I would totally love for Sue to be part of the FBI, but since I went canon, I don't think I can make it happen, but now I am thinking of a way to get her back into the story. Sue is a favorite of mine to write for. :D
As for the hat, I know! Ahhhhh! Ladykiller is forced to wear the beanie, but its Brittany S. Pierce so if anyone can rock that hat, it's her. Never fear.
Continuing…
Sirens
Chapter 14
"What do you think they're talking about in there?" The new girl Puck claimed earlier in the week leaned casually against the side of the desk. She ran a hand through her layered chestnut hair and pressed closer to the blonde only a foot away. "How long do you think they're going to be in there? I heard the moment the FBI arrived, the chief just brought them straight into his office and they've been talking ever since."
Britt took a long drag of her cigarette and tapped it against the side of Puck's desk. The discarded ash drifted aimlessly through the air and collected on the carpet. She may have been the cause of a small burnt mark on the wood finish as well, but Puck didn't need to know that.
Some time in between the shooting range and their walk upstairs to the department, Brittany had once again placed the yellow beanie on her head. It covered most of her head except for the places where the knitting had been stretched up and one could glimpse her blonde hair. Even though the beanie looked so out of place compared to the P.I.'s dark slacks, white button-up, and tie, Brittany still managed to appear both nonchalant and intimidating at the same time.
New Girl had a name.
Not that Brittany could remember it at the moment.
The tall P.I.'s eyes narrowed at the blinds that had been shut before she had come back to the department and the closed door concealing the FBI and Mack. A small puff of smoke leaked from the corner of her mouth. Smirking, Britt's body subtly moved in that way which invited New Girl to come closer. Communication was only partially verbal and Brittany had always been more comfortable in the physical form any way. The blonde's baby blues lit up as New Girl took the invitation and inched closer. "Dunno. Did you see what the FBI looked like and how many there were?"
"No…" The girl reached out and took a hold of Brittany's cigarette. She flashed the blonde a very readable expression under those lidded lashes. Again, the blonde smirked. Holding Britt's eyes captive, the girl took an equally long drag before she delicately held the cigarette back out for Brittany to take. Unable to help herself, Britt bit her bottom lip as she received the used smoke. "No one even knew who they were until after they walked into the chief's office. The moment the door shut, Ricky came out from behind the desk and told everyone. He was the one who had to check their IDs and clearance. So it's legit."
The girl had heard all sorts of things about the P.I. since the Strangler case started. She had only worked here for a few weeks and even before the blonde had first stepped into the precinct, she had heard some of the guys and occasionally one or two of the girls talk about the blue-eyed P.I. From the first time Brittany had winked at her, New Girl had wanted to at least know the reasons why half the department had gotten tangled up with her. This close to Brittany and sharing a smoke, she totally understood why.
"Hmm…" Brittany breathed out another puff of smoke, watching Mack's office like it would open at any moment.
"The hell are you doing, Britt?" Puck's voice sounded from a few feet behind her. Brittany didn't even turn around. She continued to smoke her cigarette with that cocky smile.
The detective sprinted to his desk and grabbed the cigarette out of her hand. He rubbed it out on the side of his trashcan and threw it in with exasperation. "Come on, Brittany! You know this is a government building! This isn't the 1960s. You can't just light up anywhere you want! There are sanctions and laws and all sorts of reasons why you can't just smoke in here! There's a smoking area right outside if you need it that bad."
Whether Brittany cared about the "laws" or the "sanctions" regarding smoking was debatable, but she did turn towards him. Her right hand pulled at the yellow knitted hat on her head as if it were made of the finest material and custom fitted for her head. The knitting stretched, but did give a little to cover another half inch of her forehead. "And I care why?"
New Girl giggled at Brittany's glib question.
Puck hadn't noticed her next to the blonde. The man blushed as he realized she was staring at him with those big doe eyes. The detective ran a hand over his buzz cut. "I-um- hey, Cassandra, I didn't see you there."
Not wanting to completely dismantle his manly charm, Brittany resisted, with great difficulty, the urge to roll her eyes at Puck's terrible game.
"Did they come out yet?" Low and sultry, Santana's voice threaded between the three gathered around Puck's desk. The clicking of her heels slowed until she too joined the party gathering. After the shooting range, she had excused herself to take another call from her boss about some contract or deal out in California.
"No, not yet." New Girl instantly piped up until she met with one threatening and dark look from the lawyer. Without saying a word, Santana's brow raised in a challenge towards the younger woman. Only Puck witnessed the exchange and he felt bad for Cassandra. He really did. And no matter how badly he had wanted to hit on her, it was almost a relief when she walked away. Better for her health. Santana did just learn-ish how to shoot a gun. Brittany's back remained turned towards the exchange although she too could sense the heat in the air. When she saw New Girl walking away, Brittany smirked and tugged her yellow beanie in the girl's direction.
"See ya 'round, New Girl." Brittany said. The woman turned with a hesitant smile, which dissipated as she caught sight of Santana right behind Brittany. Santana had mastered the stare down long ago and showed no qualms using it liberally. Quickly, she gathered some paperwork and began to sort it out four desks away.
"Is this normal for Macklin to be talking to them in private for so long?" Santana asked. She moved around Puckerman's desk to where New Girl had vacated. Three sets of eyes glanced towards the shut off office.
"No idea, Tan. We've never really had to call them in for something like this. Occasionally some cold cases will get looked at or an agent will come in for a background check on a former officer. Once we had a profiler come in, but nothing of this magnitude." Puck rubbed his head again.
"Stop rubbing your head like that." Santana reached behind Brittany's back to swat at Puck's hand. Puck flinched a little. "You're going to go bald and trust me; you need all the help you can get in the looks department if you want to keep up with Brittany stealing all the girls in the office."
Puck froze to the spot. He gave the two women the side-eye. Unsure if that was a jab at him or Brittany for shamelessly flirting with Cassandra. Puck shot her a half grin. His eyes darted to Brittany's face, but the blonde's expression hadn't changed. Yet something in the way Santana's own dark eyes casually grazed over Britt's face made Puck wonder if they were communicating on a whole different level. The detective rubbed his hand over his head again.
Smack!
"Ow!"
"I think she told you to stop." This time it was Brittany who slapped his arm down. The P.I.'s perfectly sculpted brow rose, but he could see amusement dancing in her eyes. And in his periphery, Santana's lush lips had tugged to the side matching the light heartedness of their play. "Besides, it's no fun competing if you aren't any competition and, Puck, you really do need all the help you can get."
Rolling his eyes, Puck groaned. At least he wasn't between the two of them or he'd probably have bruises. He leaned into Brittany and whispered. "Just to remind you, I called dibs on Cassandra about a week ago so back off."
"Ha!" Britt laughed. "Can't help it if New Girl dibs me, Puck. Better luck next time."
"Fucking ladykiller…" A distinct mumbling noise could be heard as Puck rubbed his head for the third time. This time he flinched before the blows even came. Both women lashed out at the same time. Even with his training, the detective doubted he would be able to deduce which one of them had punched him and which one had slapped his forearm. They were now glaring at him, hands raised menacingly ready to strike again. Slowly, Puck lowered his own hand from his head to his lap hoping to avoid more damage.
These women would be the death of him.
The three settled back into their original positions to watch the office and leaned against Puck's desk for a minute in silence. Each with their own thoughts and musing, but all related to the case in some manner and yet, each held lingering thoughts of their own personal relationships in the back of their minds.
Some time spent in the field would be a welcome reprieve from all their personal shit. Puck looked down at his watch. "I've got some leads to take care of at the hotel. I promise I will find out how that fucker got into your stuff, Tan."
"Puck…" Santana pushed off the desk so she could see around Brittany's body to face her old friend. "It wasn't your fault. You know that, right?"
He shook his head and almost reached up to run his hand over it again, but stopped. He looked like a dog right before it's scolded as he lowered his hand before it made contact. "I know. I just need to figure this shit out. For you. For the chief. He put me on this detail. And for Rachel. It could, you know, lead to something bigger. I'll be in touch. Definitely call me before you crash another cruiser. If you need one, the secretary still has the keys to that beat-up thing you can drive."
Right as he turned to leave, Puck paused. "I'd ask you about your lead from last night, but I assume you'll play it close to the vest." There was such sincerity and honesty in his words, but Santana saw more – worry, regret, and fear. "Just promise me you two will be smart and safe."
Before Santana could respond, Britt finally turned from staring at Macklin's office. She touched the front part of her yellow knitted beanie and spoke. "I'll keep her safe."
Agitated at the exchange, Santana's tongue clicked against the inside of her cheek. "I can take care of myself."
"I know." Brittany said without a moment's hesitation.
And Santana believed her.
"Hey!" Santana wanted to break the tension between them. Puck froze again and thought maybe his hands had been on his head again. They were still at his side. What could he had done now? "We didn't dismiss you yet."
"What?"
Brittany cocked her head for a second, but it didn't take long before the blonde figured out Santana's game. Smoothly, she inserted herself into the conversation. "Oh yeah…"
"Oh yeah? What?" Even more confused.
"You forgot to tell us about your date last night. I mean it sounded pretty kinky with the badge thing and you not wanting to give it up. We didn't even get her name." Santana continued to tease.
"It was good." Puck mumbled, about to rub his head again.
"So you admit it was a date then?" Brittany asked with a devious smirk.
For some reason Noah felt like he was in high school again. They may have been the sweetest girls with each other, but they could be nasty when they teamed up.
"Well-yeah-I-it was good. Why all the questions?"
"Just wondering. I mean, we can be curious. What's her name?" Santana pressed.
"Why? Why do you need her name?" Puck definitely felt like he was back in high school again. Refusing to answer Santana's question would mean endless harassment and ridicule. "Her name's Jocelyn…"
"Jocelyn…" Brittany purred. "I've known a few Jocelyns…"
"I'm sure you have, Britt." Santana broke the predatory gaze on Puck for a half second. A flash of jealousy reared its ugly head as the brunette remembered how easily Brittany had slipped from girl to girl at the club last night. The way her body had been pressed against woman after woman on the dance floor.
"Yes, well you don't know this one and never will." Puck's eyes were jumping from Britt to Santana.
"You ended it already?" Brittany smirked. "Good for you."
"What? No!" Shaking his head. "I kinda like her so I don't want you – either of you – to meet her."
"Ouch." Santana hissed playfully.
"Well when she gets bored with you, you can send her our way." Brittany winked and sent both women cackling.
High school. Just like high school. Puck muttered to himself as he stuffed his Columbus Blue Jackets cap down his head and walked away.
A few of the desk jockeys and even New Girl glanced their way.
"Ready to go?" Santana asked.
"Go where?" Britt's eyes glanced back to Macklin's office.
"To follow our lead, of course. We can deal with the feds later."
Brittany felt her phone silently buzz in her pocket. The PI glanced down to see a message from Macklin. Her blue eyes glanced up to the office, but it didn't appear as if the blinds had been disturbed or that it would be opening up anytime soon. She opened it:
Hat off
"Again? How the hell-?" The blonde glanced back up to the office. How did he know? Obstinately, Brittany shoved the yellow beanie further down her forehead in the direction of the chief's office. Who knew Macklin could even text? "Let's get out of here."
Fucking Macklin.
Puck entered the hotel lobby where Santana had been staying for what he wanted to believe was the last time. The poor desk boy who had first received the message for Santana and had led them up to the already tampered room fidgeted behind the desk. Obviously he recognized the detective. Puckerman flashed him a toothy smile. The young man flashed him a hesitant wave back. The hotel manager stepped between them with a great big grin on his face and opened arms.
"I see the police department is back. At least, you're not wearing a uniform like the rest of them here earlier. You know how these high rolling clientele get. They see the boys in blue and automatically think something's been stolen or someone's been killed so then they start booking reservations elsewhere and it's this whole hassle." The man said as he led Puckerman by the shoulders towards an employee only entrance. "So you see, I appreciate your dedication to protecting my patrons, I just wish all of you would come in coats and baseball hats. It makes you look like couriers."
"Sorry to inconvenience you." Puck said with a distasteful tone. "You do realize that there were threats from a high profile serial killer given to one of your patrons. Without us, we could be doing a lot more PR work than a few of our people taking prints and samples from one of your many rooms."
"Yes, yes, yes, I know what you're saying. Still it wouldn't hurt to get rid of the uniform while in a private business." Puck's words were lost of the hotel manager. The detective kept his mouth shut. "Now, I've already had a talk with our chain's lawyers and the boys in Chicago and they've assured me that I can allow you to go through our tapes and see if anything is amiss, which I can tell you already, there isn't because I have none of that tomfoolery in my hotel."
Tomfoolery? Who was this guy?
Puck opened his mouth to explain this wasn't "tomfoolery," but that a serious and deadly killer was setting his sights on one of his best friends. The hotel manager led him to the security office and opened the door. An older man, in his early fifties sat at the desk with radio to his mouth talking to some other guards scattered throughout the massive hotel.
"Just make sure those kids don't steal all the towels from that cart on level nine and watch out for the shady guy in the lobby. I don't like his look." The security officer turned in his swivel chair to face the detective and his boss. Upon seeing the manager, he lowered the radio with suspicion in his eyes. "What can I do for you two?"
"Now I told you this would be happening…" The manager switched to a threatening tone and tried to stare down the older man. The security guard opened his mouth, but chose to remain silent. "This is a detective from the police department. I need you to give him your full cooperation because I don't want them around here anymore."
With that the manager was gone.
"Charming." Puck said with a smirk. The older man rolled his eyes, but offered Puck a small smile.
"Yeah, that's a good word for the little fucker."
The radio cracked. "You still got us on and yeah that guy's a total douche bag."
That must have been the other guard. This time they both shared a laugh before the older man turned the knob down on his radio. He motioned to a chair to his right. Taking the gesture as a sign of good will, Noah took a seat next to him so they could face the monitors together.
"Detective Noah Puckerman." He offered his hand.
"Bill." The other man took the hand. "You're here about the room with that girl who's your friend?"
"Yeah…how'd you know we were friends?" Puck asked.
"Saw it on the camera when you two walked in. It's hard to miss a pretty girl like that. Those are the ones I have no trouble remembering." Bill's smile was anything but predatory. Just a man admiring a good looking woman – something Puck could relate to. "I've already got the video of her room from that night. I'll give it to you, but I have to tell you honestly, there's nothing there. A few people in the hallway, but no one went in except for the woman and you."
Puck took the usb from the guard's hand. "Thanks. We'll still go over it at the lab. We got some of the best guys in the field. You'd be surprised what we can find with something as simple as this."
"I expect nothing else."
"I have some routine questions." Puck pulled out his pad. "Anyone else have access to this room besides the guards and the manager?"
"Some of the cleaning staff so they can get in."
"Is there always someone in here manning the room?"
"No. We occasionally are needed elsewhere. There are only two of us on at any shift, but sometimes we're needed."
"Anytime yesterday?"
"A few times."
"Anyone stick out to you as particularly suspicious the past few days?"
"Except the man in the lobby right now? No. And he's nothing. Just a man who likes to leer without the courtesy of making it subtle."
"I see." Puck frowned. He had wanted more, but this was just another dead end. Puck restrained himself from showing his frustration. "I'll get this back to you as soon as possible and I'm sure we will be in touch."
Bill waited for a few seconds as Puck was turning his back before saying. "I know my boss is a dick, but I swear if I knew anything about that woman's room, I would tell you. It just isn't right and I'm sure I've only been told half of it."
"Again, thank you." Noah nodded before he shut the door and made his way to the elevator. His heavy heart already trying to contain the blow this made to their case. Still nothing substantial. Nothing to even give them a clue where to look next. Now with the FBI all over the case, Puck couldn't even beginning to wonder what conclusions they would make or how they would handle the case.
He flipped the usb in his hand. Maybe just maybe it would have something they could use.
Santana had decided to take the keys to Ronny, the department's joke of a vehicle. Apparently, Brittany and Macklin's secretary weren't exactly on the best of terms. While Brittany had been trying to find something around Puck's desk, Santana and the secretary had an interesting conversation concerning the tall, blonde, and drop-dead gorgeous PI. Not that long ago, Mack's secretary spent a good three days solid typing out memos for the chief concerning Brittany S. Pierce, PI. After typing the PI's name four hundred times, she had really acquired a distaste for the girl, but she did invite Santana to come over to her desk any time.
The moment Santana had acquired the keys from the secretary, Brittany strolled over and plucked them from the brunette's hand. Tilting her head, Santana watched as the blonde walked through the department, clearly intending for Santana to follow her. They didn't speak in the car ride and this time Santana didn't protest when Britt turned on the radio. "You already know where we're going? Sharon only gave us that Lindsey girl's number last night."
Besides getting plastered and fighting, they had talked to the owner of the night club to figure out why Rachel had been carrying around a matchbook with a girl's number on it. Sharon, the owner, had told them the signature and number belonged to a former waitress who used to work the tables at Reckloose. Sharon had been able to provide them with a current phone number for Lindsey Rowan.
"Talked to Lindsey this morning." Britt said not turning to look at Santana. She could already feel the Latina simmering. They had made a tentative truce after this morning. Besides, Britt couldn't remember the last time she had ever been frightened of Santana. That had been new and…shocking. The look in Santana's eyes – the blonde had seen it before when they were still kids in high school. Last night had definitely been a bad idea. She knew when Santana was on edge with her feelings.
In some ways, Britt felt comforted by the fact that she wasn't alone in her confusion. In other ways, she didn't want to lose whatever relationship they were establishing even if it was weak at best.
"I see." Santana's response spoke volumes.
Britt knew she was still in hot water with Santana and calling Lindsey had been the wrong move to make.
"I'm sorry about the gun thing." Santana spoke softly into the window. It was hard for her to admit when she was wrong.
Grunting in response, Brittany felt the urge to light another cigarette, but refrained. "I deserved it."
Pause.
Silence.
A deep breath.
"No, you didn't."
"Can I be sorry I wasn't there when you got another note?"
"Not your place to be sorry."
"But I still am."
The rest of the trip was spent in silence.
Puck wanted to waste no time with the video. He just couldn't believe the security camera caught nothing. But before he left, he wanted to make sure he was doing the thorough job the chief insisted the department do. Something made him want to question the hotel receptionist again. As he approached the desk, he could already feel the man tensing up, but Puck flashed him a reassuring smile along with his badge; as if he could have already forgotten who Puckerman was.
"Hi again, detective." The younger man offered. He couldn't be much older than nineteen; probably just out of high school. "Can I help you with something else?"
"Yes, actually. "Puck flashed him another smile. "I know you don't want to be bothered and you definitely don't want to bring your boss around anymore than necessary, but I think you could really help my investigation."
"Yeah sure as long as my boss doesn't see me talking to you." The boy glanced around nervously again.
"Is he hiding anything?" Puck asked.
"No, nothing like that. He's just weird about image and police don't make a good image."
"Yeah, I understand." Puck brushed it off. "Look I know you see things even the security cameras don't and since you were the one to take the phone message for Ms. Lopez, I'm sure you've been just a little skittish and maybe cautious. I know when we feel uneasy like that, we can be extra observant. Do you remember anything suspicious or strange the past day or so that wouldn't normally trigger you?"
"Look, Detective Puckerman, there hasn't been anything. I put two and two together when I saw that woman on TV and the way the police and have been in and out of the hotel. Obviously whatever message I took for her caused all sorts of problems and she tipped pretty well so I didn't mean for anything to happen. I was just doing my job."
"Whoa, son, calm down. I'm not investigating you. I swear. I just want to know your inside opinion. Has anyone been particularly interested in Ms. Lopez since her arrival? Staff? Guards? Other guests? Phone calls? Or I don't know…admirers?"
Finally settling down, the boy glanced around with a half-cocky nervous smile. "I mean, everyone here admired her cause you know…"
"Trust me. I know." Puck rolled his eyes. "But come on, anyone showing an interest to more than just her fine ass?"
"Well there has been some interest ever since those cameras caught sight of her on the TV with that whole dead girl thing."
"What do ya mean?"
"I mean, I guess some news channels must have found out where she was staying because I've seen a couple of those reporters vans around the block from different stations. A few of those reporters even tried to find out some more stuff about her so they've come to the main desk here." The boy glanced around again. "Our boss told us to tell them we had no comment or anything, you know like they do in the movies and to say we didn't even know who Ms. Lopez was. So that way they wouldn't be trying to find her. But she didn't return anyways so it wasn't a big deal. You've been here and the police teams, but the first time she's been back here was this morning with you so no one's even seen her here."
Reporting vans stalking Santana and his date had been a reporter.
Puck nodded. His mind was already connecting dots. When he had had drinks with Jocelyn, that reporter, maybe she had been doing that to get him away from the hotel and Santana so somehow someone could find a way to interview her or something. Noah's teeth were grinding as he said his thanks to the young man and walked away.
His fingers were already fumbling for the phone in his pocket before he could completely think through why he was mad at Jocelyn. Good thing he had taken Jocelyn's number last night after he had dropped her off at her apartment.
"Detective?" She asked pleasantly and obviously surprised. "I wasn't expecting a call so soon. You really do keep a girl guessing."
Annoyed, Noah felt betrayed she had used his trust and loneliness against him to get time to stalk his best friend. "Do you know anything about Ms. Lopez?"
The phone went silent. Puck could hear the gears grinding in her head as she tried to string together a response. "You mean the woman at the crime scene?" Another pause. Confused, the woman continued. "I thought you said this date thing wouldn't involve work at all?"
Impatient, Puck didn't want to play games. "What do you know about her?"
"Okay…" The reporter drew out her word finally realizing that this was an attack. The detective wasn't joking. "I did look your girl up after we got done with the small interview at the crime scene. I found out she wasn't an investigator, but some hot shot lawyer from California. Initially, I thought she was your girlfriend and that's why she was at the scene, but I also found some articles talking about how she worked on some equality cases out in California as well. She's a lesbian. I dug further and found out she was part of the original Strangler case, but left after the case got cold. One of her friends was killed back then."
Puck wanted to growl. He believed her, but that still didn't explain the news vans. "What were you doing stalking her at her hotel?"
"What?" Jocelyn bit back. "I haven't done anything of the sort. Is that what this is about? You think I'm harassing her? I haven't even seen her after that night. I thought this was going to be a no work relationship. So what's your problem?"
"There have been news vans outside of her hotel building the past few days."
"And you think I've been in them?" She scoffed. "For being a detective, you're doing a real bang up job of not checking your facts. I was with you last night, Noah, and I do work. I don't have time to spend sitting in a van. So how would I be stalking her?"
Simmering, Puck felt like an idiot for jumping to conclusions. His anger quickly morphed into realization that he had been a total ass. He had been looking for something to be wrong with her because last night had been too good. Nice, smart, sexy girls like Jocelyn didn't have time for guys like Puck – they had careers and high opinions of themselves. He had leapt to such ridiculous conclusions because he had wanted something to be wrong with her.
"Besides, there are other news stations and journalists trying to catch a big break on this case."
Stupid. His stomach bottomed out. That had been really stupid. She was right to chastise him.
"I-" Puck rubbed the top of his head. "Look, Jocelyn, I'm really sorry I jumped to conclusions. I'm a real fucking idiot."
He expected her to hang up the phone on him, but was surprised at the light laughter coming from the other side of the line. "It's fine. You are an idiot, but a protective one. I lied. I did a little more background on the two of you and I realized that you and your friend went to high school together. So I understand why you're so protective. It's actually kinda cute."
Red burst to his cheeks and he became suddenly aware that he was on the street surrounded by other people. People who could probably see just how hard he was blushing. He stammered.
"How about you make it up to me later with dinner? Bring that same line of questioning and see how far it gets you tonight." She made it sound like an order, a very suggestive order. Before Puck could agree or disagree, the reporter had already arranged time and when he would be picking her up. "Pick me up at seven and dress nice."
The phone went dead before he could say anything in response.
In disbelief, he looked down at the screen blinking end call with his mouth agape. He didn't just look like an idiot, he felt a fool.
"Damn women."
Britt parked the car in at some little coffee diner. It looked like an old mom and pop shop – reminded San of something she'd find in Lima. Nostalgia had a funny way of sneaking up. Her eyes glossed over the exterior. For a moment, the Latina allowed herself to think about her family, those friends, and everything she had on the east coast.
Even Breadstix.
A noise startled her. Her eyes glanced to the right. Brittany was standing outside her door and had casually opened it for Santana. Their eyes met. Each girl contemplated making a snarky remark, but after everything they had been through, they kept their mouths shut. Hesitating, Britt's mouth tugged at the edges and offered Santana a small smile before she turned back towards the diner. The smile still lingering on her lips, Santana reminded herself she was still sort of mad with Britt, but it was hard when she was wearing that ridiculous hat.
The diner wasn't overly crowded and Britt saw a younger woman sitting in the corner sipping at a cup of coffee. The woman nodded to them with a half-smile.
"You must be Detective Pierce." The woman said and stood up to offer a hand to the blonde.
"Yes, but you can call me Brittany and this is my partner-in-training, Santana." Brittany casually took the girl's offered hand and indicated to Santana. Her partner said nothing, but gave Britt a sideways glance. This wasn't the first time Brittany had impersonated a cop or a detective in this case. It made Santana wonder how many times Britt had done it before and if it was a common thing.
They took their seats.
The waitress brought over some more coffee for Lindsey and took food orders.
"Let's get down to business. We are conducting a few case studies in order to break in my newbie here and your name popped up in an unexpected way. So I was hoping you could help us out. It won't be much of a hassle and lunch can be on the city's dime." Brittany spoke smoothly. Her yellow beanie had already been removed. The long locks of her blonde hair wistfully clung to the sides of her face from the static. Even Santana believed Britt worked for the department. She had to do this all the time.
"I mean sure. Whatever I can do to help…" The girl said confidently, already feeling at ease.
"Do you know this woman?" Brittany pulled out a picture of Felicia Langan on her phone. Surprised, Santana sent Britt a questioning look, but the blonde ignored it. Why the hell would she have a picture of Felicia and why would she be showing it to this girl if the lead was for Rachel?
"No, sorry. I've never seen that woman in my life." Lindsey shook her head.
"Okay." Brittany nodded as if she had been expecting that answer. Her hands went back into her jacket and fished out a wallet from the inside pocket. Those long fingers lingered thoughtfully at the edges of the worn leather. Maybe because Santana had spent most of her life with those blue eyes sparkling without a care in the world, she recognized that deep pain when blue turned grey with regret and memories. Instantly, Santana thought of her own picture of Rachel. She didn't pull it out – ever. It was Rachel's senior year photo. In her own Berry fashion, she had somehow managed to work her way into Santana's friendship that last year of high school and promote herself at the same time. The girl's name had been signed at the bottom with a star next to it and a note of future friendship.
The creases across the middle of the picture spoke to how long Brittany had been carrying around that picture, but the worn edges at the corners of the picture drew Santana's eyes. Brittany had never given up.
She was still trying to make up for broken promises and their failure four years ago.
"Do you know this woman?" With great difficulty, Brittany managed to keep her voice even.
Recognition lit in Lindsey's face as she gingerly took the photo which meant she knew Rachel had died.
"Yes…" The girl whispered into the image as if recalling many memories. "Rachel…"
Both Santana and Brittany waited for a few moments.
"Can you tell me about your relationship with her?" Britt finally prompted.
"Sure." Shaking her head softly, the girl almost rolled her eyes. Both Brittany and Santana smiled, appreciating that Rachel seemed to have a similar effect on most people. "I was taking some classes at a community college while working at a couple different jobs. I was originally a theater major, but I had to drop out because of the money situation and I realized that I wasn't going to make any money anytime soon. So I started to work tables and rethink my education."
"I met Rachel at a bar for open mics. I still missed the theater so I liked to go and recite lines from plays and do a bit of readings. She flew into the place like a mad woman. I had never seen her before. And since she came by herself and sat in the corner, I assumed that she was new."
Ruefully, Lindsey shook her head. "She didn't realize it was one of those morose coffee shops. I finished my piece, a section from Middleton's Duchess of Malfi, and she took the stage. Acapella. Belting out some Broadway number and looking at us all like we should be singing and dancing with her. Most of us were shocked. After she realized the ultimately terrified looks in her audience's faces, she backed out of singing the rest of her twelve song set."
"I felt bad for her. So I gestured for her to sit with me before she left."
"Nice of you." Santana broke in unable to stop herself from making a jab at Rachel even from beyond the grave. She knew the diva would have appreciated it.
"I thought so." Lindsey smiled and handed the picture back to Brittany. "I kindly explained to her that despite the advertisement for an open mic, it was mostly just poetry and plays and stuff like that. She proceeded to lecture me on the importance of interdisciplinary collaborations with the arts and the importance of proper advertising. She was…"
"Overbearing?" Santana offered.
Lindsey smiled knowingly, but shook her head. "Fiercely sincere. I liked her and we chatted. I complimented her singing voice and she said she had never heard of the play I had spoken my lines from. We ended up talking quite a bit."
"Anything more than that?" Brittany asked. Her phone was already out before the girl could respond. "The reason your name came up in our study, we found this in Rachel's things."
Now Lindsey took the phone and stared very closely at it for a moment before handing it back. "I gave that to her that night. I used to work tables at Reckloose while I was taking some classes. I always had those things in my pockets and it was easy. She wanted my number because she needed help studying for her theater class. Apparently, and I believed it at the time, her teacher believed her acting felt forced and too grand. Even the simplest lines she would overact and say with such flourish it felt like a crescendo that never ended."
Santana cut in. "So you were helping her with her schooling, but what were you getting out of it?"
"I don't know. I was still a bit of a romantic and still enamored by the arts. We would always go to these places that thrived on that type of vibe to run lines and study. So in a way, Rachel helped to keep that spirit of the theater I loved so much alive."
"So you guys weren't…" Santana trailed off. "…you know. She wasn't swinging for the other team or anything like that?"
Now Lindsey laughed. "Oh my god, no. No! Oh! You thought because of the Reckloose thing that we were together? Ha! No. I worked there, but Sharon, my boss, knew I was completely straight. In fact, I always picked up the wrong guy and Rachel was pretty similar in that respect. We were always commiserating about how bad we were at choosing our guys."
"So you were straight and Rachel definitely wasn't hitting on the ladies?" Brittany felt the need to definitely clarify since that was the only real link they had from Rachel to Felicia.
"No, no ladies for her. Although she joked that she had some lesbian friends who would frequent Reckloose a lot, but Rachel never went there as a patron. A few times, she came over after a shift to pick me up for some study sessions or would drop me off from one before my shift started." Lindsey finished her coffee. "In fact, at the time there was this other guy hanging around at some of our study sessions. He was a total stud and they definitely had chemistry."
"Have his name?" Britt asked.
"Sorry. It's been so long. Funny how I can remember everything about her though." Lindsey's eyes shifted to the side of the jacket Brittany had put the picture in. "She was something special."
"That's what we've heard from everyone we've interviewed so far, Ms. Rowan." Brittany spoke with the same authority when she had introduced them. Santana recognized the tone as a means to escape the guilt and memories they both associated with Rachel's death.
The waitress returned with plates of food.
Lindsey waited until she had left to ask her next question. "I know you said this is only a case study, but I can't help to think this has something to do with all those murders taking place."
Brittany frowned into her plate and glanced towards Santana shaking her head. "If we are being perfectly honest, the reason we are running this case study is so we can compare the two cases. You have been incredibly insightful and helpful. The police department appreciates that you've taken this time to help us."
"Anything to help. I just wish it was more." Lindsey also frowned. "Rachel did a lot for me. I am working as a part-time instructor at a high school as a substitute and I've taken over their theater productions as a result of her not letting me give up the arts."
"No, you've already done a lot. It puts…" Santana was going to say something along the lines of their minds at ease that Rachel hadn't been a closet lesbian or that she had been connected directly to Felicia, but she remembered they had a cover to maintain. "…it closes up some loose ends with our investigation."
They started to eat a little more, but Santana couldn't contain her curiosity. Years of refusing to think about New York and Rachel and…Brittany hadn't helped or remotely worked. Perhaps it was time for a new tactic. She had to know. "Since we have lunch, why don't you talk about Rachel for a bit."
"Will this help?" Lindsey asked in earnest.
"Maybe not with our investigation, but it helps to talk about our loved ones. I think they can hear us." Brittany offered, surprised at what Santana had suggested. She tried to not betray Santana's trust, but she was unable to stop the way her eyes softened as she glanced sideways towards those dark eyes. Even if they were hooded.
"If you'd been studying and hanging out for so long, why did she still have this matchbook with your number in her purse?" Santana asked.
Lindsey smiled. "She said it felt like a movie scene or the beginning of an epic play and that she'd never gotten a number on a matchbook. She thought it was so dated and, I think the word she used was thespian. She wanted to keep it like that. So she would always pull it out and call me at a phone or a phone booth once. She thought it helped to put her into character. I told her maybe she was too dramatic to make it in drama."
"I'm sure she loved that."
"Absolutely!" Lindsey laughed. "It was like the biggest compliment I could have given her."
"Only probably made her head bigger." Santana laughed and wiped at a tear leaking from the corner of her eye.
"Yeah it did." The girl's head cocked to the side. "You two knew her, didn't you?"
Santana and Brittany exchanged looks before smiling softly and nodding in agreement. They continued the rest of the lunch laughing, reminiscing, and talking about Rachel. It felt good and at the same time reminded them why they were still hunting her killer.
"So when did you decide to call Lindsey?" Santana asked with the slightest hint of danger in her voice. The Latina's eyes were on the road. She had enough of Britt's driving for the day and decided to take the wheel after their lunch with Lindsey.
"Yea…" Britt said rubbing the back of her neck. Not knowing what to say, she trailed off hoping Santana would drop the questions before they got into another fight. It was far easier to continue rubbing the back of her neck and ignore the Latina. She must have slept awkwardly last night.
"Couldn't have even waited for me?"
"I had the time and I didn't know where you were this morning." Britt quickly responded.
A slight blush crept up Santana's cheeks. Right, Brittany didn't know that Santana had been crashing on the blonde's bed this morning. She contemplated telling her, but it would lead to more questions and maybe rehashing their fight from the club. And for the moment, they had an uneasy truce.
Britt had backed off.
They were staring at each other for uncomfortable amounts of time, no winking, no head nods, and no alcohol. So far so good.
It was everything Santana had asked for and yet…
She had a hard time resisting the urge to glance over at Brittany and she could still feel it. That stupid fucking energy or whatever they shared – it was still there.
"Still, I thought we were working together, partner." No way would she let Britt get out of this – no matter what crazy feelings she was dealing with. Brittany had totally cut her out on Sharon's lead.
"Mad?" Brittany asked, even though they both knew the answer. "Going to pull a gun on me again?"
Now the slight tinge in her cheeks began to fully burn. She mumbled into the steering wheel. "I already apologized for that."
"No, please, no apologies. I wouldn't want you to get upset with me again."
Santana finally turned to face the blonde, ready to apologize for the tenth time, but she stopped. Brittany's eyes were already sparkling and aimed at her. Santana hadn't been prepared. Obviously Britt was teasing. Now the glittering light caught in those baby blues; it had been a long time since she thought about how just how blue Brittany's eyes really were.
Shit.
She needed to stop this.
"It won't be a gun next time." Santana inwardly groaned even as she smirked with the words. She really needed to stop, but keeping Brittany at a distance was proving harder than she originally intended. Focus. "You're changing the subject."
Playful. "Which was?"
"Being my partner…" Santana said the word, making sure to turn back to the windshield. "I don't want to keep getting cut out of your plans."
Brittany sat back in her seat with a soft smile on her face. "And what do I get in exchange?"
"Are you seriously making this a deal right now? There is no negotiation, Britt. I'm your partner so therefore I should be part of these decisions."
"Technically, I'm a one woman show. I haven't had a partner since-" She cut herself off before completing that sentence, but quickly recovered. "-for a long time. So I feel as if I give you something I should have to get something in return. It's called compromise. You do make deals, right? I've watched enough Law and Order to know there's deal making even with the hot, stuck-up attorney…"
Santana's grinding teeth could be heard. Brittany didn't dare to chance a glance at the other woman in the car. Her cheeks were fully inflamed now. "Really? You really wanna go there?"
Finally, Brittany turned to make eye contact. The playfulness was gone. It startled Santana, as she had been expecting this to be more playful banter between the two of them. Unsure how to proceed, Santana wanted to go the safest route and flat out deny Brittany, but she couldn't. "What would I have to give you in return for being your partner?"
Contemplating how to proceed, Brittany realized this was her last chance to not fuck things up with Santana. They could rectify last night's fiasco, but with new and different approaches. Obviously alcohol was a bad idea. Put on the spot, Brittany wanted to back-track and take back her offer so she could have more time to think about the best way to handle their uneasy truce. Instead, she spoke trying not to think, it always seemed to work around Santana. "Let's make it a favor."
Rolling her eyes, Santana turned back to the road. "A favor? Really? You want me to give you a free favor to just use anytime?"
"Don't you trust me?" Britt asked, already knowing the answer. In some ways, she had grown used to rejection. Santana had walked away from her at Chester's place and had pretty much told her time and time again that she wasn't worthy of trust. After last night, Brittany knew the answer would be 'no.'
"Yes."
Stunned, Brittany licked at her top lip as her heart pounded harder. She had not expected that. "Then I get a favor?"
"No."
"What?"
"Yes, to trusting you, but no, to the terms." Santana remembered Puck's words from their moment in Brittany's apartment. "You're low balling me."
"I'm pretty sure I'd know if I was low-balling you." Brittany said with a smirk.
"It definitely doesn't mean whatever you're thinking, perv." Again, Santana rolled her eyes and playfully made a swat at Brittany's arm. "I mean, you're cheating me out. I'm definitely worth a lot more than you bestowing the title of partner on me. I want more than the title."
"Excuse me?" Britt's heart stopped. Was Santana asking to be her like partner again?
"I want my case notes – all of them. No games or sewers or ducks or hard hats. Just the box, Brittany." Santana cleared her throat, but didn't turn towards Brittany. "I think a favor from me is definitely worth a box."
"Deal." Britt turned in her seat and held out her hand for Santana to shake. Their eyes met as she stopped the car at a red light. The brunette glanced from the glaring red light streaming through the front window to the seemingly harmless gesture from her former ex-lover. She couldn't help but smile at the irony as if the world outside was telling her to stop with that red light blanketing over them. Yet, Santana's eyes met Brittany's as their hands came together.
The light turned green – time to move forward. The car lurched as Santana's heel pressed on the gas pedal.
The police station seemed relatively unchanged from before. Apparently the FBI didn't flap its wings and blow its dragon breath to collapse the building, but there was something different in the air. Both women felt it. "Think the FBI solved the case already?"
Britt's lips pursed at the question. Had it been anyone else asking, she would have lashed out, but since they both had such a high stake in the result, Brittany could only wonder. Would she be happy if the case ended without their help at all? Would she finally be able to put Rachel to rest? Her bright eyes glanced to the right. Santana's hair hung perfectly around her face; she must have taken a shower this morning to wash off the sweat of the club. How long would it take her to get over Santana this time?
"Doubt they did anything special." Brittany finally answered out loud, unsure if she wanted to address her personal questions.
"Pierce!" Macklin's voice bellowed from his office. "Hat."
The yellow beanie disappeared into the inner pockets of the blonde's leather jacket. Static clinging wisps of blonde hair stuck to the sides of her face and even mingled with some of Santana's own long locks.
"Office. Both of you." Macklin called. Obliged, they made their way through the desks and the looks from the department's actual employees. Puck looked up from the seat in front of Macklin's desk with a soft smile.
"Hey."
"I see you're back up the Mackster's ass where you belong. How long have you been in here polishing his cheeks?" Brittany whispered quietly into the detective's ear as she plopped onto the seat next to him. Santana tucked her legs underneath her own chair and smoothed her skirt down.
"First thing is first. I realize everyone knows the FBI has arrived and while I am anxious for their help on the case, I know that including the two – three of you - into the investigation could be questioned since you were all so heavily invested in the last case." Macklin stroked at the only hair on his face as he sat down as well.
"The FBI would eventually like to speak to you, Miss Lopez, about the notes you've received so far. I have already debriefed them, but they are making a new profile for the Strangler." Andy waited for Santana's nod before proceeding. "But they've also mentioned they would first like to reexamine and create their own preliminary profile before talking to you in order to establish their first thoughts since they don't normally have someone to talk with about harassment in a case like this and live."
Britt's eyes snapped up from the plaque she had been toying with on Macklin's desk at the word live. "Hey, let's keep those comments to ourselves. Santana is fine and she's going to be fine."
"Of course-"Macklin stuttered realizing how insensitive his direct comments had been.
"Britt…" Puck warned under his breath.
"Everything's going to be okay and if the feds don't need us right now, we will be more than happy to stay out of their way while Santana continues to stay alive."
"I didn't mean it like-"
"B…" Santana said softly, finally interjecting. "It'll be fine. I'd rather have straight up then be surprised when - if I'm attacked. I want honesty."
"Fine." Britt crossed her arms willfully and sat back into her seat.
"May I continue, Pierce?" Macklin rhetorically asked with a bite. "But you don't have to talk to them right away. In fact, I am sending you away for a few days unless you two have any new information to share with us on the case that would prevent you from leaving, Santana?"
"What do you mean sending her away?" Puck asked.
Ignoring Puckerman, Mackling continued to talk directly to Santana. "I talked to your boss this morning on the phone. While I dislike the idea of sharing, especially on a case of this magnitude, I realize that you are on loan and we must maintain a good relationship with your firm. You're requested back in California for a few days. I have your ticket here. And, Santana…you don't have to come back."
He slid the ticket across his desk; Santana paused for a moment before lifting it up. Scrutinizing the ticket, she realized it was round trip. But Macklin didn't expect her to use it the second time. In fact, Santana was sure this had to do with Terry probably feeling guilty about the danger she was in now. It would be only be a few days, but this was a ploy to keep her out of harm's way. "You know I am coming back."
"I expect nothing less." But his eyes said differently. He turned back to Brittany. "Uncover anything I should be aware of?"
"Nothing substantial. A few dead ends." It sounded more like a personal failure. Brittany's eyes were darting across the ticket in Santana's hand. Would she really leave and not come back?
"And I already gave the footage of the hotel security cams to our guys to process and analysis, I'm hoping it can give us some kind of break." Puck said so no one would notice Brittany had just checked out. The man knew exactly what she was thinking. Would Santana leave for good again?
"So…" Macklin's frown grew deeper. "Back to square one. Hopefully these suits can get something moving. Puckerman, you can drive Ms. Lopez to the airport when you're ready."
Dismissed, the three left Macklin's office in an awkward silence. Puck paused at his desk to pick up a few folders of paperwork when he noticed Santana's suitcase leaning casually on the side of the desk. "Hey, Tan, I think they are done processing your suitcase."
A note had been left: Couldn't find anything. Chief said to give Lopez back the suitcase and keep the note for evidence.
He passed it to his friend as he lifted it from the ground. "When does your plane leave?"
"In about two hours." Santana responded. Her hand lifted to grasp the suitcase handles, but Noah deftly avoided her fingers and continued to carry the case.
"Didn't really give you a lot of time…" Brittany searched through her jacket to find the yellow beanie. Anything to keep her thoughts and feelings from running rampant. This was Santana's golden ticket.
"No."
"Guess we should get going then. I have my cruiser outside waiting for us." Puck said as the three walked through security and out the front doors. Standing outside and waiting for Santana were four police officers.
"The fuck is this, Puck?" Santana looked the entourage of officers up and down before demanding an explanation from her friend.
His smile offered little comfort. "Sorry, Tan, the chief said that I wasn't to take you anyway without a guard duty to make sure you are protected."
"You gotta be fucking kidding me." Santana growled at the officers who tried their hardest to look uninterested in the conversation. "I've been assigned a detail. I am not happy."
"Not so fun being babysat…" Brittany smirked and took a few steps in the opposite direction of the police lot where Puck's car would be. The smirk was short lived. Santana was leaving. Maybe it hurt more actually witnessing Santana make the decision to go instead of just arriving at the apartment and finding clothes thrown around. Brittany was the note leaver in their apartment. She had left notes on everything from the fridge to Santana's lunches, the walls, to their bed, and to Santana's forehead if Brittany had to leave early in the morning. Santana didn't leave notes. She had always been a force – like a great storm – and left her mark everywhere. They communicated differently, but effectively. All it took was the turning of the key to their shared apartment and Brittany had known Santana had left.
Better to get it over with quick. Santana would be safer in California anyway.
The brunette's eyes broke from glaring at the police officers at the sound of Brittany's voice. They both held the gaze as each woman tried to think of something to say. Brittany felt caught in the act of already giving up on them. She was trying to walk away first.
"Britt, I guess-"
"It was nice seeing you." Brittany finished Santana's sentence. "Be safe in Cali."
Santana's brows creased and created dipping lines over her eyes. This was a good-bye for Brittany, not a see you again. "I'll be back. It's only a few days."
"Sure." Brittany fingered the yellow beanie in her hands. It would be nice if she could make herself believe Santana.
Santana smiled softly as if nothing was wrong. "Try not to get into too much trouble while I'm away or that favor I owe you will turn out to be you begging me to represent you as your lawyer to get you out of jail. I don't put anything past Macklin."
"At least I know I'll have the best representation bribes and extortion can get."
They smiled at the private joke. Santana's words caught in her throat. Her eyes darkened like they did whenever Santana meant business. "Seriously, B, I'll be back."
And Brittany believed her. Her heart skipped a few beats. Fuck. She actually believed Santana would come back. It had been so long since she felt…hope. Brittany swallowed thickly. Emotions were difficult to control, but she needed to keep it together.
Santana would be back. With a deep breath, Britt nodded to herself and shook her head. Hope. Maybe it was time to fall into it and let it take her somewhere. A surge of confidence and bravado returned to the PI as she reconnected her eyes with Santana's.
"I know…" Cocky, Brittany winked as she pulled the yellow beanie back down on her hair. "…partner."
The blonde finished adjusting the ugly yellow cap as she strode away. And Santana knew her dark eyes weren't the only ones following those swaying hips as they strutted purposely down the street. After a few seconds, Puck ushered her into his vehicle. Wordlessly, Santana slid into the passenger seat next to him. Her fingers brushed through the lipstick, her wallet, tissues, random change, a few dollar bills, some paperwork, and her favorite eyeliner to the back zipper of her purse. The coarse material of a torn black hat had settled comfortably into the dark hidden chamber of her designer bag. The slightest of smiles tugged at the edge of her lips.
Partner.
So I wanted to thank the anon who posted a song rec for Sirens! I absolutely live and die for music and I loved the song. I immediately downloaded it and put it on my playlist specifically for Sirens. Thanks! So if anyone else has some song recs, pleeeeeease give me some in the comments or a message or even on tumblr. I have to be listening to music to get my mojo rising. ;)
As for Sirens, in my mind, this was the end of the first major part of the story. We're about to start a major arc that I am really excited about. :D me beaming.
Unfortunately, this is officially the last four weeks of my semester and that always means one of two things. I actually buckle down and start doing my work for school or I start procrastinating to the extreme and I bang out a lot of chapters or one-shots. So don't be surprised if I disappear for awhile or if your inboxes are flooded with alerts.
Finally, I wanted to continue thanking everyone who writes such awesome things at the end of every chapter. And I want to give a big hello to all the new people who alerted or favorited.
Hi!