Natural Born Killer - Chapter 10 (Veronica/Logan) R
Title: Natural Born Killer
Author: glasheen25
Characters/Pairings: Veronica/Logan, Mac, Wallace, Keith
Word Count: 2648
Rating: R for language and violence
Spoilers: none
Summary: Estranged from Logan, Veronica is working a particularly violent series of murders for the FBI. Post-series three.
What the hell? Veronica cursed inwardly. Impossible.
She looked again.
No. The short brown hair, the charming smile. It was definitely him.
Beside him Helen Bloomberg looked happy and relaxed and certainly hadn’t the appearance of a woman, who only hours later faced a brutal and violent death.
She couldn’t take her eyes from the computer screen, her attention fixed to the shocking images in front of her.
“Veronica, would it be possible to get a glass of water?”
Hearing his voice, Veronica whirled around, nausea pooling in her stomach at the sight of Mac’s fiancé behind her.
“Sure,” Veronica replied, forcing a smile as she immediately slammed her laptop shut.
How long had he been there? Veronica hoped only seconds.
If Brian had seen the photographs, he made no mention of it instead following her into the kitchen and watching silently as she removed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water.
“Thanks, Veronica.” he muttered, accepting the glass and draining it almost immediately.
“Have you heard from Mac?” Veronica inquired with a smile, at a loss of anything else to say. Brian’s demeanor seemed to have changed from the charming, well spoken man Veronica had grown to know over the previous weeks.
“She should be home later this evening.” Brian replied curtly, sliding the glass onto the draining board, a cold expression creeping into in his blue eyes. “I’ll be sure to tell her to give you a call.”
He had seen the photograph, Veronica suddenly knew and she felt sick to her stomach.
God. This was not good.
Though petite, Veronica was surprisingly strong, hours of working out in the gym having honed every muscle in her body. Brian, though had over sixty pounds on her and Veronica knew in her current weakened state, that she hadn’t a hope in hell if he overpowered her.
Her gun, Veronica quickly realized, making her way towards her bedroom, running her fingers through her tangled lengths of hair. “I’m sorry, Brian but I need to get ready for work. Call me though, if you have any other questions.” she assured him with what she hoped was a credible smile.
Pushing her way into her bedroom, Veronica closed the door forcibly behind her and leaned against it for a minute, her entire body convulsed with shakes.
Fuck. He was still out there. The telling click of the front door closing hadn’t sounded yet and Veronica could hear a vague clatter from the kitchen as though he was rummaging through the cupboards for something.
Veronica couldn’t worry about that now. Her blue eyes searching the darkened room, the curtains still closed from her impromptu wake-up call, Veronica almost died in the spot when she noticed the conspicuously empty space on the bedside locker.
Her gun was gone.
--
The welcoming ring of a bell tinkled overhead as Logan pushed his way through the door of Sunny’s Diner and took a seat in one of the red vinyl booths. Though he had refrained from drinking alcohol, the late night spent with Dick and Casey playing poker left Logan hungry for something more substantial than his usual morning coffee.
“What can I get you, Sir?” the middle-aged waitress asked him warmly, paper and pen poised in her hand as she waited for Logan to respond.
The pancakes in Sunny’s were apparently legendary according to the plastic covered menu and who was Logan to argue with a statement like that. The waitress hastily scribbling his order of pancakes and coffee into her notebook, she slipped the pen into her apron before heading back towards the kitchen.
The diner was mercifully quiet, the place devoid of the usual hustle and bustle that plagued the place on weekend mornings when he and Veronica used to scramble for a seat. Inhaling the comforting scent of the freshly brewed coffee and bacon, Logan relaxed back into the booth and gazed out the window, his thoughts returning to Veronica and the messed-up relationship they shared, that somehow seemed to be making sense. He’d call into her on his way to work, he decided, suddenly needing to see Veronica with a desperation that would be embarrassing if anybody other than himself knew.
“Enjoy.” the waitress beamed, sliding a steaming plate of pancakes on the table in front of him and topping up his coffee.
Thanking the waitress, Logan’s stomach growled in anticipation of the plate of food in front of him. Picking up his fork and knife, he was just about to cut into the stack of pancakes when his cell phone buzzed from his pocket.
Reaching for the phone, Logan’s face twisted in confusion seeing Keith Mars’ name highlighted on the screen. Keith Mars never was Logan’s biggest fan.
“Is Veronica there?” Keith demanded the second Logan answered the phone and Logan could hear the worry in his voice.
“No,” Logan replied warily, pushing away his plate of pancakes, his appetite suddenly disappeared. “She wasn’t feeling very well yesterday and decided to have an early night. Is there something wrong?”
“I’m not sure,” Keith replied with a weary sigh. “I’ve tried calling her a few times this morning and her phone is turned off. It’s just not like Veronica. I think, I’m going to call over to her apartment and make sure everything is okay.”
“There’s no need,” Logan insisted, the obvious worry in Keith Mars’ voice starting to make it’s impact on Logan’s own feelings. “I was going to call over to Veronica before work to see how she is. I’ll ring you when I get there. I’m sure everything is fine.”
“Once you promise to call the second you get there,” Keith replied uncertainly. “I’ll have my cell with me.”
--
“Where the hell is Mars, this morning?” Burke muttered to nobody in particular, shifting through the towering pile of paperwork that seemed to be only growing on his desk.
The morning wasn’t going well. Marilyn was in a foul mood, the newspapers filled with headlines that screamed the utter incompetency of the LAPD and the FBI. The coffee was cold and it was looking less likely by the second that Mars would be joining him for their ten thirty appointment with James Carr, an FBI technical analyst who had been flown in especially to advise on the Bloomberg case.
The images from the CCTV camera weren’t the best of quality but they were decent enough. There was every possibility that the man walking down the road so casually with Helen Bloomberg in the hours before her death could be completely innocent. It was far more likely though that he was their killer and this could be the lead the FBI needed to finally take the bastard down.
“Is Mars not in yet? I have some paperwork from the Bloomberg crime scene that needs to be tied up.”
Hearing the frustrated voice, Burke looked up to see Marilyn Hauser gazing down at him and waiting expectantly for an answer.
“I’ve tried calling but she’s not picking up,” Burke replied, forcing a patient note into his voice. In spite of the shitty mood he was in, Burke knew better than crossing his boss.
“It’s not like her to be late,” Marilyn sighed unhappily, pushing her glasses a little higher up her nose. “I hope nothing is wrong.”
Typical, Burke sighed inwardly. Mars is an hour late and the boss is practically making a Get Well Soon card for her. I turn up on time and I don’t even merit a cup of half drinkable coffee.
“Keep trying to get in contact with Mars,” Hauser demanded curtly, smoothing a hand over her wool skirt. “And if she isn’t in by the time you finish up your meeting with Agent Carr, I want you to call over to her place and check everything is okay. Understood?”
“Understood.” Burke agreed, wondering what the hell Mars had done to turn the ice-queen boss into her number one fan.
--
Tying up hair into a loose ponytail, Veronica was vaguely aware that her hands were shaking. Though she couldn’t hear him, she was certain Brian was still outside, armed with her gun and God knows what else he found in the kitchen.
If the body of Helen Bloomberg was anything to go by, Brian was pretty adept with a knife and it would only take one slice to the right place to leave her bleeding to death on the kitchen floor.
What the hell was she going to do?” Veronica wondered wildly, giving a hopeful glance at the window before realizing that at eight stories up, she would be better off taking her chances with Brian.
It was a completely hopeless situation. Brian had her gun. The battery in her cell phone was completely dead. She might as well just jump out the window now and save Brian the trouble.
Maybe if she blocked the door, Veronica suddenly considered, eyeing the heavy mahogany dresser that was pushed against the wall. It might buy her time. Burke would want to discuss the images from the CCTV camera he sent her last night and wouldn’t be impressed by her nonappearance at the office. Neither would Marilyn, Veronica knew. There was some paperwork that was in urgent demand and Marilyn wasn’t in the most patient of moods at the moment.
Spurred into action, Veronica ran over to the dresser and started to push the awkward piece of dresser across the floor. The carpeted floor mercifully quietened her efforts but just as Veronica pushed the dresser firmly against the door, a rush of footsteps across the floor outside reminded Veronica that she was not alone.
“What are you doing, Veronica?” Brian demanded softly but there was a dangerous note in his voice. “Why don’t you just come out and we can talk.”
“Like the way you talked to Helen Bloomberg?” Veronica spat back, clearing the books and jars of make-up from her bedside locker with a quick swipe of her hand. Struggling to get to grips with the sizable weight of the dusty piece of furniture, Veronica heaved it on top of the chest of drawers for good measure. Brian was strong and Veronica was certain he would eventually manage to force his way through the door. The furniture stacked in front of the door would buy her time though, give her a chance to formulate some semblance of a plan.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Brian replied, though there was a nervous edge to his voice.
He was in denial, Veronica realized. Brian Matthews. Golden boy. From the way Mac spoke about her fiancee, it was obvious he had always excelled at everything he had tried to do. He had been valedictorian in high school and had graduated top of his class in Harvard Medicine. His mother absolutely adored him but Veronica doubted that the gruesome murders Brian was responsible for weren’t his first brush with the law. Brutal murderers don’t just transpire overnight. There were probably some earlier incidents, that his wealthy parents erased with their considerable power and money. Quite probably, Brian had never murdered anybody before but it was quite possible he had tortured animals.
“Helen Bloomberg. The prostitute who was killed the other night.” Veronica informed Brian, her voice carefully controlled to conceal the almost overwhelming fear that was threatening to consume her. “Brian, the police know it was you. They have you on CCTV footage.
There was quietness for a moment before Brian spoke and there was a strange sort of mocking tone in his voice.
“Correction, Veronica, you know it was me,” he sneered. “I saw those images remember and they are pretty shit, it has to be said. No jury in the country would convict me, based on those images alone and as far I know, the police don’t have any other evidence.”
He was right, Veronica knew. Brian had been careful, hadn’t left much for the police to work with. But he didn’t know that.
“Are you certain about that, Brian?” Veronica murmured, her head still racing will possible strategies to get out of this mess alive.
“Positive.” he snarled back but some of the old cockiness was gone.
“Once you’re sure,” Veronica chanted back in an infuriatingly sunny tone that she was certain would drive Brian mad and hopefully begin to doubt himself.
“The only thing that links me to the murders at present, Veronica, is you.” Brian informed her in a chilling tone. “And that, I’m sure you agree will be a pretty easy thing to deal with.”
A furious thump followed his words as Brian threw himself against the door and Veronica knew that time was running short.
--
The sun was searing down from the bright blue sky as Logan swung into the car lot of Veronica’s apartment building. It was a beautiful morning, the kind that might inspire one to consider blowing off work and head to the beach for an early swim.
Not that Veronica ever would, Logan considered ruefully, imagining the look of horror on his girlfriend’s face if he even broached the idea. She was truly committed to the role as FBI agent and even vacations were taken with a little reservation, Veronica hating to be missing out on anything work related.
Spying her car parked at the opposite end of the car lot, Logan sighed in relief. As suspected, Veronica was probably just sleeping off whatever virus she had been complaining of the previous day. He might even try and get her to give her doctor a call, Logan decided then, knowing well of Veronica’s stubbornness and her absolute inability to accept that she might need a few days off work and an antibiotic.
Reaching the door of her apartment, Logan tentatively knocked, feeling bad for waking her. Veronica rarely got enough sleep, in his estimations at least.
When she didn’t answer, he knocked a little louder, fully expecting to hear the patter of footsteps over the floor before Veronica would throw the door open to him, rubbing her eyes wearily and her hair arranged in all sorts of strange angles.
But still there was no response.
“Veronica.” Logan called, his voice gentle at first but his calls becoming more insistent as Veronica failed to answer.
Reaching for his cell, he tried her number again and almost flung his phone at the wall in disgust when the monotonous beep informed him that the battery in her cell was dead.
There was something wrong, Logan instantly knew, about to punch in 911 into his cell when he thought he heard a muffled sound emanating from inside.
“Veronica.” he called insistently, banging furiously against the door. “Is everything okay? Open the door or I’m coming in.”
Calling 911, Logan quickly relayed Veronica’s address and his concerns to the female dispatcher before making a running jump at the door. Veronica was in trouble, he was certain of it.
Author: glasheen25
Characters/Pairings: Veronica/Logan, Mac, Wallace, Keith
Word Count: 2648
Rating: R for language and violence
Spoilers: none
Summary: Estranged from Logan, Veronica is working a particularly violent series of murders for the FBI. Post-series three.
What the hell? Veronica cursed inwardly. Impossible.
She looked again.
No. The short brown hair, the charming smile. It was definitely him.
Beside him Helen Bloomberg looked happy and relaxed and certainly hadn’t the appearance of a woman, who only hours later faced a brutal and violent death.
She couldn’t take her eyes from the computer screen, her attention fixed to the shocking images in front of her.
“Veronica, would it be possible to get a glass of water?”
Hearing his voice, Veronica whirled around, nausea pooling in her stomach at the sight of Mac’s fiancé behind her.
“Sure,” Veronica replied, forcing a smile as she immediately slammed her laptop shut.
How long had he been there? Veronica hoped only seconds.
If Brian had seen the photographs, he made no mention of it instead following her into the kitchen and watching silently as she removed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water.
“Thanks, Veronica.” he muttered, accepting the glass and draining it almost immediately.
“Have you heard from Mac?” Veronica inquired with a smile, at a loss of anything else to say. Brian’s demeanor seemed to have changed from the charming, well spoken man Veronica had grown to know over the previous weeks.
“She should be home later this evening.” Brian replied curtly, sliding the glass onto the draining board, a cold expression creeping into in his blue eyes. “I’ll be sure to tell her to give you a call.”
He had seen the photograph, Veronica suddenly knew and she felt sick to her stomach.
God. This was not good.
Though petite, Veronica was surprisingly strong, hours of working out in the gym having honed every muscle in her body. Brian, though had over sixty pounds on her and Veronica knew in her current weakened state, that she hadn’t a hope in hell if he overpowered her.
Her gun, Veronica quickly realized, making her way towards her bedroom, running her fingers through her tangled lengths of hair. “I’m sorry, Brian but I need to get ready for work. Call me though, if you have any other questions.” she assured him with what she hoped was a credible smile.
Pushing her way into her bedroom, Veronica closed the door forcibly behind her and leaned against it for a minute, her entire body convulsed with shakes.
Fuck. He was still out there. The telling click of the front door closing hadn’t sounded yet and Veronica could hear a vague clatter from the kitchen as though he was rummaging through the cupboards for something.
Veronica couldn’t worry about that now. Her blue eyes searching the darkened room, the curtains still closed from her impromptu wake-up call, Veronica almost died in the spot when she noticed the conspicuously empty space on the bedside locker.
Her gun was gone.
--
The welcoming ring of a bell tinkled overhead as Logan pushed his way through the door of Sunny’s Diner and took a seat in one of the red vinyl booths. Though he had refrained from drinking alcohol, the late night spent with Dick and Casey playing poker left Logan hungry for something more substantial than his usual morning coffee.
“What can I get you, Sir?” the middle-aged waitress asked him warmly, paper and pen poised in her hand as she waited for Logan to respond.
The pancakes in Sunny’s were apparently legendary according to the plastic covered menu and who was Logan to argue with a statement like that. The waitress hastily scribbling his order of pancakes and coffee into her notebook, she slipped the pen into her apron before heading back towards the kitchen.
The diner was mercifully quiet, the place devoid of the usual hustle and bustle that plagued the place on weekend mornings when he and Veronica used to scramble for a seat. Inhaling the comforting scent of the freshly brewed coffee and bacon, Logan relaxed back into the booth and gazed out the window, his thoughts returning to Veronica and the messed-up relationship they shared, that somehow seemed to be making sense. He’d call into her on his way to work, he decided, suddenly needing to see Veronica with a desperation that would be embarrassing if anybody other than himself knew.
“Enjoy.” the waitress beamed, sliding a steaming plate of pancakes on the table in front of him and topping up his coffee.
Thanking the waitress, Logan’s stomach growled in anticipation of the plate of food in front of him. Picking up his fork and knife, he was just about to cut into the stack of pancakes when his cell phone buzzed from his pocket.
Reaching for the phone, Logan’s face twisted in confusion seeing Keith Mars’ name highlighted on the screen. Keith Mars never was Logan’s biggest fan.
“Is Veronica there?” Keith demanded the second Logan answered the phone and Logan could hear the worry in his voice.
“No,” Logan replied warily, pushing away his plate of pancakes, his appetite suddenly disappeared. “She wasn’t feeling very well yesterday and decided to have an early night. Is there something wrong?”
“I’m not sure,” Keith replied with a weary sigh. “I’ve tried calling her a few times this morning and her phone is turned off. It’s just not like Veronica. I think, I’m going to call over to her apartment and make sure everything is okay.”
“There’s no need,” Logan insisted, the obvious worry in Keith Mars’ voice starting to make it’s impact on Logan’s own feelings. “I was going to call over to Veronica before work to see how she is. I’ll ring you when I get there. I’m sure everything is fine.”
“Once you promise to call the second you get there,” Keith replied uncertainly. “I’ll have my cell with me.”
--
“Where the hell is Mars, this morning?” Burke muttered to nobody in particular, shifting through the towering pile of paperwork that seemed to be only growing on his desk.
The morning wasn’t going well. Marilyn was in a foul mood, the newspapers filled with headlines that screamed the utter incompetency of the LAPD and the FBI. The coffee was cold and it was looking less likely by the second that Mars would be joining him for their ten thirty appointment with James Carr, an FBI technical analyst who had been flown in especially to advise on the Bloomberg case.
The images from the CCTV camera weren’t the best of quality but they were decent enough. There was every possibility that the man walking down the road so casually with Helen Bloomberg in the hours before her death could be completely innocent. It was far more likely though that he was their killer and this could be the lead the FBI needed to finally take the bastard down.
“Is Mars not in yet? I have some paperwork from the Bloomberg crime scene that needs to be tied up.”
Hearing the frustrated voice, Burke looked up to see Marilyn Hauser gazing down at him and waiting expectantly for an answer.
“I’ve tried calling but she’s not picking up,” Burke replied, forcing a patient note into his voice. In spite of the shitty mood he was in, Burke knew better than crossing his boss.
“It’s not like her to be late,” Marilyn sighed unhappily, pushing her glasses a little higher up her nose. “I hope nothing is wrong.”
Typical, Burke sighed inwardly. Mars is an hour late and the boss is practically making a Get Well Soon card for her. I turn up on time and I don’t even merit a cup of half drinkable coffee.
“Keep trying to get in contact with Mars,” Hauser demanded curtly, smoothing a hand over her wool skirt. “And if she isn’t in by the time you finish up your meeting with Agent Carr, I want you to call over to her place and check everything is okay. Understood?”
“Understood.” Burke agreed, wondering what the hell Mars had done to turn the ice-queen boss into her number one fan.
--
Tying up hair into a loose ponytail, Veronica was vaguely aware that her hands were shaking. Though she couldn’t hear him, she was certain Brian was still outside, armed with her gun and God knows what else he found in the kitchen.
If the body of Helen Bloomberg was anything to go by, Brian was pretty adept with a knife and it would only take one slice to the right place to leave her bleeding to death on the kitchen floor.
What the hell was she going to do?” Veronica wondered wildly, giving a hopeful glance at the window before realizing that at eight stories up, she would be better off taking her chances with Brian.
It was a completely hopeless situation. Brian had her gun. The battery in her cell phone was completely dead. She might as well just jump out the window now and save Brian the trouble.
Maybe if she blocked the door, Veronica suddenly considered, eyeing the heavy mahogany dresser that was pushed against the wall. It might buy her time. Burke would want to discuss the images from the CCTV camera he sent her last night and wouldn’t be impressed by her nonappearance at the office. Neither would Marilyn, Veronica knew. There was some paperwork that was in urgent demand and Marilyn wasn’t in the most patient of moods at the moment.
Spurred into action, Veronica ran over to the dresser and started to push the awkward piece of dresser across the floor. The carpeted floor mercifully quietened her efforts but just as Veronica pushed the dresser firmly against the door, a rush of footsteps across the floor outside reminded Veronica that she was not alone.
“What are you doing, Veronica?” Brian demanded softly but there was a dangerous note in his voice. “Why don’t you just come out and we can talk.”
“Like the way you talked to Helen Bloomberg?” Veronica spat back, clearing the books and jars of make-up from her bedside locker with a quick swipe of her hand. Struggling to get to grips with the sizable weight of the dusty piece of furniture, Veronica heaved it on top of the chest of drawers for good measure. Brian was strong and Veronica was certain he would eventually manage to force his way through the door. The furniture stacked in front of the door would buy her time though, give her a chance to formulate some semblance of a plan.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Brian replied, though there was a nervous edge to his voice.
He was in denial, Veronica realized. Brian Matthews. Golden boy. From the way Mac spoke about her fiancee, it was obvious he had always excelled at everything he had tried to do. He had been valedictorian in high school and had graduated top of his class in Harvard Medicine. His mother absolutely adored him but Veronica doubted that the gruesome murders Brian was responsible for weren’t his first brush with the law. Brutal murderers don’t just transpire overnight. There were probably some earlier incidents, that his wealthy parents erased with their considerable power and money. Quite probably, Brian had never murdered anybody before but it was quite possible he had tortured animals.
“Helen Bloomberg. The prostitute who was killed the other night.” Veronica informed Brian, her voice carefully controlled to conceal the almost overwhelming fear that was threatening to consume her. “Brian, the police know it was you. They have you on CCTV footage.
There was quietness for a moment before Brian spoke and there was a strange sort of mocking tone in his voice.
“Correction, Veronica, you know it was me,” he sneered. “I saw those images remember and they are pretty shit, it has to be said. No jury in the country would convict me, based on those images alone and as far I know, the police don’t have any other evidence.”
He was right, Veronica knew. Brian had been careful, hadn’t left much for the police to work with. But he didn’t know that.
“Are you certain about that, Brian?” Veronica murmured, her head still racing will possible strategies to get out of this mess alive.
“Positive.” he snarled back but some of the old cockiness was gone.
“Once you’re sure,” Veronica chanted back in an infuriatingly sunny tone that she was certain would drive Brian mad and hopefully begin to doubt himself.
“The only thing that links me to the murders at present, Veronica, is you.” Brian informed her in a chilling tone. “And that, I’m sure you agree will be a pretty easy thing to deal with.”
A furious thump followed his words as Brian threw himself against the door and Veronica knew that time was running short.
--
The sun was searing down from the bright blue sky as Logan swung into the car lot of Veronica’s apartment building. It was a beautiful morning, the kind that might inspire one to consider blowing off work and head to the beach for an early swim.
Not that Veronica ever would, Logan considered ruefully, imagining the look of horror on his girlfriend’s face if he even broached the idea. She was truly committed to the role as FBI agent and even vacations were taken with a little reservation, Veronica hating to be missing out on anything work related.
Spying her car parked at the opposite end of the car lot, Logan sighed in relief. As suspected, Veronica was probably just sleeping off whatever virus she had been complaining of the previous day. He might even try and get her to give her doctor a call, Logan decided then, knowing well of Veronica’s stubbornness and her absolute inability to accept that she might need a few days off work and an antibiotic.
Reaching the door of her apartment, Logan tentatively knocked, feeling bad for waking her. Veronica rarely got enough sleep, in his estimations at least.
When she didn’t answer, he knocked a little louder, fully expecting to hear the patter of footsteps over the floor before Veronica would throw the door open to him, rubbing her eyes wearily and her hair arranged in all sorts of strange angles.
But still there was no response.
“Veronica.” Logan called, his voice gentle at first but his calls becoming more insistent as Veronica failed to answer.
Reaching for his cell, he tried her number again and almost flung his phone at the wall in disgust when the monotonous beep informed him that the battery in her cell was dead.
There was something wrong, Logan instantly knew, about to punch in 911 into his cell when he thought he heard a muffled sound emanating from inside.
“Veronica.” he called insistently, banging furiously against the door. “Is everything okay? Open the door or I’m coming in.”
Calling 911, Logan quickly relayed Veronica’s address and his concerns to the female dispatcher before making a running jump at the door. Veronica was in trouble, he was certain of it.