AN: So this chapter's pretty long…. Sorry, but there's ALOT of coffee in my system right now and I've been like a pixie on speed, tap, tap, tapping away :)
Rachel watched Puck like a hawk over the next few days, ensuring that he had no contact with the invasive blogger, and that he was sincere in his pledge to forgo a confrontation with Dave Morales.
Though they had their days free to lazily hang together since Puck was still permitted to stay home, she'd been slightly distracted by Kurt and Mercedes who, ignoring the request Puck had made on Monday to give Rachel some space, had shown up at the Puckerman residence right after school on Tuesday and refused to leave. The two diva's and Finn became regular fixtures around Puck's house between the hours of 4-9pm and much to the jock's annoyance, he found himself constantly trekking between the living room and kitchen for snacks and beverages.
Beth adored Kurt and was constantly dancing around to get his attention and when he took the time to teach her the single ladies dance the little girl had christened him her honorary brother, much to Puck and Finn's dismay.
Artie and Tina had dropped by too, along with Mike and Matt, but when Rachel had started to sweat nervously at the number of people milling around, it became apparent that she was only comfortable in an environment in which she felt she had control; the more people present, the less secure she felt. They hadn't been back since, but had sent texts to Rachel daily to let her know they were there for her should she need anything. Brittany and Santana hadn't bothered to call or visit, which surprised noone.
Mrs Puckerman had delighted in the presence of all the Glee kids, pleased that Noah seemed to have made friends outside his regular football/cheerio circles and grateful that they could draw giggles out of Rachel when that glazed look threatened to settle over her eyes. The teens were all nice, respectful and down right charismatic and Puck's mother was thankful that they, along with the petite brunette, were demonstrably such positive influences on her kids.
Despite the distraction of their friends and the nightly visits her father's paid to check in with her, Rachel remained glued to Puck's side and was by no means stealthy in her attempts to nosy in on his phone calls. With the concept of privacy out the window since Rachel was practically living with him, Puck had no choice but to pull Finn into the midst of the scheming and newly formed alliance with Jacob Ben Israel.
Finn had actually teared up when his help had been requested, "Does this mean we're really like friend, friends again?" he'd asked and Puck had to wonder whether the Quarterback had taken one too many hits in practice, since he seemed to forget that it was Puck who should be grateful the other boy wanted anything to do with him at all.
"Yeah Man." Puck had replied, awkwardly patting his back. "You're my bro."
Finn had then bounced around like an excited puppy as they tried unsuccessfully to think of an angle that would allow Morales to spill details on Lagenthol, without divulging the importance the information held to Puck.
No plan had actually been put into place by the time Friday rolled around, officially marking the start of Summer when school let out that afternoon.
When Rachel had been dragged to the mall with Kurt and Mercedes for an impromptu shopping trip, Puck thought it was the opportune and in fact the only time available for him to act without arousing Rachel's suspicions, whether he was prepared for it or not.
Jacob had fitted him with a wireless microphone and miniature spy cam, courtesy of the AV department and had the feeds streaming to the laptop he'd set up in Pucks room, where he and Finn would watch live as Puck went to talk with Morales.
The three boys had a last minute brainstorming session before the mohawked jock left, deciding whether it was credible for Puck to attempt to buy the Rohypnal from Morales, supposedly on Lagenthols recommendation. They had no other idea's to go on and it was then that Puck regretted not bringing Mike and Matt in on the plan, because those two at least had some street smarts.
He figured he would improvise when the time came; Puck did his best thinking under pressure and his lies were always more believable when made up on the spot. If he scripted the conversation beforehand he was sure it would come out stiff and the deceit would be glaringly obvious.
Puck found Dave Morales at the local derelict bar, appropriately named The Dive Joint. It was Lima's 24 hour pool hall which would later on be packed wall to wall with Lima's working folk looking to indulge in a Friday night beverage or 6, but at 4 o'clock in the afternoon it was practically deserted.
Puck knew from past dealings with Morales, that he and his brother-in-law Hank liked to partake in the 'Fuck Off Early, its Friday' tradition and get a head start on the festivities, even though their 'day jobs' were mostly just a cover for their shadier dealings. Puck had frequently ditched his last two periods on a Friday and met the two men here to shoot pool, down a cold beer and leave a few hours later with a small plastic bag of weekend delight in his possession.
But he hadn't done that in some time. Not since Glee, pregnant cheerleaders and pint sized broadway-loving diva's had shanghaied all his free time and a huge chunk of his conscience. So when he stepped into the smoky bar and was greeted like a long lost son by Al the bartender, Puck was not all that surprised.
"Hey Al," he greeted easily, bumping fists with the heavyset barkeep. "How've ya been?"
"Pretty good," the older man affirmed as he poured a beer in a tall frosted glass and slid the beverage down the counter to Puck with a sly wink.
Pucks fake ID had been shown here once a long time back and Al had taken one look at it and had said with a grin, "Ok Mr Jack Meoff from Idaho" (he had pronounced the state all gangster, like I-Da-HOE) "Its says here you were born in 76 which makes you how old now?" Puck had scrambled for the answer (cut him some slack, he hadn't seen the inside of his math classroom for years) and Al had shaken his head good naturedly, but poured him a beer anyway. They'd been on good terms ever since, yet after the first beer of the night Puck found that his glass was always refilled with soda.
"Haven't seen you around Puck, you keeping out of trouble with the ladies?"
Puck took a long appreciative sip. "You know me Al," he replied with a shit eating smirk. "Don't hang around long enough to find out."
Al guffawked and waved him away as he turned his attention back to the newspaper and Puck wandered further into the bar, leaning against the railing separating the pool area. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dave and Hank ribbing each other as they played pool and Puck pretended his attention was focused on the big screen, showing highlights of last night's Red's game.
It wasn't long before he was noticed. "Yo Puckerman you dirty little motherfucker, get your scrawny ass over here." Morales boomed and Puck ambled over at a relaxed pace, grinning in response.
"Dave, Hank." He nodded resting his foot on the lower rung of a stool to the side of where they were playing, his thumb nonchalantly threaded through a belt loop at the waistband of his jeans.
As Morales lined up a shot, Hank rested both of his meaty paws on his pool cue and considered Puck. 'Haven't seen your ugly mug round for a while. Been too busy chasing the pussy have ya?"
Puck waggled his eyebrows as he downed the dregs in his glass. "I don't need to chase anything Hank the ladies, they line themselves up for a Puck Fuck."
Hank chuckled and took his shot as Dave rolled his eyes with a smirk, "Scotty Cameron was in here last week crying into his JD about sinking all his dimes into a run down shack his Mrs just had to have before Summer. The pile of rotting wood has a pool and apparently Mrs Cam already has your number, in more ways that one."
Puck shrugged in a 'what can you do?' gesture and after Morales sank his last ball and then the 8, Hank was gracious in defeat and went to get another jug of beer.
Puck and Morales settled in a booth, shooting the breeze talking about nothing in particular.
Morales asked about his latest sexploit (Puck's rep was legendary) and he found himself recycling the story of an old conquest, since secretly he hadn't seen any action in months.
When he had Morales in fits of laughter as he described the naked run he'd had to make to his truck when the cougar's husband had arrived home unexpectedly, and the shock hose down he'd received from the neighbour next door watering her garden, Puck ventured to ask Morales what was going on in his life.
An ecstatic look had come over the dealers face as he pulled a picture out of his wallet and flaunted it in Puck's face.
"I'm a Dad man, my girlfriend and I had a little girl!"
Puck gaped in surprise, grasping the photo and gazing down at an angry looking newborn with tuffs of dark hair and bright blue eyes.
He stared at the picture in his hands, ignoring the tightening in his chest and Dave's ramblings as he tried to push back the image of his own daughter; he needed to focus, for Rachel.
His head lifted and he was about to change the subject to steer the conversation back in the right direction, but he couldn't resist glancing once more at the pink bundle in the photograph and his thoughts strayed once more to a hazel eyed infant that would never call him Daddy.
"How do you find it?" Puck found himself asking, a feeling of dread low in his stomach. "Fatherhood I mean?"
Morales plied his picture from Puck's suddenly numb fingers and placed in back in his wallet with reverent care. "I'm loving it man, she's the best thing that ever happened to me." His words were simple and sincere, and coupled with the look of pride and contentment on his features, Puck had no doubt that even if he wasn't entirely on the straight and narrow, Dave Morales was a changed man.
Suddenly, Puck became aware of the mike and spycam he was wearing and knew without a doubt that he couldn't do it. He couldn't incriminate Dave when he knew that evidence would mean he may not return home to his new baby. And kids, they needed their dads.
He'd have to find some other way to help Rachel.
"So what's your deal Puckerman?" Morales asked as Hank returned with a fresh pitcher, doling out three glasses and taking it upon himself to pour.
'What do you mean?" Puck asked cluelessly, leaning back in his chair.
"You've been MIA in this neck of the woods for months and then you show up out of the blue. You're not here because of a woman are you?" Morales queried casually, accepting the glass his brother-in-law handed him.
"You could say that." Puck muttered scratching his eyebrow.
Morales knew that Puck hadn't been angling for some pot, because from the look of him, the mohawked young man had been living cleanly; His complexion was tanned and healthy looking and his physique was more impressive that usual. The way the guy was nervously fidgeting though, put Morales on guard.
Puck found himself locked in Morales' stare and ignoring his reservations, bit the bullet, "You're not dealing anymore are you Dave?"
Morales took another sip of his drink before he answered carefully. "Does it matter? You're not smoking."
"It matters." Puck contradicted and after a split second of indecision, he made up his mind and abandoned the loose plan that he'd had. "Because my friend got slipped something last week, and she got…" Puck wondered when he'd be able to say the word outright without stumbling over it, "Raped."
Morales' eyes widened and Hank spluttered into his glass. For a while there were no words spoken between them and it was so quiet Puck could hear the rustle of Al's newspaper as he turned the pages. "And you thought I could give you a list of guys who might have done it? Because I'm sorry man, but I can't help you with that." Morales said eventually, regret evident in his tone.
Puck shook his head, "I know who did it."
Hank leaned forward. "Who?"
"Kid by the name of Alex Lagenthol."
Dave's expression changed, his eyes hardened and his mouth pulled into a grim line. "Max Lagenthol's boy?"
Puck nodded wordlessly and levelled his own gaze at his former dealer who was exchanging an unreadable look with Hank.
"What was it you thought I could tell you then, if you already knew he did it?"
Puck took his time answering. "The cops aren't doing anything about it, they don't have proof so I thought if you told me he-"
"Brought the drug off me it would be enough to convict him."
Puck nodded.
"You know I'd go down too." Morales informed his needlessly.
"Which is why I'm not going to ask you the question." Puck replied and Hank chuckled without humour.
"You got balls of steel Puckerman, I'll give you that." The big man said half admiringly but with a sharp edge to his voice.
Morales let his eyes sweep over the bar and its occupants then nodded to his large sidekick. Hank stood, letting a bulky hand rest on Pucks shoulder. "Come on Puckerman, let's go for a drive."
Rachel was burrowed into a corner of the Puckerman sofa, staring unseeingly ahead as chaos continued to reign on her surroundings.
When she'd arrived back at the Puckerman household after an afternoon shopping with Kurt and Mercedes, she'd found two squad cars in the drive and her heart had immediately jumped into her throat. Rachel had been feeling unsettled since Noah had failed to answer her phonecalls this past hour, and now she knew why.
Something was wrong.
She'd raced into the house to find Mrs Hudson trying to calm a hysterical Mrs Puckerman, while Jacob and Finn, who were wearing identical expressions of fear and guilt, were being questioned by uniformed officers with a laptop lying open on the coffee table.
When Noah's mother had grasped her hand and briefed her of the situation, how her son had gone to see Dave Morales and had been last seen getting into a vehicle with him and an accomplice 2 hours before hand, Rachel had gone numb. Her unsteady legs had carried her to the sofa where she was now seated, and she let the conversations wash over her as the officers continued their interrogations and Mrs Hudson had drawn Mrs Puckerman into the kitchen for tea.
Jacob had received video footage of Puck's visit to the pool hall, but the audio feed had fallen silent and disconnected just as Puck had sat down with Morales. About 5 minutes into the silent car ride, the video cut out as well.
Rachel clamped down on the fear and panic coursing through her body.
She could only wait and pray that Noah was ok and would come to no harm, because when he got home she was going to kill him herself.
Columbus, Ohio
He'd never been to Columbus, Puck thought idly as Morales slowed his car and turned onto Broad Street in the City's eastside.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, pressed up against the window since Hank seemed to take up majority of the backseat they were sharing and after an hour of driving in silence, Puck was anxious to reach their destination and stretch out his legs.
Suddenly, Sweet Caroline resonated around the inside of the car and Puck fumbled into his pocket. He'd been ignoring the silent buzzing of text messages for the entire trip, but that tune meant the name Berry* would be flashing across the screen.
His gaze came to rest on Hank who shook his head and held out his hand.
Puck reluctantly passed over his cell. He was sure Rachel would be all shopped out by now and it wouldn't be long before she discovered whose company he was in and the fact that he was missing. She was going to freak.
Hank had glanced at Puck's phone before turning it off and pocketing it. "Berry, that your girl?"
Puck sighed, leaning back into the seat. "Yeah, that's her." Well maybe technically she wasn't his, but since he hadn't been interested in anyone that wasn't Rachel for what seemed like forever, he figured that meant he was hers and in his book, that basically amounted to the same thing.
He saw Morales exchange another look with Hank via the rear view mirror and Puck couldn't help but feel nervous.
"I love Neil Diamond," was all Morales said before turning his attention back on the road.
The two had offered no clues as to where they were heading or why, but Puck thought that maybe it was a good sign that they hadn't pulled over on a deserted patch of route 177 and put a bullet in his skull. So far, so good.
A few minutes later they were pulling into the driveway of an older style, two story house on a quiet block. The wire fence was old and rusting with the front lawn yellowing and in desperate need of water and a good cut.
The low beam headlights of Morales' jeep flashed the licence plate of the expensive black sedan parked in the driveway, with personalized plates Puck couldn't quite make out in the fading daylight.
Hank had slipped out of the back and crossed round the car to open Pucks door, clamping his forearm in a vice like grip as they trailed Morales up the rickety front steps to ring the door bell.
It opened cautiously a split second later and hushed words were exchanged before the crack widened and they were granted entry.
It wasn't until he walked into a spacious kitchen and saw their host sit back down at a table with 3 of his mates, finely cutting what looked to be shit loads of crystal meth, did Puck start to sweat.
Morales tossed his head in Pucks direction. "Jarell, Puckerman. Puckerman, Jarell." He made a brief introduction to one of them, ignoring the other men in the room.
Jarell didn't blink as his dark gaze eyed Puck's Mohawk and then briefly glanced over the rest of him. Jarell himself was a 30 something African-American with a build similar to Hanks but without all the fat around the middle."What are doing bringing another white boy down to my neighbourhood?" He demanded more curious than angry.
Puck was wondering the same thing and moved restlessly.
Morales leaned casually against the door jam, "Seems you and Puckerman here have a mutual dislike for the Lagenthol family. I thought maybe you could compare notes and see if the two of you might be able to figure out what to do with that hatred since separately you can't really touch him."
Puck couldn't help but smirk and flexed his fingers, his joints giving an audible pop. 'Well that's not entirely true." He found himself saying and Jarell's speculative gaze rested on him again.
"Young Langenthol's jaw took a knocking this week and looks fucked beyond repair." He noted, "That your work?"
Puck shrugged indifferently as Hank let out a low whistle and some of his friendly demeanour returned. "I knew you hadn't gone completely fucking soft." He muttered out of the corner of his mouth as he elbowed him lightly. Puck however was focused on Jarell. Columbus was miles away from Lima and as Jacob had suggested, Langenthol was a small town boy. His connection to these men made Puck suspicious.
If Jarell turned out to be Lagenthol's dealer, Puck knew he wouldn't be able to control himself. He gazed uneasily at the other occupants of the room. Morales and Hank could not be counted on to have his back, so Puck would pretty much be signing his own death certificate. He hoped it wouldn't come to that. Then there was the small matter of the discreet equipment Puck was packing. He consciously brushed his hand against the pocket of his button down shirt, wondering whether Jacob was still streaming the audio/visual or whether the link had been lost en route to their current location. He was sure it had, it had looked pretty cheap.
Suddenly though, the thought of cops busting in on the group and trouble breaking out seemed like a real possibility and Puck realized for the first time that he really was in over his head.
"I guess you and I do have something to discuss afterall." Jarell was saying as he stood, motioning Morales, Puck and Hank to follow him.
They were led down a dark hall to a study toward the back of the house, with a sturdy desk as its focal point and a dusty two seater along one wall. Jarell sat behind the desk, gesturing at the lone chair opposite for Puck to take, whilst the other two settled silently on the sofa.
"Why don't you tell me what Lagenthol did that had you so determined to rearrange his face." Jarell suggested as he lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply and even though he expected to be asked, Puck still flinched at the thought. So he told him what Alex had done, the fact that Rachel couldn't remember, what Jacob had seen and posted on his blog and finally, what Alex had said in the cafeteria that had caused Puck to jump him and ultimately break his face.
Jarell listened asking no other questions, and when Puck had finished explaining that the cops claimed it was all circumstantial and they were lacking in hard evidence, the dark skinned man stubbed out his cigarette and reached into the top drawer of the desk, pulling out a stained manilla folder.
Wordlessly he passed it over and Puck glanced briefly at him before taking the proffered file and resting it in his lap. Inside was a pile of photo's, mostly mug shot-style close ups of a girl, probably about 20 years old, with skin a few shades lighter than Jarell's - her face bruised and bloodied.
'That's my half sister Cheyenne." Jarell answered Puck's unspoken question as the teen flickered though the half dozen snaps, wincing at a full body shot that showed the abundance of dark bruising all over her thighs and upper body. She'd taken a pretty severe beating.
"She got those at a frat party at Ohio State a few weeks back. You know who else was at that party, visiting his brother?"
"Alex Lagenthol." Puck guessed and Jarell nodded 'Did he…" Puck began hesitantly and Jarell shook his head.
"He tried, but she's pretty feisty and fought him off. He didn't like that." Jarell gestured needlessly at the photo's, disdain dripping from his words. "After he slapped her around, it seemed that he wasn't in the mood anymore and couldn't get it up."
'It wasn't like what happened to your girl, he didn't slip Cheyenne anything."
Puck closed the folder and placed it on the desk, he didn't want to see anymore.
"She didn't report it?"
Jarell hesitated. "Well, this is where it gets shady. You see, this wasn't the first encounter Cheyenne has had with Langenthol." he glanced at Morales and Hank before looking back at Puck. "Up until recently, Cheyenne was working as a receptionist at an escort place downtown. One that Lagenthol Senior and Junior frequent together."
Puck exhaled loudly. This shit was getting heavy. All he had wanted was proof Lagenthol had procured the date rape drug found in Rachel's system, and now he could feel himself immersed deeper in the knowledge of Lagenthol's sordidness.
Jarell handed over another folder to Puck, thick with what looked to be CCTV stills of Alex and Max Lagenthol's faces clearly visible, and photocopies of ledger columns whose information Puck couldn't decipher.
"Before she left the agency, Cheyenne took copies of their 'books'. In that folder is undeniable proof that the Lagenthol's were patronizing prostitutes on a regular basis. There are copies of cash receipts, identification, pictures from their surveillance cameras, appointment times, EVERYTHING that could get them a guilty verdict for a misdemeanour in soliciting sex from hookers."
Puck was puzzled. "I thought that discretion would be kind of important in that business. How is there so much evidence available?"
Jarell smiled, his teeth white against his dark skin. "The madam of that establishment is very diligent in running a tight ship. She screens her customers by getting crooked cops to run background checks on them and takes ID on the client's first appointment for collateral in case things go sour, you know?" He paused as Puck didn't seem to be paying attention. "Geez Puckerman, it's almost like you don't want the info I'm giving you."
Puck stared down at the folder. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do with this."
Jarell made a sound of annoyance. "Listen up bro, you say the Lima PD are sitting on their hands? Well you take what's in that folder there to a station in Columbus and that Lagenthol kid will be arrested inside an hour and will get at least 6 months to a year jail time. And his scumbag, lawyer dad? He'll go down for 5-7 since he involved a minor."
"But he won't get done for what he did to Rachel." Puck pointed out, "No offence man, what happened to your sister sucks ass and if I see him again, I'll make him see stars just for you, but I don't give a fuck about what goes down with him and those hookers." Puck slapped the folder on the desk, his jaw twitching and Jarell grinned.
The punk had attitude, he liked that.
"Puckerman, just because the cop's in your town sound like they got their badges from a cereal box, doesn't mean they're all like that-" at Pucks incredulous look, Morales, Hank and Jarell all laughed. "Hey, I might not run in the cleanest of circles but I still have some respect for the law and there are a couple of decent ones out there."
Jarell scribbled on a piece of paper and handed in to Puck.
Detective Sean Feldman
Special Victims Unit, East Long St
"You should go pay him a visit. I guarantee you that if you tell him what happened with Rachel, he'll find a way to nail Lagenthol for it, despite what your PD says. He's on call tonight. Make whoever's working the desk let you talk to him and tell him Solid Coffin sent you."
Puck smirked "Solid Coffin?"
Jarell rolled his eyes. "Shut the fuck up."
"So if 'Solid Coffin' is on such good terms with Detective Sean Feldman, why haven't you taken this-" Puck picked the folder back up, "to him yourself?"
"He knows some of the story, but I can't negotiate a deal with him just yet that works in my and Cheyenne's favour. I was going to wait and see if I could negotiate something but you've got nothing hanging over you so-" Jarell shrugged.
"And you're ok with Lagenthol getting only 6 months for what he did?" Puck checked, skeptically.
"6 months isn't a lot, but it's a start and when he gets out, well…" Jarell winked. "I'll be around."
Puck grinned in response and nodded.
"Thanks man." Jarell and Puck stood and did that weird handshake thing guys liked, that looked ridiculous to anyone not participating.
"Good luck Puckerman, and I don't need to tell you we've never met right?"
Puck didn't answer, it was implied.
Jarell walked Puck to the door and told him sincerely he hoped Rachel was ok. Morales and Hank had gone ahead of them and were already starting the car. When Puck was buckled in, Hank, who was seated up front this time, tossed him back his cell.
Puck turned the phone back on and made a face as it beeped angrily. He'd had 11 missed calls. He could only imagine the crap that was going down back in Lima, but he had to push those thoughts away for just a little while longer.
First, he needed to drop in on Detective Feldman. This shit needed to be over tonight.