Chapter 10:

Santana's POV:

As I watched her sleep, I thought about the first moment I saw her. She walked into the kitchen of Bev's rental; I looked up and thought she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. One of my closest friends was dead up the stairs and I was looking at this girl thinking about how hot she was and then she spoke and that voice almost did me in. By the time she scolded me about making fun of her hometown, I was already done for. What the hell was wrong with me? That's all I could think about as she drove me to that terrible bed and breakfast. Beverly was dead. She wasn't just dead. She'd been murdered and even though I knew things weren't going anywhere with us, she was still my friend and she was gone. My thoughts kept drifting between the two things. My friend was dead. This girl is amazing. Then, the third thought crept in and I got scared. What if Quinn was right? What if this guy was coming after me next? I needed to get out of town. I could help from New York. I watched her breathe in and out slowly. The blanket had fallen slightly so I reached over and pulled it up making sure not to wake her.

What had this girl done to me? I was willing to risk my life just to spend more time with her and I almost changed my flight again so I could have one more night of this. The sex was amazing, but this was… Just staring at her, just watching her sleep her worries away was enough. That's never been enough for me.

I rolled over on my back and thought about too many things all at once. This whole thing was a lot to deal with. I'd have to go to Bev's funeral and see her parents. I knew they'd ask me questions and I had no idea how I would answer them. Then, there was work. Technically, I was supposed to be in the studio next week. I was working with a new artist on her album and then I would maybe go to Toronto to work on a movie in November. It was a small part, but it could be the beginning of something. And then there was Quinn. I looked over at her again. I thought about her working on this case and it scared me. I wanted to ask her to leave with me again. Let someone else handle this case. The roided up tall woman seemed eager to have her name in the news. She could figure it out while Quinn and I were sipping on cosmos in a Manhattan club. I didn't even know if she likes cosmos.

I stared up at the ceiling. The truth was that I didn't know that much about her. What I did know made me just want to hold her forever. The way her mom treated her tonight, there was no way I'd just walk away and not say something. I didn't care if it was my place. I've always been good at overstepping. It's a thing that I do. That bitch deserved it. Her dad deserved it too, but Quinn interrupted me getting my yell on.

She was right though. She can take care of herself. She's been doing it forever. I think that's one of the things I like about her. Some of my past relationships weren't exactly give and take. It was more they took and I gave. Quinn was different though. She can stand on her own two feet. That can be a good thing, but it can also be something that bites me in the ass. She has this life here and she has this plan. I didn't know if I could fit in anywhere.

It was with that thought that I finally fell asleep. I woke up before her and quietly shoved my stuff into my bags. I called a cab from the living room since my rental car was still technically a part of a crime scene and silently opened the front door. I made sure to leave a note, but I couldn't say goodbye to her face. It had only been a few days, but the thought of saying goodbye to her was too much to handle in addition to everything else.

When the door to the plane was closing, I got a text message and checked it quickly before the flight attendant walked past.

Quinn: I wish you would have said goodbye, but I understand. Text me when you land, okay?

After the coast was clear, I responded not wanting to make her wait after basically ditching her this morning while she was asleep. I told her I'd call when I landed and turned my phone off. It wasn't exactly required anymore, but I could use a moment without it. Just as I was closing my eyes to try to get some rest, I felt a nudge on my shoulder. I opened my eyes and turned to see a girl in the aisle across from me looking over.

"You're her, aren't you?" She was smiling.

"Yeah, I'm her." I'd given up denying it a long time ago.

"Cool. I thought so. Could you sign this for me?" She passed me a magazine I was on the cover of. "I'm a huge fan. I've been to 3 of your shows. I drove to Chicago to see one when I lived in Kentucky."

"Wow! Thanks, I appreciate it." I tried to mean it. I signed my name on the cover with her pen and passed the magazine back.

"Who's your new girlfriend? I didn't recognize her from the pictures. I saw on Perez her name is Quinn. You guys were at a party last night."

Shit.

"She's not my girlfriend. Just a friend."

"Oh sorry, you were dancing together so I just assumed."

"She's just a friend." I repeated and closed my eyes. I knew I was being a bitch to a fan, but I wasn't in the mood and now I'd have to deal with Bev's death, family and funeral and gossip about Quinn.

When I got off the plane, I rushed toward baggage claim where I knew my driver would be waiting. I had a hat I threw on to try to go incognito while I moved though the crowd of people at JFK. I took my phone out and sent Quinn a quick text letting her know I'd landed and that I'd call as soon as I got in the car.

15 minutes later I was walking outside with the driver dragging my luggage and I saw them through the window. I braced myself as the doors opened and I walked out.

"Santana! Santana!"

"What happened to Beverly? How do you feel?"

"Who were you dancing with at the party?"

"Who is Quinn Fabray?"

"Are you two a couple? What did Beverly think?"

"Did you cheat on Beverly with Quinn?"

All the questions were shouted at me as I kept my head down and walked to the town car. When I was finally safe inside, I saw the flashes of the cameras through the tinted glass and reached for my phone.

I wished I were famous back in Marilyn's day for a minute. At least then, there was no Internet, no smartphones or gossip blogs. They'd been talking about Bev and I for the past few months. They pretty much just assumed we were a couple. She and I used to laugh about it. We thought it was funny that there were articles about how we were engaged and she was having my love child. I'm going to miss those times the most. The laughing and talking we used to do when we were actually in the same city or even just on the phone. That's the stuff I'll miss.

"Hey, you landed okay?" She asked without even saying hello when she picked up.

"Yeah, I was just greeted by a swarm of press. I'm sorry, Quinn. I shouldn't have gone last night. You were right. They're all over this story about you and me and Bev. Asking questions about if we're all in some kind of love triangle."

"What?"

"Yeah, it's dumb. I'll have my publicist put out a statement saying you and I are just friends and you never met Bev. Then, she'll do something crafty where she turns the story into something else because that's what I pay her for."

"San-"

"I know. You didn't sign up for this and I hope they're not like stalking you while you're working today. I'll take care-"
"Santana, he killed another girl."

I was silent for a moment. Shock swept over me. I could hear noise on her end of the phone, but I wasn't really paying attention when I was blabbing on about some stupid rumor.

"Who?" I asked while trying not to focus on how happy I was that it wasn't me.

"Mercedes Jones."

"What? She was at the party last night." I had met Mercedes a couple of times. She was in Dreamgirls on Broadway and I'd been to the show and met her after and then hung out with the cast another night.

"Yeah, I know. I saw her, but I wasn't worried about her. She didn't seem to fit the type, but I was wrong. His type isn't about race or hair color or body type or age like most killers. He's going for talent."

I thought about what she was saying for a second.

"No Q, he's going for success. Fame."

"Huh?" She appeared to be distracted.

"There are a lot of talented people out there. He's not just going for talent. He's killing women that are successful with theirs'."

"Yeah, I guess." She told me and then yelled at someone there. "San, I've gotta go. I'm glad you got there safe. I'll try to call you later."

"Wait, Quinn."

"Yeah?"

"Just be careful, okay?"

"I will. Gotta go."

And she was gone. It took another 45 minutes before I got to my apartment. The entire way there, I was scrolling through my phone looking for stories on the murders. I could only find brief mentions at first, but after about 15 minutes, more and more details started popping up. Nothing was descriptive about what actually happened to her. Just the fact that she was the most recent victim of the serial killer and that the authorities have no suspects.

When I got home, I plopped myself down on my comfy sofa. It had been so long since I'd actually been here; I'd forgotten what my place looked like. It seemed like a lifetime ago since I'd just sat around and watched a movie or worked on writing some songs for a new album.

After a shower to get me to not smell like airport, I stared at my phone for a while before finally getting up the courage to call Bev's parents. The police had notified them and I was sure they'd probably heard about it from the media before that, which was terrible. I'd been delaying talking to them because I had no idea what to say, but it was time to put my big girl pants on and make the call.

"Hello?" I heard the quiet greeting of a woman's voice.

"Mrs. Thomas?"

"We have no comment."

"Oh no, this isn't… I'm not press. It's Santana. Santana Lopez."

"Oh, Santana! Are you okay? We wanted to call, but we didn't have your number?"

"I'm fine. I'm so sorry. I wanted to call you too, but the police wanted to notify you and…" Just say it, I told myself. "And I didn't know what to say. I'm just-"

"Santana, you don't have to say anything. I appreciate you calling. We're glad you're okay. They told us you found…" She started to sniffle and I could tell she had been crying. "That you found her."

I started to well up myself hearing her like that.

"I did."

"They wouldn't tell us how she was. Was she…? Her father went to identify the bo-" She started to cry softly. "They covered her up, but he said that her hair- They told us to have a closed casket."

"You don't want to think about her like that. Just remember her how she was."

"I just don't know what to do. She was so young." She was crying harder now.

I wiped a tear off my cheek.

"I know."

"Will you be at the funeral? Her father and I thought maybe you could say something. Her brother said he'd give the eulogy, but maybe just something short." I could tell she was trying to calm herself down.

"Of course. Whatever you need."

"And I know she would want you to find someone and be happy, Santana. She would want that for you."

"I'm sorry…" Maybe I heard her wrong.

"She told us about you two." She took a deep breath. "She said you were dating."

"She told you about that?"

"She said she didn't know if she was gay, but that she liked you. She said you two had started something." She let that deep breath out. "We didn't take it well and we'll have to live with that." Sniffle. "But I'm glad she had someone when… it happened. And I know you cared about her."

"I did. I cared about her a lot." And then I slept with someone else a few days after she was murdered.

"Santana, I have to go. We have to go to the funeral home and make arrangements." She was trying to get me off the phone so she could cry.

"Okay. If you need anything, please just let me know."

She hung up without saying goodbye. I hung up, went to my bed and cried for my friend, for her family, for the other women who'd been killed, and what tears I had left over, I let out for me.