Title: All Fall Down
Pairing / Character: Veronica/Logan, Keith
Rating: PG-13 to R
Words: 13,000 or so, thus far
Summary: In Neptune, the brighter the summer sun, the deeper the shadows.
Spoilers / Warnings: Seasons 1 and 2 / Language and adult situations
Chapter 2: Queen Bees and Hostilities
Author:
ladydisdain225Additional Characters: Lamb, Madison, Mac, Alicia
Rating: PG-13
Words: 7,466
Author’s Note: “All Fall Down” is a collaborative effort by 19 writers. You can learn more about this project
here. My thanks to
shizam23 and
mutinousmuse for their awesome beta work, and to
sarah_p,
lost1,
kantayra, and
truemyth for their additional assistance.
X-posted to
veronicamarsfic.
All Fall Down
Chapter 2
Queen Bees and Hostilities
The heavy double doors swung shut, swallowing the manic frenzy that surrounded Keith and leaving Veronica to the dubious comfort of an empty waiting room.
It was not a room likely to inspire solace. The muted florals and impressionist landscapes that dotted the walls of the other wings had been abandoned here, exposing vast distances of blank wall. The single wall clock, an all-important icon to be regarded with an almost religious fervor by those unfortunate enough to be waiting, swam in an ocean of toothpaste-colored cement blocks. There would be nothing to cushion the blow, once the worst was finally known.
No one waiting here was expecting good news. The most they could hope for was that it wasn’t as bad as they’d feared.
Veronica felt drained.
The initial feeling of panic had faded, leaving behind a horrible sort of hollow feeling. It was wrong. Her father - dad - daddy - had been shot, and she couldn’t muster up the energy to feel anything. She’d barely processed the fact that she hadn’t lost him two weeks ago; it was as if she couldn’t comprehend the possibility of losing him now.
Not that she was losing him. She wasn’t. Couldn’t. People didn’t die from shoulder wounds. He’d have a few days mandatory bed rest that he’d do his best to get out of, maybe some physical therapy and a hell of a scar, but he’d be fine.
He’d be fine.
Although the blocky hospital chair really wasn’t big enough for such a maneuver, Veronica hugged her knees to her chest as she flashed vividly back to her four year old self - back to the first time she’d spent the night in the emergency room, waiting to hear if her father was going to be okay.
It wasn’t a dramatic story. There were no heroics, no grand scenes. Her dad had stopped someone for a routine traffic violation and been shot by a car thief with an itchy trigger finger. Two bullets had lacerated his stomach and for a while no one had been sure if he was going to make it.
Of course she hadn’t known that at the time. No one had told her anything for fear they might upset her. All she knew was that mommy was crying and no one would let her see daddy and that was enough to strike terror in a four year old heart.
She remembered promising to be good, certain that her tendency to leave her toys on the stairwell had somehow precipitated the situation - a notion that seemed confirmed when Keith pulled through a day after she made her bargain.
Three weeks later she’d broken her mother’s good lamp and been inconsolable, believing that her failure would make daddy go away again.
Now she sat, stiff and numb - it had only been five minutes according to the clock on the wall but it felt like hours, weeks, that she’d been waiting. Maybe she’d never stopped. Maybe she never could.
She closed her eyes tightly, burying her face in her hands and wishing she could shut out the questions niggling at the back of her mind as easily.
Someone had shot at Keith.
No, scratch that.
Someone had tried to murder him.
Why? What had he been doing? Did it have anything to do with the case he wouldn’t tell her about? Was it the Kendall case? Had he known he was in danger?
If Logan hadn’t been there would he have -
But she couldn’t finish the thought. She returned her gaze to the clock, trying to work out what was a reasonable time to hope for news. She knew it couldn’t be too soon. Too soon would mean there was nothing they could do, too soon meant tragedy. She’d just been to the funeral of her boyfriend’s father - however he might be appalled by that designation - she couldn’t go to the funeral of her own.
She couldn’t lose him. She’d hadn’t even really got him back yet.
Someone moved to block her view of the wall clock, but before she could rouse herself from her stupor enough to voice her protest, the person swam into focus, and she propelled herself out of her chair and into Logan’s arms with a force that astonished her.
He’d told her he would follow the ambulance, but it hadn’t registered. Nothing had registered except her father’s face and the blood - too much blood - and she hadn’t realized how alone she’d felt till he was holding her against him, filling that aching void with his familiar presence.
He was saying exactly the right things - words of reassurance, words of comfort - and his arms were wonderfully solid round her back, but she couldn’t help but wonder if they’d ever stop having to comfort each other while the world fell apart around them.
She wound up curled up in his lap. The uncomfortable wooden armrest dug into her back with a bruising force, but the separation required to grant her a chair of her own was untenable.
They sat like that for hours while the sky outside lightened and the feeling in the pit of her stomach worsened.
Maybe there had been too much blood loss. Maybe there was an unforeseen complication. Maybe -
The anxiety she’d thought had vanished behind cold anticipation reasserted itself and she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to barge through the surgery doors and demand information or flee before someone could tell her the worst.
She still hadn’t decided when a haggard looking figure in salmon scrubs pushed through the surgery doors and made a beeline her direction.
“Miss Mars?”
Veronica was busy studying the woman’s face, trying to identify the nature of her news, but the words “pulled through admirably” settled on her ears and for the first time that night she found herself crying.
The woman was evidently used to such displays; she merely smiled kindly and continued with the litany of information that it was her duty to convey. Insurance forms, prescriptions for painkillers, a list of things that Keith was on no account to do for at least six weeks (with no mention of how to keep him from doing them) - the barrage of instructions seemed endless and all the time the woman wouldn’t tell Veronica the one thing she wanted to know.
Finally Logan interrupted, and in a move that made her seriously wonder if she loved him, asked quietly and firmly when they could see Keith.
The woman looked irritated by the interruption of her spiel, but asserted that Miss Mars could see her father now, although he wasn’t likely to be aware of anything for several more hours. Unfortunately, she continued, with an uncertain glance at Logan, visitors had to be limited to family only, so unless the young man was a relation?
Logan turned to Veronica, his expression on of concern. “I can wait out here if you want me to.”
Veronica shook her head. She didn’t know how long she’d be and it was already nearly dawn. Logan squeezed her hand one last time before stepping away,
“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” she affirmed quietly, her eyes thanking him wordlessly before she turned and followed the woman through the thick doors to her father’s bedside.
Veronica sat perched at her father’s desk at Mars Investigations, poring over the dossier of Rosa Beatriz Ramirez in a fruitless effort to distract herself from the worry coursing through her veins.
She’d sat by her father’s bedside till eight in the morning, exhausting the meager supply of outdated magazines that served as the hospital’s sole concession to the length of her wait.
Keith had looked so drawn and pale - ghostlike - against the hospital sheets and she felt another stab of anguish as she thought about what had very nearly happened.
She’d thought it would be better when he awoke, but in a way, it was almost worse. He’d attempted reassurance and his customary good humor, but he was like a pale shadow of himself and the weakness of his laughter scared her more than his silence would have.
She hadn’t wanted to leave him.
She’d been prepared for his many concerns, an answer ready for every possible objection. He needed her, and that was all that mattered. No matter what, she was staying by his side.
But he’d grown so agitated when she attempted to force the issue that she found herself backing down without a fight, scared of what might happen if he got overexcited.
She should have been attempting to recover lost hours of sleep - she’d been awake for nearly twenty four hours after all - but every time she closed her eyes, the image of her father’s prone body presented itself and she couldn’t rest.
So she’d given up and gone into the office, determined to do something useful with this enforced wakefulness. Some masochistic spirit made her sit at Keith’s desk instead of her own, surrounding herself with reminders of what she’d almost lost again.
Pulling out her notes on the disappearing girl, she’d been prepared to make some major headway; it was only after she’d read the same page twenty times that she had to acknowledge that it wasn’t working - her mind kept straying to the only case that mattered now.
Someone had tried to kill her father, and she’d be bringing them down before they got a chance to try it again.
Opening a new case file, Veronica began to enter the facts as she knew them. They were distressingly few. It occurred to her that the Sheriff’s Department would have already started an investigation and that looking at their information might give her a better jumping off point than the nothing she herself was presented with.
She’d just resolved to go down there, no matter how painful dealing with Lamb would be, when the outer office door opened with a bang and she realized to her dismay that she’d forgotten to lock up behind her.
That regret only intensified when she went out to greet her potential client.
Madison Sinclair stood hovering in the doorway of Mars Investigations like a vampire waiting for an invitation to enter, viewing her surroundings with such distaste that you’d think it was a vermin infested crack den.
“What are you doing here?”
Madison turned at the sound of Veronica’s voice, and while she didn’t lose her expression of disgust, she did allow herself to cross the threshold.
For a long moment she simply stared at Veronica, seemingly unwilling to actually do anything as crazy as speak to the person whose office she had invaded. Finally, when Veronica was about to explain that her telepathic powers weren’t exactly working at the moment, she spoke:
“I need your help.”
It wasn’t exactly an unexpected response, but it threw Veronica for a loop anyway, although she didn’t hesitate to respond that admitting one had a problem was always the first step.
Madison looked annoyed, an expression that was actually somewhat less offensive than the way she’d been regarding Veronica up to that point. She stalked further into the room. “For real, okay? This is serious.”
Veronica sighed and settled herself behind her desk, gesturing for Madison to take one of the other seats.
“Fine, you can have this month’s Cosmo, but I’m warning you, I’ve already done the quizzes.”
Veronica doubted the other girl would have looked more outraged if she’d slapped her. Madison moved to stand, clutching her oversized purse to her body as she glared at Veronica with unmistakable hatred.
“God, I can’t believe I actually thought you could help me. Just forget it.”
Veronica was tempted to do just that. Madison Sinclair hadn’t quite made the top ten list of Things She Was Glad To Leave Behind When She Graduated, but she had snuck in at number thirteen. However, she knew she was equally high on Madison’s personal list of hatreds, so the idea that the girl would voluntarily come to her for help was beyond comprehension.
Her curiosity, always a problem, got the best of her, and she found herself stating, “You’ve got five minutes.”
The other girl hesitated, no doubt debating whether her problem was actually severe enough to warrant the hell Veronica was going to give her for coming to her. Veronica seriously doubted it was, but after a moment, Madison returned to her seat and began to explain.
For the past few weeks, someone had been harassing her. It was just little things at first - she’d been locked out of her MySpace account, she’d gotten a couple of threatening emails, but it wasn’t really a big deal.
But then all her credit cards had been demagnetized -
“So you’ll be paying by check?”
Madison glared and continued as though Veronica hadn’t interrupted, explaining that the previous Friday someone had actually removed the steering wheel to her car while she was at the movies.
“I’d just taken it into the shop to have it worked on, too. I know we aren’t exactly friends or whatever, but I need you to make this stop.”
Veronica wasn’t particularly feeling the urge to go out and right this particular wrong. She’d long passed the giddy stage where staying up for hours on end seems like a strangely attractive idea and had moved into pure exhaustion, a deep bone weariness that was as much emotional as it was physical.
But, they could use the money. And the sophomore within who’d come home and cried every day for three months after Lilly died practically demanded she take advantage of the fact that Madison Sinclair was at her mercy.
She sighed.
“So you want me to find out who’s been harassing you?”
Madison gave an exaggerated eye-roll as though the question was somehow ridiculous and Veronica wondered if she’d simply imagined the conversation they’d just had.
“I already know who it is. I need you to find proof.”
“Detective work gets so much easier when other people do the actual detecting for me. So who is it?”
“You remember the computer freak who was dating Beaver before he turned out to be psycho and killed himself?”
Veronica clenched her jaw, reminding herself that however tempting it was, Dad tended to disapprove when she punched the clients in their overly made-up faces.
“Why would Mac harass you? Besides your obvious charms that is.”
For a second, Madison looked afraid - desperate to backtrack, like she hadn’t thought this far ahead and would rather drop the subject than answer the question. Then she steeled her shoulders and continued.
“Everything said in here is confidential, right?”
“Well, sort of. I mean, if a court subpoenas me, I will have to tell them that you have a MySpace account. But otherwise, yeah, this is a gossip-free zone.”
“Look, it’s a long story. A few weeks ago, I found out that when we were little, she and I…“
Madison looked sincerely uncomfortable. A deep-set unhappiness had taken over her features, and Veronica, to her surprise found herself anxious to relieve it. It was one thing to want your enemy brought down; it was another to see her helpless and lost.
Then the light dawned.
“You know about the baby swap,” Veronica said hurriedly, since it didn’t seem like Madison was actually capable of getting the words out.
The other girl went pale. “How do you know about that?”
“I know things,” Veronica said, almost apologetically. “Look, I hate to break it to you, but Mac has known about that for a year and a half now.”
“What?”
“Yeah, and if she was going to blame you for stealing her life, she’d probably have done it a little sooner. Just my guess.”
Madison silent, her face a mass of conflicting emotions and again, Veronica found herself anxious to relieve the other girl’s tension.
“But I’ll look into it for you, okay?”
It occurred to Veronica that she was offering to assist Madison Sinclair, not for the joy of holding something over her, not even for the very valid need for money, but to make the other girl feel better. Perhaps she’d caught something while she was at the hospital.
“Why me, though?” she couldn’t help asking. “Why don’t you just go to the cops? I mean, I would have thought that would be your first choice.”
Madison reddened, but seemed more livid than embarrassed, an expression Veronica was much more comfortable with than her previous anguished one. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You and Lamb, I mean it’s pretty common knowledge that the two of you are…” Veronica paused while she tried to think of an appropriate description. She had a feeling ‘fuck buddies’ wouldn’t go over so well. “An item.”
“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but your source is about as up to date as your outfit.”
And just like that it was possible to lose all sympathy, and in fact want to hunt down the harasser and tell him or her ‘job well done.’
“Insulting my clothes. Politic and original. Bravo.”
Madison hesitated for a moment before muttering, “Look, Lamb’s a creep, okay?”
“So… you two are soul mates. Continue.”
“I’m serious. When I stopped taking his calls, he totally freaked out. I mean, I was actually scared.”
Veronica shook her head. “He freaked out to the point that you felt physically afraid and you never thought that might be important when you started getting harassed?”
“You mean, you think-“
Remembering her earlier resolution, Veronica cut her off. “I’ll tell you what. I had to go to the Sheriff’s station anyway, I’ll check in, see if he has an alibi for Friday night. Oh, and that’ll be five hundred dollars.”
Veronica smiled somewhat regretfully to herself. She’d wanted a distraction.
“Veronica Mars.”
“Deputy.”
Deputy Sacks shuffled nervously behind the desk, as ever about as intimidating as a three week old kitten.
“What brings you here?”
It probably wasn’t fair to torture the poor man. It was, however, fun.
“Actually, I came to give you some advice. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Rick Springfield as much as the next girl, but there are other artists out there.” The man had turned beet red, but she persisted. “It’s just, we tend to get pretty much the same crowd every karaoke night, so they’ve all heard your rendition of “Jessie’s Girl”. A lot.”
Sacks was frozen, a deer in the headlights, seemingly incapable of speech. Which meant it was probably a good time to ask about seeing Lamb.
“So, I’m just gonna step in and see the big guy. That’s okay, right?”
The deputy nodded abstractedly as he busied himself with some papers at his desk, quite obviously only interested in ending their own interview, his face still a vivid scarlet.
She moved along the narrow corridor towards Lamb’s office, delighted to find the door ajar. Knocking would give the man preparation time, after all.
“This is what we pay your salary for?”
Lamb looked up from the pegboard game he was currently well on his way to losing, a guilty look sliding over his face for a moment before being replaced by his habitual sneer.
“Funny, I thought I had people at the desk specifically to keep you out.”
“All that effort for little old me? I’m touched.”
“What do you want, Mars?”
She stepped forward, Madison’s case momentarily forgotten. “I wanted to know how the investigation was going. If you’d gotten any leads yet.”
Lamb looked back at her innocently. “Case?”
Veronica felt a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the extreme air-conditioning that Lamb seemed to require for his office.
“You remember. My dad was shot last night? In plain view in a heavily populated area?”
Leaning back so far in his desk chair that Veronica actually felt hopeful the damn thing would tip over, Lamb nodded his comprehension. “Oh right, I heard something about that. Shame. But then, accidents will happen.”
“Accidents? Someone fired three times.”
“Guns are tricky things.”
Veronica stiffened. “He could have died and you’re-“
“Look, someone who gets involved in the kind of thing your dad’s doing right now knows about the risks. This is what happens when you poke your nose in where it doesn’t belong.” Lamb’s grin broadened at the look on her face.
“You’re honestly not going to investigate?”
“I’m not going to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.” After a moment, he continued cheerfully, as though a thought had just struck him, “I’ll tell you what though, I’ll send over a nice bouquet, courtesy of the department, no holds barred. Now was there anything else?”
Veronica had been focusing very carefully on the items on Lamb’s desk. Letting her eyes trace over the phone and computer, the papers, pegboard, and yo-yo. Anything to avoid looking at Lamb. At his question, though, she looked up sharply, regarding him with an icy gaze. “Yeah, where were you last Friday?”
If she hadn’t been watching for the flinch, she wouldn’t have seen it. However, it was there - even if it was minute - and she knew that whatever answer he gave, it wouldn’t be the full truth.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Just a case I’m working on for an old classmate. Madison Sinclair? I heard you two were close. Well, before she dumped you.”
“Madison Sinclair,” Lamb mused. “Yeah, I might remember her. Cute kid. Little naïve though. Really not worth the time and effort it took to baby-sit her, so I let her go. Needed someone who actually knew what they were doing.”
“I understand. You want the job done right, you hire a professional.”
“You know, I’m surprised you two are so friendly. From the things she’d said, I kinda got the impression that she hated you.”
“Oh, high school drama, old history.” Veronica said breezily. “So, Friday?”
“Actually, I was out Friday,” Lamb said smoothly, although his watchful glance belied his apparent ease. “Hot little thing, unlike your friend.”
Veronica smiled. “Aw, can I get her number? Maybe she could give Madison some tips.”
“Yeah, we didn’t so much exchange numbers. Or names. She did have a tattoo of a heart on her ass if that helps.”
“You have no idea how much.”
Veronica was about ready to call it a day, when Lamb called after her, his eyes narrowed.
“Tell your dad ‘hi’ from me, okay? It’s tough when your sins catch up to you.”
“You’d know,” Veronica choked out.
It wasn’t the best possible response, but Veronica was more shaken than she was willing to admit. She told herself that Lamb was just trying to throw her - and it was probably true - but his insinuations tallied too closely to her own fears for comfort.
Suddenly the thought of bringing Lamb down for stalking Madison Sinclair was extremely palatable.
There was no point in pursuing the mythical stripper with the heart tattoo. The one thing she felt certain of was that Lamb had been lying about his whereabouts. He’d looked almost frightened when she’d pressed him about Friday. Whatever he was doing, it was something he’d wanted to keep secret.
A quick interview with Inga allowed Veronica to determine that Lamb hadn’t been on duty Friday night - hardly surprising given that Lamb had scarcely worked a single weekend night since his elevation to sheriff two and a half years ago. It was good to know, but it got her no closer to verifying an alibi.
On impulse, Veronica decided to follow Lamb once he took off work at the obscenely early hour of one in the afternoon. Maybe she’d get lucky and he’d slip up.
Had someone followed her father the night before? Or had they known where he was going to be?
Each option presented possibilities she didn’t want to consider, but unfortunately, her forced passivity while she waited for Lamb to emerge offered no distraction from the worry that Madison’s unexpected visit had effectively pushed to the side.
Over and over again, she heard the sharp cracks of gunfire, saw Logan lunging, felt the panic as she knelt by her father, the knees of her pants soaking in an ever-widening circle of blood.
She shrugged away the images, and all the memories they triggered, flipping on the radio in an effort to distract herself while she willed Lamb to just leave already.
Fortunately Lamb didn’t seem to require the same discipline in himself that she knew he demanded of his deputies. He was out the door at 12:47, and twenty minutes later, after an extremely exciting trip to a grocery store, he was pulling into a small condo that she’d bet anything was not his. It was too nice, painstakingly cared for, and not in the impersonal way achieved by a five person gardening staff.
To Veronica’s surprise, Lamb didn’t stay long - maybe ten minutes - and she was torn between continuing to follow him, and finding out who he’d been visiting. Bringing home groceries was so domestic that she was almost willing to believe he’d found a girlfriend after all.
And clearly there was something wrong with that idea.
Mind made up, Veronica approached the house, deciding she could leave the Lamb shadowing for later. She had already knocked on the door, when she realized that her usual cover of writing an article for the Navigator was currently less than plausible and had yet to come up with a new story before the door was opened by a cheerful looking woman of about sixty.
“Can I help you, dear?”
Veronica blanked. She had no idea what to say to this woman. She could think of no reasonable explanation for her presence, and finally, simply muttered that she was looking for Sheriff Lamb.
The other woman took in her apparent confusion and utter loss for words and seemed to reach some sort of conclusion. She nodded her head firmly and told Veronica to “come in, dear.”
Only when Veronica was ensconced in a comfortable chair with an actual cup of hot tea - never mind that it was summer in California - did she speak again, her tone gentle and sympathetic.
“You’re my Donny’s young lady friend, aren’t you?”
Veronica had thought she was at a loss for words before, but that was nothing compared to what that pronouncement brought on. However, she recognized the opening for what it was, and after a long pause that she covered by inhaling her tea, she allowed herself to tearfully wonder if “Don had talked about her.” She couldn’t call him Donny. Wouldn’t. Except to his face, which might be rather fun.
“Well, not much, you know Donny, he’s very private.” Veronica nodded sagely. “But he got so upset after you two had your… falling out, that I sat him down and demanded he tell me. A mother’s prerogative, you know.”
Veronica didn’t trust herself enough to speak, so she contented herself with nodding again.
“He’s such a sensitive boy. Oh I know he can be difficult sometimes, but he’s so sweet underneath it all. A heart of gold. And so smart. You know he’s the youngest sheriff we’ve ever had?”
“So, he was upset about how things ended between the two of us?”
“Oh yes, just took to moping round the house. I’ve been doing everything I could to distract him, but he wouldn’t join my book club, and I honestly don’t think he enjoys the dancing lessons, although he’d never complain.
“Dancing lessons?”
“Every Tuesday and Friday night. He’s a wonderful dancer.” The woman leaned forward, her face earnest and hopeful. “I hope I’m not prying dear, but, you did come here looking for him - do you think there’s a chance you two might get back together?”
Veronica looked at this sweet, kindly woman and couldn’t bring herself to let her down.
“Honestly? I’m not sure he’ll take me back.”
“You pretended to be dating Sheriff Lamb?” Mac didn’t bother to hide her giggles as she took in the exasperated look on Veronica’s face.
“Not dating him, just… his ex,” Veronica protested, realizing she had made a tactical error when choosing to share this particular piece of information.
“His ex who desperately wanted him back.”
Veronica glared at the oh-so-amused brunette. “Don’t you have a job to get back to?”
“I’m due for a break.”
“I’ll break you if we continue this line of conversation.”
“You’re so touchy when you’re crossed in love.”
Veronica pointedly ignored that latter’s sally, choosing instead to devote her attention to her two scoops of cookie dough ice cream.
“So what are you doing working here anyway? I thought customer service was only for us lesser mortals who weren’t web designing our way through college.”
Mac sighed as she hitched herself up on the chair next to Veronica. “Oh, that is such a long, painful story.”
“So? I’m into pain. I actually have a whole assortment of whips and chains back at home.”
“Logan’s a lucky man,” Mac smirked, smoothing back the hair that had escaped her otherwise tidy bun.
“Do not think you can quip your way out of this one, missy.” Veronica waved her spoon at Mac, in a mock menacing manner.
“Basically, my Dad doesn’t think anything that I can do from home qualifies as a ‘real’ job, and he’s anxious that I get some work experience before venturing out into the terrifying world. He actually wanted me to come work at the shop - apparently Funtime Motors puts the “fun” in working, and, well, the fact that he actually used that slogan with a straight face meant I can’t speak to him again for at least another two weeks.”
Mac laughed, but then grew quieter.
“They’re just anxious though. I know Mom thinks I’m spending too much time alone since…” she paused and Veronica could see the hurt underlying her cheerful demeanor. “Since what happened. She wants me out interacting with people. It sucks. My feet hurt, I don’t think I’ll ever get the strawberry ice cream out of my grey pants, and the customers are a nightmare”
“Should I be offended?”
“Okay, seriously, four hours of Shelly Pomroy and John Enbom confusing ‘waitress’ and ‘slave’ and we can talk.”
“Been there. Done that.” Veronica shook her head in disgust. “So you’re drawing the 09er crowd here, too?”
“Oh it’s their favorite hangout, and I have to say, I liked it better when I was under their radar. Ever since Beaver, well, I’ve lost my anonymity.” She shrugged her shoulders with a carelessness that Veronica was suddenly certain she didn’t feel. “It’s still easier than arguing it out with my dad.”
Veronica considered pressing the issue, but decided that she of all people should not be trying to press someone else into talking. Instead she allowed herself a dreamy reflective look, as she sighed, “Ah, parents.”
“About that,” Mac started, and then hesitated, “I heard about your dad. Is he okay?”
Veronica sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably. I hope so.” She spooned the last of her melted ice cream up. “I was going to stop by again in a little bit; he wasn’t really up for visitors this morning.”
“Well, tell him I said ‘hi,’ okay?”
“Will do.” Veronica hopped down from her seat. “And you’ll trace those emails for me?”
“I’ll try, but Veronica, if you’re looking for someone who doesn’t like Madison Sinclair, you might be at this a while.”
“I know, I know. How do I get myself into these things?”
“Dancing lessons? With his mother?” Keith couldn’t help grinning, and Veronica noted with relief that his color was much better than it had been earlier that morning.
“I thought you’d like that.”
He beamed at her, closing his hand over hers and she again felt the momentary panic of what she’d almost lost. “Best get well gift I could imagine.”
“So I guess you won’t be wanting this special edition of Zoolander then? Okay.”
While his eyes lit up at the sight of the video, Keith couldn’t help observing that Veronica was doing too much. He was fine.
“You’re not fine. You’re - someone shot you.” Veronica’s eyes glistened with tears as she took in her father’s anxious expression. “I get to make a fuss.” She became steely. “And then I get to find out who did this and hurt them.”
Keith sobered instantly. “Veronica I don’t want you investigating this.” His expression was severe, his tone harsh, he sounded almost angry.
“Dad, I have to. Lamb’s not going to do anything; he’s not even doing a superficial investigation.”
“I mean it Veronica, I want you to stay away from this; do you hear me?”
“But why?” Veronica couldn’t help feeling that Keith knew more than he was saying and she shifted away from him, feelings of betrayal coursing through her.
For a moment, Keith didn’t say anything, he just looked at her. Finally he gritted out:
“Because I don’t want you to end up in here, okay?”
Veronica melted. “Dad, I’m not -“
Keith exploded. “That’s enough, Veronica. I’m not discussing this anymore.”
And the hurt was back. Veronica stared at her father as though she couldn’t recognize him. Keith instantly looked chagrined, but it was too late.
“I-“
“Veronica.”
“I should let you get your rest,” Veronica muttered, fleeing the room, fleeing him.
“Veronica -“
“I’ll come see you tomorrow, okay?”
She couldn’t leave the room fast enough. She crumpled as soon as she reached the corridor, the tears she’d been trying to keep back coursing down her face. She told herself it was just because she was tired, but she didn’t believe it.
She stumbled down the hall, barely aware of her surroundings before turning the corner and colliding with an all-too solid body. A familiar body.
“Logan?”
Logan had steadied her instinctively, almost without looking, and now that he did look at her, his expression grew concerned. “Veronica, what’s wrong? Is it Keith?”
“I-“ She couldn’t tell him what had happened. She couldn’t. Instead she buried her face in his chest, allowing the warmth of his arms to steady her the way they had the night before.
“Hey, you’re okay,” he murmured soothingly, running his fingers through her hair. “You’re okay.”
When she’d recovered enough of her equilibrium to risk speech, she looked up at him in confusion. “What are you doing here?”
Logan looked sheepish. “I just, I was trying to see if I could check on him. I thought you might still be asleep after last night, and I wanted to be able to give you good news when I came to visit you.”
“It’s still family only.”
“So I’ve been told.” He looked at her in concern, “Veronica, are you okay? You look -“
Veronica shrugged, but didn’t meet his eye. “I’m fine. I just, I haven’t slept yet. It’s made me a touch more emotional than usual.”
“Veronica.”
“Did I tell you I got a visit from Madison Sinclair? She’s being harassed, and lucky me, I got the short straw and get to find out who did it. Although on the plus side I did get more information to torture Sheriff Lamb with, which is always fun.”
“Sounds like a laugh a minute.”
“Oh yeah, just me and that barrel of monkeys.”
He grinned, that adorable grin, and she let herself relax again.
“Well, I had a terribly invigorating time myself. I got home at six in the morning, slept like a rock for four hours when I was rudely awakened by Enbom, who proceeded to spend the following three hours freaking out because his dad’s car was broken into when he was borrowing it and the world was basically ending.”
“His car? What happened?”
“Someone removed the steering wheel. I mean seriously, who steals a steering wheel? I didn’t even know they came off.”
Veronica’s eyes widened. “I’ve gotta go.” She started to leave, but then turned back. “Logan, I wanted to tell you, about last night, what you did.”
Logan’s expression closed down briefly, and this time he was the one who wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“You mean, when you thought I was attacking your father?” He was trying for playful, she could tell, but she couldn’t help noting that it came out more bitter than anything.
Veronica flushed. “I didn’t.”
He frowned. “I heard you, Veronica.”
“I didn’t know what was going on,” she exclaimed, half in desperation, half in annoyance. The tears that had apparently been biding their time started pricking at the corner of her eyes again.
Logan studied her and grew abashed. “Yeah, I know,” he said, shrugging off his accusation. “Just forget it. I guess I’m still tired too.” He grinned at her, but she could tell it was still bothering him, underneath. She bit her lip.
“Logan, I wanted to thank you. For what you did. If you hadn’t-“
He looked alarmed as tears started to slip down her cheeks. “Hey, hey, forget it, all right? I’m just glad he’s okay.”
Veronica nodded, furiously scrubbing her cheeks with the back of her hand, awkwardly apologizing for her outburst. “It’s been a long day, is all.”
“Yeah, you should get some sleep.”
“I will, but I have a stop to make first.”
“So why’d you do it?”
The brunette whirled guiltily, her eyes wide with shock. “How did you…”
“Oh, your mom let me in. I think she said something about snacks too. But back to my question. Why?”
Mac clenched her jaw as she took in Veronica’s casual pose.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t? You’re telling me I have to do the thing where I explain your evil deeds to you? Not that I don’t like monologueing, but, have you seen The Incredibles? It only leads to badness.”
Mac remained impassive, only the slight sheen in her blue eyes indicating that she had even heard Veronica.
Veronica continued, moving forward to perch on the edge of Mac’s bed. “So, the way I see it, it went something like this: Madison Sinclair finds out you two were switched at birth and doesn’t deal too well with the information. So like a good Heather, she spearheads a campaign of persecution, substituting your connection with Beaver for her actual reasons. Her quest is made much easier by your parents’ insistence on a summer job, and, having to deal with Madison and her cronies day after day, you naturally snap and begin a counter attack. You use your computer know-how to hack into Madison’s accounts, and take advantage of your dad’s position at Funtime Motors to gain access to their vehicles. You knew where Madison was going to be Friday night thanks to the handy dandy cell phone interceptor that I retrieved for you. How am I doing?”
Mac was silent, and Veronica softened. “Look, Mac, I get it, I really do. God knows, I’ve done a few things to the 09er enclave from time to time. Probably more than I should have, really, but this is serious. If Madison goes to the cops - and the only reason she hasn’t is because she and Lamb are on the outs - they could destroy you.” Veronica chose her next words carefully. “I… I understand the need for revenge. But it’s not worth messing up your life.”
Mac choked on a laugh. “You think I’m doing this because Madison is a bitch? I went to school with her for 12 years; I know she’s a bitch.”
“Okay, then enlighten me. Why are you doing it?”
Veronica wasn’t sure Mac was going to answer, but then the other girl seemed to reach a decision and she turned suddenly to Veronica.
“Cassidy’s gone. I know he wasn’t - that maybe the guy I thought I knew never really existed but… He’s gone and all they care about is that it doesn’t affect their perfect lives. He…” Mac looked like she was trying hard not to cry and Veronica felt sick. “He was supposed to be one of them. They were his friends - and now it’s like he never existed. I’m not sure he ever did to them. And maybe…” There was no stopping her tears at this point. “Maybe if any of them had ever noticed anything but themselves, he wouldn’t have…” Mac’s fingers plucked anxiously at her bedspread.
“Oh, Mac,” Veronica whispered, pulling the other girl into fierce hug, wincing as she felt Mac’s sobs.
They stayed that way for what seemed like hours, although it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before Mac’s mother was knocking on the door offering snacks, looking worried by the obvious signs of tears.
When she’d gone, Veronica turned back to Mac.
“You know you can’t keep doing it, right? It won’t help, in the long run.” Veronica paused. “I thought it helped, but I think it only made me more bitter, more closed off, and...” she trailed off, helpless to complete a thought she wasn’t sure she fully understood.
Mac nodded dejectedly, clearly emotionally drained.
“No, you’re right. It didn’t - but I can’t face them every day, Veronica, and be quiet about it. About them.”
“So quit your job. You don’t need the money and maybe having that fight with your parents would be worth the change. Or if you aren’t going to quit, maybe you should stick to smaller stuff, like say, spitting in their food. I mean, there’s a reason it’s a classic.”
Mac grinned, briefly the cheerful girl she’d been before that night at the Neptune Grand, and Veronica’s heart ached.
“So,” Mac mumbled, “what are you going to tell Madison?”
“Oh, I’ll think of something.”
“What do you mean I wasn’t being harassed?”
Veronica rolled her eyes with exaggerated patience, before explaining her story carefully as one might to a four year old.
“You weren’t being harassed. Those letters? I had them traced; they were from a random spam generator. And there have been a series of similar acts of vandalism recently, I think John Enbom was one of the victims? Same MO. I’d chalk it all up to coincidence. Don’t worry: no culprit, no charge.”
A curious change came over Madison’s face. Despite her obvious relief, she looked almost hurt for a second, and Veronica wondered if she’d secretly enjoyed the idea of being the center of someone’s universe, even in a negative way.
“So, I don’t have to worry anymore?” she said quietly, her eyes fixed on a spot on Veronica’s desk.
Maybe Madison had brought it on herself - maybe she didn’t deserve reassurance - but in that moment, Veronica didn’t care.
“No, you don’t have to worry.”
Stepping out of her father’s hospital room, now finally open to friends as well as family, Veronica practically bumped into the approaching figure.
“Veronica, how is he?”
Veronica smiled automatically at Mrs. Fennel. She wasn’t sure she’d ever really be comfortable around the woman, but she was Wallace’s mom and Keith - well, maybe he needed her.
“I think he’s better, Mrs. Fennel. He’s bored, though. He’s been talking about coming home already - Doctor Stevens had to threaten to sit on him. He’ll be glad to see you. Maybe you can convince him that the nice people with the medical licenses know what they’re talking about.”
Alicia smiled. They would never be friends, but the two were effortlessly civil.
“I’ll do my best,” she affirmed, before nodding at the girl and stepping into the room.
Keith smiled at the sight of her, and even though things hadn’t been normal between them since the fall, she couldn’t help smiling back.
“Hey, you.”
”Hey,” he beamed at her, that enormous enchanting grin that was so utterly disarming.
Suddenly remembering the flowers in her hand, she looked around for a flat surface to put them on, while Keith told her both that they were beautiful and that she shouldn’t have bothered.
“I hear you’re causing trouble around here,” she said playfully, edging over to his bedside and setting them carefully beside an offering of sunflowers.
“I have to stay young somehow,” he said breezily. “You look good, Alicia.”
“Well, I don’t have a bullet in my shoulder, so I’m at an advantage.”
He laughed, but before he could respond, his cell phone rang. He frowned apologetically at her as he moved to pick it up. Once on the phone however, his expression sobered immediately, and he began talking in such a low voice that she could only catch the occasional word. Determined not to eavesdrop, she studied the cards on Keith’s other flowers, and missed the end of the phone call. The next thing she knew Keith was trying to get out of his hospital bed.
She protested, but he shot her a look that chilled her to the core.
“I have to go,” he said. “Now.”
Continue to Chapter 3 Click here for Chapter 1.Click here for previous chapters.