I hope everyone is having or has had a good holiday season. Probably my last update for 2019.

Taking time to read any fanfiction is a personal choice. To those readers who continue to read and follow each chapter in this story, I can't say it enough - Thank You.

Trigger Warnings:

All wordsmithing errors are mine alone — notes at the end.

Jesse's scene is Feb 13, the others take place on Valentine's Day.

Chapter Title: I Know You're Out There Somewhere

I Know I'll Find You Somehow

(~~Feb 13~~)

Jesse's hands clutched the edge of the stainless-steel table as he leaned forward. Impatiently eyeing the forensic investigator as he examined each article, Jesse had pulled from the river. "Well?"

Thad glanced up at the officer, clearing his throat. "You've got a Columbia black mid-calf hiking boot, which can easily be purchased off of Amazon. The only distinguishing features, no treadwear to speak off, and the guy wears an average shoe size. Same for the glove, it's new and barely used."

"Can't you determine the guy's height with the shoe?"

Nah, there's a general formula, but you line up six guys all the same height. They'll have different shoe sizes." Hooking a bag with his pen, "Found some mud in the bag, plus the rocks could send it to the geology department at the university to do an analysis." Shaking his head, "That won't tell you much, not a lot of soil variation in the county. It could be river sludge that seeped in." He picked up a rock tossing it in his gloved hand. "The rock isn't smooth, so probably not from the riverbed." Setting the object back down on the table, "Again not a lot of variation in the county."

"Screw that, what about the gun?" Jesse said

"Oh, well, it's a high power semi-automatic. At least all the pieces belong to a semi. Does it belong to the same weapon? It's easy to purchase parts on the internet to assemble a rifle of this type."

Jesse let out a deep sigh "So nothing? Even the number and barrel?"

"No, The barrel, we can test to the striations left on the bullet."

Jesse throwing his arms up. "Finally, we have something! And the serial number?"

"It's a common weapon, Jesse," Thad responded realistically. "At least 20 manufacturers. And if it's a kit. That's another rabbit hole."

Jesse raised an eyebrow, "Can't the serial number be traced back to the wholesaler if you can identify the manufacturer first."

Thad grinned, picking up the gun's receiver to examine the number under the lighted magnifying glass. "Let's see if the serial number has any clues." Titling the receiver back and forth under the light, "The question is, are the ones and zeros alpha characters or numerics or a combination?"

"I'm not feeling confident here, Thad. Aren't you the county's expert?" he asked with sarcasm in his voice.

Thad snorted, "If being the only forensic arms investigator in the county makes me an expert, then yes, I am." Pausing for a breath, "Except most of the shooting here are gun owners being careless. ... Literally, guys shooting themselves in the foot. Not murder with an AR-15."

"How long will this take?" a flicker of irritation and impatience shone in Jesse's eyes.

"We can expedite the barrel testing. I'll have to set up a target at the range to stop the bullet. A water tank won't work." The scientist paused to plotted out his plans. "Send it down to Columbus, they have the microscope." He mumbled to himself, "If it matches, then we try to narrow down a manufacturer." Setting the receiver back on the table. "If everything falls in line, maybe six weeks."

"That long?" Jesse let out a deep sigh, "How about prints?"

"Possibly." He answered skeptically. "Water dissolves eccrine. However, if the prints are sebaceous." Thad held his fist up to his mouth, his forehead puckered in thought.

"What?" Jesse puzzled by Thad's comment, "You lost me."

"Oil and water don't mix. Sebaceous." he gave a dismissive shrug of his shoulders. "Eccrine is sweat, which quickly dissolves in water.

"Right. I knew that." Jesse replied, swiping his palm across his hair.

"FBI lab has used cyanoacrylate fuming to pull latent prints off metal that's been in cold, stagnant water up to 70 days."

"Cy-arc-a-late? C'mon man, use plain English, please." A sliver of annoyance in Jesse's voice.

"Cyanoacrylate. You know, superglue." Thad replied self-confidently, "Anyway, it'd be tricky. Probably only one shot at it."

Trying his best to remain civil. "How long?" he said

"Pulling the print, not long, provided we calculate the testing variables right the first time. Then find a match."

"You can do that, right?" Jesse asked, feeling more optimistic.

"Sure," Thad looked Jesse straight in the eyes, "But your guy might not be in the system."

I Can Feel You Getting Near

(~~Feb 14~~)

Quinn's head fell down toward her shoulder, her eyes popped open from the sudden motion. With her index finger and thumb, she rubbed the sleepiness out of eyes. Looking up, she saw the credits for The Late Late Show with James Corden rolling across the TV screen. A knock on the door, she mumbled "finally" to herself. Quinn turned the TV off with the remote. Rising she went to the door, moving the curtain, she opened the door to her guest.

"What took you so long?" she asked, moving to the side to let the woman in.

"JBI froze his nose to the freezer wall again. Had to fill out a safety incident report." Lauren snorted. "No, Not true, I wish. He crashed the forklift. JBI's fourth try to pass the driver's test. Sufficient to say he failed." Handing Quinn a cup of coffee, "Don't worry, it's decaf."

Taking the cup, she watched as Lauren made herself comfortable on the couch.

Taking a sip from the cup, "God, what's in this?" Quinn, her face scrunched, asked.

"Oh, I cooled it down with Kahlúa and Absolut. Thought it would hide the bitterness of the decaf. Don't like it?"

Quinn shook her head, sitting down in the chair. "No, it's fine." Pulling feet under her "It's VD day, why aren't you at Puck's?"

"I deemed his candy inadequate, he's pouting." Taking a sip from her cup, "He did get props for scoring tickets to the NCAA Wrestling Championships, in Pittsburgh next month." Taking a breath, "But the small bag of Sweet & Sour Gummy candies he bought at Menards, doesn't cut it." Lauren said, shaking her head. "What can I say, the door to my candied heart is a revolving one."

Quinn breathed a quiet laugh behind her smile, "Ah, so you decided you needed some girl time to discuss Puck's romantic inadequacies as a lover?"

"Uh, no," she chortled. "Actually, I heard the Turtle Dump gang are asking questions about former employees."

"I'm sorry, who?" Quinn raised an eyebrow in amusement

"The Turtle Dump gang. Cedes is chocolate. Dani is caramel. You're the vanilla ice cream. And Brittany is the nut."

Quinn snorted, "You're terrible."

Shrugging her shoulders, "Yeah, well, you know I keep it real. So, former employees? Who and when?"

Taking a sip from her coffee, licking her lips, "Why should I trust you?"

"No reason, too. But if you want to know what I do, you will."

"Fair enough, Del Schumacher?" Quinn asked, her face showing signs of weariness from the early morning hour.

Lauren grunted, adjusting her glasses. "Yeah, harmless. Textbook hoarder. He tried to steal materials that were being stored for the water project. Sam caught him. Told Dani, who nailed him." she drew a deep, harsh breath "KEI didn't press charges, just banned him from being hired again is what I've heard." she added her face wrinkled in disgust, "Who else?"

"Uh," Quinn yawned, "Aaron McGovern?"

"Ah, Aaron. Worked for Lavender. Of course, that would drive anyone bat shit crazy. But no, Aaron was asked to leave."

Quinn's brows lifted with sudden interest, "Really, by who?"

"HR. There was a sexual harassment complaint against him. Rumor had it it was Sugar." Lauren remarked with a scornful tilt of her nose, "I tend not to believe that myself. My money is on Bob Surette." Her eyes narrowed in thought, "Aaron always seemed a little light in his loafers if you know what I mean." Pausing for a breath, she took a sip from her coffee. "It seems to me Paul used some connection he had in Iowa to get Aaron a job, making Captain Crunch. Next?"

"What about Pat Scholl?" Quinn asked, bending her elbow to rest on the chair's arm with a hand to her forehead.

"Pat worked in brand management. He was cozy with Dave. Golf partners, I think." Lauren paused to take a sip of coffee "His mom has Alzheimer's, moved back home to take care of her." She said with sincerity in her voice. "Rumor on Pat was he'd gotten a sexual harassment complaint filed against him too. But that died a quick death after he let be known about his mother."

"How about Mark Johnson?"

Lauren gave a brusque laugh, "That dude was wack!" she said scornfully, "Apparently, a referral from Karen. To be nice, Dave would have lunch with him now and then. You know, whatever!" she said with a hint of mockery, "Anyway, Mark liked to brag about how close he was with the Karofsky family. He'd tell us that Dave and him prayed together." Her breath caught, "What's weird, he had no clue Dave was married." Quinn saw scorn flash across Lauren's face "That's kinda significant in my book. Don't think a husband or a mother-in-law would overlook."

"Yeah, I see where it's odd Karen wouldn't have told Mark about Dave's family. If they were close. Didn't Dave have pictures in his office?"

"Actually, do my best to avoid offices. I got enough management problems dealing with Puck's business if you know what I mean." she snickered.

Quinn combed her fingers through her hair. "So what happened to him?" she asked.

Lauren took in a deep breath as she thought, "Last I heard he was over at BC doing insurance audits. Now how he got from checking freezer temperature to auditing health care records, I have no clue." She said, shaking the paper cup in her hand to determine what remained of her coffee, "Nobody was sad to see him go."

"Do you know where he lives?"

"Lima Heights Adjacent." Lauren paused, seeing Quinn nod, "His shit hit the fan when he saw Santana walk into Dave's office above the floor. After that, he got all weird." Taking a sip of her coffee, "Who else?"

"Define weird after he saw San?"

"Oh, he thought she was an immigrant from Mexico. So, he flipped from preachin' Jesus to ranting how immigrants are destroying America. Typical right-wing conservative shit. Like, we aren't a country of immigrants. Yeah. Right."

"Huh, Dani never mentioned that," Quinn mumbled in thought.

Lauren shook her head, "Nah, she wouldn't. Remember, I covered for the day shift QA while she was out on sick leave? That was right before Santana went on maternity leave down south." Pausing for a breath, "Anybody else on your list?"

Quinn slowly shook her head and smiled, "That's it." Still thinking about Lauren's previous comment.

For a moment, Lauren pondered whether to bring up other men she knew from either gossip or Puck. Or avoid dragging possibly innocent men into a naïve amateurish attempt to solve a murder. She had to admit her Kindle was stocked full of murder mysteries and international intrigue thrillers. Even the shitty authors who she enjoyed picking apart their premise and methods. With a deep sigh, "Hunter isn't on the list?" Lauren asked the blonde across from her.

Quinn looked up at Lauren with a slight surprise in her eyes, "Cedes boss? Hunter?"

Shaking her head, "No, not Homer Hunter." She said, exhaling a deep breath, "I'm talking Hunter Clarington." Lauren blurted out the man she suspected.

"Hunter? Wasn't he part of their flight crew?" Quinn exclaimed, surprised at the mention of the flight attendant who'd been booted out of the USAF Academy in Colorado Springs.

"Yeah, but he and Dave were chummy," Lauren said with a half-shrug. "Figured they're members of the mile-high club." Finishing off her coffee.

Quinn removed the lid from her coffee, to bury her nose in her cup, avoiding Laurens eyes as she thought about Hunter as a possible murderer. "Let me ask you this, what do you know of Sebastian Smythe?" she asked, remembering what Rachel had mentioned.

"Yeah," She snorted, "Jake tells me that the boys like him cos he's got a big cock." Lauren answered, then paused, "What I've heard is he has a vice grip on Paul Karofsky's balls."

Quinn looked Lauren straight in the eyes, "What?" Since when?" she said.

"Since Daddy Smythe, became State Attorney. He handed the file over to junior."

"So how did Jesse know to call Sebastian to ID Dave's body? Jesse doesn't run in the same circles as Dave and Sebastian."

"D'uh as a Sheriff's deputy, Jesse's a process server." Lauren snorted. "Jesse knows most of the lawyers in the county and their more prominent clients."

In The Darkness, I'll Be There.

"Slide over," Dave motioned with his hand as he slipped off his shoes.

"What are you doing?" Santana raised a hand in protest, her eyes lit with annoyance

"I'm gonna lay down with you." he grinned and shrugged a shoulder at her.

"Dave, we're in a hospital. I'm pretty sure that's not allowed."

"We're in maternity. If they, bitch let'em. Our family's generous donations will dwindle to pennies."

Santana, a slight grimace on her face, scooted over, careful to keep a steady arm around the bundle she held as Dave laid down next to her. "There are you happy now?" she asked, feeling his arm above her head.

"Zavier," he said, touching his son's tiny chest, to pull his blanket down, "that's what you want to call him? Not DJ junior? Or Gronk Karofsky?"

A slight laugh escaped her lips, "You name your dog Gronk, not your son."

"He's beautiful, Santana." Dave cooed affectionately, "Thank you. I mean it. He's perfect." The tiny human shuddered, letting out a small cry as his father's finger touched his hand. Dave's voice softened a little, "You could have said no. But you didn't."

Something in his voice made her look up, "He's yours too." she said, they smiled at one another.

"Yeah, but you did all the work. You could've handed me a cup and told me to get lost," Dave spoke the words in a barely audible voice.

"I'll keep that in mind." she snipped, pausing for a breath, looking back down at the infant in her arms. An uneasiness creeping into her voice. "Aren't you scared Dave, we'll mess him up somehow?"

Dave kissed her, his warm breath against her temple, "I'm confident you won't." He whispered before rolling off the bed while the nurse grumbled at him.

Santana's eyes opened. The pre-dawn light hung in the room. She lay on her side, toward what was Dave's half of the bed. A shape made from the shadows cast a ghostly figure on the bed. It was one she'd seen a hundred times before. Dave sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to her, as he let the sleepiness leave his body to start his day. The light shifted, changing the contrast and brightness of the shadows. He was gone.

A slight smile came to her face as she recalled her dream. It wasn't a nightmare, not even a bad dream. Sitting up, she slid her hands over her hair to pull it back, letting it go to cascade around her face. The last one had been the trip to Mexico that Paul had given them when he found out they never went on a honeymoon. The waiter speaking Spanish to Dave. Dave, out of his comfort zone, stumbling over words, she'd had ordered for them. Dave, embarrassed, had replied, "Yeah, whatever she said." When the waiter left, Dave raised his eyes and smiled at her, a look of admiration in his face.

Another dream when Dave came home early last summer. She had been in the pool with Zee. Zee crying for Daddy to join him in the pool. Dave removed his shirt, shoes, belt, emptied his pockets while he playfully talked to Zee. She'd grabbed Zee, drew him closer, knowing Dave would enter the pool cannonball style. Which he did, to screams of laughter from Zee. When Dave rose from the water, he sandwiched Zee between them. She'd chastised Dave for ruining a good pair of khakis. "C'mon, it brought your dimples out." He said as he gave her cheek a playful pinch.

In the weeks since the funeral, Santana had a handful of those dreams. The visions had been vivid memories. All very real. The odor of the chlorine in the water. The whiff of spices from food at the restaurant. Zee's new baby smell. The vibrant color of their clothing that day, Dave's Toucan shirt. Her yellow off the shoulder dress. The soft blue of the baby blanket. The sensation of pool water spraying on her and Zee. The dip of the mattress as Dave joined her bed. She remembered the warmth in her face at his touch. His smile in affectionate amusement.

Unlike the night of his death. That first night had been violent, brutal, intense. Dave laid out in a cold open field alone as people drove by. Blood spewing from his chest. Country music of trucks, beer, good old boys. The dogs sniffing at his body. Helplessness. The guilt of not being there. Her selfishness at wanting to escape his questions, constant monitoring. Her anger she felt over the table when she looked at him on Thanksgiving day. She remembered Brittany tenderly rubbing her sternum with her balled-up fist to wake her. Asking her if she were OK. The feel of Brittany's fingers stroking her hair. Their hands locked together across the back of Zee, who laid between them. Falling back to sleep, secured by Brittany's soothing touch.

Now Dave came to her peaceful in dreams. Dave was reassuring her he was OK. Speaking to her of his trust in her. Reminders of the fun they'd shared. The respect he had of her. He wanted her to move forward. The choices she was making were OK with him. At least that was her interpretation of all but one dream.

It had become a recurring dream. It hadn't been as vivid, even though it stayed with Santana after she woke. But the vision never lasted long. Dave was with a group of men. Their faces blurred, he kept patting the back of one man. There were slight changes each time. The location of the dream. The bar. The pool. The airport. Another change was that not all the faces were blurred out. She'd seen Jacob Ben Israel. Another Jesse. Even Stoner Brett. Yet Santana had never seen Brett at the airport. Jesse beside their pool. Or Jacob at Scandals. And none had ever been invited to her home. None were part of her social circle. The only time she ran into JBI was at a KEI sponsored event. Even then, she'd ignore him unless he said hello to Dave. Jesse the one time he'd pulled her over. When she called about the investigation, it was a Detective Heider she spoke to. If she needed weed, she went to Mack.

It bothered her that she didn't understand the message. Even if she spoke to someone about her dream, they'd probably associate it with anxiety. Having a dead man talk to her in her nightly imagination now seemed irrational. She'd never heard of anyone having the same experiences. Yet there was an uneasiness about the dream. It was a vague, cryptic message that left a hollow feeling at the pit of her stomach.

My Arms Will Close Around You

Brittany, inside the garage, walked around Santana's SUV, glancing back her car hidden by the larger vehicle, she dropped her keys in her purse. Readjusting both the handbag and backpack over her shoulder. Moving the McDonalds sacks to her left hand, she typed in the code for the door. Inside she heard the distant noise of Zee playing over the intercom. "Santana," she called out as she came around the stairs into the breakfast area, setting the sacks on the kitchen counter, then dropping her bags on the table. Putting the paper cup basket in the frig.

Santana's voice came over the intercom "Upstairs, in my bedroom."

Brittany smiled a little as she thought of Santana's invite to her bedroom. "I'm coming," she yelled as she raced up the back stairs two at a time. Down the gallery, then through the hallway past Zee's room, a storage room, and finally to the sitting area of the master suite. "Where are you?" she yelled out.

"The office in the back," she heard Santana's voice.

Brittany's shoulders slumped as she turned toward Santana's voice, "You know it would be easy to get 10,000 steps without ever leaving this house." She yelled back as she made her way to the office. "What are you doing in here?" she asked.

Santana turned as she felt Brittany's arm go around her waist, "Deciding how I want to decorate Elle's new bedroom." She replied with a peck to Brittany's lips. "It's time to move her out of mine."

"You don't sound too excited?"

"I'm not. But in a house this big, it's kinda weird for her not to have her own room by now." She paused, "Actually, sorta creepy."

Brittany's mouth turned into a smile, "You're not a creepier, San." She gave an encouraging squeeze to Santana's shoulders. Deciding not to add 'maybe a little overprotective' to her assessment. "So what are you thinking? Princesses? Unicorns? Rainbows?"

Santana snorted, "No, no princesses. I was thinking of zoo animals like Madagascar. Something more colorful. Amazon has wall decals."

"Admit it, you just don't like the color pink. And a princess wears pink, and so do unicorns."

"OK, you win," she answered with a soft laugh. "I just have issues with princesses as role models. Running off with a stranger. Needing a rescuer. Gullibility." Shrugging her shoulders, "yes, at some point, I'll cave if that's what Elle wants, but right now, I'm making those decisions."

"I would argue that is true of the original Disney princesses, but the newer ones are more independent and are risk-takers." Brittany bit at her bottom lip "Our first role models aren't necessarily princesses, there are mothers and the women in our family. And what I see is Elle having plenty of those in her life."

"When Elle has watched the movies fifty million times, and it's her choice, I'll cave then. Right now, she's still my baby."

Brittany understood this wasn't her debate to argue the pros or her choice to make. "You sound tired. Busy day?" turning Santana to face her, the weariness evident in her eyes.

"Uhmmm, short night. Then Zee's Valentine's Day party at daycare." She let out a sigh, "Oh, he made you Valentine. And he brought home a cookie that he decorated for you." Santana blushed, and her eyes were downcast for a moment. "And I have a Valentine Day present for you too ... " she smiled as if reading Brittany's thoughts, "but it's not what you think."

"Then I think," Brittany said, drawing Santana into her arms, "we need to go downstairs, have our Happy meals, then share our Valentines."

Brittany helped Santana with the children, retrieving Zee from his playroom. At the same time, Santana caught Elle, making her first attempt at climbing out of her playpen. At the table, Zee munched on his Happy Meal while telling Brittany of his day. Elle tried her first French fry, which Brittany found surprising. Santana waving it off as too much salt. She also made her first attempt at sucking a chocolate milkshake through a straw. Thankfully she didn't experience brain freeze, the shakes having melted down a little from the ambient heat of the car and warmth of hands around the cup. Brittany helped Zee with his bath, while Santana took care of Elle's. While Zee put on his pajamas, Brittany stepped out into the hallway to go check on Santana. Only to see Elle walking toward her, her baby gait still unsteady, but being helped along by her mother. "Oh, my God, she's walking," Brittany exclaimed.

Santana grinned up at her. "I know. She had me a little worried. Zee was walking like this before his first birthday. But in the last few days, she's mastered it. She'll catch up to your 10,000 steps soon."

"Steps? She'll be out running me pretty soon." She said with a playful wink, "And dancing."

Santana swept her eyes up and down Brittany's body, "I doubt if she'll have your long legs to outrun or out dance you." She smiled. Letting go of Elle to watch her totter into Zee's room.

From the back, Brittany looked over Santana's shoulder, placed her hand on each "But I've danced with her mother, I'm pretty sure she'll be just as good if not better." She whispered.

"Yeah, you forget, her father couldn't." She snorted. "She has a 50/50 chance at dancing even with lessons." She paused to breathe, "But I'm willing to pay for professional dance instructors to help her along. One in particular." she said, resting her head back against Brittany's shoulder.

"Mami, I want to read this!" Zee shouted, handing a book to Santana.

Taking the book, she turned it over in her hands, "Green Eggs and Ham! You can read this?"

Zee nodded, "Dottie showed me how." He answered enthusiastically.

Santana chuckled, glancing back at Brittany "This could take a while if you want to go downstairs."

"There's no place I'd rather be."

And Protect You With The Truth

Brittany and Santana sat on the family room couch, on the coffee table, a bottle of champagne chilling in the pail along with two champagne flutes. An empty plate that had once held Tiramisu between the glasses. Brittany wrist now graced with a gold infinity bracelet from Cartier's. Around Santana's neck a silver infinite necklace from Jared's.

"I get mine being a tissue paper stained glass heart, but did he say why your's is round?" Santana asked as she examined Zee's valentine's gift to her.

Brittany flipping over the paper in her hand, "He told me that I showed him how to do a cartwheel and wheels are round. I appreciated both his sentiment and logic."

"He's a clever little guy I'll give him that, but his reading skills need some work." She laughed.

"Oh, C'mon, San. He told us a story that was pretty faithful to the book, and he did recognize a few sentences."

"Yeah, he did get the essence of the story right. But it was mostly just repeating words he'd heard before like "I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam-I-Am." She laughed, "That isn't reading. That memorization."

"That's how we all start to read in first grade, recognizing simple words. And for a little guy who hasn't started school, I was impressed."

"Are you saying my son is a genius?"

"I suppose I could show him a few complex algebraic problems to see if he's able to solve them." Brittany's eyes dwelt on her lips as she spoke

"No, I can only deal with one genius at a time," Santana answered with a soft laugh, "You're staring."

"You're beautiful. Even when you're tired. Do you know that?" Brittany asked, her voice a bare whisper in the room.

Santana felt the heat of a blush on her cheeks, reaching out a hand to brush a lock of long hair away from Brittany's face. Letting out a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding. "So are you." She purred.

Brittany moved her hand from Santana's arm over to the back of her neck, then kissed her lightly on her lips. Breaking away, their foreheads touching, "What's wrong? And I don't mean CEO mom wrong, something is bothering you, Santana." She asked.

A deep sigh escaped Santana's lips, "It's silly." She paused, "Well, not all of it."

"So, tell me." Brittany realized it sounded more like a demand, then she meant, "If you want too."

"Uhmmm were to start," she muttered, "Uh, you remember the one dream I had, that night I found out ..." her hands fidgeted in her lap.

"Yeah, in Naples. Have you had more?" Brittany asked in a soothing voice.

Santana turned her face away. "They're actually not bad dreams. But yeah, Dave is in my dreams."

"How so." Taking one of Santana's hands in hers to ease the nervousness, she felt radiating from the woman next to her. "Can you tell me?"

"Uhmm," that comforting ability Brittany to ease her by a simple touch. She could feel her heart go from rapid to a smooth beat. The knot in her stomach loosen. "They're more moments we shared. Uhmmm intimate moments," her eyes flashed to Brittany's face "uh not sexual. Like" she gave a half shrug as she smiled, "Zee's birth. Moving from the city to our condo in Lima to this house. A vacation. Silly stuff."

Brittany paused, she drew Santana up next to her to let her head rested below her shoulder "Mom told me when her maternal grandmother died. Mom was still a teenager and very close to her. That, for a year or so, she could occasionally hear Grandma DeVos call out her name. Then it just stopped." Pausing to breath, "Mom believed it was grandma telling her to think about something. And when it stopped, Mom thought she'd learned what Grandma wanted her too."

"They were messages?"

"No, not in the sense words of wisdom, just she'd hear her name when she had to decide which path to follow." Brittany bit on her bottom lip, "Santana, Dave's death was unexpected and violent. Add that to the ... the complicated relationship you two had, you've never really explored your feelings about it. Maybe that's part of the dream."

Santana snorted, "Internally, I've been a mixed bag of anger, regret, guilt." She hesitated, with a deep sigh, "Love." She reached up to wipe a tear from her face, "I uh ... I uh ... I don't know Brittany. Sometimes I don't know how I get through the day without exploding."

"And that's what Dave is telling you, don't be angry. Don't regret it. And there isn't anything to be guilty over. And the love you two shared may not have been the romantic love between a couple, but even their love changes over time. Let it go."

"Let it be?"

"Paul McCartney said it well. Acceptance. That bad things happen. But don't close out all the good things yet to happen."

"My other dream, though, that one is different. I can't make out meaning to it."

"What happens?"

"Nothing really. Dave is just standing with a group of men whose faces I can't see. Well, I take that back, Jesse, JBI, and Stoner Brett I've seen but not at once. Dave always has his hand resting on one man's shoulder."

Brittany's ears perked up at the mention of Brett. "Did you socialize with them?"

"No, we didn't. Dave went to school with all of them like Puck and Finn. But to the best of my knowledge, he never was best friends with any of the three. I had casual encounters with all three. But not socially."

Brittany filed the tidbit of the dream into memory. "Hmmm, I can't explain that. What else?"

"Uh ..." she snorted, "The ugly truth. Dave propositioned men that he worked with. They filed sexual harassment charges against him. Cooter took them directly to Paul, who then paid the men off to keep silent."

"Extortion?"

"I suppose you might call it that. I tend to think Paul wanted to protect KEI. At least what he told me. I didn't read anything in the complaints that implied blackmail. The stories were somewhat similar but occurred at different times, no overlap of employment."

"Can I ask who they were?"

"All of them have moved on, and it's highly confidential information, Brittany."

"I had to pass a security check at NASA even though I didn't take the job."

"OK, but you have to promise me it goes no further."

"Promise."

"OK Aaron McGovern, Mark Johnson, Pat Scholl, and Hunter Clarington."

Brittany gasped, a little too loud as she recognized the names from the print out Ryder had given her.

"What Britt?"

"Nothing, Nothing at all. I wasn't expecting four just one or two. That's all."

Notes:

Song: I Know You're Out There Somewhere; Artist: Moody Blues; Album: Sur la Mer (1988); Songwriters: Justin Hayward.

Tracing gun serial numbers – in reality, it's much more complicated than I describe.

Thad – He was a Warbler.

Menards doesn't have a store in Lima. However, they have stores in towns near Lima.

Gronk is a reference to NFL player Rob Gronkowski a now-retired tight end for the New England Patriots. (BTW not a fan of the Patriots).

"Green Eggs and Ham," Author: Dr. Suess (1960)

I made up the infinity jewelry, no clue if Cartier's or Jared's sells either.

"Let it Be" Artist: The Beatles; Album: Let it Be (1970) Songwriters: John Lennon / Paul McCartney.

NASA security check – that was more an assumption as some government jobs do require background checks.