Truth Itself, PG
Title: Truth Itself
Rating: PG (mild language and mature content, e.g. mention of drug use, violence)
Summary: Sheriff Lamb brings Veronica in for questioning about her father’s whereabouts, which makes her even more determined to discover what’s happened to Keith Mars.
Spoilers: Through S2 - Not Pictured
Pairings: Veronica/Lamb
Disclaimer: All things Veronica Mars belong to Rob Thomas and everyone else who makes the show possible.
Notes: Many thanks to kurukami for a much needed beta. Prompt for everysingleway: Veronica/Lamb. The interrogation room, extreme snark, at least a kiss, but if you'd like you can stop there. Well, I tried.
Sheriff Lamb tossed the notebook onto the table in front of Veronica and leaned back in his chair with all the arrogance he possessed. Which, being who he was, was quite a bit. “Let’s try this again.”
She kept her arms tightly crossed and stared him down. He had nothing to charge her with and no reason to keep her locked in this interrogation room other than his own sadistic pleasure. “And again, in case you didn’t hear the first ten times I told you…I have no idea where my dad is.”
The fact that it was the truth made it an easy story to stick to. She had no idea where her father was; all she knew was contained in the cryptic phone message she’d gotten moments before finding Sheriff Lamb and Deputy Sacks standing on her doorstep. Keith Mars saying I’m sorry and I need more time were all she could make out through the sounds of traffic and unfamiliar voices. More time where and doing what were questions that wouldn’t be answered until he was home. But until that happened, she planned on keeping Lamb thoroughly stymied. The more he thought that she knew something, the less likely it was he’d actually try to find her father.
“Or I could arrest you for obstruction of justice. How do you like the sound of that?”
“What justice would I be obstructing, exactly? And since you’re all about justice…remember Felix? Kid who was murdered on the bridge a while back? I’m sure you’ve got his murderer locked up by now, right?” She made a Ra-Ra motion for sarcastic emphasis, smiling sweetly at the tightening of his jaw. “Oh. That’s right. You never even arrested him.”
“If I find out you had anything to do with his death, I’ll have you charged with murder.”
“You couldn’t get more than assault on Weevil and you had two witnesses.” It was occasionally a good thing that the Neptune Sheriff’s Department was incompetent, since every blue moon it meant that the system actually worked the way it was supposed to. No proof that Weevil had killed Thumper, no life sentence for murder. That was the way it was supposed to work. He was still glaring at her so she continued to goad him. “Can’t say that’s my preferred method of dying, crushed to death by a falling stadium. I wonder if Thumper was a Sharks fan. I don’t know about justice but you’ve got to admit it’s kinda poetic.”
“Especially when you consider who pushed the plunger.” He smirked at her. “How’s your boyfriend by the way?”
“The one Thumper tried to frame for Felix’s murder? Who you wrongly arrested twice? He’s good, thanks for asking.”
He leaned forward, holding her gaze. “Actually, I was referring to the one who kidnapped Faith Manning and fled the country, actually. The one you helped orchestrate the entire scheme. Quite the track record you’ve got there.”
“Orchestrate. I love it when you use big words.” Shivering artificially, she batted her eyelashes and continued to smile.
“Just tell me where your father is, Veronica.”
“Do you really think I’d tell you even if I know? Especially if I’m the criminal mastermind you think I am. And I keep telling you that I don’t know, but you don’t seem to be hearing what I’m saying. Me…Dad…location…not a clue. Do you need me to draw a picture?”
The chair legs screeched as they scraped across the floor and suddenly he was only inches away, slamming his hand down against the desk melodramatically. “This isn’t a joke, Veronica. Tell me where he is.”
“Was I laughing? Cause I’m pretty sure I haven’t been laughing.” The air was uncomfortably hot with the drastically reduced distance between them. She’d expected him to reek of too much bad cologne, the olfactory embodiment of his arrogance and incompetence. But there was no foul odor, only the clean scent of fabric softener and the subtle hint of Lever 2000. It almost made him seem like a normal human being.
“We can stay here all day if that’s how you want to play this. But I know you. I know you’re hiding something.” His gazed swept up and down her face several times, which was still only inches away and much too close for comfort.
“Fine,” she sighed. Pulling away from him was made impossible by his hands pressing down on the armrests of her chair. “It was me. I’m you’re secret admirer. I guess I just figured that with Madison gone…well…I thought I might have a chance. Can’t arrest a girl for dreaming.” She met his eyes defiantly and waited for him to hurl the next insult in their perpetual verbal war. It was her way of getting revenge for turning her away the one time she had needed him. She had no idea what he got out of it.
“You like this little game of yours, don’t you?” His breath was warm on her skin.
“It’s my favorite.”
“Can’t say it’s mine. I ask you questions, you lie to me, and the bad guy gets away.” His jaw tightened again. “I’m tired of playing, Veronica.”
“That’s too bad. I’ll miss our little chats.” When he didn’t back down or pull away, she began imagining the expression on his face if she ever got to use her tazer on him. “By the way, my dad isn’t the bad guy. And I’m pretty sure you won’t catch the bad guy by invading my personal space.”
“You might be surprised.”
“What? Am I hiding the bad guy in my bra?” She glanced down at her t-shirt and then looked up at him through lowered lashes. “You wanna search me?”
“Don’t act like I’m stupid, Veronica,” he ground out through clenched teeth.
“Who says I’m acting?”
“We can do this the hard way.”
“You talk big, but I’ve yet to see the action for myself. Of course, if it’s good enough for Madison…” she stopped when he pulled away.
It was a surprise when he sat back down and took a deep breath. She’d expected him to lob a few more insults before giving up. “Maybe we got off on the wrong foot.”
“You think?” There was no way she was going to let him switch tactics and pretend that he wasn’t a first-rate asshole. “I told you that I was drugged and raped and you went right out and found the bastard. Oh, wait…you didn’t. You did nothing. Because that’s all you ever do. Nothing.”
“That was a long time ago, Veronica.”
“That doesn’t make me any less of a victim and it doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t do your job. You got paid to sit there and do nothing. I guess you’ve got the perfect job then.” She had to stop there because her voice was beginning to shake with rising anger.
“I’m sorry.”
“What?” She blinked at him, expecting to wake up and discover that it was all a bad dream. “Did you just apologize?”
“You heard me.”
She lifted her chin higher and held tightly onto the fury that had kept her hatred for him burning all this time. “Apology not accepted. You didn’t just turn your back on me. You’ve turned your back on everyone in this town who actually need a Sheriff. The people you’re supposed to protect and serve.”
“And you’ve never made a mistake? Veronica Mars, the saint. Come on, Veronica. Try a little reality on for size. This is Neptune, this is how it works. There are the people who matter and the people who don’t.”
“You’re everything that’s wrong with this town.”
“I don’t make the rules.”
“You don’t uphold the law either but what’s a little thing like that?” Her emotions were bubbling dangerously near the surface, threatening to spill out when she’d sworn on every fiber of her being that he would never, ever see anything but ice in her again.
“What did you expect me to do, Veronica?”
“Your job!” The shout burst out before she could stop it and suddenly she couldn’t look at him anymore. Couldn’t look at his smug expression and still feel the sting of betrayal; still hearing and seeing his condescension. She left her chair and got as far away from him as possible. It wasn’t far, since she was still trapped in the interrogation room with him.
He ran his fingers through his hair; neck cracking as he twisted his head from side to side. “If you tell me where your father is, I’ll look into it. A full investigation.”
With a bitter laugh, she shook her head. “You’re a little late. I already know who raped me. And I know you wouldn’t have arrested him even if you could’ve. Because he was one of those people who mattered.”
His expression was serious when he finally looked up at her. “You’re using the past tense.”
She sniffed, rubbing at her nose because it itched and definitely not because her eyes were threatening to produce unwarranted tears. “He took a swan dive off of the Neptune Grand after killing I don’t know how many people. The kids on the bus for starters.”
“Cassidy Casablancas,” he said softly.
“Just out of curiosity. If you had listened to me and if you had done your job, maybe even found out who it was although I won’t give you that much credit…would you have charged him? Or would you have taken one look at Big Dick’s bank account and let him off with a slap on the wrist? Would all those kids on the bus be here today if you’d done your job? Answer that question for me.”
“You had no proof that a rape even occurred,” he scoffed. “And we both know how much your word is worth in a court of law.”
The reminder of the Aaron Echolls trial was a slap in the face and she was grateful for it. She needed it to force her emotions back down, to bury them away where he couldn’t see them and use them against her. “You could have tested me for date rape drugs. Do you want to know what you would have found?”
“An illegal alcohol limit? Underage drinking is actually a crime, Veronica.”
“GHB,” she snapped.
“And how was I supposed to prove that you didn’t just go to a party, have a drink or six, experiment a little, and then feel bad about it in the morning?” His calm edge crumbled a bit and he was obviously agitated when he stood up, crossing the room to invade her space once again. “Now you’re telling me that you were on the roof with the guy who raped you and he just happened to jump off. Am I supposed to assume he didn’t have any help from you on that last step?”
Veronica’s heart nearly stopped, the room suddenly too cold. “Logan was there. He saw it.”
“The same Logan who’s your boyfriend, who stole evidence in his father’s murder trial, whose father was murdered after being acquitted. You think we’re not looking at Logan as a suspect for that?”
“You think Logan killed his own father? That’s crazy.” She was having trouble breathing, her back up against the wall and Lamb in front of her blocking the way out.
“Wouldn’t be the strangest thing to happen in this town.”
Any comeback she might have had died in her throat. More than anything, she wanted her father to walk through the door and take her away. She wanted to be home curled up under a blanket with Back Up lying next to her and her father watching over her.
“Tell me what I’m looking at, Veronica.” His voice was low and for once, he didn’t sound like he was trying to hurt her. “Am I looking at a victim? Or should I read you your rights?”
“You wouldn’t even get a trial,” she whispered, terrified that she was wrong.
“Did Cassidy jump off the Neptune Grand or did you lure him up there and push him off? You could have made up the story about him causing the bus crash.”
“I didn’t!”
“But I can’t prove that.”
“He covered his tracks.”
“Which is very convenient for you. And I’m sure Logan will back you up. I’m sure you’ve told him exactly what to say if anyone asks,” he said cynically.
“Why are you doing this?” Her voice shook at the end, punctuating the question with horrifying vulnerability.
“Asking the tough questions is also my job, Veronica.”
Shaken, furious, and hurt all rolled into one awful ball of misery that left a pit at the bottom of her stomach. If she’d ever doubted whether or not he was out to get her, it had been definitively answered in the veiled threat to charge both her and Logan with murders they didn’t commit. Even though Cassidy’s death had been ruled a suicide, she wouldn’t put it past Lamb to reopen the case if he thought he could convict her.
“Tell me where you father is.”
“I don’t know,” she answered stoically.
“Veronica Mars, you have the right to remain silent. And I’m going to suggest you use that one.”
She met his gaze evenly. “I want a lawyer.”
***
Cliff McCormack grinned at her through the bars of her cell, raising his eyebrows paternally. “Do I even want to know?”
“I’m sure the good Sheriff enumerated my crimes.” Veronica sat up, wincing at the stiffness that came from lying on an uncomfortable jail cot.
“Obstructing justice apparently. I’ll be sending your dad the bill for your bail money and you’ve got a hearing set for two weeks from now.” He waited for the guard to unlock the door and let her out before continuing, holding up a plastic bag with her personal effects. “Mind if I ask what you were doing?”
“Me? I wasn’t even obstructing a doorway.”
“How’d you piss him off this time?”
“By being my normal charming self.” She smiled in spite of the knots her stomach was turning into. Her father was going to ground her for a decade.
The sun on her face had never felt so wonderful and she had a new appreciation for Logan’s praise of freedom and her virtues. She wanted to ask Cliff about her dad but kept those questions to herself. Beating the charges would mean proving that she’d known nothing about her father’s whereabouts.
“You have that effect on people. Do you need a ride or anything?”
“I’d love you forever if you could take me home. Lamb didn’t let me drive myself to the station. And could you not tell my dad just yet? He’s been working on this big case and he’s not supposed to be back in town until tomorrow. If you could just hold off a little.”
“No problem.” Cliff waved her to his car. “Big case? Anything interesting?”
“I don’t ask, he doesn’t tell.”
“I hardly believe that.”
“Alright, I asked. But he told me it was nothing and not to worry. Which is Mars speak for the world is about to end.” She buckled in and relaxed into the seat. “Now I’m wishing he’d at least told me where he was going. Might have spared me the night in jail since Lamb wouldn’t believe that I really don’t know where he is.”
“Yeah, you might want to make showering a first priority.”
“It’s number one, believe me. I think that cot had fleas.” Scratching at her itchy scalp, she watched the city pass by through the window and tried to remember any tidbit of information that would help her to find her father. “What do I need for the hearing?”
“Other than fresh underwear and your best innocent look? You just need to relax. And I need to get your side of the story so I can prepare my statement for the judge, but we can do that after you’ve showered. We’ll plead not guilty and see what the illustrious Neptune Sheriff’s Department has against you as far as evidence. Which, from where I’m sitting, looks like squat.” He gave her a sideways look. “One of these days, remind me to ask you what you did to get on Lamb’s bad side.”
“Better ask him yourself because I have no idea why he hates me.”
“Think it’s about your dad?”
“As in, he knows my dad was a better Sheriff than he is and likes to take out his frustration on me?” She waited for a better explanation but he merely shrugged and kept driving. The rest of the trip was silence, other than Cliff fiddling with his radio as it went in and out of static. She’d never been so glad to see her apartment complex in her life.
“You sure you’re okay, V?”
“I’m good. And thanks. You’re the best lawyer ever.”
“I’m the only lawyer you can afford.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re not the best.” She pressed a quick kiss against his cheek before climbing out of the car. “And if you could let me be the one to tell Dad, I would totally owe you. Big time.”
“Just promise me that you’ll call as soon as he gets back.”
“Cross my heart and hope to spend another lovely evening with Lamb, which is actually worse than death in case you were wondering.” She waited until the car disappeared down the street before turning toward the complex. For all intents and purposes, this would be just another Sunday morning with her father out of town on a case. It happened all the time and there was no need to change her routine.
A hot shower helped wash away the grime and sweat from her skin but did little to erase the memory of her interrogation. As she lathered up the shampoo, she puzzled at the unanswered questions. Where was her father? Why had he called her to tell her that he needed more time just before Lamb had arrived? And for that matter, why was Lamb looking for her father at all? Something wasn’t right. She had a sneaking suspicion that if her father had been careful not to leave any clues for her to find then he was safe from Neptune’s finest. Of course, that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to turn the office inside out looking for even the tiniest shred of a clue.
Once she was wrapped up in fluffy towels and her bathrobe, she checked her messages. Several from Logan and one from Mac; nothing more from her father. She dialed Logan’s number but only got a busy signal. In a way, she was relieved, the silence of solitude was a welcome relief from a noisy holding cell.
There was nothing on TV other than bad movies and reruns. She curled up on the couch with a mug of hot tea anyway, flipping channels without actually watching what was on the screen. Her mind kept spinning around in circles, trying to find the answers. At the top of the list of unanswerables was why Sheriff Lamb had only charged her with obstruction of justice. Why hadn’t he been the vindictive ass she knew he was and charged her with the murder of Cassidy Casablancas?
That he hadn’t added any charges beyond obstruction of his own pigheadness would have be taken as a lucky break. Now she just had to pretend everything was business as usual. And since she was in the business of private investigation, business as usual just might get her some answers.
***
“Even I could have told you she wasn’t lying and I’m hardly her BFF. If Keith doesn’t want to be found, he’s far too smart to tell his own daughter where he’s going. Especially with the hatchet you’ve got waiting to bury in his back.” Cliff dumped the microphone wire and mini recorder on Sheriff Lamb’s desk. “Why the elaborate charade? Which I’m not comfortable with, by the way. I’m sure I just broke a dozen laws.”
“You did, but I’m not planning on charging you with any of them.” Lamb ejected the tape from the recorder, slipping it directly into his uniform shirt pocket.
“Right, since you falsely charged my client and then agreed to drop your insupportable charges if I played along. Somehow I doubt that the judge is going to be particularly happy with either of us for wasting her time. I have the advantage in that I don’t think Judge Frowns-A-Lot can actually dislike me any more than she already does. So let me in on why this was so imperative.”
“It’s for her own safety. That’s all you need to know,” Lamb answered briskly.
“You arrested her for her own safety? Forgive me if I can’t see the logic in that. The fact that you and she aren’t exactly bosom buddies isn’t exactly supporting your case.”
“Girl likes to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong and this time, she might just get it cut off. And you don’t need to trust me. In fact, you’d be best to keep out of this from now on. If I have what I need on this tape then the hearing will disappear.” He motioned toward the door and waited for Cliff to take the hint. “Tell your client not to be such a smart ass next time or I’ll arrest her for real.”
Once Cliff was gone, Lamb listened to the tape a dozen times before he was convinced that Veronica truly didn’t know where her father was and that she was going to make his job difficult. Each time through, he bristled at her offhand comment about her father being a better Sheriff, but it wasn’t unexpected. Whenever he pushed her buttons, she pushed right back. He didn’t hate Veronica Mars, he hated how she made him feel like a tiny bug underneath her shoe.
And he’d learned a few things in his time as Sheriff. One of which was that if you wanted to get to Keith Mars, the best way to go was through his daughter; chances were he wasn’t the only one who’d figured that out. Which left him with just one thing on his To Do list.
Keep Veronica Mars alive.
***
“I wish I could help, Veronica.” Mac shook her head at the screen, a deep furrow in her brow from the non-stop frowning she’d been doing. “But this kind of encryption needs a key to break. It’d take me weeks and I’m pretty sure your Dad will be back by then.”
Veronica hesitated, less sure of that eventually than Mac was. Since she’d gotten out of jail, she’d turned the apartment and office inside out searching for a clue to her father’s whereabouts. Anything that would point her in the right direction. Finding a partition on her father’s hard drive that was inaccessible was the only lead she’d found and it was a dead end. “You’re sure there’s nothing?”
“I’m sure. The computer randomly generates the encryption; the key provides a way to sync up the number loop. Otherwise, the encryption algorithm gives me a new combination every time I try to break it. It’s in impossible to get it, but it takes time, which you haven’t got.”
“And there aren’t any skeleton keys?”
“Might be, I can ask around.”
“Thanks, Mac.” Veronica sighed as she sat back on the couch. “I just wish I knew what was going on. Dad had to know that Lamb would come after me.”
“Guess he figured it was worth it?” Mac offered sympathetically.
“It’d better be, I tell ya or he’s gonna get an earful from me when he drags himself through that door.” She shuddered at the memory of her interrogation. “Anything less than dishes for a month would be too kind.”
“Lamb was that bad?”
“Words pale in comparison. He even threatened to charge me with the murder of Cassidy Casablancas.”
“What?”
“No proof that he actually went over the edge without help,” she sighed and pushed away the folder of receipts she’d already sifted through a hundred times.
“Don’t worry, he’d never get the charges to stick. And I’d testify, if you needed me to.” Mac’s cheeks turned a shade of pink.
“How’re you doing?” She waited for an answer, feeling slightly guilty about not making sure Mac was handling Cassidy’s death in a normal, teenage girl kind of way. Not that she knew what that was, exactly. Usually it involved hair cutting and new clothes shopping.
“I’m fine. My mom bought me a bunch of books on the grieving process. I guess they were all out of ‘What to Do When Your Boyfriend Turns Out to Be a Serial Killer’.”
Veronica didn’t have a ready response for that but Mac just shrugged and shook her head, signaling that no further questioning was required. Letting sleeping issues lie, she went back to organizing the stacks of receipts. “There’s only one thing that’s even out of the ordinary here and it’s not exactly a smoking gun.”
“What is it?”
“Well. Dad bought something, doesn’t say what, at the drugstore on the corner of Wiltshire Boulevard on Wednesday. Then again on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday before he left. So either that’s a great drugstore or he wasn’t there for their merchandise.”
“Maybe he forgot something the first time? And the second and the third. You’re right, that is strange.”
“That’s not like my dad. And he’s written the number four on the bottom of each of these. So I guess I’ll be paying a visit to el drugstore.”
The location was well out of 09er territory and verging on barnacle, but that just made it smell all the more suspicious. She knew in her heart that there was no way her father would have just forgotten to pick up a toothbrush three days in a row. There was something important about the store or one of the surrounding buildings. Keith Mars preferred to do his stalking without a pair of binoculars or a high-powered camera lens. Whatever had drawn him there had to be nearby.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Veronica? Your dad’s AWOL and Lamb wants to find him badly enough that he’s willing to charge you with obstruction of justice. What part of that means you should go looking? Just saying.”
“Dad’s in trouble. He has to be. And I have to help him.” It was a simple decision in Veronica’s world; one that she’d made years ago and kept making over and over again without deviation. Her father came first; occasionally he was a close second to Truth Itself, but he never fell lower on the totem pole than that and he never would.
“For the record, I have a bad feeling about this and I really hope you’re not going to ask me to come with you.”
“Leave the heavy lifting to the professionals. Thanks for trying though.”
“I’m going to tell you to be careful because there’s no one else here to do it and because you sometimes make people want to kill you.” Mac grinned over the monitor.
Veronica put on her best pouting face. “I’ll make sure to look both ways when I cross the street.”
“Good. Because Deputy Sacks was sitting outside in a patrol car when I came in.”
“You’re serious?” She had to see for herself and sure enough, there was a Balboa County cruiser parked down the street. “The nerve of that man. If he thinks he can get away with this, he’s got another think coming. And you know Lamb, too many thinks and that tiny little brain of his might just work itself to death.”
“Well, it is just Sacks. I mean, at least Lamb isn’t sitting out there himself.”
“That just adds insult to injury. Can’t even spare the time to follow me around himself? Where’s the respect?” She could practically hear the eye roll from Mac before she headed back to the couch. “I’m going to give Sacks a run for the money. You okay to hang out for a bit? Just take messages if anyone comes in.”
“Veronica!”
“You’re the best!” She was out the Mars Investigation door before Mac could list all the reasons she couldn’t man the fort for a half hour. It was doubtful that it would even take her that long to shake Sacks off her trail and there was no harm in driving past the drugstore on Wiltshire just to take a look.
It only took a few blocks to prove that Sacks was an amateur. She resisted the temptation to drive around in circles until he realized that he’d been made. But that would lead to his reporting to Lamb, which she didn’t want; better not to tip her hand until she could see the stupid look on his stupid face up close and personal. There was no way she’d pass up the opportunity to remind him that she was the smart one, especially after he’d tossed her in jail on trumped up charges.
Nothing stood out about the drug store or the neighboring stores, which was disappointing. She’d been half hoping for a large neon sign that said Look Here. The only interesting thing about it was that it was around the corner and one stop light away from Ocean Avenue, which had known connections to shady dealings. That hardly warranted the disappearing act by her father.
Deciding it was time to lose the good Deputy, she found the first parking lot with multiple exits and put the power steering in the LeBaron to good use. By the time Sacks was halfway through the lot, she had already doubled back and was pulling into the street. She drove a figure eight around two more city blocks just to be sure he’d fallen behind. To be even more thorough, she parked around the corner from the innocuous looking drugstore and walked the rest of the way.
It had all the right sounds and smells of a regular, run of the mill drugstore. Cheesy elevator music in the background, floors reeking of Mr. Clean, and the not-quite-antiseptic odor that always seemed to hang in the air; all the shelves were neatly stocked and there was even a mother struggling to control her toddler on aisle five.
She pretended to be looking for something as she wandered up and down the aisles, glancing surreptitiously at the Employee Only exits and the glass bulbs in the ceilings that housed the security cameras. Even the clerk on duty was stereotypical in his button up shirt, garish retro tie, and bored expression. There was nothing of interest on aisle four beyond diet supplements and bottles of crushed herbs. If had been the first aid aisle, she would have freaked as only a girl who’d lost her father can. When she was sure that there was absolutely nothing she needed, unless the raspberry oil drops actually would make her uterus stronger - who bought this stuff? - she headed for checkout stand Number Four.
Photos of movie stars with perfectly white teeth sparkled up from the trashy magazine covers with headlines about babies and breakups and more bullshit that she didn’t care about. That kind of sludge was her bread and butter; she just preferred the local flavor. Busting a guy with his pants around his ankles was much better when there was a year or two of his son’s crude heckling still pounding in her head.
Checkout stand Number Four was as unmemorable as the rest of the store. She bought a pack of bubble gum and a cigarette lighter because the clerk was giving her the look that dared her to actually make him do something other than stand there. Waiting for him to count change for a five, she glanced out the front window and realized that checkout Number Four had one thing the others didn’t; a completely unobstructed view of the office building across the street. No trees, no signs, just a straight shot clear up to the third floor windows.
Thanking the clerk absently, she grabbed up her change and purchases. Back on the sidewalk, she saw the sign for a travel agency specializing in exotica locales. She was pretty sure her father hadn’t been planning a vacation without telling her, not after standing her up for the trip to New York. He’d be on dish duty for the rest of his life if he pulled that kind of stunt again.
She followed the arrows to the underground parking and found the stairwell. In classic Neptune style, it couldn’t be a coincidence that the travel agency was on the third floor. There was no receptionist at the front desk and no on answered when she tapped the bell.
Brightly colored posters of beautiful beaches, desert landscapes, and lush rainforests decorated the walls, most of them adorned with pithy sayings about finding one’s destiny and seizing the day. Desk, lamp, filing cabinet; even the arrangement of fake flowers carefully displayed in the middle of the coffee table was standard for a travel agency. She couldn’t tell if the computer monitor was off or simply hibernating and couldn’t get a better look at the screen without getting behind the desk, something that was always hard to explain to anyone who walked in.
“Hello?” she called softly, leaning over the desk and letting her newly acquired lighter slip from her fingers. It clattered against the surface, sliding off onto the carpet on the other side when she reached for it. Her hand tapped the mouse almost imperceptibly as she pulled back. Sighing loudly, she circled around the desk and made a show of looking around for the wayward lighter. The monitor flickered and came to life, showing a beach themed desktop. She bumped the mouse when she leaned against the desk and accidentally double-clicked on an icon labeled Schedule as she bent down to reach under the desk.
“Excuse me?” An unfamiliar voice froze her in her tracks.
“Found it!” Snatching up the lighter, she stood up quickly and smiled her most cheerfully innocent smile. “I am such a klutz. And you how you drop something and it’s like a rule that it has to roll under the furniture. I hate that.”
The man returned her smile as he stepped forward, holding out a handful of brochures. He certainly didn’t look sinister with his graying hair and the slightest hint of a belly hidden by his sports coat. In fact, he looked like a high school sports coach who probably took in troubled teens and taught them all about how football could change their lives. Which would be true in a truly Neptune fashion when they blew out a knee and ended up with no job skills or prospects.
“I was hoping to book a cruise to Tahiti. It’s our twentieth anniversary and I think I need to do something special this year.” He looked even more lost than she felt.
“Got her a power saw last year?” She winked as she took the brochures.
“Painted the bathroom.”
“And she hates it.”
“Won’t even go in the room.”
“Ouch.” Taking control of the mouse, she scanned the screen for anything that might be the right program. “But believe me, you’ll be amazing at how much a little Tahiti can make up for. Though you might want to have the bathroom repainted while you’re gone.”
“Good idea,” he said with obvious relief.
“When did you want to go?”
“It’s in two weeks. Is that enough time? I know these trips fill up fast.”
“I’m sure there’s something. Tell me more about what you had in mind. A cruise?” She was desperately stalling and hoping he wouldn’t notice that she’d opened several programs, none of which seemed to have the information she needed. He was going on about mosquitoes and coastal resorts when inspiration struck. “Do you trust me?”
“What?”
“It’s just that we upgraded our software and I still haven’t figured it out yet,” she said apologetically. “But if you leave your contact information and trust me just a teensy bit, I will find the most incredible vacation package for you. I promise your wife will forgive you completely.”
“That would be great. Better leave it to the professionals, right?” He jotted down his phone numbers on the back of one of the brochures. “I can’t thank you enough, Miss…”
“Jones. Samantha Jones.”
“Thank you again. You’ve saved my life. And my marriage.”
“Saving lives and marriages is what we do here. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” She waved and smiled until he was out the door.
Turning back to the computer, she began to scan the programs she’d opened for anything that looked shadier than family vacations to Fiji. For a company that rented downtown office space, they didn’t seem to be doing a lot of business. Of course, the price tags on each of the trips was astronomical so maybe they didn’t need to book more than one trip per month. She noted that they seemed to have a trip to Thailand leaving nearly every month. Four days, three nights. It was hardly worth the two nineteen hour flights there and back.
She tore out one of the bottom sheets of the notepad and jotted down the names of the clients who were scheduled for the Thailand trips. If they were business trips then she was interested in what kind of business they were doing. Just as she tucked the notepaper into her back pocket and gathered up the rest of her things, the office door in behind her.
“Oh. Hello.” A tall, sleekly groomed man leaned out of the doorway. “The temp agency said you wouldn’t be here for another hour.”
“I was just so excited to start,” she offered weakly. “I was just trying to get a feel for the desk, but if you’d like me somewhere else.”
“No, no, that’s fine. It’s Mary Beth, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I’m Mary Beth. Pleased to be working with you while…what was her name again?”
“Olivia. Guess that baby couldn’t wait,” he chuckled. “I thought I heard someone come in earlier?”
“You did! A man…Mr. Branson…was hoping to take his wife to Tahiti for their anniversary. He looked pretty clueless so I told him I’d find the perfect package and get back to him.” She held up the brochures as evidence.
The man smiled, revealing two rows of perfect teeth. “That’s what I like in an employee. A real go-getter. Well, I’ll just let you keep doing what you’re doing, Mary Beth. Hold down the fort while I step out for a coffee?” He grabbed his suit coat from the coat rack on his way through the room.
“Of course, sir. Nice to meet you.” The door closed before she finished.
Taking her cue from the smiling Toucan on the wall, she seized the moment and bolted from the office. Once the real Mary Beth showed up, things were bound to get a little complicated. Her footsteps echoed in staccato as she hurried down the three flights of stairs to the parking garage. The hinges squeaked as the heavy exit door swung open into the garage. She was almost free.
Her head jerked back, pain radiating through her scalp from the section of hair that had caught on something. She had time to reach up and feel a hand and an arm behind her before her assailant slammed her head against the doorframe and the world turned black.
***
“You lost her?” Sheriff Lamb ignored the coffee sloshing over the paperwork on his desk as he stood up. He’d make Sacks redo it all, since he was the reason for the mess. “Where exactly did you lose her?”
“On Wiltshire. I mean, she was there and then she…wasn’t. She’s slippery.”
“Where on Wiltshire?” he ground out through clenched teeth.
“She might have turned onto Ocean Avenue.”
“I want you to put out an APB on her and her car. Yesterday. I want her found.” Grabbing his keys and jacket, he stormed out of his office. “Next time I ask you to follow Veronica Mars, I don’t care if you have to handcuff yourself to her. Understand?”
“I thought it would be better if she didn’t know I was there,” Sacks explained.
Lamb didn’t bother to respond to that because it was absolutely ridiculous. He’d learned the hard way that underestimating any of the Mars family was a bad idea and inevitably came back to bite him in the ass. He should have followed Veronica himself, even if it did mean putting up with her childish pranks. The one advantage he had over Sacks was that he had an idea of where she’d be going and if she’d managed to find her way to Wiltshire Boulevard, there was a good chance that Keith Mars hadn’t covered his tracks as well as he’d thought.
That made him smile. Apparently not even the great and wonderful Mars could keep his daughter from sticking her nose into none of her damn business, which as far as he concerned, was the entirety of Neptune, California. He found her car around the corner from Wiltshire and wasn’t surprised when the clerk at the drugstore remembered a cute little blonde girl. The bored college student even remembered seeing her cross the street and enter the parking garage. He waited until he was out of the store to swear.
The untraceable cell phone in his pocket was ringing before even he reached his car. “She’s your daughter, Mars. Hate to say I told you so.”
“Actually, I was calling to ask what you were doing at the drugstore blowing our carefully planned cover.” Keith Mars sounded more confused than annoyed.
“Like I said, she’s your daughter. She lost Sacks and doubled back here, the clerk remembers her going into the garage across the street. Can you put the pieces together or do you need me to spell it out?” He stopped at the streetlight and waited for the light to changed, knowing that he at least needed to pretend to be out shopping.
“Don,” his tone was deadly serious now. “They know who she is.”
“Which is why I had Sacks tailing her. You’re the one who swore that she wouldn’t be able to find you.”
“I’m calling it off. Everything. The whole operation.”
“That’s a little premature.” He reached the end of the block and started back the other way, keeping his pace leisurely. “I’m going to check the garage, see what I can find. Besides, it’s not your call, remember?”
“If they have her--”
“I know where to look. If you don’t hear from me in half an hour, send in the cavalry.” The phone went back into his pocket well before he reached the entrance to the parking garage. He had to assume that he had extremely limited time before their entire operation was blown out of the water because Veronica couldn’t just stay home and be a normal girl. Maybe screwing up months of hard work by an FBI task force would knock some sense into her impossible skull.
The parking garage was quiet and empty of human beings. There was a particularly hot Jaguar that warranted a closer look; just to be sure she wasn’t tied up in the backseat. That was about as far as he could go without treading into the line of fire himself, which he wasn’t about to do for Veronica even if she was in trouble. Girl had it coming to her really.
One look in the stairwell wouldn’t tip anyone off anymore than wandering around the parking garage, so he opened the door and glanced around. No Veronica hiding under the stairs. No anything but trash, dirt-stained concrete floors, and a flickering exit light humming like a beehive. Someone had dropped an unopened pack of gum near the door. And left blood on the doorframe just below shoulder height. He remembered the clerk saying the blonde might have bought a pack of gum.
This time, he dialed the number for the Sheriff’s Department. “Put Sacks on the phone. No, I don’t care what he’s doing.” He waited impatiently for the transfer to go through. “Sacks, get the crime lab boys down to the parking garage on Wiltshire, stairwell. I need them here now. And send back up.”
“Sir?”
“Veronica Mars is missing, possibly abducted.” Saying the words out loud made them real, made the blood against the dark blue paint more real than it had been before.
He hesitated when he pulled out the cell phone to call Keith. Blood on the doorframe gave him probable cause to investigate further. She might still be on the premises. Bleeding, unconscious. The latter would be preferable because she never knew well enough to keep her mouth shut. Of course, if he backed out now then there might be hope for salvaging the sting operation and the FBI would be happy about that. But unlike Sacks, he knew what was going to happen if they didn’t find her. If she was lucky, she was already dead.
Slipping his gun out of the holster, he started up the stairs as quietly possible. The third floor travel agency was just the front. A pretty façade for the real trafficking going on behind the doors. Homeland Security had hoped it was a lead into terrorist movements, but unless the terrorists had switched from WMDs to STDs, the merchandise was outside their jurisdiction. Apparently foreign teenage girls being sold as indentured whores weren’t a matter of national security. By the time Keith Mars had stumbled onto the FBI task force, he’d also managed to get noticed by the bastards running the human smuggling ring.
The third floor hallway was empty but he kept his gun in hand. He smelled the smoke first, before he saw it roll lazily out under the door. Yanking off his jacket, he holstered his gun and hit redial on the phone as he raced down the hall to hit the building’s fire alarm. The thick fabric of his uniform protected his elbow from the glass surrounding the fire extinguisher. Not that it would be much help if the entire floor were on fire.
It was a stroke of pure luck that the door wasn’t hot to the touch. He prayed that meant the fire was still small and that if Veronica was inside, she was still alive. Bracing his shoulder against the door, he began to open it agonizingly slowly. The air inside was smoky. Covering his nose and mouth as he could with his sleeve, he ducked as low as he could and tried to see into the room.
There was a second closed door across the room with smoke pouring out through the gaps around it. He could feel the heat radiating from the office and knew it was probably a matter of seconds before the fire spilled out. The filing cabinet had been emptied and the room trashed before setting the fire. Even the computer had been opened up, lying on the desk with its guts exposed.
“Veronica?” He choked against the taste of smoke on his tongue. Muffled screaming and knocking answered him. Shit. The bastard had left her here to burn to death. “Where are you?” More knocking.
Behind the receptionist’s desk, he found her in the corner, duct taped to the water cooler. They’d wanted to make sure she couldn’t wiggle her way out of this one. Tears had formed tracks in the soot on her face; there was blood and the beginning of a nasty bruise on the side of her head. A puddle of water around her meant she'd been trying to tip over the cooler but, unfortunately for both of them, someone had bolted it to the wall. He grabbed a pair of scissors from the desk and started cutting at the duct tape.
Once her hands were free, she pulled the tape from her mouth. “Hurry!”
“Shut up or I’m putting the tape back on,” he snapped.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, that room is about to explode in a ball of fire. I think I’m justified in telling you to hurry up!”
“And in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m saving your life.” He glared at her and kept cutting. The door behind him creaked ominously. Something was hissing overhead and it wasn’t the sprinklers that were supposed to be putting the fire out.
“He sprayed some sort of accelerant in the hallway. To make sure the entire floor burned.” Veronica tore away the rest of tape from her arms and legs, scrambling to her feet and coughing against the smoke.
“Stay down!” Pulling her down beside him, he shoved her toward the door and motioned for her to get moving. He kicked himself mentally for noticing her ass.
The door beginning to bulge by the time they reached the hallway. He heard the telltale crack and dove for cover, dragging Veronica with him. An instant later, a ball of fire erupted over their heads and turned the hallway into a blazing inferno. The speed of the flames stunned him and he could see the pattern of the accelerant as it was seared into the wall. With one hand still gripping her arm, he crawled toward the door leading to the stairwell. It was concrete; it would be safe if they could get there before the fire reached the carpet.
“Are you going to charge me with arson when we get out here?” Veronica hissed.
“Would you get over yourself for five seconds and pay attention to the burning building? And if,” he stopped long enough to yank her away from a falling chunk of flaming ceiling tile. “If we get out of here alive, I’m going to kill you.”
“Oh, that’s original.”
He ignored her jibe. Now was the time to focus on crawling the last ten feet to the stairwell and being able to breathe air again. Patches of carpet had begun to burn as the fire closed in around them. He thought he heard sirens but it might have been his imagination. If anything were audible over the sound of fire around them, it would be a miracle. Five more feet. Veronica was coughing hard against the smoke that was filling the hall and her face was rapidly losing color.
Sweat dripped down his face, the heat overwhelming all the rest of his senses until he wasn’t sure there was anything but fire. They were flat on their stomachs, inching down the hallway where there was still enough air to keep from passing out.
“Come on, Mars. Almost there.” He was beginning to feel light-headed himself, his throat was burning, and he was hoping against hope that opening the stairwell door wasn’t going to kill them both.
Fire roared over his head, nearly slamming the door closed when he tried to open it, and the smell of burnt hair nearly choked him. Mars was going to owe him big time for this. In fact, saving her ass probably made up for not finding her rapist. Or at least for not believing she’d been raped in the first place. Hooking one arm around her waist, he dragged her into the stairwell and forced the door shut with his feet. It wasn’t much better but he wasn’t surrounded by combustible material and that was something.
“Mars?” When she didn’t give him a smartass answer, he shook her a little and pulled her around to look at her. He could feel a pulse in her neck and she seemed to be breathing, but her eyes were closed and she was limp. “Veronica? Veronica?” No response. “Great time to be a girl, Mars.”
Blinking smoke out of eyes, he slipped his other arm under her knees and picked her up. The stairs were nearly impossible to navigate with low visibility and the extra weight. Flashing red and blue lights just beyond the parking garage were the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. They meant that he’d actually walked away from a burning building, which didn’t happen every day.
Wiltshire Boulevard was chaos. The windows of the third floor had blown out, bathing the sidewalk in shattered glass, and the huge sprays of water aimed at the building managed to create a localized thunderstorm beneath them.
Lamb made it past the sidewalk, his eyes focused on the glaring white of the ambulance, before a fireman reached them. He resisted when the man tried to pull Veronica from his arms. He’d gotten her out of the building and he was damn well going to make sure Keith Mars knew who had saved his daughter.
“Sir, I need you to sit down,” the fireman shouted over the noise
“She’s unconscious, she needs medical attention,” he shouted back.
“Sir! I really need you to--”
At that point the words started to fade in and out and the fireman’s face got blurry around the edges. He swayed on his feet, struggling to stay conscious. The sound of Keith shouting his daughter’s name was no louder than a whisper amidst all the noise, but it was good enough for Lamb. He let the fireman take Veronica and promptly passed out.
***
“Does this mean I have to be nice to him?” Veronica held up the newspaper when her father came through the apartment door. There was a picture of Don Lamb front and center, with Veronica in his arms looking, as the rather obnoxious caption writer had decided, like a fallen angel. Small Town Hero was the title of the entirely too fawning piece of journalistic crap. “Here’s my favorite part...despite his own injuries, the valiant Neptune Sheriff refused to seek medical attention until Ms. Mars was attended to. Gag me. Or shoot me. You know I’m never going to hear the end of this, he’s going to be impossible.”
“Technically, he did save your life, Veronica.”
“Technicalities are highly overrated. And he wouldn’t have had to save my life if you hadn’t run off without telling me where you were going.” She scowled at him and tossed the paper away.
“I’m sorry about that, Veronica. And I’m sorry about having you arrested. Well, actually, I just asked him to bring you in for questioning but he thought the arrest would make it more believable. He does like to go the extra mile when it comes to you.”
“What? You asked Lamb to bring me in? I may never be able to forgive you for that.”
He smiled apologetically. “Once I was made, it was important that they believed that you didn’t know where I was. I asked Lamb to keep you safe until the FBI could make an arrest. They were running the show, I was merely a humble pawn.”
“The FBI hates me, don’t they?” She winced when his smile faltered ever so slightly. “You could have told me.”
“I knew the first person they’d come after to get to me was you. The less you knew, the safer you were. But I’m sorry. I should have remembered what a good detective you were.” Circling around the kitchen island, he hugged her tightly and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “And you should probably thank the good Sheriff for saving your life.”
“How about a card? Hallmark makes some great cards.”
“Veronica.”
“A fruit basket?” At the look on his face, she sighed dejectedly. “I really have to?”
“You really do. And get it over with before he gets too full of himself. Trust me, it’ll only get worse the longer you wait.”
“This is one of those life lessons, isn’t it? Right up there with putting my hand on the stove and playing on train tracks.” Realizing that she wasn’t going to get out of this no matter how she tried, she reached for her car keys. “If I ever meet Karma face to face, we’re gonna have words.”
“I’m sure you will, honey.” He nodded indulgently, calling after her just as she was closing the door. “Try to be nice!”
She planned out her speech down to the letter on her drive to the Sheriff’s station. Every word she was going to say, how she was going to say it, and how she was not going to let Lamb’s smug expression piss her off like it always did. And he would be smug. He would be the smuggest his smug face had ever been because now he had something to hold over her head. He, Don Lamb, had saved her life, had carried her from a burning building and spent two days in a hospital bed for his trouble. She wanted to not care at all but mostly she felt guilty. Guilty and foolish for sticking her nose where it didn’t belong, and for not trusting her father to know what he was doing.
“Veronica! You’re looking well!” Inga greeted her warmed.
“Thanks. Is the Sheriff in?”
“He’s in his office. Would you like me to get him?”
“I’ll just head on back if there’s no one else in there.” She was pretty sure from the beaming smile on Inga’s face that she and that everyone in the building knew why she was there. Hopefully they also knew how this was going to be as much fun as swallowing razorblades. She knocked once but didn’t wait for a response before opening the door and walking in.
“Veronica Mars.” Sure enough, Lamb had his best smug expression on and just as she’d sworn she wouldn’t let happen, it pissed her off.
She put her hand over heart and sighed dreamily. “Sheriff Lamb. My hero.”
“What? No fruit basket?”
“Damn. Here I thought you were more a Beer Of the Month kinda guy.”
He tapped his pencil on the desk, arrogant smile still firmly in place, and turned his attention back to the paperwork he was filling out. “Do me a favor, try not to get yourself taped up and left to die in the next six months. I can only take so much excitement.”
Taking a seat across the desk, she pretended to be trying to read his handwriting. “And miss out on the great photo ops?”
“I’m actually working here, Veronica.”
“I just love it when you...do your job.” She stressed the last three syllables. The memories of his fake interrogation were still perfectly clear in her mind and she intended to make him as uncomfortable as he’d made her. Just for the hell of it.
“This paperwork isn’t going to finish itself.” The pen bounced and rolled when he tossed it onto the desk. “Go waste someone else’s time.”
“No one else has time worth wasting.” Blatantly ignoring the dismissal, she examined the chipped polish on her fingernails.
“Veronica.” He nodded toward the door expectantly.
“Yes?”
“Fine.” Leaning back in his chair and resting his chin on one hand, he gave her his most patronizing expression. “What now? You’ve solved the Jimmy Hoffa case? Wait...you know who was on the grassy knoll.”
“I’m surprised you’re that culturally literate. The word on the street is that you’re shallow as a wading pool.” She shook her head and tsk-ed. “They just don’t know the real you, do they?”
“Do you actually have a reason for being here? Or did you really want to help out with all this paperwork you left behind after you screwed up the FBI taskforce?” The pompous, and a little vindictive, smile was back in full force and he popped his gum for emphasis. “You cost them six months of work on a sting operation. And I’m the one stuck cleaning up your mess. Damn right I deserved that photo op.”
He had her there. The fact that she’d stuck her nose in and now the Bad Guy was running loose was pretty much her fault. She’d probably earned her way onto an FBI watch list or two, if she hadn’t been there already.
“What? No smartass comeback?” Laughing a little under his breath, he shook his head with amusement. “All bark and no bite, that’s you, Veronica Mars.”
That was his idea of a lead-in for a lecture civic responsiblity, as if he actually knew anything about either of those words. The man surely loved to hear himself speak and if he didn't shut up soon, there was no way she was going to have the stomach for thank you. Of course, her options for shutting him up were limited and one of them involved inappropriate use of his stapler. There was another, less violent, option but it was insane and there was no way she wanted to do that. Then again, if she didn't do something, she might be stuck listening to his self-important prattle for hours.
All bark and no bite. Ha. She'd show him. Nodding absently at whatever he was rambling about, she got to her feet and moved around the side of desk, pretending to be interested in what was on the wall behind him.
“Are you even listening to me?” he asked irritably.
“Do I ever?” She made her move before he could start into another lecture, reaching out and sliding her hands behind his neck, pulling him to her as much as her to him. Lips met, gently pressing together with the barest brush of her tongue against his lower lip. She was pretty sure he’d be charging her with assaulting an officer soon enough, but it was worth the shocked look on his face when she pulled away. There was blissful and triumphant silence as she turned around to leave the office, pausing in the doorway just long enough to enjoy the fact that he was still stunned speechless.
“I just wanted to say thank you.”
Rating: PG (mild language and mature content, e.g. mention of drug use, violence)
Summary: Sheriff Lamb brings Veronica in for questioning about her father’s whereabouts, which makes her even more determined to discover what’s happened to Keith Mars.
Spoilers: Through S2 - Not Pictured
Pairings: Veronica/Lamb
Disclaimer: All things Veronica Mars belong to Rob Thomas and everyone else who makes the show possible.
Notes: Many thanks to kurukami for a much needed beta. Prompt for everysingleway: Veronica/Lamb. The interrogation room, extreme snark, at least a kiss, but if you'd like you can stop there. Well, I tried.
Sheriff Lamb tossed the notebook onto the table in front of Veronica and leaned back in his chair with all the arrogance he possessed. Which, being who he was, was quite a bit. “Let’s try this again.”
She kept her arms tightly crossed and stared him down. He had nothing to charge her with and no reason to keep her locked in this interrogation room other than his own sadistic pleasure. “And again, in case you didn’t hear the first ten times I told you…I have no idea where my dad is.”
The fact that it was the truth made it an easy story to stick to. She had no idea where her father was; all she knew was contained in the cryptic phone message she’d gotten moments before finding Sheriff Lamb and Deputy Sacks standing on her doorstep. Keith Mars saying I’m sorry and I need more time were all she could make out through the sounds of traffic and unfamiliar voices. More time where and doing what were questions that wouldn’t be answered until he was home. But until that happened, she planned on keeping Lamb thoroughly stymied. The more he thought that she knew something, the less likely it was he’d actually try to find her father.
“Or I could arrest you for obstruction of justice. How do you like the sound of that?”
“What justice would I be obstructing, exactly? And since you’re all about justice…remember Felix? Kid who was murdered on the bridge a while back? I’m sure you’ve got his murderer locked up by now, right?” She made a Ra-Ra motion for sarcastic emphasis, smiling sweetly at the tightening of his jaw. “Oh. That’s right. You never even arrested him.”
“If I find out you had anything to do with his death, I’ll have you charged with murder.”
“You couldn’t get more than assault on Weevil and you had two witnesses.” It was occasionally a good thing that the Neptune Sheriff’s Department was incompetent, since every blue moon it meant that the system actually worked the way it was supposed to. No proof that Weevil had killed Thumper, no life sentence for murder. That was the way it was supposed to work. He was still glaring at her so she continued to goad him. “Can’t say that’s my preferred method of dying, crushed to death by a falling stadium. I wonder if Thumper was a Sharks fan. I don’t know about justice but you’ve got to admit it’s kinda poetic.”
“Especially when you consider who pushed the plunger.” He smirked at her. “How’s your boyfriend by the way?”
“The one Thumper tried to frame for Felix’s murder? Who you wrongly arrested twice? He’s good, thanks for asking.”
He leaned forward, holding her gaze. “Actually, I was referring to the one who kidnapped Faith Manning and fled the country, actually. The one you helped orchestrate the entire scheme. Quite the track record you’ve got there.”
“Orchestrate. I love it when you use big words.” Shivering artificially, she batted her eyelashes and continued to smile.
“Just tell me where your father is, Veronica.”
“Do you really think I’d tell you even if I know? Especially if I’m the criminal mastermind you think I am. And I keep telling you that I don’t know, but you don’t seem to be hearing what I’m saying. Me…Dad…location…not a clue. Do you need me to draw a picture?”
The chair legs screeched as they scraped across the floor and suddenly he was only inches away, slamming his hand down against the desk melodramatically. “This isn’t a joke, Veronica. Tell me where he is.”
“Was I laughing? Cause I’m pretty sure I haven’t been laughing.” The air was uncomfortably hot with the drastically reduced distance between them. She’d expected him to reek of too much bad cologne, the olfactory embodiment of his arrogance and incompetence. But there was no foul odor, only the clean scent of fabric softener and the subtle hint of Lever 2000. It almost made him seem like a normal human being.
“We can stay here all day if that’s how you want to play this. But I know you. I know you’re hiding something.” His gazed swept up and down her face several times, which was still only inches away and much too close for comfort.
“Fine,” she sighed. Pulling away from him was made impossible by his hands pressing down on the armrests of her chair. “It was me. I’m you’re secret admirer. I guess I just figured that with Madison gone…well…I thought I might have a chance. Can’t arrest a girl for dreaming.” She met his eyes defiantly and waited for him to hurl the next insult in their perpetual verbal war. It was her way of getting revenge for turning her away the one time she had needed him. She had no idea what he got out of it.
“You like this little game of yours, don’t you?” His breath was warm on her skin.
“It’s my favorite.”
“Can’t say it’s mine. I ask you questions, you lie to me, and the bad guy gets away.” His jaw tightened again. “I’m tired of playing, Veronica.”
“That’s too bad. I’ll miss our little chats.” When he didn’t back down or pull away, she began imagining the expression on his face if she ever got to use her tazer on him. “By the way, my dad isn’t the bad guy. And I’m pretty sure you won’t catch the bad guy by invading my personal space.”
“You might be surprised.”
“What? Am I hiding the bad guy in my bra?” She glanced down at her t-shirt and then looked up at him through lowered lashes. “You wanna search me?”
“Don’t act like I’m stupid, Veronica,” he ground out through clenched teeth.
“Who says I’m acting?”
“We can do this the hard way.”
“You talk big, but I’ve yet to see the action for myself. Of course, if it’s good enough for Madison…” she stopped when he pulled away.
It was a surprise when he sat back down and took a deep breath. She’d expected him to lob a few more insults before giving up. “Maybe we got off on the wrong foot.”
“You think?” There was no way she was going to let him switch tactics and pretend that he wasn’t a first-rate asshole. “I told you that I was drugged and raped and you went right out and found the bastard. Oh, wait…you didn’t. You did nothing. Because that’s all you ever do. Nothing.”
“That was a long time ago, Veronica.”
“That doesn’t make me any less of a victim and it doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t do your job. You got paid to sit there and do nothing. I guess you’ve got the perfect job then.” She had to stop there because her voice was beginning to shake with rising anger.
“I’m sorry.”
“What?” She blinked at him, expecting to wake up and discover that it was all a bad dream. “Did you just apologize?”
“You heard me.”
She lifted her chin higher and held tightly onto the fury that had kept her hatred for him burning all this time. “Apology not accepted. You didn’t just turn your back on me. You’ve turned your back on everyone in this town who actually need a Sheriff. The people you’re supposed to protect and serve.”
“And you’ve never made a mistake? Veronica Mars, the saint. Come on, Veronica. Try a little reality on for size. This is Neptune, this is how it works. There are the people who matter and the people who don’t.”
“You’re everything that’s wrong with this town.”
“I don’t make the rules.”
“You don’t uphold the law either but what’s a little thing like that?” Her emotions were bubbling dangerously near the surface, threatening to spill out when she’d sworn on every fiber of her being that he would never, ever see anything but ice in her again.
“What did you expect me to do, Veronica?”
“Your job!” The shout burst out before she could stop it and suddenly she couldn’t look at him anymore. Couldn’t look at his smug expression and still feel the sting of betrayal; still hearing and seeing his condescension. She left her chair and got as far away from him as possible. It wasn’t far, since she was still trapped in the interrogation room with him.
He ran his fingers through his hair; neck cracking as he twisted his head from side to side. “If you tell me where your father is, I’ll look into it. A full investigation.”
With a bitter laugh, she shook her head. “You’re a little late. I already know who raped me. And I know you wouldn’t have arrested him even if you could’ve. Because he was one of those people who mattered.”
His expression was serious when he finally looked up at her. “You’re using the past tense.”
She sniffed, rubbing at her nose because it itched and definitely not because her eyes were threatening to produce unwarranted tears. “He took a swan dive off of the Neptune Grand after killing I don’t know how many people. The kids on the bus for starters.”
“Cassidy Casablancas,” he said softly.
“Just out of curiosity. If you had listened to me and if you had done your job, maybe even found out who it was although I won’t give you that much credit…would you have charged him? Or would you have taken one look at Big Dick’s bank account and let him off with a slap on the wrist? Would all those kids on the bus be here today if you’d done your job? Answer that question for me.”
“You had no proof that a rape even occurred,” he scoffed. “And we both know how much your word is worth in a court of law.”
The reminder of the Aaron Echolls trial was a slap in the face and she was grateful for it. She needed it to force her emotions back down, to bury them away where he couldn’t see them and use them against her. “You could have tested me for date rape drugs. Do you want to know what you would have found?”
“An illegal alcohol limit? Underage drinking is actually a crime, Veronica.”
“GHB,” she snapped.
“And how was I supposed to prove that you didn’t just go to a party, have a drink or six, experiment a little, and then feel bad about it in the morning?” His calm edge crumbled a bit and he was obviously agitated when he stood up, crossing the room to invade her space once again. “Now you’re telling me that you were on the roof with the guy who raped you and he just happened to jump off. Am I supposed to assume he didn’t have any help from you on that last step?”
Veronica’s heart nearly stopped, the room suddenly too cold. “Logan was there. He saw it.”
“The same Logan who’s your boyfriend, who stole evidence in his father’s murder trial, whose father was murdered after being acquitted. You think we’re not looking at Logan as a suspect for that?”
“You think Logan killed his own father? That’s crazy.” She was having trouble breathing, her back up against the wall and Lamb in front of her blocking the way out.
“Wouldn’t be the strangest thing to happen in this town.”
Any comeback she might have had died in her throat. More than anything, she wanted her father to walk through the door and take her away. She wanted to be home curled up under a blanket with Back Up lying next to her and her father watching over her.
“Tell me what I’m looking at, Veronica.” His voice was low and for once, he didn’t sound like he was trying to hurt her. “Am I looking at a victim? Or should I read you your rights?”
“You wouldn’t even get a trial,” she whispered, terrified that she was wrong.
“Did Cassidy jump off the Neptune Grand or did you lure him up there and push him off? You could have made up the story about him causing the bus crash.”
“I didn’t!”
“But I can’t prove that.”
“He covered his tracks.”
“Which is very convenient for you. And I’m sure Logan will back you up. I’m sure you’ve told him exactly what to say if anyone asks,” he said cynically.
“Why are you doing this?” Her voice shook at the end, punctuating the question with horrifying vulnerability.
“Asking the tough questions is also my job, Veronica.”
Shaken, furious, and hurt all rolled into one awful ball of misery that left a pit at the bottom of her stomach. If she’d ever doubted whether or not he was out to get her, it had been definitively answered in the veiled threat to charge both her and Logan with murders they didn’t commit. Even though Cassidy’s death had been ruled a suicide, she wouldn’t put it past Lamb to reopen the case if he thought he could convict her.
“Tell me where you father is.”
“I don’t know,” she answered stoically.
“Veronica Mars, you have the right to remain silent. And I’m going to suggest you use that one.”
She met his gaze evenly. “I want a lawyer.”
***
Cliff McCormack grinned at her through the bars of her cell, raising his eyebrows paternally. “Do I even want to know?”
“I’m sure the good Sheriff enumerated my crimes.” Veronica sat up, wincing at the stiffness that came from lying on an uncomfortable jail cot.
“Obstructing justice apparently. I’ll be sending your dad the bill for your bail money and you’ve got a hearing set for two weeks from now.” He waited for the guard to unlock the door and let her out before continuing, holding up a plastic bag with her personal effects. “Mind if I ask what you were doing?”
“Me? I wasn’t even obstructing a doorway.”
“How’d you piss him off this time?”
“By being my normal charming self.” She smiled in spite of the knots her stomach was turning into. Her father was going to ground her for a decade.
The sun on her face had never felt so wonderful and she had a new appreciation for Logan’s praise of freedom and her virtues. She wanted to ask Cliff about her dad but kept those questions to herself. Beating the charges would mean proving that she’d known nothing about her father’s whereabouts.
“You have that effect on people. Do you need a ride or anything?”
“I’d love you forever if you could take me home. Lamb didn’t let me drive myself to the station. And could you not tell my dad just yet? He’s been working on this big case and he’s not supposed to be back in town until tomorrow. If you could just hold off a little.”
“No problem.” Cliff waved her to his car. “Big case? Anything interesting?”
“I don’t ask, he doesn’t tell.”
“I hardly believe that.”
“Alright, I asked. But he told me it was nothing and not to worry. Which is Mars speak for the world is about to end.” She buckled in and relaxed into the seat. “Now I’m wishing he’d at least told me where he was going. Might have spared me the night in jail since Lamb wouldn’t believe that I really don’t know where he is.”
“Yeah, you might want to make showering a first priority.”
“It’s number one, believe me. I think that cot had fleas.” Scratching at her itchy scalp, she watched the city pass by through the window and tried to remember any tidbit of information that would help her to find her father. “What do I need for the hearing?”
“Other than fresh underwear and your best innocent look? You just need to relax. And I need to get your side of the story so I can prepare my statement for the judge, but we can do that after you’ve showered. We’ll plead not guilty and see what the illustrious Neptune Sheriff’s Department has against you as far as evidence. Which, from where I’m sitting, looks like squat.” He gave her a sideways look. “One of these days, remind me to ask you what you did to get on Lamb’s bad side.”
“Better ask him yourself because I have no idea why he hates me.”
“Think it’s about your dad?”
“As in, he knows my dad was a better Sheriff than he is and likes to take out his frustration on me?” She waited for a better explanation but he merely shrugged and kept driving. The rest of the trip was silence, other than Cliff fiddling with his radio as it went in and out of static. She’d never been so glad to see her apartment complex in her life.
“You sure you’re okay, V?”
“I’m good. And thanks. You’re the best lawyer ever.”
“I’m the only lawyer you can afford.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re not the best.” She pressed a quick kiss against his cheek before climbing out of the car. “And if you could let me be the one to tell Dad, I would totally owe you. Big time.”
“Just promise me that you’ll call as soon as he gets back.”
“Cross my heart and hope to spend another lovely evening with Lamb, which is actually worse than death in case you were wondering.” She waited until the car disappeared down the street before turning toward the complex. For all intents and purposes, this would be just another Sunday morning with her father out of town on a case. It happened all the time and there was no need to change her routine.
A hot shower helped wash away the grime and sweat from her skin but did little to erase the memory of her interrogation. As she lathered up the shampoo, she puzzled at the unanswered questions. Where was her father? Why had he called her to tell her that he needed more time just before Lamb had arrived? And for that matter, why was Lamb looking for her father at all? Something wasn’t right. She had a sneaking suspicion that if her father had been careful not to leave any clues for her to find then he was safe from Neptune’s finest. Of course, that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to turn the office inside out looking for even the tiniest shred of a clue.
Once she was wrapped up in fluffy towels and her bathrobe, she checked her messages. Several from Logan and one from Mac; nothing more from her father. She dialed Logan’s number but only got a busy signal. In a way, she was relieved, the silence of solitude was a welcome relief from a noisy holding cell.
There was nothing on TV other than bad movies and reruns. She curled up on the couch with a mug of hot tea anyway, flipping channels without actually watching what was on the screen. Her mind kept spinning around in circles, trying to find the answers. At the top of the list of unanswerables was why Sheriff Lamb had only charged her with obstruction of justice. Why hadn’t he been the vindictive ass she knew he was and charged her with the murder of Cassidy Casablancas?
That he hadn’t added any charges beyond obstruction of his own pigheadness would have be taken as a lucky break. Now she just had to pretend everything was business as usual. And since she was in the business of private investigation, business as usual just might get her some answers.
***
“Even I could have told you she wasn’t lying and I’m hardly her BFF. If Keith doesn’t want to be found, he’s far too smart to tell his own daughter where he’s going. Especially with the hatchet you’ve got waiting to bury in his back.” Cliff dumped the microphone wire and mini recorder on Sheriff Lamb’s desk. “Why the elaborate charade? Which I’m not comfortable with, by the way. I’m sure I just broke a dozen laws.”
“You did, but I’m not planning on charging you with any of them.” Lamb ejected the tape from the recorder, slipping it directly into his uniform shirt pocket.
“Right, since you falsely charged my client and then agreed to drop your insupportable charges if I played along. Somehow I doubt that the judge is going to be particularly happy with either of us for wasting her time. I have the advantage in that I don’t think Judge Frowns-A-Lot can actually dislike me any more than she already does. So let me in on why this was so imperative.”
“It’s for her own safety. That’s all you need to know,” Lamb answered briskly.
“You arrested her for her own safety? Forgive me if I can’t see the logic in that. The fact that you and she aren’t exactly bosom buddies isn’t exactly supporting your case.”
“Girl likes to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong and this time, she might just get it cut off. And you don’t need to trust me. In fact, you’d be best to keep out of this from now on. If I have what I need on this tape then the hearing will disappear.” He motioned toward the door and waited for Cliff to take the hint. “Tell your client not to be such a smart ass next time or I’ll arrest her for real.”
Once Cliff was gone, Lamb listened to the tape a dozen times before he was convinced that Veronica truly didn’t know where her father was and that she was going to make his job difficult. Each time through, he bristled at her offhand comment about her father being a better Sheriff, but it wasn’t unexpected. Whenever he pushed her buttons, she pushed right back. He didn’t hate Veronica Mars, he hated how she made him feel like a tiny bug underneath her shoe.
And he’d learned a few things in his time as Sheriff. One of which was that if you wanted to get to Keith Mars, the best way to go was through his daughter; chances were he wasn’t the only one who’d figured that out. Which left him with just one thing on his To Do list.
Keep Veronica Mars alive.
***
“I wish I could help, Veronica.” Mac shook her head at the screen, a deep furrow in her brow from the non-stop frowning she’d been doing. “But this kind of encryption needs a key to break. It’d take me weeks and I’m pretty sure your Dad will be back by then.”
Veronica hesitated, less sure of that eventually than Mac was. Since she’d gotten out of jail, she’d turned the apartment and office inside out searching for a clue to her father’s whereabouts. Anything that would point her in the right direction. Finding a partition on her father’s hard drive that was inaccessible was the only lead she’d found and it was a dead end. “You’re sure there’s nothing?”
“I’m sure. The computer randomly generates the encryption; the key provides a way to sync up the number loop. Otherwise, the encryption algorithm gives me a new combination every time I try to break it. It’s in impossible to get it, but it takes time, which you haven’t got.”
“And there aren’t any skeleton keys?”
“Might be, I can ask around.”
“Thanks, Mac.” Veronica sighed as she sat back on the couch. “I just wish I knew what was going on. Dad had to know that Lamb would come after me.”
“Guess he figured it was worth it?” Mac offered sympathetically.
“It’d better be, I tell ya or he’s gonna get an earful from me when he drags himself through that door.” She shuddered at the memory of her interrogation. “Anything less than dishes for a month would be too kind.”
“Lamb was that bad?”
“Words pale in comparison. He even threatened to charge me with the murder of Cassidy Casablancas.”
“What?”
“No proof that he actually went over the edge without help,” she sighed and pushed away the folder of receipts she’d already sifted through a hundred times.
“Don’t worry, he’d never get the charges to stick. And I’d testify, if you needed me to.” Mac’s cheeks turned a shade of pink.
“How’re you doing?” She waited for an answer, feeling slightly guilty about not making sure Mac was handling Cassidy’s death in a normal, teenage girl kind of way. Not that she knew what that was, exactly. Usually it involved hair cutting and new clothes shopping.
“I’m fine. My mom bought me a bunch of books on the grieving process. I guess they were all out of ‘What to Do When Your Boyfriend Turns Out to Be a Serial Killer’.”
Veronica didn’t have a ready response for that but Mac just shrugged and shook her head, signaling that no further questioning was required. Letting sleeping issues lie, she went back to organizing the stacks of receipts. “There’s only one thing that’s even out of the ordinary here and it’s not exactly a smoking gun.”
“What is it?”
“Well. Dad bought something, doesn’t say what, at the drugstore on the corner of Wiltshire Boulevard on Wednesday. Then again on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday before he left. So either that’s a great drugstore or he wasn’t there for their merchandise.”
“Maybe he forgot something the first time? And the second and the third. You’re right, that is strange.”
“That’s not like my dad. And he’s written the number four on the bottom of each of these. So I guess I’ll be paying a visit to el drugstore.”
The location was well out of 09er territory and verging on barnacle, but that just made it smell all the more suspicious. She knew in her heart that there was no way her father would have just forgotten to pick up a toothbrush three days in a row. There was something important about the store or one of the surrounding buildings. Keith Mars preferred to do his stalking without a pair of binoculars or a high-powered camera lens. Whatever had drawn him there had to be nearby.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Veronica? Your dad’s AWOL and Lamb wants to find him badly enough that he’s willing to charge you with obstruction of justice. What part of that means you should go looking? Just saying.”
“Dad’s in trouble. He has to be. And I have to help him.” It was a simple decision in Veronica’s world; one that she’d made years ago and kept making over and over again without deviation. Her father came first; occasionally he was a close second to Truth Itself, but he never fell lower on the totem pole than that and he never would.
“For the record, I have a bad feeling about this and I really hope you’re not going to ask me to come with you.”
“Leave the heavy lifting to the professionals. Thanks for trying though.”
“I’m going to tell you to be careful because there’s no one else here to do it and because you sometimes make people want to kill you.” Mac grinned over the monitor.
Veronica put on her best pouting face. “I’ll make sure to look both ways when I cross the street.”
“Good. Because Deputy Sacks was sitting outside in a patrol car when I came in.”
“You’re serious?” She had to see for herself and sure enough, there was a Balboa County cruiser parked down the street. “The nerve of that man. If he thinks he can get away with this, he’s got another think coming. And you know Lamb, too many thinks and that tiny little brain of his might just work itself to death.”
“Well, it is just Sacks. I mean, at least Lamb isn’t sitting out there himself.”
“That just adds insult to injury. Can’t even spare the time to follow me around himself? Where’s the respect?” She could practically hear the eye roll from Mac before she headed back to the couch. “I’m going to give Sacks a run for the money. You okay to hang out for a bit? Just take messages if anyone comes in.”
“Veronica!”
“You’re the best!” She was out the Mars Investigation door before Mac could list all the reasons she couldn’t man the fort for a half hour. It was doubtful that it would even take her that long to shake Sacks off her trail and there was no harm in driving past the drugstore on Wiltshire just to take a look.
It only took a few blocks to prove that Sacks was an amateur. She resisted the temptation to drive around in circles until he realized that he’d been made. But that would lead to his reporting to Lamb, which she didn’t want; better not to tip her hand until she could see the stupid look on his stupid face up close and personal. There was no way she’d pass up the opportunity to remind him that she was the smart one, especially after he’d tossed her in jail on trumped up charges.
Nothing stood out about the drug store or the neighboring stores, which was disappointing. She’d been half hoping for a large neon sign that said Look Here. The only interesting thing about it was that it was around the corner and one stop light away from Ocean Avenue, which had known connections to shady dealings. That hardly warranted the disappearing act by her father.
Deciding it was time to lose the good Deputy, she found the first parking lot with multiple exits and put the power steering in the LeBaron to good use. By the time Sacks was halfway through the lot, she had already doubled back and was pulling into the street. She drove a figure eight around two more city blocks just to be sure he’d fallen behind. To be even more thorough, she parked around the corner from the innocuous looking drugstore and walked the rest of the way.
It had all the right sounds and smells of a regular, run of the mill drugstore. Cheesy elevator music in the background, floors reeking of Mr. Clean, and the not-quite-antiseptic odor that always seemed to hang in the air; all the shelves were neatly stocked and there was even a mother struggling to control her toddler on aisle five.
She pretended to be looking for something as she wandered up and down the aisles, glancing surreptitiously at the Employee Only exits and the glass bulbs in the ceilings that housed the security cameras. Even the clerk on duty was stereotypical in his button up shirt, garish retro tie, and bored expression. There was nothing of interest on aisle four beyond diet supplements and bottles of crushed herbs. If had been the first aid aisle, she would have freaked as only a girl who’d lost her father can. When she was sure that there was absolutely nothing she needed, unless the raspberry oil drops actually would make her uterus stronger - who bought this stuff? - she headed for checkout stand Number Four.
Photos of movie stars with perfectly white teeth sparkled up from the trashy magazine covers with headlines about babies and breakups and more bullshit that she didn’t care about. That kind of sludge was her bread and butter; she just preferred the local flavor. Busting a guy with his pants around his ankles was much better when there was a year or two of his son’s crude heckling still pounding in her head.
Checkout stand Number Four was as unmemorable as the rest of the store. She bought a pack of bubble gum and a cigarette lighter because the clerk was giving her the look that dared her to actually make him do something other than stand there. Waiting for him to count change for a five, she glanced out the front window and realized that checkout Number Four had one thing the others didn’t; a completely unobstructed view of the office building across the street. No trees, no signs, just a straight shot clear up to the third floor windows.
Thanking the clerk absently, she grabbed up her change and purchases. Back on the sidewalk, she saw the sign for a travel agency specializing in exotica locales. She was pretty sure her father hadn’t been planning a vacation without telling her, not after standing her up for the trip to New York. He’d be on dish duty for the rest of his life if he pulled that kind of stunt again.
She followed the arrows to the underground parking and found the stairwell. In classic Neptune style, it couldn’t be a coincidence that the travel agency was on the third floor. There was no receptionist at the front desk and no on answered when she tapped the bell.
Brightly colored posters of beautiful beaches, desert landscapes, and lush rainforests decorated the walls, most of them adorned with pithy sayings about finding one’s destiny and seizing the day. Desk, lamp, filing cabinet; even the arrangement of fake flowers carefully displayed in the middle of the coffee table was standard for a travel agency. She couldn’t tell if the computer monitor was off or simply hibernating and couldn’t get a better look at the screen without getting behind the desk, something that was always hard to explain to anyone who walked in.
“Hello?” she called softly, leaning over the desk and letting her newly acquired lighter slip from her fingers. It clattered against the surface, sliding off onto the carpet on the other side when she reached for it. Her hand tapped the mouse almost imperceptibly as she pulled back. Sighing loudly, she circled around the desk and made a show of looking around for the wayward lighter. The monitor flickered and came to life, showing a beach themed desktop. She bumped the mouse when she leaned against the desk and accidentally double-clicked on an icon labeled Schedule as she bent down to reach under the desk.
“Excuse me?” An unfamiliar voice froze her in her tracks.
“Found it!” Snatching up the lighter, she stood up quickly and smiled her most cheerfully innocent smile. “I am such a klutz. And you how you drop something and it’s like a rule that it has to roll under the furniture. I hate that.”
The man returned her smile as he stepped forward, holding out a handful of brochures. He certainly didn’t look sinister with his graying hair and the slightest hint of a belly hidden by his sports coat. In fact, he looked like a high school sports coach who probably took in troubled teens and taught them all about how football could change their lives. Which would be true in a truly Neptune fashion when they blew out a knee and ended up with no job skills or prospects.
“I was hoping to book a cruise to Tahiti. It’s our twentieth anniversary and I think I need to do something special this year.” He looked even more lost than she felt.
“Got her a power saw last year?” She winked as she took the brochures.
“Painted the bathroom.”
“And she hates it.”
“Won’t even go in the room.”
“Ouch.” Taking control of the mouse, she scanned the screen for anything that might be the right program. “But believe me, you’ll be amazing at how much a little Tahiti can make up for. Though you might want to have the bathroom repainted while you’re gone.”
“Good idea,” he said with obvious relief.
“When did you want to go?”
“It’s in two weeks. Is that enough time? I know these trips fill up fast.”
“I’m sure there’s something. Tell me more about what you had in mind. A cruise?” She was desperately stalling and hoping he wouldn’t notice that she’d opened several programs, none of which seemed to have the information she needed. He was going on about mosquitoes and coastal resorts when inspiration struck. “Do you trust me?”
“What?”
“It’s just that we upgraded our software and I still haven’t figured it out yet,” she said apologetically. “But if you leave your contact information and trust me just a teensy bit, I will find the most incredible vacation package for you. I promise your wife will forgive you completely.”
“That would be great. Better leave it to the professionals, right?” He jotted down his phone numbers on the back of one of the brochures. “I can’t thank you enough, Miss…”
“Jones. Samantha Jones.”
“Thank you again. You’ve saved my life. And my marriage.”
“Saving lives and marriages is what we do here. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” She waved and smiled until he was out the door.
Turning back to the computer, she began to scan the programs she’d opened for anything that looked shadier than family vacations to Fiji. For a company that rented downtown office space, they didn’t seem to be doing a lot of business. Of course, the price tags on each of the trips was astronomical so maybe they didn’t need to book more than one trip per month. She noted that they seemed to have a trip to Thailand leaving nearly every month. Four days, three nights. It was hardly worth the two nineteen hour flights there and back.
She tore out one of the bottom sheets of the notepad and jotted down the names of the clients who were scheduled for the Thailand trips. If they were business trips then she was interested in what kind of business they were doing. Just as she tucked the notepaper into her back pocket and gathered up the rest of her things, the office door in behind her.
“Oh. Hello.” A tall, sleekly groomed man leaned out of the doorway. “The temp agency said you wouldn’t be here for another hour.”
“I was just so excited to start,” she offered weakly. “I was just trying to get a feel for the desk, but if you’d like me somewhere else.”
“No, no, that’s fine. It’s Mary Beth, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I’m Mary Beth. Pleased to be working with you while…what was her name again?”
“Olivia. Guess that baby couldn’t wait,” he chuckled. “I thought I heard someone come in earlier?”
“You did! A man…Mr. Branson…was hoping to take his wife to Tahiti for their anniversary. He looked pretty clueless so I told him I’d find the perfect package and get back to him.” She held up the brochures as evidence.
The man smiled, revealing two rows of perfect teeth. “That’s what I like in an employee. A real go-getter. Well, I’ll just let you keep doing what you’re doing, Mary Beth. Hold down the fort while I step out for a coffee?” He grabbed his suit coat from the coat rack on his way through the room.
“Of course, sir. Nice to meet you.” The door closed before she finished.
Taking her cue from the smiling Toucan on the wall, she seized the moment and bolted from the office. Once the real Mary Beth showed up, things were bound to get a little complicated. Her footsteps echoed in staccato as she hurried down the three flights of stairs to the parking garage. The hinges squeaked as the heavy exit door swung open into the garage. She was almost free.
Her head jerked back, pain radiating through her scalp from the section of hair that had caught on something. She had time to reach up and feel a hand and an arm behind her before her assailant slammed her head against the doorframe and the world turned black.
***
“You lost her?” Sheriff Lamb ignored the coffee sloshing over the paperwork on his desk as he stood up. He’d make Sacks redo it all, since he was the reason for the mess. “Where exactly did you lose her?”
“On Wiltshire. I mean, she was there and then she…wasn’t. She’s slippery.”
“Where on Wiltshire?” he ground out through clenched teeth.
“She might have turned onto Ocean Avenue.”
“I want you to put out an APB on her and her car. Yesterday. I want her found.” Grabbing his keys and jacket, he stormed out of his office. “Next time I ask you to follow Veronica Mars, I don’t care if you have to handcuff yourself to her. Understand?”
“I thought it would be better if she didn’t know I was there,” Sacks explained.
Lamb didn’t bother to respond to that because it was absolutely ridiculous. He’d learned the hard way that underestimating any of the Mars family was a bad idea and inevitably came back to bite him in the ass. He should have followed Veronica himself, even if it did mean putting up with her childish pranks. The one advantage he had over Sacks was that he had an idea of where she’d be going and if she’d managed to find her way to Wiltshire Boulevard, there was a good chance that Keith Mars hadn’t covered his tracks as well as he’d thought.
That made him smile. Apparently not even the great and wonderful Mars could keep his daughter from sticking her nose into none of her damn business, which as far as he concerned, was the entirety of Neptune, California. He found her car around the corner from Wiltshire and wasn’t surprised when the clerk at the drugstore remembered a cute little blonde girl. The bored college student even remembered seeing her cross the street and enter the parking garage. He waited until he was out of the store to swear.
The untraceable cell phone in his pocket was ringing before even he reached his car. “She’s your daughter, Mars. Hate to say I told you so.”
“Actually, I was calling to ask what you were doing at the drugstore blowing our carefully planned cover.” Keith Mars sounded more confused than annoyed.
“Like I said, she’s your daughter. She lost Sacks and doubled back here, the clerk remembers her going into the garage across the street. Can you put the pieces together or do you need me to spell it out?” He stopped at the streetlight and waited for the light to changed, knowing that he at least needed to pretend to be out shopping.
“Don,” his tone was deadly serious now. “They know who she is.”
“Which is why I had Sacks tailing her. You’re the one who swore that she wouldn’t be able to find you.”
“I’m calling it off. Everything. The whole operation.”
“That’s a little premature.” He reached the end of the block and started back the other way, keeping his pace leisurely. “I’m going to check the garage, see what I can find. Besides, it’s not your call, remember?”
“If they have her--”
“I know where to look. If you don’t hear from me in half an hour, send in the cavalry.” The phone went back into his pocket well before he reached the entrance to the parking garage. He had to assume that he had extremely limited time before their entire operation was blown out of the water because Veronica couldn’t just stay home and be a normal girl. Maybe screwing up months of hard work by an FBI task force would knock some sense into her impossible skull.
The parking garage was quiet and empty of human beings. There was a particularly hot Jaguar that warranted a closer look; just to be sure she wasn’t tied up in the backseat. That was about as far as he could go without treading into the line of fire himself, which he wasn’t about to do for Veronica even if she was in trouble. Girl had it coming to her really.
One look in the stairwell wouldn’t tip anyone off anymore than wandering around the parking garage, so he opened the door and glanced around. No Veronica hiding under the stairs. No anything but trash, dirt-stained concrete floors, and a flickering exit light humming like a beehive. Someone had dropped an unopened pack of gum near the door. And left blood on the doorframe just below shoulder height. He remembered the clerk saying the blonde might have bought a pack of gum.
This time, he dialed the number for the Sheriff’s Department. “Put Sacks on the phone. No, I don’t care what he’s doing.” He waited impatiently for the transfer to go through. “Sacks, get the crime lab boys down to the parking garage on Wiltshire, stairwell. I need them here now. And send back up.”
“Sir?”
“Veronica Mars is missing, possibly abducted.” Saying the words out loud made them real, made the blood against the dark blue paint more real than it had been before.
He hesitated when he pulled out the cell phone to call Keith. Blood on the doorframe gave him probable cause to investigate further. She might still be on the premises. Bleeding, unconscious. The latter would be preferable because she never knew well enough to keep her mouth shut. Of course, if he backed out now then there might be hope for salvaging the sting operation and the FBI would be happy about that. But unlike Sacks, he knew what was going to happen if they didn’t find her. If she was lucky, she was already dead.
Slipping his gun out of the holster, he started up the stairs as quietly possible. The third floor travel agency was just the front. A pretty façade for the real trafficking going on behind the doors. Homeland Security had hoped it was a lead into terrorist movements, but unless the terrorists had switched from WMDs to STDs, the merchandise was outside their jurisdiction. Apparently foreign teenage girls being sold as indentured whores weren’t a matter of national security. By the time Keith Mars had stumbled onto the FBI task force, he’d also managed to get noticed by the bastards running the human smuggling ring.
The third floor hallway was empty but he kept his gun in hand. He smelled the smoke first, before he saw it roll lazily out under the door. Yanking off his jacket, he holstered his gun and hit redial on the phone as he raced down the hall to hit the building’s fire alarm. The thick fabric of his uniform protected his elbow from the glass surrounding the fire extinguisher. Not that it would be much help if the entire floor were on fire.
It was a stroke of pure luck that the door wasn’t hot to the touch. He prayed that meant the fire was still small and that if Veronica was inside, she was still alive. Bracing his shoulder against the door, he began to open it agonizingly slowly. The air inside was smoky. Covering his nose and mouth as he could with his sleeve, he ducked as low as he could and tried to see into the room.
There was a second closed door across the room with smoke pouring out through the gaps around it. He could feel the heat radiating from the office and knew it was probably a matter of seconds before the fire spilled out. The filing cabinet had been emptied and the room trashed before setting the fire. Even the computer had been opened up, lying on the desk with its guts exposed.
“Veronica?” He choked against the taste of smoke on his tongue. Muffled screaming and knocking answered him. Shit. The bastard had left her here to burn to death. “Where are you?” More knocking.
Behind the receptionist’s desk, he found her in the corner, duct taped to the water cooler. They’d wanted to make sure she couldn’t wiggle her way out of this one. Tears had formed tracks in the soot on her face; there was blood and the beginning of a nasty bruise on the side of her head. A puddle of water around her meant she'd been trying to tip over the cooler but, unfortunately for both of them, someone had bolted it to the wall. He grabbed a pair of scissors from the desk and started cutting at the duct tape.
Once her hands were free, she pulled the tape from her mouth. “Hurry!”
“Shut up or I’m putting the tape back on,” he snapped.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, that room is about to explode in a ball of fire. I think I’m justified in telling you to hurry up!”
“And in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m saving your life.” He glared at her and kept cutting. The door behind him creaked ominously. Something was hissing overhead and it wasn’t the sprinklers that were supposed to be putting the fire out.
“He sprayed some sort of accelerant in the hallway. To make sure the entire floor burned.” Veronica tore away the rest of tape from her arms and legs, scrambling to her feet and coughing against the smoke.
“Stay down!” Pulling her down beside him, he shoved her toward the door and motioned for her to get moving. He kicked himself mentally for noticing her ass.
The door beginning to bulge by the time they reached the hallway. He heard the telltale crack and dove for cover, dragging Veronica with him. An instant later, a ball of fire erupted over their heads and turned the hallway into a blazing inferno. The speed of the flames stunned him and he could see the pattern of the accelerant as it was seared into the wall. With one hand still gripping her arm, he crawled toward the door leading to the stairwell. It was concrete; it would be safe if they could get there before the fire reached the carpet.
“Are you going to charge me with arson when we get out here?” Veronica hissed.
“Would you get over yourself for five seconds and pay attention to the burning building? And if,” he stopped long enough to yank her away from a falling chunk of flaming ceiling tile. “If we get out of here alive, I’m going to kill you.”
“Oh, that’s original.”
He ignored her jibe. Now was the time to focus on crawling the last ten feet to the stairwell and being able to breathe air again. Patches of carpet had begun to burn as the fire closed in around them. He thought he heard sirens but it might have been his imagination. If anything were audible over the sound of fire around them, it would be a miracle. Five more feet. Veronica was coughing hard against the smoke that was filling the hall and her face was rapidly losing color.
Sweat dripped down his face, the heat overwhelming all the rest of his senses until he wasn’t sure there was anything but fire. They were flat on their stomachs, inching down the hallway where there was still enough air to keep from passing out.
“Come on, Mars. Almost there.” He was beginning to feel light-headed himself, his throat was burning, and he was hoping against hope that opening the stairwell door wasn’t going to kill them both.
Fire roared over his head, nearly slamming the door closed when he tried to open it, and the smell of burnt hair nearly choked him. Mars was going to owe him big time for this. In fact, saving her ass probably made up for not finding her rapist. Or at least for not believing she’d been raped in the first place. Hooking one arm around her waist, he dragged her into the stairwell and forced the door shut with his feet. It wasn’t much better but he wasn’t surrounded by combustible material and that was something.
“Mars?” When she didn’t give him a smartass answer, he shook her a little and pulled her around to look at her. He could feel a pulse in her neck and she seemed to be breathing, but her eyes were closed and she was limp. “Veronica? Veronica?” No response. “Great time to be a girl, Mars.”
Blinking smoke out of eyes, he slipped his other arm under her knees and picked her up. The stairs were nearly impossible to navigate with low visibility and the extra weight. Flashing red and blue lights just beyond the parking garage were the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. They meant that he’d actually walked away from a burning building, which didn’t happen every day.
Wiltshire Boulevard was chaos. The windows of the third floor had blown out, bathing the sidewalk in shattered glass, and the huge sprays of water aimed at the building managed to create a localized thunderstorm beneath them.
Lamb made it past the sidewalk, his eyes focused on the glaring white of the ambulance, before a fireman reached them. He resisted when the man tried to pull Veronica from his arms. He’d gotten her out of the building and he was damn well going to make sure Keith Mars knew who had saved his daughter.
“Sir, I need you to sit down,” the fireman shouted over the noise
“She’s unconscious, she needs medical attention,” he shouted back.
“Sir! I really need you to--”
At that point the words started to fade in and out and the fireman’s face got blurry around the edges. He swayed on his feet, struggling to stay conscious. The sound of Keith shouting his daughter’s name was no louder than a whisper amidst all the noise, but it was good enough for Lamb. He let the fireman take Veronica and promptly passed out.
***
“Does this mean I have to be nice to him?” Veronica held up the newspaper when her father came through the apartment door. There was a picture of Don Lamb front and center, with Veronica in his arms looking, as the rather obnoxious caption writer had decided, like a fallen angel. Small Town Hero was the title of the entirely too fawning piece of journalistic crap. “Here’s my favorite part...despite his own injuries, the valiant Neptune Sheriff refused to seek medical attention until Ms. Mars was attended to. Gag me. Or shoot me. You know I’m never going to hear the end of this, he’s going to be impossible.”
“Technically, he did save your life, Veronica.”
“Technicalities are highly overrated. And he wouldn’t have had to save my life if you hadn’t run off without telling me where you were going.” She scowled at him and tossed the paper away.
“I’m sorry about that, Veronica. And I’m sorry about having you arrested. Well, actually, I just asked him to bring you in for questioning but he thought the arrest would make it more believable. He does like to go the extra mile when it comes to you.”
“What? You asked Lamb to bring me in? I may never be able to forgive you for that.”
He smiled apologetically. “Once I was made, it was important that they believed that you didn’t know where I was. I asked Lamb to keep you safe until the FBI could make an arrest. They were running the show, I was merely a humble pawn.”
“The FBI hates me, don’t they?” She winced when his smile faltered ever so slightly. “You could have told me.”
“I knew the first person they’d come after to get to me was you. The less you knew, the safer you were. But I’m sorry. I should have remembered what a good detective you were.” Circling around the kitchen island, he hugged her tightly and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “And you should probably thank the good Sheriff for saving your life.”
“How about a card? Hallmark makes some great cards.”
“Veronica.”
“A fruit basket?” At the look on his face, she sighed dejectedly. “I really have to?”
“You really do. And get it over with before he gets too full of himself. Trust me, it’ll only get worse the longer you wait.”
“This is one of those life lessons, isn’t it? Right up there with putting my hand on the stove and playing on train tracks.” Realizing that she wasn’t going to get out of this no matter how she tried, she reached for her car keys. “If I ever meet Karma face to face, we’re gonna have words.”
“I’m sure you will, honey.” He nodded indulgently, calling after her just as she was closing the door. “Try to be nice!”
She planned out her speech down to the letter on her drive to the Sheriff’s station. Every word she was going to say, how she was going to say it, and how she was not going to let Lamb’s smug expression piss her off like it always did. And he would be smug. He would be the smuggest his smug face had ever been because now he had something to hold over her head. He, Don Lamb, had saved her life, had carried her from a burning building and spent two days in a hospital bed for his trouble. She wanted to not care at all but mostly she felt guilty. Guilty and foolish for sticking her nose where it didn’t belong, and for not trusting her father to know what he was doing.
“Veronica! You’re looking well!” Inga greeted her warmed.
“Thanks. Is the Sheriff in?”
“He’s in his office. Would you like me to get him?”
“I’ll just head on back if there’s no one else in there.” She was pretty sure from the beaming smile on Inga’s face that she and that everyone in the building knew why she was there. Hopefully they also knew how this was going to be as much fun as swallowing razorblades. She knocked once but didn’t wait for a response before opening the door and walking in.
“Veronica Mars.” Sure enough, Lamb had his best smug expression on and just as she’d sworn she wouldn’t let happen, it pissed her off.
She put her hand over heart and sighed dreamily. “Sheriff Lamb. My hero.”
“What? No fruit basket?”
“Damn. Here I thought you were more a Beer Of the Month kinda guy.”
He tapped his pencil on the desk, arrogant smile still firmly in place, and turned his attention back to the paperwork he was filling out. “Do me a favor, try not to get yourself taped up and left to die in the next six months. I can only take so much excitement.”
Taking a seat across the desk, she pretended to be trying to read his handwriting. “And miss out on the great photo ops?”
“I’m actually working here, Veronica.”
“I just love it when you...do your job.” She stressed the last three syllables. The memories of his fake interrogation were still perfectly clear in her mind and she intended to make him as uncomfortable as he’d made her. Just for the hell of it.
“This paperwork isn’t going to finish itself.” The pen bounced and rolled when he tossed it onto the desk. “Go waste someone else’s time.”
“No one else has time worth wasting.” Blatantly ignoring the dismissal, she examined the chipped polish on her fingernails.
“Veronica.” He nodded toward the door expectantly.
“Yes?”
“Fine.” Leaning back in his chair and resting his chin on one hand, he gave her his most patronizing expression. “What now? You’ve solved the Jimmy Hoffa case? Wait...you know who was on the grassy knoll.”
“I’m surprised you’re that culturally literate. The word on the street is that you’re shallow as a wading pool.” She shook her head and tsk-ed. “They just don’t know the real you, do they?”
“Do you actually have a reason for being here? Or did you really want to help out with all this paperwork you left behind after you screwed up the FBI taskforce?” The pompous, and a little vindictive, smile was back in full force and he popped his gum for emphasis. “You cost them six months of work on a sting operation. And I’m the one stuck cleaning up your mess. Damn right I deserved that photo op.”
He had her there. The fact that she’d stuck her nose in and now the Bad Guy was running loose was pretty much her fault. She’d probably earned her way onto an FBI watch list or two, if she hadn’t been there already.
“What? No smartass comeback?” Laughing a little under his breath, he shook his head with amusement. “All bark and no bite, that’s you, Veronica Mars.”
That was his idea of a lead-in for a lecture civic responsiblity, as if he actually knew anything about either of those words. The man surely loved to hear himself speak and if he didn't shut up soon, there was no way she was going to have the stomach for thank you. Of course, her options for shutting him up were limited and one of them involved inappropriate use of his stapler. There was another, less violent, option but it was insane and there was no way she wanted to do that. Then again, if she didn't do something, she might be stuck listening to his self-important prattle for hours.
All bark and no bite. Ha. She'd show him. Nodding absently at whatever he was rambling about, she got to her feet and moved around the side of desk, pretending to be interested in what was on the wall behind him.
“Are you even listening to me?” he asked irritably.
“Do I ever?” She made her move before he could start into another lecture, reaching out and sliding her hands behind his neck, pulling him to her as much as her to him. Lips met, gently pressing together with the barest brush of her tongue against his lower lip. She was pretty sure he’d be charging her with assaulting an officer soon enough, but it was worth the shocked look on his face when she pulled away. There was blissful and triumphant silence as she turned around to leave the office, pausing in the doorway just long enough to enjoy the fact that he was still stunned speechless.
“I just wanted to say thank you.”