intend to obtain gainful employment, but only after the legal issues are settled with Elena and Jeremy."
She nodded. "Please forgive me for being blunt, but what if they're unwilling to accept you as their guardian?"
He nodded at the expected question. "Then I won't force them. I understand that Jenna's boyfriend has temporary custody, and if Elena and Jeremy are content with that arrangement, I will relinquish my claim so that it can be made permanent. The Gilbert Trust is set up so that only family can administer it, and I barely qualify, but I will do so until Elena reaches her majority and can manage it herself.
"If they wish to remain with Mr. Saltzman, I'll sign the house over to him for as long as he's their guardian, with the provision that the deed reverts to Elena upon her eighteenth birthday. I'll purchase a home of my own in Mystic Falls so that I will be close by, should they need me."
"You've thought this through," she said in admiration.
Kurt ducked his head. "I've been in their position. I don't envy them. I had no one to help me, so I will help them in whatever way I can, even if they don't welcome or appreciate it."
This was a good man, Liz silently thought. "What can I do for you?"
"Mostly, I just wanted to introduce myself to you. I come from a small town, as well, and am well aware of the politics involved," he said. "I didn't want you to come across reports of a stranger in town and have you think I'm up to nefarious deeds," he finished, smirking.
She burst out laughing.
"Also, I am in a possession of a number of firearms, mostly inherited from my father, but a few of which I have added to the collection. I want to register them properly so that there are no legal issues later on down the road, though I hardly anticipate any. I have my original permits from Rhode Island."
She nodded briskly, all business. "I wish more people had that foresight. It's a simple matter of paperwork and can easily be dealt with in a matter of hours. Basically, I just need you to sign a few forms after I run the requisite background checks."
He nodded.
"May I ask where you're staying?"
"At the moment, I'm registered at the Mystic Falls Inn," he replied.
She winced. "Cat pictures," she hissed.
He laughed. "The décor is...unique."
She snorted and shook her head. "Was there anything else, Kurt?" she asked warmly.
He hesitated, looking over his shoulder to ensure the door was indeed shut and the ever helpful Abby was otherwise occupied. He ascertained that she was and turned back to regard Liz.
"As I'm sure you've guessed," he began, "I'm gay. I don't bother to hide it. Is that going to be a problem for me here?"
She stared into his eyes. "I don't know," she said honestly, thinking of her ex-husband, who had quickly moved out of town after coming out to her and Caroline. "Your situation is unique, and I can only offer guesses. As you stated, this is a small town, with both the benefits and detriments inherent in that. In general, the youth population of Mystic Falls is very open-minded. They don't brook with homophobia or other prejudices.
"Not that there aren't undercurrents, of course, but they're not addressed. I know from daughter that there are a handful of openly gay students at the high school, and they've never been targeted or harassed. If they had been, believe me, Caroline would have told me. She doesn't put up with that type of nonsense."
Kurt smiled widely. "A testament to her mother, I suspect."
She blushed.
"I look forward to meeting her," he said, the end of the situation a questioning lilt, offering her a discrete out if she desired one.
"Oh, you will," she laughed. "Caroline is one of Elena's best friends, and has been since they were very young children."
He paused. "Then you knew Miranda."
Liz nodded, eyes bright and throat full. "Very well," she said, "both her and Grayson. They were wonderful people."
He nodded demurely.
She cleared her throat. "As for the Old Guard, you have money - a lot of it - and that's all that matters to them." Her eyes narrowed and hardened. "If anyone, and I mean anyone, causes you any grief, harasses you in any way, I want you to come to me immediately. Either we can file charges or, if you're not comfortable with that, I can handle things...off the clock."
"Thank you," he whispered. "High school was a very...difficult experience." He briefly launched into his history, not above deliberately manipulating her to further endear himself.
"And nothing was done?" she furiously demanded.
He shrugged. "The administration and school board were uninterested in taking action. Their official stance was that, as sexual orientation was not a protected class in Ohio, the problems I had were of my own making and, therefore, my responsibility." He sneered. "After all, I chose to be gay."
Liz was appalled and muttered a few creative curse words under her breath.
"In the interest of full disclosure," Kurt said, "I should tell you that, at my partner's insistence, I'm trained in Krav Maga. I'm at least competent enough to defend myself, but I assure you that I would be very careful not into inflict serious harm upon anyone who attacked me."
She nodded, though she was suspicious at how open this young man was with her. Had he no guile, or was he simply trying to make a good impression? Or was it something more?
"I assume your partner will be moving here, as well?" she asked pleasantly.
At his harsh flinch, she instantly regretted her words.
"No," Kurt said softly, hanging his head. "Sam was killed by a drunk driver almost eight months ago." He looked up and attempted a smile, but it looked painful. "We were due to be married last month, after my graduation." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm still not used to employing the past tense where he's concerned."
Liz felt like a ghoul, and though she could tell he wasn't angry with her, she still felt guilty.
Kurt forced his face to clear, a slight smile appearing. "If I'm being honest, Sheriff Forbes, I need Jeremy and Elena as much as I hope they'll need me."
In all of her years in law enforcement, it was the most honest thing anyone had ever told her.
She liked this man. Elena and Jeremy would, as well, she was sure. If they hurt his feelings, she wasn't beneath arresting them. She smiled.
He returned it. He had been more open than intended, but it had served its purpose. He now had an ally, a powerful one. She was intelligent, confident, and observant. She obviously cared about the community and its members. He had the full measure of this woman and, judging from the vervain in the water, she had the measure of this town.
An excellent start.