If you have ever lost someone very important to you, then you already know how it feels, and if you haven't, you cannot possibly imagine it. - Lemony Snicket
The ride to the coroner's office was both eternal and not long enough. On the one hand, I wanted some answers, and me not being there wasn't going to change whether it was Finn or not. On the other, well…ignorance is bliss sometimes. Plus, and feel free to call me a coward, I didn't want to be around Carole when she got the news. I couldn't imagine how it would feel for her to look at me, knowing that she had had a son just like me 24 hours ago, and now he was gone.
You are a coward. Maybe she would appreciate having one of you around, even if it isn't Finn. After all, she's been acting like a pretty good second mother to you. Plus, asshole, it isn't about you right now. It's about Finn and Carole, mostly Carole. You can't do a thing to help Finn, whether he's dead or alive, but you can get off your high horse and comfort his mother.
Those were brave words, but when we actually pulled up, I found myself wanting to cling to the seat and refuse to leave the car. Dad gave me a long look. "Maybe I should take you home, Kurt; this isn't something you need to be around."
"No." It came out a mournful little whimper, nothing like I usually sounded. "Please, Dad, I don't want you to leave me."
He sighed. "This goes against my better judgment, but I can't be everywhere at once. Come on." He didn't protest when I slipped my hand into his for the walk. His grip was so tight that I felt it all up and down my arm, but I didn't care. Every step forward was a step closer to knowing whether or not I would ever see Finn again.
The receptionist recognized Dad, and let us past without comment. I kept slowing my pace, until Dad was almost dragging me along, but we made it there quickly. Carole sat quietly with a woman that I didn't recognize, but I could only guess was Mrs. Puckerman. They were sharing a box of tissues, both of them red eyes, but they were beyond tears. Dad went to Carole immediately, leaving me standing against the doorframe. Would she be angry with me? Even though she didn't know the extent of what had happened, she knew that I was making him nervous, because he had told her so the night he disappeared.
Her eyes met mine and she mutely held out her arms. I went to her, even though I hated being held, and didn't know how I could do anything to make things better for her. She kissed the top of my head. "It'll be ok, Kurt. No matter what happens, it'll be ok."
It wasn't ok, and it wouldn't be ok until we had Finn home safe, but I nodded dumbly. Instinct told me that I didn't need to, and probably shouldn't, say anything, that I should just accept it in silence. Dad came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder, and we sat in silence, waiting for the door to open and someone to tell us if our world had come to an end or not..
There was a clock on the wall, and I watched the second hand tick in circles, first 10 of them, then 20, then 30. Finally, at 47 and a half, a woman in white coat and mask opened the door and signaled to the policeman that had been standing a silent sentry. The air grew thick and I wondered if I was going to puke. Hopefully not, since this shirt was new and it was the first time I had worn it.
I hardly think that that's the most important issue right now, Kurt.
No, but it was something I could control, considering that I couldn't do anything else right now. The cop returned with another officer and gestured to us all. "Puckerman family, please come with me, Hudson family with Officer Wilson."
Carole started to cry the minute we were put in the other room. "I can't even look Nancy in the face. How can I? Every second I sit there and pray that my little boy is safe, I'm praying that hers is dead."
That made it all hit home for me, and I felt dizzy. I didn't even like Puck, he was nasty to me most of the time, and I had yet to forgive him for all of those dumpster dips over the years, but that didn't mean that I wanted him dead. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Maybe the body wasn't either one of them. Even though it had been in Puck's truck and both boys were missing, but that was just it, they were both missing. Why kill one of them and take the other? Not to mention that 17 year old boys weren't exactly high on the list of potential kidnap victims. See, if there was only one body, it probably wasn't Finn or Puck, because they had been together and-
Stop it. You're getting yourself hysterical and that doesn't benefit anyone. You have two missing teenage boys, and the body of a teenage boy found in the truck that belongs to one of them. Maybe it's Puck. Maybe someone kidnapped Finn for some reason, or Finn wandered away from the car in a daze after an accident and they'll find his body later, or maybe he even killed Puck himself. Or the body could be Finn's; any of those scenarios could fit him also. One of them is dead, period.
That voice was mean, but it made me sit up straight. I was too strong to seek refuge in denial. Still, I couldn't help but tense up when the police officer came back into the room. He took a deep breath and nodded at us. "The body found is not your son, Finn."
We all released a breath and I felt tears starting to run down my face. It was alright, Finn wasn't dead. He wasn't here, but at least he wasn't dead.
That you know of. Chances are, they'll find his body next.
A huge evidence bag was held out to us. "Do any of these things belong to Finn?"
There was an all too familiar cell phone, as well as a wallet, and Finn's letterman jacket. "All of those things are his." I barely recognized my own voice.
"These were all found in the car." He checked a box on his clipboard.
On second glance, I could see that there was blood sprayed on the white parts of the jacket. Was that blood Finn's? I didn't want to ask though, because I was too afraid of what the answer might be.
"It's Noah that's dead, isn't it?" Carle was shaking her head. "Finn and Noah have been friends since they were just 5 years old. Finn wouldn't have left him behind, no matter what. Someone took my son." Her voice turned into a low moan. "Somebody took Finn." Then she fainted and thank Prada that Dad was able to catch her because I could barely keep on my feet myself.
Suck it up and get to a chair. I obeyed the voice without conscious thought, thankful that the room was small and I was able to get there quickly. Now put your head between your knees and take a deep breath. There you go.
Not only did my new position help with the dizziness, but it kept me out of the way while people rushed in to try and help Carole. I drew my knees to my chest and made myself as small as I possibly could, so no one would see me and insist that I leave the room.
A uniformed man, checked Carole's pulse, then ran one of those sticks under her nose to wake her up. The sharp tang of ammonia was clear even from where I was sitting. Her eyes opened and she sighed softly. "Is my baby still dead?"
Dad tried to reassure her that, no, Finn wasn't dead, Finn had never been dead. They just weren't sure where he was at the minute, but he was sure they would find him soon. Her dark eyes, which were so much like Finn's when he was sad, turned inward. "2 days ago, you all told me that he ran away. I kept telling you, no, that Finn wouldn't do that, but, oh, no, every one of you knew better. He's my son, my child and I know him. You don't! None of you do! He's…." She stopped, because there wasn't anything else her to day. Finn was what? The only man in her life for the past 15 years? Gone forever? About to walk in the door any minute, laughing about the great joke he and Puck had pulled? The last one was ridiculous, but I couldn't help but hope that it was true.
Luckily, the officer was able to calm her down. "Mrs. Hudson, I agree totally. That's why I need you to sit down with me so we can brainstorm where Finn might be. I'll need lists of his friends, teachers, coaches, any adult that he comes in regular contact with. Also, we'll be bringing dogs in to comb the area where the truck was found, so we'll need some clothing that has his scent on it. Pictures are great, especially a school one that clearly shows his face. We want to get him out there as quickly as possible, in hopes that someone will have seen him."
She immediately pulled out her purse (which, by the way, didn't match her coat) and opened a picture wallet. There, tucked in the place of pride and protected by plastic sheeting was Finn's school picture from last year. He was giving that sweet smile he had, not the full on grin that meant he was making trouble, or the nervous quirk of the lips I had been seeing lately, the gentle one that he usually reserved for his friends.
He used to smile like that for you, too.
I ignored her, because I had noticed something more interesting. My own picture was opposite Finn's, and what had I been thinking with that shirt? It was horrible, and actually made me look chubby, which was quite the accomplishment. But it was there, which meant that Carole liked me, at least on some level, and wanted to show me off. It was an odd feeling, to know that someone besides my father was proud of me.
She eased the picture out with shaking fingers. "This is him. He's-"Her voice cracked, but she took a deep breath and soldiered on. "He's 6'3, and he has brown eyes and he has a scar on his back from an accident." There was a pause while she visibly steeled herself for the next questions. "Do you think someone really took Finn?"
"It's starting to look that way, ma'am" He was looking down now, extremely uncomfortable. "But we won't know anything until the dogs finish combing the area."
What that actually meant was that the dogs were looking for Finn's body. Puck was dead, and chances were, Finn was too. But why? Granted, Puck was a moron and a jerk, but he had never done anything bad enough to deserve death. He was mostly talk, which I could appreciate, considering that I was the same way. Except I was alive and he was dead. "Was he murdered?"
I think that the adults in the room had forgotten I was there, because everybody jumped. The officer looked to Dad and Carole, who both nodded. The time for keeping secrets and attempting to shield me from the truth was over now, and we all knew it. "Yes, Noah was murdered."
"Did he suffer?" I was suddenly feeling incredibly protective towards Puck which was strange, because he was the one who needed no protection at all.
"No. From what the coroner has said, he died instantly from a single gunshot wound to the head. He probably never even saw it coming." His eyes held mine, and, try as I might, I couldn't see even a hint of a lie in them.
"Why kill one and not the other?" Dad was trying to hold himself together, but I knew that he loved Finn, too, and I could see the strain.
"I don't know. None of us have ever heard of a case like this one, which is why we're calling in for help from a larger city. It could be that whoever took Finn didn't feel capable of restraining two powerful teenage boys, but knew that the one they didn't take would go to the police, so they shot Noah, or it could be that Finn was the specific target and Noah just got in the way. I'm going to need more in depth interviews with each of you, to get the best picture possible of Finn. Sometimes one family member might notice things that other ones do not. I'm particularly interested in speaking to you, Kurt. Teenagers are more likely to be honest with a friend then with a parent."
I wasn't Finn's friend, not anymore, but I did spend way too much time watching him. Plus, we did technically share a room, even though it had only been a few days. "Ok." I didn't sound anywhere near as confident as I wanted to.
He softened. "Kurt, you are not a suspect, which means you don't have to do anything you don't want to, alright? Since you aren't, you can either talk to us alone, with a parent present, or with someone appointed by the courts to look out for you."
Both Dad and Carole started to say something, but I interrupted. "I want to go by myself." If I had to look at either one of them while I talked, I would break down and I was afraid that if I broke now, it would be the end of me.
"Kid, maybe-"
"Dad, I'm fine! You be with Carole, and I'll talk to this guy and then they'll find Finn and it'll all be alright. I think Finn has a sweatshirt in the back of your car, Dad, maybe the dogs can scent him off that. He wore it to practice a few weeks ago, so the rest of us sure can." There, I sounded a little more like my normally bitchy self. This was good, I could do this. No matter how broken my heart was right now, I could keep myself in control at least long enough to help Finn out.
"Ok, ok. Whatever you want if fine, Kurt." His hands were up, almost as if he were trying to pacify a rabid dog.
Even thought that was exactly what I had asked for, it didn't make me feel any better. Why was everything I wanted always fine with him? Joining Glee, joining football, quitting football, wearing a corset, it was all the same to him. Whatever you want, Kurt, it's alright. I just want you to be happy. Only sometimes it felt more like he was actually saying: Whatever you want, Kurt, because I'm too tired to put up with your screaming and your fighting and your drama. I'm just too tired to deal with you right now.
Finn didn't get away with nearly as much as I did. If I wanted to go out and do something, Dad shrugged and said to be safe. Carole demanded to know where Finn was going, who he was going with, how long they would be there, and when she could expect him home. Plus he had to call and check in. Logically, I knew it was because Finn didn't tend to make the best choices, and I was more responsible, but my heart kept trying to insist that it was because Carole loved Finn more then Dad loved me.
Yeah, because it worked out so well for Finn in the end. He did everything right, Carol did everything right, and you father did virtually nothing, and Finn's gone and you're still here. That, Kurt, is the definition of ironic.
I knew what ironic meant, thank you very much. Still, every time that voice spoke up, it riled me to the point where I had the strength to keep going. I pushed myself out of the chair, ignoring that my legs were wobbly and almost asleep from where I had been holding on to them so tightly. I nodded at the police officer. "I'm ready to be interviewed."
He started to reach out, like he wanted to put his hand on my shoulder, but then he changed his mind and drew back. That was fine with me, great in fact, because I didn't want to be touched. I had a job to do, and I didn't want even the slightest hint of comfort from anyone. My tension was the only thing holding me together at the moment.
Once we made it to the interview room, I was offered something to eat or drink, but I turned both down. I was here to work and get Finn back, not snack.
Keep telling yourself that. Keep pretending that anything you do right now is going to either help or hurt Finn. Poor baby, he's way beyond your help right now.
I hated that voice with all of my heart. Of course telling the police everything I knew would help Finn. 17 year old boys didn't just get snatched by strangers; they were taken by people that they knew. We just had to figure out who Finn might have pissed of, then we would know who had him. Besides, how could a voice in the back of my head know more then I did?
The deputy recorded me while I went over what had happened Friday night in as much detail as possible. I had done nothing but think about that night for the past few days, and every detail was clear in my mind. What Finn had been wearing, what he had said, every tiny expression on his face.
He let me ramble on; reminding me every time that I paused that even tiny details that seemed like nothing could end up being important. For my part, I answered his questions as best as I could. No, I had never actually seen Puck, just heard his truck. Yes, I was sure that Finn had specifically promised to come back to watch a movie. No, Finn had never been violent towards anyone that I knew of.
Then he asked the question that gave me pause. "Does Finn have access to a gun that you know of?"
"Finn wouldn't have shot Puck. They fight sometimes, but they're best friends. Finn would never, never hurt anyone like that." If Finn was going to hurt anyone in the past few weeks, he would have hurt me.
"No one is suggesting that Finn deliberately hurt Noah." Liar. That was exactly what he was suggesting. "It's possible that one or both of them were playing with the gun, and Noah was accidentally shot. Finn could have panicked and run. Now, does he have access to a gun?"
I looked down. "Dad has a shotgun for hunting. But he keeps it locked up all the time, and Finn's kind of afraid of it anyway. Dad said he was going to teach Finn about it later, maybe take him along when the season started." I could hear the hurt in my own voice, considering that Dad never offered to take me along.
You puked as soon as he shot the deer the one time he did and then cried until he took you home. I think he may have gotten the idea from that that you didn't want to go hunting with him. You won't touch venison to this day, and every time he eats it, you remind him of how traumatizing that moment was for you.
Alright, I had Bambi issues. So sue me. I was so busy thinking that I missed the next question. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Did Finn ever talk about running away to you? Even if he seemed like he was joking."
"This is Lima, Ohio. Everyone talks about running away at some point. But, no, he wasn't serious. Finn's a mama's boy through and through. Besides, he has nowhere to go and he knows it."
"Most runaways have nowhere to go. They figure that they'll head to New York or California and everything will be great for them. Then, by the time they find out that that isn't true, it's too late."
None of this was helpful. "So, basically the situation we have here is you think that Finn someone snuck an unloaded gun out of a locked cabinet, ransacked the house to find the bullets, correctly loaded the gun, then, while playing with said gun, accidentally killed his best friend then took off. Does that scenario really make sense to you?"
"No. But neither does a random stranger shooting one 17 year old boy in the head, then kidnapping the other one, especially considering that Finn is 6'3 and well over 200lbs. He's not an obvious target."
""Finn's 16." Why that felt important to emphasize, I had no idea. "Maybe he knew the person." Why was I having to do this mans job for him?
"Maybe he did. Is there anyone in particular that Finn was having problems with? Classmates, teachers?"
Finn might be down on the popularity ladder these days, but he was generally likable and so easy going that he didn't have many enemies. "A few of the guys from the football team kind of pick on him."
"Pick on him how?"
"Shove him a little; toss slushies at him, that sort of thing. Nothing really violent."
"What are their names?"
"David Karofsky and, uh, Azimio, I don't guess I don't even know his first name. They're the ringleaders and the worst."
"Do you think they would resort to something like this?"
Did I? David Karofsky was the biggest asshole on the planet, especially to me, but I just couldn't see him actually shooting someone in the face. Especially not Puck, who had someone managed to retain his cool status even after joining Glee. If it had been me or Finn who had been killed…no, I honestly didn't think Karofsky would have the courage. "No. I think both of them are cowards at heart. They're bullies, but…shooting someone you know in the face, that's pretty violent for a 16 year old."
"Back when I worked in Chicago, I saw 16 year olds shooing other kids every day. I'll be bringing this Karfosky in later. Is there anyone else he was having problems with?"
That should have been my cue to tell him everything, that Finn was having problems within the family as well as out of it, but I couldn't. If I told him that, I would have to confess everything, and there was no way I was capable of admitting what I had done.
Even if it means saving Finn's life?
That voice had told me just a little bit ago that nothing I could do would help Finn, and now it was changing its mind? Still, the implications stung and I took a deep breath. "At home."
"He was having problems at home? Because of moving in with you and your father, or because of something else?"
"Both, I guess." Tears welled up in my eyes and I was offered a tissue in silence. I dabbed quickly and started shredding it, just so I wouldn't have to look at him. "I've kind of had a crush on him, and I've been flirting with him. It was nothing bad, I swear, and I never, never would have done anything he didn't want me to, but he was really freaked out. He didn't say stop, though." The justification sounded kind of pathetic out loud.
"Ok." I could tell by his tone that he was totally out of his comfort zone, but he forged ahead. "So what you're telling me is that you were…not exactly harassing him, but making him a little nervous. Nervous enough that he might have tried to run?"
That wasn't something I could answer, because I didn't know. It was the same thing I had been asking myself ever since I woke up and found Finn gone. Was this all my fault? "I…I don't know."
He sighed. "It would be extremely unusually for a teenager to bolt due to some harmless flirting, especially since it doesn't look like Finn went to anyone for help, including his mother. It could have played into things, but as a direct cause? I doubt it. Plus, I don't see you as being able to overpower both of them, weapon or not. We will, of course, be confiscating your father's gun to run comparisons."
"Of course." I said it like I had any idea why. Finn watched CSI and Bones all the time, and I watched so I would have an excuse to be close to him, but I spend most of the episodes doing my nails or reading a fashion mag. Blood and gore kind of made me nauseous.
"Is that the only problem at home? Are there problems with his mother or your father?"
"No, they both love Finn. He's funny and he's sweet and he likes sports, which makes him just great in their eyes." I could hear the resentment in my own voice, and it occurred to me that I wasn't helping my 'not a stalker or viable suspect' case.
Wisely, though, he didn't say anything to that effect. He just kept going, asking questions about Finn's friends, what he did most days, his sports schedule, all of the little things that made up an average teenagers day. For my part, I answered as best as I could. No, Finn didn't do drugs. He had an occasional beer with Puck, but I had never seen him actually drunk. He wasn't a confident driver, and I couldn't imagine him driving cross country to a major city, even if he did have access to a car, which he didn't.
By the end of the interview, I didn't feel like we were any further along then when we started. Finn was still missing, nothing I had said was terribly helpful, and I was starting to feel lightheaded again. "I guess that's it."
He pushed a card across the table. "If you think of anything else, please let me know."
I took it, even though I still had the card that I had been given last time. It wasn't that I didn't want to help, because I did, it was just that I was losing confidence in my ability to do so. I had been the last person to see Finn, except for Puck, and all I was sure about was what Finn had been wearing when he disappeared.
That's more then anyone else can tell them.
That was true. I spun the card in my hands and stared at the stainless steel table. "Can I go back to my Dad now?"
"Of course." He led me back out to the lobby where Dad sat alone, looking utterly lost. I climbed in the chair next to him. "Where's Carole?"
"Still being interviewed." He touched my leg gently. "Listen, Kurt, I know I was short with you the other morning, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
With everything that had happened since then, I had barely thought about him accusing me of covering for Finn on Saturday. "It's alright."
"No, we need to stick together right now. And not just you and me. You, me, and Carole, and Finn when he gets home, we need to act like a family right now. Because when Finn gets back, it's not going to make this thing over."
I had been so focused on us finding Finn, that I had never considered the aftermath. So I just stared into his face, wondering if I had the same purple bags beneath my own eyes and if I looked so very close to breaking down. His comment begged a question, but I was just too tired to ask.
Luckily, I didn't have to. He didn't meet my eyes when he spoke, just kept staring straight ahead. "Kurt, what's the best way to get someone to do what you want? Not the kindest, the thing that will get you the fastest response."
"Bribe?" It was what he tended to use with me.
"Fear. I've been thinking about it, about how someone would manage to kidnap a teenager as big as Finn. They wouldn't be able to overpower him, he's too strong. If they knocked him out, they would have to drag him, and he's too heavy. They have to find a way to make him move under his own power."
I could see where this was going, and an image of Finn's shocked, tearstained face forced itself into my brain. Dad shook his head again and I got the impression that he was talking to himself as much as he was talking to me. "So they shoot Puck right in front of him and tell him that if he doesn't get in the car with them, they'll shoot him, too. Finn wouldn't just go with a stranger; someone had to have forced him. That poor kid."
"But why?" My voice was soft. "What did Finn ever do to anyone?"
"There are a lot of sick people in the world, Kurt." I leaned into him, desperate to be close. I didn't want to think about what might be happening to Finn right now.
"So, what I'm trying to say is, even when Finn gets home, he's probably seen his best friend murdered, and it's going to take a long time for him to be back to normal. Or, he might never be the same way he was. That's why the rest of this family needs to stick together and be strong for Finn, because he's going to need us. Do you think you can be there for him?"
Neither one of us was going to acknowledge the glaring fact that Finn might not be coming home at all. We would all just pretend that he was playing a distorted version of hide and seek, and was just around the corner, waiting for us to find him. "I can be there for Finn if he needs me. Carole, too."
Only I was pretty sure that Carole wasn't going to want me around. I wouldn't want me if I were in her place. Every time she looked at me, it would be a horrible reminder that, she too, should have a 16 year old boy who came home talking about what had happened in Glee that day.
"I knew that I could count on you, Kurt. You and me, we're a team." He grinned at me, and I forced myself to grin back.
But I didn't want to be on a team with him. We had been a team ever since my mother died, and it wasn't working any more. I wanted him to be the Dad and me to be the kid for once. Like Carole was with Finn. I was just tired of holding up half of our relationship. This was a new feeling for me, since most of the time I thought it was cool that Dad treated me like such an adult, and it was disconcerting. I didn't say that, though, because there were bigger things going on right now then me. "Yeah, Dad, we're a team."
"Great."
Yeah. Great.