Standard Disclaimer: I don't own Glee and RIB shouldn't either.
Hello there! Shoot, I know. It's been a verrrrrrryyyy long time, but truth be told I really needed a break from this one (didn't realize it would be a year though. Yikes). However, I'm back at it like a bad habit and I truly appreciate all the views, comments, and overall love y'all have shown during the hiatus. This next installment picks up right where we left off. I hope you enjoy it!
Heart racing, Mercedes made it as far as the elevator before she broke down. With one hand covering her mouth and the other clutched to her chest, she fought desperately to keep her sobs at bay. This could not be happening.
Sam stood rooted in the same spot, his body numb and eyes locked on the space Mercedes occupied moments before. The shrill ringing of the telephone broke him out of his trance and he took two long strides over to where it hung on the wall.
"What the hell do you want?," he barked into the line. There was a pause.
"Hello to you too, Sam."
He let out a sigh and ran his hands across his face.
"Puck, man, I'm…" he shook his head. "What's up?"
"I could ask you the same thing. Are you okay?"
"No, I'm not," Sam answered truthfully, sinking into one of the chairs at the counter. He felt his stomach turn as he looked at the barely eaten food in front of him.
"What's going on?" There was silence on the other end as Puck waited for an answer. "...Sam?"
"Look, can whatever you called about wait til I see you in the office? I gotta take care of something."
There was another pause. "Uh yeah, it's not too pressing. Let me know if you need anything."
"Will do," Sam replied distractedly. He ended the call and dialed Artie's number. The officer answered on the first ring.
"Evans, hey thanks for getting back to me. I really-"
Sam cut him off. "What's going on?"
Something in his tone must have tipped Artie off, because he jumped right to the point.
"I have a name for you – Jacob Ben Israel. I don't have much to go on, but he came in today with a nasty injury and looked pretty shaken up. I can't dig too deep without raising eyebrows. Can you do some legwork on your side?"
"Yeah, I'll get on it." Sam ran a hand over his face. "Is that it?"
"Were you expecting something else?"
Sam sighed, frustrated. "No. I'll get back to you in an hour."
He ended the call before the officer could respond and leaned back in the chair. Fuck.
Mercedes walked up to the doors of the building and inhaled deeply. Sleep hadn't been an option and she was physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. She tried her best to get herself ready for the day, but her puffy eyes and forlorn expression must have given her away because Quinn made a beeline for her as soon as she entered the office.
"Mercedes, honey, what's wrong?" she asked, grasping her shoulder.
As Mercedes opened her mouth to respond, her eyes filled with tears. Quinn's eyes widened and she ushered Mercedes into her office, closing the door behind them and walking over to her desk for a box of tissues.
Mercedes struggled to get herself together. "It's nothing. Really. I'm fine. I'm just so excited for tonight," she stammered, letting out a shaky smile.
Quinn narrowed her eyes and studied her friend intently. Reading Mercedes' silent plea to let it go, she nodded.
"I'm gonna go prep the team. Take a minute and join us when you're ready, okay?"
Mercedes nodded and shot her a grateful smile. "Thank you."
When Quinn closed the door behind her, Mercedes inhaled deeply and let out a shaky breath. This was the biggest day of her career. She had to pull it together.
Sam walked briskly into the conference room. A follow up conversation with Artie highlighted how serious the issue was and he realized that they might be running out of time.
"Thanks for coming in this early everyone. I wanted to speak with you before we brief the whole team for tonight."
Puck looked at him curiously. "Would this have anything to do with our conversation this morning?"
Sam nodded. "Remember that Mitchell/Clemmons case I told you about a few months ago?"
"The drug trafficker and the missing money? Yeah, what about it?," Mike asked. Puck was silent, his eyes trained on Sam.
Sam turned on the projector and several documents appeared on the screen. He selected one and enlarged it for the group to see.
"Meet Mercedes Jones, Clemmons' former assistant. Turns out she was at the scene when the murder happened and may have information tying the vic to Mitchell's money."
"Isn't that-," Puck began.
"Yeah it is," Sam cut in, his eyes focused on the screen.
Silence fell over the room. After a few seconds, Mike looked between his two partners. "Anyone wanna tell me what's going on?"
"That's our client for tonight," Puck offered, his eyes never leaving Sam.
"Wait, what?" Mike asked.
Sam sighed and looked at the two of them. "I kept this part out of our initial conversation because it wasn't relevant. I spoke with Abrams after we got tapped for the gala."
"Did it not occur to you that a murderer would be an important security detail?," Puck asked calmly, his eyes narrowing.
Sam returned his stare. "Up until this point I had no reason to believe that the request from Abrams and the event tonight would overlap."
"So what's changed?," Mike broke in, tempering the tension that fell in the room.
Sam turned away and clicked to another slide, pulling up a list of phone numbers. Several were highlighted in yellow.
"Abrams first approached me to keep an eye on Mercedes while the case unfolded. After months of radio silence, we were both under the impression that Mitchell and his team forgot about her. Turns out they were just waiting on a middle man to get them information." He turned to look at them. "These are the phone records of Jacob Ben Israel, one of the officers working the case. He's their guy. That call you see here?" He used a pointer to hover over one of the highlights. "Someone transferred $10,000 into Israel's bank account an hour after it was made. There's no telling what he said, but whatever it was was pretty valuable."
"Do you think that they figured out where she is?," Puck asked.
Sam nodded. "Before making this call, Israel emailed someone an L.A. Times article about tonight's event. Mercedes was quoted." He ran his hand through his hair. "It's too early to tell what their next move will be, but they've already disposed of another witness, so we have reason to be on alert."
He turned back to the screen. "There's no name attached to the number or email address. The money came from a series offshore accounts so it'll take days before we can get any concrete information about it. Artie and his team are checking flight records now to see if there's anything there, but it's a stretch. We're effectively shooting in the dark."
"What do you need us to do," Mike asked, leaning forward.
"I need a list of every person we have working security tonight with their background. I know we've checked and doubled checked, but we can't risk someone slipping in."
"We should also take another look at the guest list," Puck added.
"Absolutely," Sam agreed, taking a deep breath. That contribution was Puck's way of showing his support. "The thing is that we can't let Mercedes or Quinn know what's happening. We're unofficially involved with this case."
The trio spoke for a few more moments before breaking to prepare for the day. Before leaving the room, Puck turned to Sam.
"You spoke with Abrams this morning," he guessed.
Sam nodded.
"And Mercedes was with you."
Sam nodded again.
Puck looked at him and patted his shoulder. "I'm pissed as hell that you didn't tell us everything, but I get it and I've got your back. Let's do this."
Author's Note: Sam really sucks at communicating. How are you gonna keep important details like that away from your partners?
Anywho, in the last chapter I asked if anyone knew of a story where Sam writes Mercedes a bunch of emails a la Noah's letters to Allie in The Notebook. It's called "I Don't Deserve You (Can You Love Me Anyway?)" and it was posted on Tumblr, but the author deleted their account :( Huge thank you to Jmitch97 and Rashell for letting me know!