A/N: So, if anyone has noticed—which I doubt, maybe—I've upped the rating. It's not because of this chapter, but later chapters, and I know if I don't do it now I'll just forget. So, yes. This story is now rated M.

I have the hardest time not posting immediately after I write a chapter—it's driving me nuts! I think I'm going to try to update once a week, but knowing me it'll probably be every few days.

Still no beta, so all mistakes are my own.

One more thing—just saw Asian F. Glee is back!

Rating: M

Pairings: Klaine, Niff, vague mentions of Brittana.

Warnings: Character death, mentions of extreme homophobia, violence, slight gore, language and sexual situations. Alternate Universe, obviously.

Summary: Homicide Detective Kurt Hummel was just called on as Primary for a well-known District Attorney's murder. As the bodies continue to pile up, all traces lead back to one Blaine Anderson, who Kurt can't help but feel is innocent. Something connects this case that just doesn't seem to add up, and when one body becomes another, and another and another, Kurt is running out of time to figure out just what it is.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, nor do I own any of the characters mentioned.

The District Attorney's office was a place Kurt had never set foot in before—whenever a warrant was needed it'd be requested by handheld, and granted it'd be sent over to Sylvester. He didn't take much part in the court aspect of the cases—he investigated the case and closed them. Occasionally he'd be called to the stand, but it wasn't often.

He wondered how anyone got anything done in this place. He stepped into the very spacious lobby, glancing around. Warm wood, large windows—ironically, he felt mildly claustrophobic from the open layout.

A woman behind the desk in the middle of the room was currently on her headset and raised a manicured finger in his direction, mouthing 'one minute, please' and returning to her 'comp and call. He leaned an arm on the desk, taking in the few people milling about, some sitting in chairs and fidgeting, and some in suits bustling around even as early in the morning as it was. A man in a wrinkled suit walked up to the secretary's desk and laid an envelope in front of her. Still on the phone, she slid it across and placed it in a basket near her elbow.

"I'm sorry, how may I help you?" She sighed, finished with the call and turning weary, red-rimmed eyes towards him.

He slid his badge across the desk, speaking even as she closed her eyes and nodded. "Detective Hummel, I need to speak with Dave Karofsky."

"Yes, yes. He just got in, he had stopped by Brittany's before—I'm sorry. He should be in now. You're—you're primary?" she cleared her throat, pursing her lips slightly as her eyes watered. "Of Santana's case. Of course you are, I—the news, and Dave… Anyway. Let me just—I'll tell him you're here. He may be on the phone. If I could have you wait here?"

He gave his assent as she hurriedly excused herself, walking down a hall of to the left behind the desk. He was gazing at the numerous certificates lined on the wall when he heard her heels clicking on the wood, returning. He turned towards her, watching as she tucked a fly-away lock of graying hair behind her ear.

"He—you can come back. I've moved all appointments for later—he was looking over cases. He's—Santana's now, too." She shook her head at herself as she led him down the long hallway. "I'm sorry, things are—frazzled. Santana—" she took a deep breath. "Santana ran the ship, here. It'll—it's going to take some time."

He looked down at her from the corner of his eyes, the crease in her eyebrow, the slight purse of her lips, and the lines around her mouth. "You were her secretary?"

She nodded, and then shook her head again. "Yes, but not only hers. I'm the District Attorney's and the Assistant District Attorney's secretary. Considering the jurisdiction is quite large, there's extensive support staff including multiple paralegals. I've been her secretary since she came into this office—quite a shock when someone so young was elected as District Attorney." She cut herself off abruptly. "I'm sorry—again. I'm babbling."

"I'll need to speak to you when I'm finished with Mr. Karofsky. Standard operating procedure is all, where you were between five o'clock and nine thirty yesterday evening, asking if there was anything out of the ordinary lately, or yesterday from when Ms. Lopez arrived and when she left at five."

She glanced up at him with an odd expression, confusing marring her face. "Five? No, she left at four. She was going to leave at five, but she said she had something to take care of before she left for the evening. Here we are, Detective." Before she could specify she stopped in front of a large oak door and after a brisk knock, pushed it open and stepped aside.

Another large, open room—Kurt couldn't understand how they all handled it. Give him his cramped home office or his single and crowded desk surrounded by other detectives.

A large man stood from behind his own desk—in the assistant District Attorney's office still, but pursuing cases from the District Attorney, Kurt noticed.

Dave Karofsky was a slightly intimidating looking man, large and frown lines that usually indicate a perpetual scowl, but which was now smoothed out in exhaustion and grief. Broader and taller than Kurt, he was a decent looking man with a firm handshake.

"Thanks, Rhonda. Close the door, please? Detective, have a seat." He gestured towards one of the chairs in front of the desk. After a moment, Kurt sat when Karofsky sat in the seat next to his instead of the one behind the desk. "Is there any news?"

"The investigation is currently ongoing, and we are pursuing any and all leads." Kurt recited, not giving or taking anything.

As it was Karofsky shook his head with a tired chuckle. "Yeah, 'course. What can I do for you? You'll probably need my statement."

Kurt inclined his head slightly, letting Karofsky gather his bearings while Kurt switched on his recorder. "If you could start at yesterday morning."

Karofsky nodded. "Yeah. Lopez had come in a bit early—she was going to get off early, her and Britt's anniversary was last night. The day went how I always does—she had a hearing early in the morning, then was here the rest of the day, seeing clients and all that. Nothing new, really. She stayed in for lunch, she was actually still making plans for their night, her and Brittany's. They weren't just going to the hotel, she had somehow got reservations at Elpans. You know, that restaurant that had just opened over on Madison? Anyway, it was a surprise, and she was excited—well." His lips tilted slightly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "As excited as I've ever seen her." He trailed off, gazing into space.

Kurt waited patiently, and after a moment he snapped out of it. "Sorry. Anyway. I hadn't seen her except when I was leaving for lunch, and she said she had a couple accounts she wanted me to handle when she left at five—"

"Five?" Kurt cut in, thinking of the different times Brittany and Rhonda had both given him. "Not four?"

Karofsky shook his head, looking slightly confused. "No, five. She was going to leave early, at five so she would have a bit of time to change and kiss the kids' goodnight before they left. Well, she said she might actually head out around four forty-five, iron out some details before they left for the night." He clenched his fists slightly as he said the last part, blowing out a breath hard and looking away.

"How long had you known her?"

"Not long, really. I had transferred in over from the east side division. 'Bout eight months ago."

"What was your relationship with Mrs. Lopez?"

Karofsky frowned slightly. "Relationship?"

"It's something I have to ask. Did you two ever see each other personally?" Kurt didn't think so, remembering what photos he had seen in the vic's home, always of her and the pretty blonde, grinning widely and gazing at each other with adoration.

Karofsky snorted, for the first time smiling an honest smile—if small. "No—no way. Not only was she completely crazy about Britt, but we've always kind of irritated each other. Bickered a lot, but never anything serious. Professional rivalry, if you will. We were there for the other if one of us wanted to bicker or snipe." His smile faded. "We knew each other professionally—sure there'd be office parties and everything, but that's where it stopped.

"And she really was head over heels for Brittany, which isn't surprising really. Britt's someone you can't help but like instantly. I'd use to tease her that they really were sickening—they weren't. It was actually really sweet. Santana would randomly order flowers for her, or Britt would come by when they both took lunch, and they'd eat in her office. Santana had pictures of her family all over her office, but especially Britt."

"You sound as if you knew Mrs. Pierce better."

He shook his head again. "I know where you're going with this, and no to that. She was my colleagues' wife, and that was it. You just can't help but like her—she's like a big blonde puppy, and sweet as can be. Always a kind word whenever she comes in, always taking time, going out of her way to see how you'd been." He ran a hand over the lower half of his face. "When they say opposites attract, those two come to mind. And anyway, I'm not interested in women, Detective. Even if either had given the go ahead—which they never would—I wouldn't go for it, and not only because they're both married."

Kurt nodded slightly. "Where were you yesterday between four and nine thirty p.m. yesterday evening?"

"I was here until seven. A case just came onto my desk. Rhonda was here until about ten minutes before I left. I went home and showered and changed—I got into the lobby of my apartment around seven forty. I had a date at eight, and we were meeting for dinner. You can check, his name's Jeremiah Murphy, we've been seeing each other for about a month." He rattled off his contact information which Kurt entered into his PPC.

"We were out until nine thirty, somewhere around there, and we returned to my place."

"Do you know anyone who would've wanted to cause her harm?"

He snorted once again. "Detective, in both of our lines of work we have plenty of people who wish us harm. And as for cases, I'd be happy to turn over the files to you as soon as you have a warrant." He said apologetically.

Kurt nodded, figuring that that'd be the case. Confidentiality, and all that. "Has she seemed different at all lately? Nervous, antsy, uncomfortable?"

"No, and even if she was she wouldn't have shown it. Santana doesn't believe in weakness and she'd hide everything behind that stunning poker face of hers. If she was though, Rhonda would've noticed and said something. But no, she just seemed happy, excited. Content."

"Do you know where she was supposed to be heading yesterday evening? Before she had gone home."

"Hm?" Karofsky looked up absentmindedly from where he was gazing blankly at the carpet. "Oh. Yeah. She knows the owner of the restaurant they were going to. She was heading over to see him—which was easy considering her wife had been friends with him since college or something. Oh, hey. I guess you'd need to see her office, right? Sorry, my mind's all over the place."

He stood, and Kurt followed his lead, tucking his hands into his pocket as he led him out into the hallway and past Rhonda's desk. They paused outside of another door, with Santana's name and credentials on a gold plate on the door. "She was going to see him? You're sure of that?"

Karofsky nodded, reaching into his pocket for the key to the door. "Yeah, said she'd have to go see 'the hobbit' to make sure he hadn't slid the reservations out from under her just to bug her."

Kurt watched as he found the key, and felt a tickling at the base of his spine as he asked, "Did she say his name?"

Karofsky nodded, glancing at him askance. "Well, yeah. But everyone knows him anyway, and that he owns Elpans. I mean, who hasn't heard of Blaine Anderson?"

*.*.*

Santana Lopez's office was everything he'd expect it to be, even from his limited knowledge of her. It was a smaller space than the ADA's office, oddly enough, though with large windows. It had bookcases lining one wall, and a large desk placed in the center of the room, with two leather bound chairs placed in front of it. Picture frames and a thin desk top lined were placed on the desk, pictures of her and her wife and her and family and friends. Her certificates and credentials lined the wall, and everything was in its place. After a moment's inspection, everything was locked and coded, exactly as Kurt had assumed they'd be.

Unable to obtain anything further until he had a warrant, he had left Karofsky to his business, and went to interview the secretary. Rhonda had reiterated once again that Santana had indeed left at four o'clock, forty-five minutes earlier than Rhonda expected her to leave. Rhonda herself was in the office until about six fifty, and was home by seven ten and spent the evening in with her husband. Thanking the both of them for their cooperation, Kurt had left, knowing he'd need to update his LT after receiving a message from her on his communicator.

But before he left, Kurt sat in his vehicle, scrolling through his PPC, going through whatever information he could get his hands on at the moment regarding this 'Blaine Anderson', who, as it stood, seemed to be the last person to ever see Santana Lopez alive.