CHAPTER 11

"Finn? Hello?"

Finn snapped himself out of his doze and realised that he was in the therapy office, looking at a perplexed Dr. Pillsbury.

"I'm sorry." He blinked. "Uh… what was the question?"

"You… you asked me a question." She replied. "A-about the protocols in place for an officer who tests positive for drugs he ingested while in the line of duty."

Finn nodded in realisation.

"Um, sorry. Yeah. So, Quinn and I, we had to go investigate this pot party and there was just a ton of second hand smoke so… you know. Just want to make sure nobody gets in trouble."

"Well, in that case, there's a form I could give you that would clear you from any testing for the next 90 days."

Finn grinned.

"Perfect." He replied. "Can I get one of those?"

Dr. Pillsbury walked over to the cupboard and took out a form and handed it to him.

"Do you get high, Finn?" She asked. "I mean, when you're not working?"

"What? No. I mean, you know, I drink a little. You know, very occasionally. Uh, social functions, holiday parties and the like."

"Self-medicating with drugs and alcohol, that's something I talk about with a lot of people in this room. 'Cause what's said in this room, stays in this room."

Finn sighed and stood up.

"Well, I'll tell you what. Why don't you talk to Fabray if you think I'm lying?"

"I didn't say you were." She said, scribbling her signature on the drug test form. As soon as she did, Finn snatched it from her and made his way towards the door. Right before he left the room, he stopped and sighed.

"So, I woke up this morning… with the TV on, and… you know… there's one of those annoying commercials where the couples are frolicking around, you know, overly happy. And it was difficult to watch."

"What did you do?" Dr. Pillsbury asked gently.

"Shot the TV." Finn grumbled before walking out of the room.

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"So, how are Sam and the kids?" Sue asked Quinn. They were sitting in the precinct, catching up.

"Um… the kids are good. Sam and I got divorced a couple of months ago."

"Well, if he's gone, I guess it's safe to say I hated that guy!" Sue exclaimed. Quinn laughed.

"Yeah, he wasn't exactly faithful so I ended it. Santana actually moved in with me. She's kicking ass, taking names."

Sue and Santana had met at a Christmas party when Quinn was training in the police academy.

"That's cool. And the kids?"

"Well, I have a baby now which is crazy, you know, starting over again."

"I can't believe you're doing that. I mean, I can't believe you didn't just take the pension and hang it up."

Quinn rolled her eyes.

"I'll hang it up when the bad guys do. How's Harrison?"

Harrison was Sue's husband. Sue took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Harrison died of Prostate Cancer 6 months ago."

Quinn's eyes widened.

"What? Oh, God, no!"

"Tom wanted to keep it very private. Died like she lived."

"Sue, I wish I could have been there for you."

"Well, I was married to the job the first 20 years with Tom, and… the next 20 were supposed to be ours, for us. Best laid plans, right?"

Finn suddenly walked over to them.

"Look at this. Little family reunion." He remarked. "This warrants a little bit of scotch at least, right?"

"You know, for this reunion, a Babs would be more appropriate." Sue responded. Quinn's face lit up but Finn's was filled with confusion.

"Even better. What's her number?" He asked. Sue raised an eyebrow.

"Wait a minute, he doesn't know… he doesn't know what a Babs is?"

"No." Quinn grinned, shaking her head.

"Are you teaching him nothing?!" Sue shouted.

"It's not that I'm not teaching him, he's just not learning." Quinn said, and then turned to Finn. "A Babs - Bad Ass Breakfast Sandwich."

"Quinn used to bring me one every Friday from the only deli that does it right. In Hawthorne."

"Good little trainee." Finn laughed. "So you guys solve the case yet?"

"Not yet." Quinn replied. "Is there anything else about these guys?" Quinn asked Sue.

"Uh, yeah, the one thing, there was this smell. This earthy kind of incense."

"Patchouli oil." Finn realised. Quinn nodded.

"What did that lady say about tax day pick-up? Only her clients knew? Lonnie…"

"And Donnie." Finn finished. Sue smirked.

"You know, for being new partners, you guys are pretty good together. You guys take the partnership from the streets to the sheets?"

Finn and Quinn looked at each other in horror.

"Eww! NO!" Quinn yelled. Finn raised an eyebrow.

"Um… ouch! You would be lucky to get with this!" Finn remarked. Quinn rolled her eyes and the two of them got up to go find their suspects.

They arrived at the house moments later and surprisingly, it was completely empty. Quinn and Finn tiptoed into the house.

"Lonnie?!" Quinn shouted. "Donnie?! LAPD. Hello?"

No answer. Quinn and Finn made their way into the dining room and what they saw was literally terrifying. Lying on opposite sides on the table, on plates, were the severed heads of Lonnie and Donnie. Finn and Quinn both grimaced. Finn looked at the heads and then turned to Quinn.

"Well, we found our potheads…"

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The next morning, Quinn sat at her kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee, when Santana walked into the room and saw her.

"Quinn, when did you get home?"

"15 minutes ago. You were in the shower." Quinn replied. "I pulled an all-nighter. Two murders. Decapitations. Savage."

"Decapitations?" Santana grimaced. "Good Lord."

"I just came home to get a decent cup of coffee before I head back to the office."

"Well, you're gonna need some sleep when you get home. It's a good thing we postponed Girl's night, huh?"

Quinn shook her head.

"No. It's not a good thing. I ran into Sue yesterday. Tom died. 6 months ago. Cancer."

"No." Santana whispered. Quinn nodded.

"She said she wanted to spend time with him once she retired. I know we're not dating but I don't want to be Ned. Girls night… tonight."

Santana nodded.

"I'll move some things around." She replied. Quinn smiled.

"Thanks. You know, if it's not that important."

"It's work." Santana scoffed. "You are more important."

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Santana and Quinn peered through the window and saw Finn standing there.

"Hey, look who's here." Quinn remarked to her friend.

"Oh, gosh!" Santana chuckled. "Invite him in."

Quinn groaned and walked over to the door and opened it. Finn strolled inside.

"What are you doing here?" Quinn snapped. Finn furrowed his eyebrows.

"Huh? I'm here." He stated.

"Why?" Quinn spat.

"Here is there." Finn said. Quinn shook her head furiously.

"No, no, no. There is the office. Here is my house." Quinn responded. Finn groaned and banged his head against the kitchen counter. "We meet there, and then we drive together."

Finn sighed and put his head in his hands.

"So now what do we do?" He asked.

"I'm gonna go take a shower. Try not to steal nothin'." Quinn snapped and then walked upstairs.

As Quinn showered, Finn walked into the kitchen and put some deli meat on the fryer. Quinn walked in to him cooking and whistling to himself.

"Just make yourself at home, Finn." Quinn remarked. Finn smirked.

"Oh, thanks. I already did." He replied.

"So how long were you waiting outside?" Quinn asked.

"I was gonna come in, you know, but I didn't want to barge in on you and Santana. You seemed happy."

"Hmm. Hey, you know, I was thinking, we should talk to the Gang Unit about the decapitat… whoa." Quinn gasped, watching as Finn dunked his fried cold cut in a tub of mustard and put it in his mouth.

"Yeah, decapitation can be very disturbing." Finn nodded. Quinn shook her head.

"No, that breakfast of yours is disturbing. That's just not right, man."

"You don't want in on this?" Finn asked, holding out his fryer of cold cuts. "You know, I saw some decaps in Texas. All cartel-related. And they always outsourced their wet work to local gangs. You may be onto something."

Quinn couldn't focus though. Her eyes were trained on Finn's disgusting breakfast.

"You know, I-I can't do this. I can't… I can't talk to you while you're eating like that."

"You can't or you won't?" Finn asked.

"Both, Finn, both."

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Finn and Quinn paid a visit to the Gang Unit of the LAPD that afternoon.

"Negative. Cartels aren't in L.A." One of the sergeants said. "If you're looking for head choppers, try the Jamaicans. Kingston Boys, over on Manchester. I'll send you intel."

"Thanks for the tip." Finn replied. Finn wasn't listening though. Immediately, he noticed one of the officers. The man was Hispanic and he had gang tats all over him. But the most noticeable aspect was the massive scar on his neck.

"Hey, young man, what's your name?" Finn asked him. The man turned around and faced him.

"Puck." He snapped.

"Nasty scar you got there on your neck. Something you can tell us?"

"Just what Sarge said." Puck replied. Finn laughed.

"Just what Sarge said." He chuckled. Quinn had started listening in and Finn turned to her. "This kid, I don't know if he's more scared of his Sarge or his shadow." Finn remarked as they walked away. Puck growled at them.

"I ain't afraid of anything." He snapped.

"Good, because here's the deal, Puck. We have two headless bodies, not in Mexico, in L.A." Quinn said.

Puck sighed.

"Okay, look, the cartels are active in L.A. But I hear they're outsourcing to local gangs."

"You hear?" Finn remarked. "All right, man. Good luck growing a pair."

"I used to roll with the Locos." Puck shouted as they walked away. Finn and Quinn stopped walking and turned around to face him. The Locos were one of the fiercest gangs in L.A. "They'd take cartel jobs."

"The Locos?" Finn asked. "That who burned the gang tat off your neck after you quit?"

"No. I burned it off." He snapped. "Look, check the heads. The cartels use machetes. It might get you somewhere."

As Puck started to walk away, Finn called him back.

"Hey Puck! You want to roll with us? Play homicide detective for a little while? You can sit on her lap. She might even let you play with the siren."

Quinn groaned.

"Oh no. He loves the siren. I hate it."

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"Definitely a machete but, here's a plot twist, the decapitation was post-mortem. Cause of death was electrocution, courtesy of… wait for it… a cattle prod."

They were back in the forensics lab and Artie had just finished his autopsy on the corpses.

"They tortured him for information." Finn murmured. Artie nodded.

"Yeah, from the severity of the burns, I'd say this prod runs at 15 thousand volts."

Quinn whistled.

"That's twenty times stronger than a defibrillator." She commented.

"You got a pacemaker?" Artie asked. Quinn nodded.

"Yeah."

"You might want to stay away from these things." Artie said. Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Ya think?"

"I know a sick banger who tortures people with a cattle prod." Puck remarked from the corner of the room. Name's Paco. runs a gang out of Venice called Los Alvos."

"Sounds lovely. Can't wait to meet him." Finn grinned. "Thanks, Artie."

"You got it."