Rachel looked over at Santana before pulling out the tape recorder. "Is it okay if I record our interview? I want to make sure I remember everything for later, and I'm not a fast enough writer to take down everything by hand."

Santana nodded her head. Rachel clicked the record button, stating her name and who she was interviewing, then placed the little machine on the coffee table in front of them.

"Now Santana, can you tell me about Brittany?"

"What would you like to know?" Santana asked, pulling her knees up to her chest.

"What was she like? Did people like her or hate her? What did she do for fun? Was she excited about getting married or thinking it was the biggest mistake of her life?"

Santana smiled a little before she began talking. "Brit was the kindest, sweetest person I ever met. I mean, she was a bit stupid, but it was in a cute way. She loved to laugh and have a good time—we used to go out on the weekends and hit up McGillan's—they had karaoke every Saturday night. Brit loved singing. I think after she did glee club, she realized how much she really enjoyed it. That's why she joined the choir."

"Choir?" Rachel asked. "What choir?"

Santana laughed a little. "The one at Mercedes' church. She was the only white girl in it, but it was where she loved being. Everyone in the church loved her. That's where she met Brian."

"That was her fiancée, right?" Rachel asked.

Santana nodded her head. "Yeah, Brian Williams. He seemed like a real nice guy at first. He was nice when Brittany introduced us. It was all just an act, though."

"What do you mean?"

"Brittany would never have told anyone, but you knew something bad was going on behind closed doors. Before she started going out with him, she was this lively, bubbly girl. But after they'd been together for about three months, something changed."

"Was she depressed or something?" Rachel asked.

Santana shook her head. "No, but she started cancelling on me all the time. It was always something—she had to go out of town with Brian for a wedding, her grandmother was sick, she was sick. I knew it was bullshit. Brian was trying to cut her off from her friends, isolate her. And then when I did see her, something was always off."

"Santana, I heard there were bruises."

Santana fidgeted uncomfortably. Rachel clicked off the tape recorder for a moment. "I know you want to protect your friend, but you have to tell me the truth. I'm on your side, remember?"

Rachel clicked the tape recorder back on and Santana began talking again. "Brit came to me about a year ago in the middle of the night. I knew something was wrong right away—she had a cut on her forehead and a black eye. She told me Brian did it, that he'd been beating her. She kept going on and on about how he was a great guy and it was her fault he abused her."

"She thought it was her fault that he hit her?" Rachel asked, covering her mouth.

Santana nodded. "Yeah, that's why she never went to the cops. She also thought they'd never believe her—he was from a wealthy family and she had told the entire school senior year that she had a pet unicorn."

"But what about the bruises? Couldn't she just show them the bruises?"

"Brit was a total klutz. She figured Brian would claim she fell, and then kill her for going to the cops."

"So what did you do?"

"I told her to leave him, but she went back to him the next day. But every Friday, she'd show up at my house with bruises and cuts. I knew it was only a matter of time before he killed her."

"So you think it was him?"

"It has to be! No one else would have a reason to kill her!"

"But what reason would he have for killing her?" Rachel asked.

Santana began crying, burying her face in her hands. Rachel turned the recorder off, putting an arm around Santana's shoulder.

"It's okay, you can tell me. Off the record, even," Rachel pleaded.

"Brittany was the love of my life. We were going to run away together. Next week. We were going to run away to New York and get married. She told me she wanted to leave last month, but I told her we had to wait, that we needed more money." Santana cried harder. "Oh god, this is all my fault. If we had left when she wanted to, she'd still be alive."

"Did he know?" Rachel whispered.

"Brit swore he didn't, but he did. Every time she would come over here or we went out to do something, someone was following us or watching us. I know it was Brian. He knew she was leaving him, so he killed her."

"What about an ex-boyfriend? Could someone else have wanted her dead?" Rachel asked.

"The only other person she seriously dated was Finn, but they broke up two years ago."

"Finn?" Rachel asked.

"Yeah, Finn Hudson."

"I thought he was with Quinn," Rachel murmured. She used to have the biggest crush on him—well, before she and Puck started dating. But he'd been head cheerleader Quinn Fabray's boyfriend at the time.

"They broke up after high school. Quinn went to college in Ohio. Finn didn't get in anywhere. He asked Quinn to marry him, and she dumped him. She said she didn't want to be stuck in Lima married to a loser for the rest of her life. She's back now, though. Her dad had a heart attack a few months ago, so she's been helping her mom take care of him."

"Why did Brittany and Finn break up?" Rachel asked.

"I never got a straight answer about that from her. She told me it was because he didn't want to get married, but a week after they break up, she starts dating Brian."

"So you think she cheated on him."

"I don't know for sure, but the timing was just really suspicious. If you want to interview someone, I'd talk to Finn Hudson. "

xxxxx

Rachel drove home after leaving Santana's house, her head buzzing with all the information she had just learned. There was now not one, but two people who could have killed Brittany. She knew she needed to talk to them, needed to get their side of the story.

She'd already called Brian, and he'd hung up as soon as she said she was a reporter. She hadn't tried calling Finn yet.

Rachel pulled into the driveway of her house, parking her car. She climbed out, locking it before heading inside.

Her phone rang as soon as she walked in. Rachel pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and glanced at who was calling. James.

"Hello?" she asked as she answered the phone.

"Rachel, it's James," he boss said on the other end of the phone. "I'm just checking in to see how you're doing."

"I'm fine, James," she promised, dropping her purse on the couch as she took a seat. "I've already gotten one interview and—"

"Rachel, I don't care about the story. I mean how are you doing?"

"I'm fine," she said, her automatic response. She knew James hated when she said she was fine—she hardly ever way. "I mean, I'm doing better than I was a few months ago."

"Are you dealing with everything okay?"

"I still miss her," she whispered into the phone. "Every time I watch TV or a movie or do something we used to do together, I can't help but think about her. I feel like I'm never going to get over this."

"It takes time, Berry. Losing a child is one of the hardest things we have to deal with."

"How did you and Mary deal with it when your son died?" James and his wife had had one kid, a boy named Thomas. He had died when he was 17 when his friend stabbed him. James had told her the story after Caroline died.

"We didn't for a while. I took a leave of absence from work and Mary quit her job. We left town and went to our house in Florida for a while—we just needed to get away. For a long time, everything reminded me of Tommy. But eventually, I learned to deal and reminded myself that he would want me to live my life, not waste it missing him. You'd learn eventually, Rachel. It's just going to take time."

"How's the office?"

"Everyone misses you. They all want to know when you're coming back."

"I don't know yet. When I feel ready I promise I'll come back," she said, though she wasn't sure if she would. Not unless Noah was going to come with her.

"Oh, Aiden stopped by here yesterday looking for you."

"Aiden?" she asked, sounding a bit shocked. She hadn't expected that."

"Yeah. I told him you were out of town and I didn't know when you would be back, then asked him not to call you—you've been through enough without having to deal with love life problems as well."

Rachel smiled, feeling a surge of gratefulness towards her boss. "Thanks James. I appreciate that. I got an interview today, but I need a few more before I write up something. I'll send you my first draft as soon as it's done."

"Take your time, Rach. And keep checking in with me. As soon as I get the sense you're not able to handle this, I'm pulling you out. Good luck."

He hung up. Rachel shut her phone, placing it on her lap. She drummed her fingers on the edge of the couch, thinking about what to do. It was just about noon, and she was completely alone. She tried to keep herself busy to keep the memories away, but now she had nothing to do.

"Ms. Berry?" the nurse had said, coming into Rachel's room as she got ready to leave the hospital. "If you'd like, I can take you to see Caroline."

Rachel had followed her down the halls of the hospital and into the morgue. It was empty with the exception of a shape on the table. Rachel had walked slowly up to it, seeing the lifeless body of her daughter lying on it.

She looked like she was just sleeping. And she could have been—nothing was wrong with her except for the tear in her heart.

Rachel had clutched the body, rocking Caroline back and forth in her arms as she cried. The hospital let her stay there as long as she needed to. Rachel eventually pulled away, signing the proper forms to release the body to a local funeral home for preparation.

Rachel had been a mess at the funeral. Her Aunt Linda had come, but she was the only family member besides Rachel there. Her dads refused to come, and Rachel didn't want to tell Noah. She couldn't let him see Caroline like this, especially since he had never met her while she was alive.

"Rachel," someone said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Rachel jumped a little, seeing Noah standing behind her.

"Noah," she breathed, placing a hand over her heart. "You startled me. What are you doing here?"

"Lunch," he explained, taking a seat beside her. "I thought I'd come see you instead of hanging around the station with the idiots I work with." He leaned over, pecking her lips lightly. "Sorry I left so suddenly this morning. We've been interviewing people about Brittany."

"Did you talk to Santana?" she asked.

Noah shook his head. "Not yet, but Sam's heading over there after lunch to ask her about Brittany. Did you talk to her?" he asked.

Rachel nodded her head. "I did. Noah, you need to ask Brian about it. Santana really thinks he killed her."

"Yes, I know. She's coming down to the station later so we can talk to her."

"So you think he did it, then."

"I never said that. I can't talk about this, Rachel. I'm the sheriff and you're a reporter. If I told you anything about this case, I'd be in a lot of trouble." He put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Besides, I didn't give up my lunch to come here and talk about murder."

"Why did you come here, then?" she asked.

"I came here to see this really cute girl who's driving me insane," he teased. "I took her out last night, but I got pretty drunk and ruined the evening for her."

"Oh, she didn't mind that much. She thought you had a good time, though," she laughed.

"Oh trust me, I had a great time last night. I felt bad I couldn't return the favor, though."

"Well, if you have time now, I'm sure you could make it up to her…" she trailed off, rising to her feet and heading for the stairs.

Noah jumped up, following after her.

Rachel laughed, running up the stairs with Noah behind her. She made it to her room with him on her heels. Noah shut the door to her room, lifting her up and carrying her over to the bed.

"Babe, you really need to think about redecorating this place. I feel like a pedophile being in here," he joked.

"I haven't been home long enough to change it up," she laughed as she was placed on her bed, her legs hanging over the edge.

Noah knelt on the ground in front of her, his hands moving up her legs slowly. Rachel leaned her head back, looking up at the ceiling.

"Well, that needs to be your first order of business. Get rid of the pink and the stuffed animals."

"Noah, I doubt I'm going to be here long enough to have time to change it," she said as he pushed her skirt up, exposing her panties.

"Oh? Is the sheriff making you want to leave so soon?" he teased, pulling her panties down as she slowly kissed along her inner thigh.

"Oh, totally. If I didn't have a job to do, I'd have run away already," she teased, placing her hands flat against the bed.

Noah stood up for a moment, leaning over her and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. Rachel kissed him back, her body buzzing with anticipation.

Noah knelt down in front of her again, running a finger along her slit and groaning as he felt her wetness.

"Jesus Rachel," he said, Rachel letting out a soft moan.

"Just…please Noah," she whispered.

Noah nodded his head, spreading her legs before placing his face in between them. "Remember to be quiet. I don't want to get any noise complaints from your neighbors," he teased.

Rachel rolled her eyes at him. "I wasn't aware a girl needed her underwear off to just have a conversation," she said sarcastically.

Noah chuckled, shaking his head. "This said by the queen of teases. I think you deserve a taste of your own medicine for once." He leaned forward blowing slightly.

Rachel whined, her hips jutting up slightly. "Noah, please," she begged. "We don't have a lot of time."

"That we don't," he agreed before his tongue was on her. Rachel gasped as his tongue slid along her opening before it was inside of her.

Noah's one hand moved from her inner thigh to her stomach, holding her down while the other massaged her clit.

Rachel turned her head from side to side, squirming on the mattress as Noah did things with his tongue that no man had over done to her before.

Rachel could hardly stand it. She was gasping for air, her toes curling from pleasure. She had grabbed her comforter with one hand while the other was raking through Noah's short hair.

His tongue was removed before being replaced by his fingers, first one, then he added another and another. He began pumping his fingers in and out of her, his other hand still working on her clit.

This left Rachel's body free to move on her own. She began lifting her hips up, her hands balled into fists as she tried to control herself.

"God, Noah, I can't—I can't last much longer," she gasped out in between moans.

"That's okay, baby. Cum for me," he murmured, nipping at her inner thigh.

That seemed to do it for Rachel. Screaming his name, along with a few choice words, Rachel tilted her head back, her eyes shut tightly. Noah felt her go tight around his fingers, though he kept moving them until she had come down from her climax.

Once she was quiet, Noah pulled his hand out of her body, standing up and gazing down at Rachel on her bed.

Her chest was rising and falling quickly as she gasped for breath. Little beads of sweat were falling down her face. She looked like she was completely spent.

Noah climbed on the bed beside her, placing an arm around her waist. Rachel rolled on her side, curling against his chest. She smoothed her skirt down so she was covered, her panties on the floor somewhere in her room.

"Told you I'd make it up to you," he whispered in her ear.

Rachel smiled a little at that, reaching up to take Noah's hand in hers. She laced their fingers together, smiling at how perfect it felt.

Rachel looked up at Noah, looking into his eyes for the first time in a long time. She was struck by how brown they were, how warm and inviting they were. They were the kind of eyes a girl could fall in love with, the eyes she had fallen in love with so long ago.

Noah reached over, brushing the hair out of her face. "There, that's better. I don't want anything covering the most beautiful face I've ever laid eyes on."

"You're just saying that because you want to get into my pants," she murmured, her face red.

"Darling, I've already been there, both when I was younger and about five minutes ago," he teased, kissing her forehead. "Why won't you just admit that you're beautiful and get over it?" he said, hugging her tightly.

"Do you really have to go back to work?" she asked, feeling entirely too comfortable with him to let him leave like he had this morning. "Can't you tell them you don't feel like coming back and to handle everything without you?" she murmured, her head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"Any other day, I'd say screw it and stay here with you. But Brittany was murdered, so until we find out why and who did this, everyone in the sheriff's department is working overtime, myself included."

Rachel sighed, drumming her fingers on his chest. "Why does it feel like this conversation is going to end with you cancelling on me tonight?" she asked, sitting up and looking down at him.

"Because I'm cancelling on you tonight. I feel really bad about it, Rachel, I really do. But if I'm making everyone else stay late, then I'm staying with them. Here," he said, pulling a key out of his pocket. "It's to my apartment. I want you to have it. Maybe if you're not still pissed you'll be there waiting for me when I get home." Noah kissed her once before getting up out of her bed.

"You're leaving," she said, not bothering to try and hide the disappointment in her voice.

"Duty calls. Maybe I'll see you tonight." Noah straightened his shirt and pants, not wanting to look like he went back for a quickie during his lunch.

Rachel jumped into his arms when he turned around, kissing him full on the lips. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck.

Noah smiled at the kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Rachel pulled back, resting her forehead against his. "Promise me you'll be safe? I don't want this psycho to kill you too," she murmured.

Noah smiled, placing her on the ground. He placed a finger under her chin, tilting it up towards him. "I'm always safe, Rachel. I just want to make sure you're safe too. That's why I'm doing this, I swear. As soon as we catch this guy, I will spend forever making this up to you if I have to."

Rachel stood on her toes and kissed him again. "Go," she whispered. "I'll be waiting for you tonight," she promised.

With one more kiss, Noah left her house, climbing into his car and driving back to the station, leaving Rachel alone once more.

Rachel lay down on her bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking back to when she and Noah were still in high school.

"Caroline," he used to say. "When we're older and you're a star and we're married, I want to name our daughter Caroline."

"What makes you think we're going to have a daughter?" Rachel would always ask. There was no doubt in her mind back then that she would marry Noah Puckerman. "What if we have six boys in a row?"

"Then we'll keep having more and more until we have a baby girl just like you. And we're going to name her Caroline."

"Why?" Rachel would always ask.

"That's the song I sang to you that made you fall in love with me. Sweet Caroline. You were so against going out with me, but I showed up to that stupid club and serenaded you. We have to name our future daughter that. It would be wrong to name her anything else."

When Rachel had given birth to a daughter alone, she kept thinking about all the times Noah had said he wanted to name their future daughter Caroline. She had named her that without even thinking twice.

Noah had been right. Caroline had been just like Rachel. She was so talented, even as a baby. Rachel knew that she would be a star one day.

But then she died. Rachel had replayed the accident over and over in her head, trying to figure out what she could have done differently.

The truck had come out of nowhere. It was almost like it had been gunning for their car. Rachel knew that was silly, but she had thought that since the accident. What if someone had tried to kill her? What if someone had murdered her baby?

It was as if death was surrounding her now. She had left Philadelphia to escape death, but it had followed her to Lima. Was every woman in town now at risk because she was here, bringing her cursed self with her?

Rachel shook her head, knowing she was being ridiculous. She put her head in her hands, telling herself to think rational, not noticing the pair of eyes staring at her through her bedroom window.