Chapter 7: Hello Hearst
Title: All Fall Down
Pairing / Character: Veronica/Logan, Keith
Rating: PG-13 to R
Words: 44,500
Summary: In Neptune, the brighter the summer sun, the deeper the shadows.
Spoilers / Warnings: Seasons 1 and 2 / Language and adult situations
Chapter 7: Hello Hearst!
Author: ladyanne04 and lex_83
Additional Characters: Wallace
Rating: PG-13 for language and some making out.
Words: 10,742
Author’s Note: All Fall Down is a collaborative effort by 19 writers. You can learn more about this project here. Special thanks to truemyth for the awesome beta and to sarah_p and kantayra for the feedback and suggestions.
X-posted to veronicamarsfic and fic_from_mars.
All Fall Down
Chapter 7
Hello Hearst!
Marisol Reyes. Rosa Ramirez. Tracy Gonzalez. Veronica flipped through the case file she’d put together, willing some connection to pop out from the jumble of newspaper clippings and sparse clues she’d found. She rubbed her head and turned back to the brief article on Marisol’s disappearance just as the door burst open.
Veronica jumped and slammed the folder shut before she realized it was Logan’s smiling face greeting her, not her dad’s.
“Hey you,” Logan stopped in front of the desk and noticed her flushed face. “Did I startle you?” He gave a small smirk. “Ohhh, did I sneak up on the intrepid girl detective? Does that make me like an honorary Hardy Boy now?”
“Sure, Logan, we’ll just call you Joe from now on,” she replied.
“Joe was the pretty one, wasn’t he? So what were you doing that you didn’t want Papa Mars to know?”
She flipped the file back open. “The Ramirez kidnapping.”
“You still haven’t told your dad about that?”
“What’s there to tell? He’d only worry. I just feel like I’m treading water on everything.” She shrugged. “It’s enough to make an intrepid girl detective cranky. But let me ask you a more important question.” She glanced behind him and cocked her head to the side, “What’s in the bag?”
“Bag?” Logan asked, feigning bewilderment. “I know not the bag of which you speak.”
“Nice try. I can smell Italian food from a mile away.” Veronica moved from behind the desk and leaned forward to give him a quick kiss, hoping to snag the bag he was hiding behind him in the process.
Logan kissed her back, but arched away so the bag stayed just out of reach. “None of that. You sit there.” He pointed her to the couch and ducked into the kitchen to grab plates.
Veronica settled herself onto the couch and shuffled some magazines and papers to the side to make room for the food. Logan returned and produced the bag from Mama Leone’s with a flourish.
“Yummy.” Veronica rubbed her hands together as he began pulling out cartons from the bag. She grabbed a piece of extra cheesy garlic bread and took a bite, before asking around the mouthful, “How’d you know I hadn’t had lunch?”
He shrugged. “You forget to eat a lot when you get buried in a case. And you seemed distracted last night, so I took a chance you’d be hungry.”
“Excellent deduction, Joe.” She couldn’t stop the smile that crept across her face. Logan definitely surprised her sometimes with how thoughtful he could be. “Oh, we need drinks. Hang on a minute.”
She bounced into the kitchen and retrieved two cold Skists from the fridge before returning to the couch. She handed Logan his drink and grabbed the plate of lasagna he’d dished out for her.
“So that Hearst thing is this weekend?” he asked, holding up the brochure that had been lying on the table.
“Uh-huh. It’s time for Hello Hearst! Lame, huh?” she responded.
“Hello Hearst?” He snickered. “Yeah. What do you do there?”
She took the brochure from his hands and flipped it open to read. “Hello Hearst is a weekend of fun, friendship and foundations for freshman.”
“How . . . alliterative.”
“Yep. It’s jam-packed with f-ing goodness.” She skimmed the list, “Meetings with our fall advisors, some sample classes we can attend, a bunch of seminars on campus safety, that sort of thing.” She rolled her eyes as she sat the brochure back on the table. “I haven’t seen Wallace lately, so that’ll be good, but the rest . . . At least it’s all over by Sunday. I can survive a couple of days, right?”
“Sure you can.” Stealing a bite of Veronica’s pasta, he spoke around his mouthful. “But since you’re going to be so busy this weekend, I was hoping you could come over tonight.”
“Really? And whatever would we find to do with ourselves?” she asked coyly.
Logan grinned, “Well, I was thinking we need to start practicing our code.” At Veronica’s raised eyebrow, he continued. “If you decide to live on campus, you’re going to have a roommate, and we need to figure out how I’m going to sneak into your room.”
“That doesn’t sound like it would require code,” Veronica replied.
Logan just smiled at her. “Ahh, but see the code is to let your roomie know that I’m there. You wouldn’t want her to walk in on us or anything . . . now would you?”
Veronica laughed. “I’d think after this summer we’d be pros at not getting caught by people barging into the room.”
“Speaking of getting caught, where is your dad anyway?” Logan looked around the office, “I would have thought he’d be here, recuperating at his desk and being all crotchety.”
“A Mars is never crotchety.”
“Says you.” Logan dodged Veronica’s hand as she tried to punch him in the arm, “I remember a certain pint-sized girl who was absolutely horrible when she had the measles. I didn’t even know anyone could complain that much.”
“Anyway,” Veronica changed the subject before Logan could bring up how sexy she had looked with spots all over her body, “he’s out on a case.”
“Is he doing okay? He’s been working a lot for someone who got shot a month ago. I thought the doctors said he was to take it easy for six weeks, or something.”
“I know. And he was.” Veronica knew the worry showed on her face. “But hey, he knows what he’s doing.”
“What case is he working on?”
“Oh, just one of the cases we have on the go. You know how it is, a private dick never rests.”
Logan grinned, “Back to the important topics then. What’s your dorm number for the weekend?”
“They don’t assign it until we get there. Why?” Looking over at Logan, who promptly waggled his eyebrows, Veronica groaned. “You can’t be serious about sneaking into my dorm room.”
“Well, you never want to play those naughty games my house is the perfect location for. I was thinking I could be the bad townie to your straight A honor student. We can christen your dorm before it’s even yours.”
Logan leaned forward into Veronica, and kissed her. She melted into him, letting him pull her even closer as they sank down onto the waiting room couch. His lips whispered something against her throat and she shivered at the vibration as his hand slipped beneath her shirt and caressed the soft skin of her stomach. He was just too damn good at this.
She pulled his face back to hers and found his lips again as they shifted, trying to get closer on the small couch. She hooked her leg around his hip and giggled as his fingers slid further up her side.
“That tickle?” he murmured.
“Mmhmm,” she breathed, as he gave her another kiss, then began to tickle her in earnest. She shrieked and flailed against his unrelenting fingers until they ended up in a tangled heap on the floor next to the couch.
She rolled over on top of him and looked down. “That was so mean.”
He grinned up at her. “I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you. Come over tonight? I’ll get some dinner, we can watch a movie.” He dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Or make out.” He kissed her nose. “Or even just talk.” He kissed her lips.
“Talk?” Veronica gave him a quick peck back and moved to sit back on the couch. “What kind of teenage boy are you?”
“One who wants to be a part of his girlfriend’s life.”
“Logan, you are. And we talk.” She started straightening the mess left from their meal as he sat up from the floor and watched her. She glanced down and noticed his serious expression. “Are you okay?”
He gave her a half-smile. “Yeah. Floor’s just a little hard. So will you come over?”
“Sure.” She stopped mid-cleanup. “Oh wait, let me check something.” She walked over to the desk and flipped through a file stacked on the corner. “Logan, I’m sorry. We’ve got this case, the husband’s stepping out on Thursday nights, and I need to stake out the Camelot, see if I can get the money shot. Rain check?”
“Sure. Later, Veronica.” He sounded frustrated as he turned to leave.
“Thanks for bringing me lunch,” she called after him as he walked out the door.
She frowned as she sat back at her desk and opened a file. He could be as moody as a fourteen year old girl lately. She drummed her fingers on the desktop. Maybe she should see if she could get out of working tonight. But it was an easy case and her dad was already doing too much. She just hated seeing Logan look so let down - he’d had enough of that in his life, from her and everyone else. She was trying to be a better girlfriend this time around - they were supposed to be happy, now, damn it.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway again and Veronica glanced up to see if Logan had come back. The door opened and her father walked in instead. She pulled up a smile as she greeted him.
“Hey kiddo, trouble in paradise?” he asked as he stopped in front of her desk. “I just passed Logan on the stairs.”
Veronica sighed, “Did he say something to you?”
Her father nodded as he took a seat on the corner of the desk. “He did, in fact. And I quote, ‘Hello, Mr. Mars.’” As Veronica started to relax, he added, “He also looked like someone had just kicked his puppy. Said someone possibly being my daughter. And you don’t look like Mary Sunshine yourself.”
“Oh. I’m fine.” Veronica opened the bag of food she’d moved to her desk and inspected the remaining contents closely without looking at her father. “And you know Logan. He’s had a lot going on.” She glanced up with a frown. “Also, I am so not a puppy kicker.”
Keith regarded her for a moment and sighed. “You know that me,” he pointed to himself and then her, “and you can talk. About whatever, whenever you want. Puppies, ponies, even boys.”
She just wasn’t ready for another daddy-daughter talk on the subject of Logan Echolls. “Well, I guess since I’m eighteen I don’t need your permission for the elopement,” she smiled as her dad rolled his eyes. “I know, Dad. But paradise is peachy right now. No problems. We’re practically throwing our own Jimmy Buffett concert as we speak. Cheeseburgers for everyone.” She pulled out an unopened container from the bag marked manicotti, her dad’s favorite, and held up the wrapped item. “Or in your case, manicotti.”
Keith took the container and pulled up a chair beside her, recognizing the change in subject. “So this is the big orientation weekend at Hearst? Do you have your class schedule all worked out?”
Veronica nodded as she returned to picking at her own pasta. “I think so. Though we’re supposed to meet with our advisor and talk our selections over, make sure we’re getting the core classes we need.”
She took a bite of her lunch and stopped. Her father wasn’t eating, he was just sitting still, watching her with a fond smile on his face. “Dad?”
“Sorry, sweetheart. I was just remembering how you use to play school when you were little with all your stuffed animals. And now you’re going off to college.” He shook his head. “It’s just hard to believe it came so quickly.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat that seemed to come up whenever she thought about leaving her dad. “Hey, lucky you that I decide to go to Hearst. You’re not getting rid of me that easy,” she replied.
The phone rang and broke the moment. Her dad gave an affectionate tug on one of her pigtails and dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. He picked up his manicotti and headed into his office as Veronica reached for the phone. “Mars Investigations.”
She grabbed a note pad and began to jot down Mrs. Jenkins’ latest suspicions about her husband. She had just hung up the phone when she heard a muffled noise and jumped up from her seat. “Dad? Are you alright?”
Her father rubbed at his shoulder as he sat back heavily in his desk chair. “I’m fine. Just try to get down that box off the top of the filing cabinet and it slipped and fell on my shoulder.”
“Are you okay? Did you pull the incision open? Do you need any painkillers, or should I call the doctor, or should we go to the hospital?” She fought to keep the note of hysteria from creeping into her voice.
“I think it’s fine.” He slid a hand inside the collar of his shirt and checked his injury before pulling his hand out and showing her his fingers. “See, no blood, everything’s still healing nicely. I’ll be alright. Was that Mrs. Jenkins again on the phone?” Keith asked.
Veronica could still see the thin lines around his mouth and the paleness on his face as she reached around him and pulled open the desk drawer to remove the bottle of painkillers the doctor had prescribed. “Yes. The latest object of Mr. Jenkins’ affections is apparently named Coco. And don’t change the subject. Take one.” At her father’s doleful expression, she kept her face firm. “Take it, mister, before I have to get all Nurse Rachett on you. You were supposed to take it easy for six weeks and you’ve been running around like nothing’s wrong for the last month.”
He threw up his hands. “Fine, fine. And if I get loopy with the clients, it’s on you, missy.”
She retrieved a cold bottle of water and handed it to him, watching until he’d swallowed the pills. “Dad, you know, I’ve been thinking. I may not go to this whole orientation weekend.”
“What are you talking about, Veronica?”
“I don’t really go for the rah-rah stuff and half the things on the schedule sound like glorified pep rallies. I got a feel for the campus life when I did the tour in the spring - it was all very Animal House. I think I may just go for the required meeting with the advisor, get my I.D. card, and call it a day.”
Her father shook his head. “Veronica? I’m fine. A little pull to the shoulder can’t keep a good man down, and I do not need my daughter to baby-sit me for the weekend. Besides, how am I supposed to sneak in the foxy ladies if you’re there all the time? You want to spoil the old man’s fun?”
Veronica frowned and crossed her arms, prepared to do battle when the opening of the office door startled them both.
“We’re not finished with this,” she warned as she exited into the main room and found a man standing there taking in the cluttered office. He was very attractive in a young Pierce Brosnan sort of way, attired in a well-cut suit that whispered old money, the sort not usually found in Neptune. Veronica found herself smiling as he removed his sunglasses and held out his hand. This town had its share of celebrities, but his baby blues would have stood out in any crowd.
“Hello, I’m Tyler Wilson. I was hoping to meet with Mr. Mars, if he has an opening? It’s rather urgent.”
Veronica shook the proffered hand and gestured to the sofa. “Of course, if you’ll wait just a moment.”
Her father appeared at the doorway just as she turned. “Good afternoon, Mr. Wilson. Why don’t you step into my office.”
Veronica settled back behind her desk to listen.
“Now, what can we help you with?” Keith asked.
Tyler Wilson leaned forward, then glanced back over his shoulder at Veronica, who was trying her best to appear fascinated with her computer screen. “This must, of course, stay in the strictest of confidence.”
Keith nodded. “I understand, and I can assure you that anything you need to say can be said in front of my assistant as well.”
“Very well,” Wilson began. “I’m a professor in the psychology department at Hearst University. Are you familiar with the school?”
Keith nodded. “As a matter of fact, I am.”
Wilson nodded, “Then you know that it’s well-respected nationally. The tenured positions are very competitive and it’s finally my turn for consideration by the faculty. I’ve worked hard the last few years for this chance, and until a few weeks okay, I was sure I’d be approved.”
Keith sat back in his chair and gestured for him to continue. “I assume something happened to cause you to feel differently?”
“Indeed. I’ve had excellent support from other department members, stellar teaching reviews, and my last published research was well received.” He paused, “But as I said before, it’s very competitive. I have one more article, some really ground-breaking research on socialization in young female adolescents, which is due for publication later this year. It’s critical for my chances. I’ve almost completed analyzing all of the raw data collected from literally years of observation.”
Keith leaned forward and smiled. “Well, I’m afraid I’m not a psychologist, Professor Wilson, so I’m not sure Mars Investigations will be of much help to you - though I’ll be the first to agree that teenage girls can be quite the mystery at times.”
Wilson laughed. “That they are. But here’s where I could use your help. I believe that someone is trying to steal my data from this study and sabotage my research.”
Keith opened his notepad. “Why?”
“Starting a few weeks ago I began noticing things. I always keep my office locked. Only my research assistant and I have keys, but I’ve found it open twice now in two weeks.”
Keith interrupted, “Are you sure it isn’t your research assistant being careless?”
Wilson shook his head. “No. Sam’s out of town on vacation. I know it’s not him. And not only has the door been unlocked, but the file boxes where I store the case files have been rifled, as though someone were going through them in a hurry.”
“Anything else?” Keith asked.
“My desk. It’s small things, but there are papers shuffled around, things a little off from where I left then.” He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “I’m a little obsessive-compulsive, and I’m very precise about how my desk is arranged and where I leave things. And someone has definitely been moving things around.”
Keith jotted another note. “What about the cleaning staff, or the department head? Could someone else have unlocked the door?”
“No, I work late most nights, and I’m usually still there when the custodians come by, so I don’t think that it could be them. Of course, the department head does have a key, but he’s teaching a summer aboard program in Prague right now, so it wouldn’t be him.” He smiled. “Believe me, Mr. Mars, I’ve racked my brains for a reasonable explanation as to this. I don’t want to seem delusional or paranoid to the other members of the department. But I think that someone is trying to steal my research.
Keith rubbed his hand along his face and nodded his head. “Then that leads me to the next obvious question, why? And who do you suspect?”
Wilson took a deep breath. “I hate to even suggest this, because she’s been such a mentor to me. The area my research is focusing on overlaps heavily with that of a colleague in the department, Nora Harding. She’s done so much work in this area over the years, but lately she’s been . . . coasting on her laurels, you might say.”
“And you think she might be trying to steal your research?” Keith asked.
“It sounds crazy, I know. After all, she’s The Nora Harding, she’s even an old friend of my family.” Wilson shook his head. “But I found her in my office the other day when I’d stepped out for a minute, and things had been moved on my desk when I came back. She’s also been asking a lot of questions about the study I’ve conducted, more than just professional curiosity.”
“What would she gain though? Would she really be able to replicate your work or use the research?” Keith asked.
“No,” Wilson said. “I think she just wants to be sure I don’t get tenured at Hearst so that I’ll move on somewhere else. That way I can’t challenge her position, you know.” He leaned forward. “But Mr. Mars, I can’t stress to you enough, this investigation must be discreet. I don’t want to falsely accuse Professor Harding. That’s why I came to you first, before going to the Dean.”
Keith tapped his pen against the notepad in his lap. “Professor Wilson, is there anyone else? A disgruntled student angry over a grade? Colleagues in the department upset over internal politics?”
Wilson shook his head. “Not that I can think of. I’ve worked hard over the years to build collegial relationships both at Hearst and as a part of the Neptune community.”
“What about personally? Often times we find that these sorts of matters have roots in more intimate relationships.”
Wilson shook his head. “I’m afraid I’ve been so busy with my research over the last few years that I’ve had very little time for personal relationships.”
“Of course.” Keith closed the note pad and rose from his seat, extending his hand. “Professor Wilson, we’ll get right on this.”
Wilson rose and took his hand. “Thank you. You come highly recommended, so I’m sure that you’ll find an answer soon. I’m making no progress on the article with this hanging over my head. I want it resolved as soon as possible.”
“We’ll do our best,” Keith replied.
Wilson paused in the doorway and turned. “Mr. Mars, one more thing. If you do discover it’s Nora, I’d like to speak with her myself, see if we can’t resolve this privately. I don’t want to go to the department chair unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“Of course. If you’ll just speak with Veronica about the payment, we’ll start work on it today, and we’ll be discreet.”
Veronica explained the fee schedule and received Professor Wilson’s check and dimpled smile before he left. Bet he made the girls of Hearst swoon with that, she mused as she filed the money away in the bank bag and headed into her dad’s office.
He looked up. “So, think you maybe could do that orientation thing after all? It’s the prefect cover for poking around the campus. Whereas slightly balding, middle-aged men lurking can occasionally be misinterpreted.”
She smiled. “Is this a diversionary tactic so you can still sneak your ladies of the night in for a wild and crazy weekend?”
“You know it.”
She took the note pad with the details he’d written down. “You’re sure your shoulder is okay?”
He pulled out his bottle of pills and shook them. “Oh, I’m feeling no pain. Besides, I need to follow Mr. Jenkins Saturday night and see if I can get the money shot of him and the newest side dish at the Seventh Veil. Which is a place where I blend far better than you.”
Veronica winked. “Only as a customer. But it would involve costumes and stage names and possibly pole dancing lessons for me, so fair enough; I’ll go be the college kid for the weekend. And you,” she pointed a finger at him, “you will take care of yourself.”
Keith’s voice softened. “You know I will, sweetheart.”
Veronica hefted her bag out of her car on Friday afternoon, looking up as she heard the sound of male voices drawing nearer. An answering smile broke out over Wallace’s face as he finally made it across the parking lot.
“Hey Supa Fly.” Wallace grinned as Veronica groaned at the nickname. “You’re finally here.”
“Here in the flesh,” she replied.
“Everybody, this is Veronica,” Wallace introduced her to nods all around and then rattled off the various players’ names faster than she could sort them. Tall seemed to be the defining attribute for the group though.
“So how’s Hearst? Pros? Cons?” she asked, before realizing she’d lost Wallace’s attention.
“Dude. Tell me that isn’t who I think it is.” Wallace hit one of the other guys on the shoulder, “I thought you made it clear he wasn’t welcome here unless he brought his A game.”
A couple of the other guys laughed, and one of them called out, “Like he has an A game.”
Wallace glanced back at Veronica, who was regarding him with a combined head tilt and pout as she held out her bag. He shrugged and grabbed it. “Don’t even use that thing on me, and I heard you, girlie. Hearst is good, we’re the pros and I think you qualify as the closest thing to a con in this group.”
“Wallace, we got to go, man, or we’re going to be late for practice,” one of his teammates interrupted.
Veronica took the bag back. “I expect the personal tour later, BMOC.”
“You know it,” Wallace replied as he took off at a run. He tossed over his shoulder, “I’ll come find you after practice.”
Veronica watched him disappear and dropped her bag back to the ground as she grumbled to herself, “Where did I put that map?”
Having hurdled the check-in and loaded with nametags, leaflets, schedules and exhortations to “get to know Hearst”, Veronica climbed the stairs of Whitmire Hall, her home for the weekend, as the orientation counselor had cheerfully chirped when she handed over the keys and room assignment.
Pushing open the door, she inwardly groaned as the strains of Toxic blasted into the hallway. She double-checked the room number and staggered inside towards the empty bed with her bag.
“Hi! You must be my roomie for the weekend, I’m Katy. Katy Campbell.” Veronica turned to find an overly enthusiastic brunette bouncing - literally - over to her side of the room. “Doesn’t this song just make you want to dance?”
Veronica really hoped her mouth wasn’t hanging open, but she wouldn’t have been surprised. The room seemed to have lost all air after Katy’s faster-than-light introduction. “Sorry, not much of a dancer anymore. And, hi, I’m Veronica.”
Veronica held out her hand, and was quickly enveloped into a bear hug by the girl she was pretty sure was going to be her nemesis by the time the weekend was through. Ditched by BFF? Check. Roommate from hell? Check. She couldn’t wait to see what was next.
Fifteen minutes into Katy’s wandering monologue on Cottowood Falls, Kansas, her hometown, Trey, her boyfriend she’d just broken up with, and California, which she already loved, Veronica leapt to answer the knock on the door as if it were a lifeline. She opened the door to see Wallace and a couple of the guys from the team, freshly showered from practice and wearing their Hearst gear. Before Wallace could open his mouth, they both jumped at the high-pitched squeal from behind her.
Veronica grabbed her purse. “I’ll see you later,” she tossed over her shoulder. She pushed Wallace out the door as she heard Katy shriek, “You know basketball players!”
She let out a sigh of relief as the door shut behind them. “Run. Now.”
Wallace laughed. “So you’re coming to the cook-out with us then?”
“Yes. And if we hurry I think we could lose her,” Veronica said with a nod of her head to the closed door, which was still emanating small squeals of giddiness.
Veronica was reintroduced to the other guys by Wallace, and the group of them made their way to the main quad where the cook-out was taking place. She tried to hide amongst the basketball players who were easily twice her height, but somehow - she was willing to bet it was some karmic kick in the ass - Katy still found her easily, latching onto her arm and declaring them to be the best of friends. Looking over at Wallace, Veronica mouthed ‘save me.’ Wallace just laughed and led the group over to an empty table.
It was part way through Katy’s third, or was it fourth, story about Cottonwood High, where she’d been cheerleading captain, homecoming queen and Miss Cottonwood Falls that Veronica was able to make her escape. Motioning to Wallace that she would call him later, Veronica slipped out of the crowd of people who just couldn’t say enough things about the greatness of Hearst to find the Psychology building.
Veronica glanced again at the campus map. Davies Hall should be right about . . . here. Veronica looked up at the distinguished brick building and mounted the steps to the wide wooden doors. Which were, of course, locked. She noted the card reader to the side. They were supposed to be issued identification cards tomorrow, but . . . She backtracked down the steps and scanned the side of the building for another entrance. There had to be another way in.
She circled to the back and discovered a small, nearly empty parking lot surrounded by several trees. Only one vehicle, a car that made the LeBaron look like a shiny new floor model, was there in the gathering dusk. Veronica waited and kept her fingers crossed until the rear entrance opened and a tired looking older woman wearing a blue uniform stepped out the door.
Veronica darted to catch the door before it could close and launched into her best Katy impression.
“Ma’am? Could you, like, please let me in? I have a class in there, and I totally forgot my wallet, and it’s got, like, everything in it, my campus card, my license, my credit cards. Please! I’ve got to find it tonight.”
“Whatever.” The woman shrugged as Veronica slipped past her. Okay, maybe building security wasn’t quite as tight as Hearst heralded in their brochures after all. Veronica scanned the directory in the center hallway and found the office numbers she was looking for. Professor Nora Harding - 308. Professor Tyler Wilson - 309. Bingo.
Veronica climbed the steps to the third floor and found it deserted, the two professors’ offices facing one another near the center of the hallway. Professor Wilson’s door bore a name plate and a single sheet of paper listing office hours and contact information. Professor Harding’s was a more colorful jumble of flyers advertising different campus events and causes.
A quick search yielded a chair in one of the empty classrooms. With the added height, Veronica positioned a tiny camera in place on the sill above Harding’s door aimed to record access to Wilson’s office. That should answer Wilson’s question soon enough. She stepped down and dusted off her hands with satisfaction.
She returned the chair to the classroom and sat for a minute in the quiet of the now darkened building. It was only a little after nine, but the prospect of going back to the cook-out and hanging with Katy and the Hearst ballers wasn’t exactly enticing. And she had been out until 3 a.m. on last night’s stake-out.
She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to Wallace to let him know she wasn’t coming back, then checked the rest of her messages. One from her dad, asking how things were going. Nothing from Logan.
Her finger hovered for a moment over the key to dial his number before she pulled back and returned her phone to her bag. She’d call him tomorrow. She headed back down the stairs and exited the rear door to Davies Hall. One lumpy mattress, coming right up.
“Good morning and welcome to out first official orientation meeting for Hello Hearst!”
Veronica sucked down another sip of her coffee, hoping it would somehow neutralize the chipper orientation counselor who was trying to give Katy a run for her money in the who can annoy Veronica most this weekend event.
“We’re so happy that some of you could join us last night for the Hearst meet and greet cook-out, but for those who arrived this morning, you haven’t missed a thing, ‘cause we’re just getting started. I’m Jessica, and this is my co-counselor, Nick,” she introduced, as the two stood in the center of the room, dressed identically in khaki shorts and white polo shirts embroidered with the Hearst seal.
“You’re got to be kidding me,” muttered Veronica as Katy leaned over and whispered, “Wow, that is so cool. Don’t you think they kind of look like Nick and Jess? I was totally bummed that they split up. You think they’re a couple?”
She was saved by a response by Nick’s direction that they should all form a big circle and get ready for introductions.
“Since we’re all starting off new to each, Jess and I wanted to play a little icebreaker game to help you get to know each other. So we’re going to all introduce ourselves by letting everyone know a little something about who we are.” He smiled broadly, “So tell us your name and an adjective that describes who you are. Okay? I’ll start.”
He gave the group a big wave. “I’m Nosedive Nick, because I love to sky dive.”
Jess popped up beside him. “And I’m Jazzy Jessica, because I love to dance and I’m on the Hearst Highkickers, the official dance team.”
Veronica rubbed her head. Could Wallace not have warned her about these little games so she could skip out? No wait, he was to busy hanging out with his basketball pals. She vaguely listened as she contemplated how Vicious Veronica would go over with the group, though it was a pretty good description for her current mood.
She realized the group was all staring expectantly at her and she took a last swallow of her coffee and played along with a small wave, “Hi, I’m Visual Veronica, because my hobby is photography.”
“That’s great, Veronica,” Jazzy Jess concluded with a clap of her hands. “Well now that we all know each other, we’re going to take a campus tour so that you’ll be all ready for this afternoon’s scavenger hunt!”
“Isn’t this awesome, Ronnie? You don’t mind if I call you Ronnie, do you?” Katy asked as she hooked her arm though Veronica’s. “I can’t wait to start this fall.”
“So very awesome, indeed,” Veronica sighed and trailed along behind the Nick and Jess show. “I can hardly wait.”
Veronica relaxed gratefully into the chair in Davies Hall, thankful that Katy’s scheduled class had taken her elsewhere for the hour. She’d stuck closer than a burr since this morning’s tour, through the appointments to get their campus identification cards, and the fun game designed to show how quickly STDs could spread around the campus.
Hey Nick and Jess? Want to see how fast I can get chlamydia from the mayor of Neptune? No? Me neither.
She closed her notebook as Professor Harding ended the lecture on recent developments in psychology and moved her way towards the front of the class where a few other students had gathered under the apparent theory it was never to early to brownnose.
The lecture had been one of the orientation’s high points so far. Harding looked like the prototype of the absent-minded professor, glasses perched haphazardly on her graying hair as she repeatedly patted her pockets throughout the hour for the chalk she’d just laid down moments before. But she had a passion for her subject that made the time fly. Veronica hoped Wilson was wrong in his suspicions; she’d really like to take her class.
She waited patiently until the room cleared and stepped forward as the professor shuffled her lecture notes back into a folder. Time to put phase two of the investigation in place, since last night’s video feed had shown nothing. “Professor Harding? Hi, how are you? I’m Veronica.”
Nora Harding turned around and pulled her glasses down as she peered at the nametag they were all stuck with for the duration of orientation. “Hello . . . Veronica.”
“Right, Veronica. As you can see, obviously. It’s always so weird when you have a nametag and then everybody knows your name.” She giggled. “I’m sorry, I’m totally babbling, but it’s just, wow, it’s just so cool to get to meet you. I read your study on the causes of teen depression for a paper I did in my AP Psych class and it just inspired me to really pursue my dream of becoming a psychologist.”
Professor Harding smiled. “Well, thank you, Veronica, I certainly appreciate that.” She started to move towards the door, lecture notes and materials now in hand.
Veronica kept pace and followed behind her. “I know you must be like, super busy, and I don’t want to bother you, but I was hoping you might could give me some advice about classes to take, and things like that. I know I’m just going to be a freshman, but I really want to get off on the right foot.”
Harding glanced at her watch. “Well, I have a meeting with a colleague in a few minutes, but why don’t you come on up to my office and we can talk for a bit? Are you primarily interested in adolescent psychology?”
Veronica gave a small shrug. “I’m not sure yet. It seems like there’s a lot to study in that area.”
“There certainly is. Many developmental psychologists have focused on the earliest years, which are, of course, critical. But I believe that by creating an extended adolescence in our society, the social and developmental changes of that time period are becoming increasingly important for long-term mental health.” Professor Harding groaned as she unlocked her door. “I’m sorry, dear, you’ve gotten me on one of my pet topics. I’ll rattle on for hours and bore you to death. Come on in and I’ll see if I can give you some more practical advice on classes you might want to take next year.”
Veronica glanced across the doorway to the closed door of Professor Wilson’s office and followed Harding inside. She sat down her bag and scanned the room for somewhere to plant another bug. The desk was overflowing with papers stacked haphazardly in piles, and more boxes sat around the room. One wall housed a floor to ceiling book shelf packed with reference materials and texts. Given the dust that lingered, many of them hadn’t been touched in years.
Professor Harding noticed her attention and laughed. “Ah yes, as you can see, I’m what Freud would call anal expulsive. But, I can usually find things when I want to, and I know I have a sheet of the department classes offered next year somewhere . . .” she trailed off as she began to rifle through a filing cabinet.
Veronica slipped the bug from her pocket and wandered over to the book shelf, pretending interest as she slipped past the titles and secured the bug in the corner of one of the shelves where it was virtually unnoticeable. Satisfied, she turned around just as Professor Harding produced a wrinkled sheet of paper from the file.
“Here it is. Now, if you are interested in adolescent psychology, I would recommend this class.” Veronica nodded and listened as the Professor made notes and outlined several options on courses. She pointed to a class description halfway down the page that listed Wilson as the instructor.
“What about this class with Professor Wilson? Is he a good instructor?”
“He’s a very bright young member of our faculty, and not hard on the eyes either,” Harding winked. “But you’d have to have these two prerequisites since that’s an upper-level class, so . . .” She glanced down and tapped at her watch before jumping up suddenly. “Oh dear, I’m sorry to have to run like this, but I’m going to be late for my meeting if I don’t dash.”
Veronica stood and accepted the paper with the recommendations. “Not at all, and thank you again for taking the time. I really appreciate it.”
Harding followed Veronica to the door and stepped into the hallway. “Certainly dear, and stop by next semester when you’re here, alright?”
“I will!” Veronica watched as Harding pulled her door shut and bustled down the hallway. Not what she’d expected at all. Harding didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d set out to deliberately sabotage a colleague. Veronica hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. But then again, if there was one thing the detective business taught you, it was to never take anyone at face value.
She headed off for her advisor appointment.
“So are you ready for dinner, roomie?” Katy was bouncing with excitement as she frosted her lips for the fifth time.
“Almost, roomie,” Veronica responded brightly. “Just need to slit my wrists,” she muttered under her breath.
“So I heard Wallace mention that he’d be at dinner tonight. He’s such a cutie. Are you sure you guys never hooked up?” Katy asked as they walked into the dining hall.
“No, but our parents did. So Wallace decided it would be too incestuous and resisted my advances,” Veronica replied.
“Oh.” Katy looked slightly confused. “Huh, that would be weird. Well, do you think he might be interested?” she bounced back quickly.
“Interested?” Veronica asked.
“In me. Or maybe one of his friends? I mean, I do plan on trying out for the cheerleading squad, so it just makes sense to date one of the basketball players, right?”
“Sounds perfectly logical to me.” Veronica waved at Wallace from across the cafeteria and negotiated through the crowded tables. She pulled him to the side, “Katy’s got the hots for you. And/or one of your teammates. She’s easy like that.”
Wallace smirked. “Told you this would get me some lovin’.” He pointed to his practice jersey. “Women can’t resist a man in uniform.”
“Whatever, Kobe. Just, you know, distract her with your manliness of something and let me catch my breath.” Veronica placed her tray on the table and watched as Katy happily settled between two of Wallace’s teammates.
“So what’s up for tonight?” Wallace asked.
Veronica shrugged, “I need to do a little investigating, but otherwise, I’m free. You think you can work me into your dance card, Fennell?”
“You’re already working a case here? Girl, you move fast.”
She waved a hand. “Total coincidence. Nothing big. Now tell me what’s the haps for tonight?”
“There’s a band on the lawn at Whitmore and the whole dorm will be partying. They do it for every orientation weekend.”
“Well, sign me up,” Veronica replied. “I just need to go do that thing. Can you do me a favor and keep Katy dear over there occupied for a while?”
“No problem. That’s the kind of favor I don’t mind.”
Veronica slipped out of Davies Hall a few hours later and pulled out her cell phone. She hit the button and waited as a muffled voice answered the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey, dad.”
“How’s my favorite college girl?”
“I am now fully oriented to the cornerstones of a solid Hearst education,” Veronica intoned. “Though I still have another day to go, so I maybe re-oriented before it’s all over. Are you at the Seventh Veil?”
His voice grew more distinct. “I just stepped outside. I think Mr. Jenkins may have already moved on to Lolly from Coco.”
“Do I even want to know where that name comes from?” Veronica shuddered.
“We’ll just say she works it into her stage act and leave it at that. How’s your case coming?”
“That’s actually why I called, to give you an update about Harding.”
“Find anything?” he asked.
“I just spent an hour going through her office and so far, nothing. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack though; her office is a wreck, piles of paper everywhere. And I thought your filing system was bad.”
“Very funny.”
“I thought so,” she replied. “No, I talked with her after the scheduled lecture, asked her for advice on classes - she was really helpful. I even asked her about Wilson, and she didn’t say anything negative, called him a bright young man.” She shifted the phone to the other side as she fumbled to find her keys in her bag. “I’m going to check the camera bug later and see if there’s any video that will shed some light. I’ll call you if I get a lead.”
“You do that. And don’t forget to try to have some fun too, Veronica.”
“I’m already down for the limbo and a hall crawl on the fifth floor tonight. Talk with you later, Dad.”
“Veronica!” She heard a voice yell from the steps and she smiled as Wallace jumped from the stairs.
“Girl, you have got to stop disappearing like that. You’re supposed to be here, getting jiggy with it.” He pulled her in a quick twirl.
“Fennel, I do believe you’ve had one too many if you’re quoting me the immortal Will Smith,” Veronica laughed as she complied with his dance moves.
“You wanna come with? We’re going to Time-Out right off campus. Best greasy spoon open late that you can walk to.”
“Now that is a ringing endorsement.” Veronica shrugged as she glanced around at the crowd of freshman shimmying to the cover band. “You know, I’m kind of beat though. Mind if I take a rain check for this fall?” She gestured over his shoulder, “You and Katy have fun there, though.”
She gave a quick wave as Katy made a flying leap at Wallace and enveloped him, and made her way up the stairs towards her room on the nearly deserted hallway, still preoccupied with the lack of progress on the case. Maybe the video footage would shed some light, but so far everything seemed to point to Wilson being overly paranoid.
She opened the lock on her door and fumbled for the light switch just as a muffled umph sounded from the open window. She grabbed her tazer from her bag and fired it up as she found the switch and flooded the room with light, revealing Logan Echolls sprawled across her floor.
“Logan? What are you doing? This is the second floor!”
He shrugged. “Told you I’d come by. Besides, dangerous townies don’t use the front door.”
She rolled her eyes as she helped him up to sit on the bed, gingerly flexing one banged-up knee.
“Do I even want to know how you found out my room number?” She caught his smirk and shook her head. “Never mind. Don’t tell me.”
“What? Jealous someone else has detective skills, Mars?” he asked, pulling her down onto his lap.
“Nope.” She sighed and relaxed against him. She’d felt so disconnected all day, almost on information overload and it was nice to push it aside for the familiar feeling of his heart beating against her cheek. “You okay?”
“I am now,” he replied. “Veronica? About yesterday at lunch? I’m sorry I left that way.”
“Let’s not worry about it, Logan. You’re here now. I missed you.” She leaned up to kiss him and felt his resistance melt away as she pushed him further back on the bed.
“I missed you too,” he murmured against her lips. She gave him a final smooch and jumped up, heading for the door.
“Hey,” Logan sat back up. “Where are you going?”
Veronica turned the door lock and flipped off the light switch. “I think this straight A honors student needs some lessons from the bad boy townie.”
Logan’s persuasive tutelage caused Veronica to lose track of time until the jarring sound of a key in the door lock sent them both scrambling for clothes that had been discarded over the course of their make-out session. Veronica had just managed to get her bra fastened and grab Logan’s shirt when the light clicked on, leaving Logan sitting shirtless behind her.
“Damn, Ronnie finds the hottest guys!” Katy giggled as she ogled Logan’s chest.
Wallace stopped dead behind her and covered his eyes. “Gah! I did not need to see that, Mars.”
“Looking good, Veronica,” called one of the guys from the group behind Wallace.
Veronica buried her head in the shirt as Wallace pulled Katy back and the door shut as abruptly as it had opened, with a quick yell for them to put some clothes on. Logan was shaking with laughter behind her.
She turned and threw his shirt at him as she struggled back into hers. “Oh, yeah, like that’s funny, Logan. I was sort of hoping to start over here without the reputation of the town tramp.”
He caught her arms and stilled her movements. “Veronica? Stop it. Nobody’s going to think you’re the town tramp for making out with your boyfriend.” He pulled her to her feet as Wallace’s voice sounded through the door. “Are you decent yet?”
“Come in,” Veronica replied. She grabbed her messenger bag and Logan’s hand. “Sorry about that,” she announced as Katy and the others filed back in. “We’ve got to go out for a while. See ya.”
She drug Logan past the group and down the rear stairs. “Where are we going, Veronica?” he asked.
She ran her hand through her hair, trying to straighten it. “You need to go home, Logan, it’s late. And I need to check something for a case.”
He kept pace with her and steered her in the direction of the parking lot and his SUV. “So I’ll help.”
“Logan . . .”
He opened the door. “Just get in.”
She slid into the seat and pulled her laptop out of her bag, booting it up as he closed the door on the driver’s side. “So what are we looking for?”
She yawned. “I just need to check some surveillance feeds, but I didn’t want to do it with an audience.” She began to run the footage that showed Wilson leaving the building for the day, then Harding coming out of her office into the hallway a few minutes later. She fast forwarded as the hallway remained mostly deserted until around 11:00 p.m, illuminated only by safety lights that cast an eerie glow over the hallway.
Logan leaned over, “Who’s that?”
“That’s Professor Harding,” Veronica replied. “And Wilson was right, she is breaking into his office.”
The image showed Harding looking back and forth down the hallway, then using a key, quietly easing Wilson’s door open. A few minutes later she came back out carrying a paper file box and passed under the camera.
“She must have taken it into her office,” Veronica said. The hallway remained clear for another thirty minutes as Veronica again scanned the video. Harding reappeared at nearly a quarter to twelve and locked Wilson’s door back before disappearing down the hallway carrying a single file folder.
“She must have left it in her office!” Veronica exclaimed. “Logan, I need to go back over there.”
He shrugged. “Okay. Can I even ask what’s going on?”
“This guy thinks someone’s trying to steal some research. I’m just investigating.”
“And breaking into professors’ offices?” Logan laughed. “I don’t know, Veronica, I might be a little more worried about that reputation than tarnishing your good name with me.”
“Just drive,” she responded.
The parking lot behind Davies was deserted and Veronica used her new campus card to access the building. They climbed the stairs quietly and Logan held the flashlight as Veronica quickly picked the lock.
The disarray was still evident, but the box was nowhere to be found until Veronica glanced beneath the desk. Tucked under the far corner sat a file box labeled Greater Neptune Psychological Assessment of Females Ages 12-15. Box 15 - East Neptune Middle School - Wilson.
“That what you’re looking for?” Logan whispered.
Veronica nodded as she slid out the box and pulled open the cover. She lifted a few files out and flipped through them. Each folder was labeled with a girl’s name and pertinent biographical information, followed by page after page of notes detailing answers to questionnaires and behavioral observations.
She slid the folders back in place and flipped casually through until a name caught her eye. Marisol Reyes.
She pulled the file, motioning for Logan to hold the flashlight closer. “That’s the girl, the one who turned up dead?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Veronica replied as she scanned the pages. A single page was attached to the back of the folder indicating that the subject had been the victim of a murder after being kidnapped. She flipped through the files again, noting the number of Hispanic names. She glanced at the cover of the box again. East Neptune Middle School. The middle school for the ’02 zip code, the one Weevil’s neighborhood attended. The one all of the missing girls had gone to.
She dove back into the box. There it was. A file on Rosa Ramirez. She rifled further. And one on Tracy Gonzales. She pulled them out. “Logan, I’ve got to photocopy these.”
“You sure?”
She nodded. “They’re files on the girls who went missing. There could be something in here that could help find Rosa.”
“Let’s find a copier.”
Veronica grabbed the box and Logan pulled Professor Harding’s door shut as they headed back into the darkened hallway. “I think there was a copy machine on the next floor,” she whispered.
The machine stood in the corner by the stairwell, the blinking coin feeder a silent sentinel to its side. “You have change?” Logan asked.
Veronica pawed through her bag. “No. You?”
“There’s some in the Xterra. Give me your card and wait here.”
Veronica rifled through the box as she waited for Logan to return. Wilson must have interviewed all the girls in that grade for his study. There had to be some connection.
Fifteen minutes later they’d copied the relevant files and Veronica was sliding them back into the box in Harding’s office when a muffled noise at the end of the hallway caused them both to freeze.
“Wait here,” she mouthed as she slipped over to the door and listened to footsteps echo in the hallway, then die away again. She gave a quick nod and slowly slid open the door as Logan followed behind.
They made their way down the rear stairs without detection and slipped out into the night.
“So you got what you need?” he asked.
She nodded. “Thanks, Logan, for tonight.”
“Anytime, Veronica.” He pulled her close and whispered, “Want to ditch this scene and come home with me? I’ve got a lot of empty room in my bed. Maybe you could teach me some lessons?”
She wavered for just a moment, before she shook her head. “I’d better go back, Logan, there’s stuff in the morning and . . .”
“Yeah, I know.” He was quiet as he released her with a kiss to her hair and circled to the driver’s side. “There always is.”
“Hey, dad,” Veronica said, her voice low as she sat on the fire escape outside her window.
“You alright?” Keith asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a late night,” she replied.
“Too much limbo?”
Veronica chuckled, “I’m not that flexible. No, Harding broke in and removed a box from Wilson’s office last night. We’ve got video.”
“Great, that was fast work.”
“Yeah, I just set the bugs and . . .” Veronica trailed off. “Dad, I forgot to get the bug in her office. I’ll go back this morning, no one will be there.”
“Be careful, Veronica. Are you sure everything’s okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she assured him. “Just not enough sleep last night. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
Veronica slid back through the window and pulled out her schedule. Breakfast, something about the athletic boosters Wallace was insisting she go to, an interest session for the campus newspaper, and then she could pronounce herself officially prepared to be a freshman at Hearst. She glanced at her phone and noticed a text from Wallace asking her to meet him for lunch before she left. She sent a quick affirmative back and grabbed for her shower supplies. If she hurried, she could swing by Davies and get the bug she’d forgotten before breakfast.
Before she could slip out the door to the shower, Katy rolled over and sat up. “Ronnie? Why didn’t you tell me you were dating such a hot guy?”
Veronica turned. “Oh, it just didn’t come up.”
“I’m so sorry about walking in on you,” Katy giggled. “We should have had a code.”
Veronica sighed. “Everybody wants a code. It’s not a problem, Katy. I’m just going to take a shower.”
“Oh, I’ll come with.” Katy bounced out of bed and grabbed her bag, padding after her down the hallway. “Veronica, you are just the coolest - hot boyfriend, friends with the basketball team. We should totally be roommates this fall. And is he really Aaron Echoll’s son? That was so tragic the way he died . . .”
Veronica groaned as the shower finally drowned out the sound of Katy’s voice.
With a hearty send-off from Nick and Jessica, the last meeting ended and they checked out of the dorm. Katy bounced off to join her waiting parents after insisting that they exchange emails and numbers so they could find each other in the fall. Veronica slung her bag back in the trunk and glanced at her phone. She still had time to go get the bug before she met Wallace for lunch.
She headed back to Davies and circled to the rear entrance where two cars sat parked. Entering, she eased up the steps to the third floor, where she could hear angry voices muffled by the door of Harding’s office.
She ducked back down a flight of stars and found the ladies room, locking herself in a stall. She turned on her laptop and found the frequency for the bug in Harding’s office to listen in.
“I can’t believe you did this Nora. Breaking into my office!” Wilson’s voice trembled with suppressed rage. “Are you that threatened by me?”
She laughed. “And I can’t believe you were foolish enough to hire a private investigator. You foolish man, don’t you know what you’re risking when you get some damn P.I. sticking their nose in here?” Harding paused. “I gave you the benefit of the doubt last spring. Your father might have the money to make Serafina Guerrero disappear, but if word gets out about you and that girl, one of the children in your study,” she spat, “you’ll going to hurt this entire department and I won’t let that happen.”
“They couldn’t prove anything, and neither can you,” he hissed.
Harding’s voice grew louder, “Then what are these?” There was a rustling sound of papers being shuffled, before she spoke again. “Photographs. Letters. She might have been quite the little Lolita to your Humbert, but she was fourteen, Tyler. Fourteen! What you did was illegal and unethical.”
There was silence for a moment. “The problem is gone. She won’t testify. Her family won’t press charges,” he muttered.
Harding laughed. “I know that, I helped your father work out the details. But what I’m concerned about are these new letters, the ones you’ve been getting from her and hiding in your case files? Not very clever, dear boy. Your research assistant came to me and told me he’d seen them.”
“That little . . .” Wilson exploded before Harding cut him off, her voice hard.
“Don’t even think about firing him. Now listen to me, and listen well. I’ve known your family for years and I helped bring you to Hearst. You have a bright future, Ty. You made a mistake. I sincerely hope it was your only one. Put it in the past and leave it there. Because next time, this won’t be swept under the rug. Now take your files and leave.”
Veronica sat stunned as the speakers relayed the sound of a closing door and the click of a lock. She waited several more minutes before slipping up the stairs to find the deserted hallway. She quickly worked the lock opened and retrieved the listening device, then made her way downstairs to the now empty parking lot with more questions than she had answers for.
She walked slowly across the campus in the bright sunlight trying to process what she’d just heard when Wallace called her name from across the quad and bounded across to join her.
“Hey deep thinker. You don’t have to get that serious for a few more months.” He stopped and gave her a closer look. “Something wrong?”
She shook her head. “Just that case I was working on. Took a turn I didn’t expect.” She pushed her thoughts aside and glanced around. “What? Do I get just Wallace? No posse?”
“Just me,” he replied. “Listen, Veronica, I’m sorry. I know I said we’d hang out, and we didn’t really get a chance too, and that’s partly my fault.”
“It’s okay.” She mock-slugged him on his shoulder. “As long as you’re still my BFF.”
Wallace nodded. “I am.” He slung an arm around her shoulder as they started across campus. “So how did you like it? You have a good time? Aside from Echolls last night, which I am officially blocking.”
She shrugged. “It was fine.”
He stopped and faced her. “You’re not going to try, are you?”
“What are you talking about, Wallace?”
“Hearst. You’ve already written it off, haven’t you? Veronica, I know it's not your dream school, but it can be good if you give it a chance.”
“Wallace, it’s still Neptune,” she replied.
“Yeah, but it’s not Neptune High. You still get to start over here. Be the new and improved V.Mars. Or stay the same old Veronica I know and love. But you’ve got to give people a chance. Don’t assume they’re gonna hate you. You might just be surprised how much you like it.” He gave her a grin. “After all, you do already know the basketball payers, so instant cool points.”
Veronica smiled, “Wallace, thank you. I had almost forgotten why I cut you down from that flag pole.”
“Hey, ixnay on the flagpole story okay. We’ve all got new reps to make.”
“But it’s such a good story,” she laughed as they headed towards the cafeteria.
Veronica rolled down the window and turned up the radio as the LeBaron chewed up the miles along the interstate towards home. Wallace was right. She had been fighting the idea of Hearst because of what had happened in the past, and because it wasn’t Stanford. She needed to give it a chance. Even Katy hadn’t been that bad, though Wallace didn’t have any serious competition for best friend status from her.
And she really needed to give Logan more time too. She pulled her phone out and hit the automatic dial. “Dad? Hey, I’ve got some things to talk over with you about the Wilson case, but I need to stop by Logan’s for a few minutes. Are you going home?"
“Yeah, I’m heading out in about a half hour. Don’t be too late.”
“I won’t be. See you soon, Dad.”
Keith hung up the phone and stared at the file in front of him. He wasn’t getting anywhere on this, he might as well go on home. Veronica had sounded upbeat and he was looking forward to talking about her weekend. He could pick up some takeout, kick back, and try to stop thinking about the files with his ex -wife’s name all over them that he found in his former partner’s hands.
He made the trip in record time to the apartment, and had just settled in front of the television with a cold beer and a plate of burritos when the door bell rang. Sighing, he sat the plate on top of the television and headed for the door.
“Did you forget your key, Ver . . .” He stopped dead at he stared at the woman standing in the doorway.
“Lianne.”
To Be Continued
Click here for Chapter 6.
Click here for previous chapters.
Pairing / Character: Veronica/Logan, Keith
Rating: PG-13 to R
Words: 44,500
Summary: In Neptune, the brighter the summer sun, the deeper the shadows.
Spoilers / Warnings: Seasons 1 and 2 / Language and adult situations
Chapter 7: Hello Hearst!
Author: ladyanne04 and lex_83
Additional Characters: Wallace
Rating: PG-13 for language and some making out.
Words: 10,742
Author’s Note: All Fall Down is a collaborative effort by 19 writers. You can learn more about this project here. Special thanks to truemyth for the awesome beta and to sarah_p and kantayra for the feedback and suggestions.
X-posted to veronicamarsfic and fic_from_mars.
All Fall Down
Chapter 7
Hello Hearst!
Marisol Reyes. Rosa Ramirez. Tracy Gonzalez. Veronica flipped through the case file she’d put together, willing some connection to pop out from the jumble of newspaper clippings and sparse clues she’d found. She rubbed her head and turned back to the brief article on Marisol’s disappearance just as the door burst open.
Veronica jumped and slammed the folder shut before she realized it was Logan’s smiling face greeting her, not her dad’s.
“Hey you,” Logan stopped in front of the desk and noticed her flushed face. “Did I startle you?” He gave a small smirk. “Ohhh, did I sneak up on the intrepid girl detective? Does that make me like an honorary Hardy Boy now?”
“Sure, Logan, we’ll just call you Joe from now on,” she replied.
“Joe was the pretty one, wasn’t he? So what were you doing that you didn’t want Papa Mars to know?”
She flipped the file back open. “The Ramirez kidnapping.”
“You still haven’t told your dad about that?”
“What’s there to tell? He’d only worry. I just feel like I’m treading water on everything.” She shrugged. “It’s enough to make an intrepid girl detective cranky. But let me ask you a more important question.” She glanced behind him and cocked her head to the side, “What’s in the bag?”
“Bag?” Logan asked, feigning bewilderment. “I know not the bag of which you speak.”
“Nice try. I can smell Italian food from a mile away.” Veronica moved from behind the desk and leaned forward to give him a quick kiss, hoping to snag the bag he was hiding behind him in the process.
Logan kissed her back, but arched away so the bag stayed just out of reach. “None of that. You sit there.” He pointed her to the couch and ducked into the kitchen to grab plates.
Veronica settled herself onto the couch and shuffled some magazines and papers to the side to make room for the food. Logan returned and produced the bag from Mama Leone’s with a flourish.
“Yummy.” Veronica rubbed her hands together as he began pulling out cartons from the bag. She grabbed a piece of extra cheesy garlic bread and took a bite, before asking around the mouthful, “How’d you know I hadn’t had lunch?”
He shrugged. “You forget to eat a lot when you get buried in a case. And you seemed distracted last night, so I took a chance you’d be hungry.”
“Excellent deduction, Joe.” She couldn’t stop the smile that crept across her face. Logan definitely surprised her sometimes with how thoughtful he could be. “Oh, we need drinks. Hang on a minute.”
She bounced into the kitchen and retrieved two cold Skists from the fridge before returning to the couch. She handed Logan his drink and grabbed the plate of lasagna he’d dished out for her.
“So that Hearst thing is this weekend?” he asked, holding up the brochure that had been lying on the table.
“Uh-huh. It’s time for Hello Hearst! Lame, huh?” she responded.
“Hello Hearst?” He snickered. “Yeah. What do you do there?”
She took the brochure from his hands and flipped it open to read. “Hello Hearst is a weekend of fun, friendship and foundations for freshman.”
“How . . . alliterative.”
“Yep. It’s jam-packed with f-ing goodness.” She skimmed the list, “Meetings with our fall advisors, some sample classes we can attend, a bunch of seminars on campus safety, that sort of thing.” She rolled her eyes as she sat the brochure back on the table. “I haven’t seen Wallace lately, so that’ll be good, but the rest . . . At least it’s all over by Sunday. I can survive a couple of days, right?”
“Sure you can.” Stealing a bite of Veronica’s pasta, he spoke around his mouthful. “But since you’re going to be so busy this weekend, I was hoping you could come over tonight.”
“Really? And whatever would we find to do with ourselves?” she asked coyly.
Logan grinned, “Well, I was thinking we need to start practicing our code.” At Veronica’s raised eyebrow, he continued. “If you decide to live on campus, you’re going to have a roommate, and we need to figure out how I’m going to sneak into your room.”
“That doesn’t sound like it would require code,” Veronica replied.
Logan just smiled at her. “Ahh, but see the code is to let your roomie know that I’m there. You wouldn’t want her to walk in on us or anything . . . now would you?”
Veronica laughed. “I’d think after this summer we’d be pros at not getting caught by people barging into the room.”
“Speaking of getting caught, where is your dad anyway?” Logan looked around the office, “I would have thought he’d be here, recuperating at his desk and being all crotchety.”
“A Mars is never crotchety.”
“Says you.” Logan dodged Veronica’s hand as she tried to punch him in the arm, “I remember a certain pint-sized girl who was absolutely horrible when she had the measles. I didn’t even know anyone could complain that much.”
“Anyway,” Veronica changed the subject before Logan could bring up how sexy she had looked with spots all over her body, “he’s out on a case.”
“Is he doing okay? He’s been working a lot for someone who got shot a month ago. I thought the doctors said he was to take it easy for six weeks, or something.”
“I know. And he was.” Veronica knew the worry showed on her face. “But hey, he knows what he’s doing.”
“What case is he working on?”
“Oh, just one of the cases we have on the go. You know how it is, a private dick never rests.”
Logan grinned, “Back to the important topics then. What’s your dorm number for the weekend?”
“They don’t assign it until we get there. Why?” Looking over at Logan, who promptly waggled his eyebrows, Veronica groaned. “You can’t be serious about sneaking into my dorm room.”
“Well, you never want to play those naughty games my house is the perfect location for. I was thinking I could be the bad townie to your straight A honor student. We can christen your dorm before it’s even yours.”
Logan leaned forward into Veronica, and kissed her. She melted into him, letting him pull her even closer as they sank down onto the waiting room couch. His lips whispered something against her throat and she shivered at the vibration as his hand slipped beneath her shirt and caressed the soft skin of her stomach. He was just too damn good at this.
She pulled his face back to hers and found his lips again as they shifted, trying to get closer on the small couch. She hooked her leg around his hip and giggled as his fingers slid further up her side.
“That tickle?” he murmured.
“Mmhmm,” she breathed, as he gave her another kiss, then began to tickle her in earnest. She shrieked and flailed against his unrelenting fingers until they ended up in a tangled heap on the floor next to the couch.
She rolled over on top of him and looked down. “That was so mean.”
He grinned up at her. “I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you. Come over tonight? I’ll get some dinner, we can watch a movie.” He dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Or make out.” He kissed her nose. “Or even just talk.” He kissed her lips.
“Talk?” Veronica gave him a quick peck back and moved to sit back on the couch. “What kind of teenage boy are you?”
“One who wants to be a part of his girlfriend’s life.”
“Logan, you are. And we talk.” She started straightening the mess left from their meal as he sat up from the floor and watched her. She glanced down and noticed his serious expression. “Are you okay?”
He gave her a half-smile. “Yeah. Floor’s just a little hard. So will you come over?”
“Sure.” She stopped mid-cleanup. “Oh wait, let me check something.” She walked over to the desk and flipped through a file stacked on the corner. “Logan, I’m sorry. We’ve got this case, the husband’s stepping out on Thursday nights, and I need to stake out the Camelot, see if I can get the money shot. Rain check?”
“Sure. Later, Veronica.” He sounded frustrated as he turned to leave.
“Thanks for bringing me lunch,” she called after him as he walked out the door.
She frowned as she sat back at her desk and opened a file. He could be as moody as a fourteen year old girl lately. She drummed her fingers on the desktop. Maybe she should see if she could get out of working tonight. But it was an easy case and her dad was already doing too much. She just hated seeing Logan look so let down - he’d had enough of that in his life, from her and everyone else. She was trying to be a better girlfriend this time around - they were supposed to be happy, now, damn it.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway again and Veronica glanced up to see if Logan had come back. The door opened and her father walked in instead. She pulled up a smile as she greeted him.
“Hey kiddo, trouble in paradise?” he asked as he stopped in front of her desk. “I just passed Logan on the stairs.”
Veronica sighed, “Did he say something to you?”
Her father nodded as he took a seat on the corner of the desk. “He did, in fact. And I quote, ‘Hello, Mr. Mars.’” As Veronica started to relax, he added, “He also looked like someone had just kicked his puppy. Said someone possibly being my daughter. And you don’t look like Mary Sunshine yourself.”
“Oh. I’m fine.” Veronica opened the bag of food she’d moved to her desk and inspected the remaining contents closely without looking at her father. “And you know Logan. He’s had a lot going on.” She glanced up with a frown. “Also, I am so not a puppy kicker.”
Keith regarded her for a moment and sighed. “You know that me,” he pointed to himself and then her, “and you can talk. About whatever, whenever you want. Puppies, ponies, even boys.”
She just wasn’t ready for another daddy-daughter talk on the subject of Logan Echolls. “Well, I guess since I’m eighteen I don’t need your permission for the elopement,” she smiled as her dad rolled his eyes. “I know, Dad. But paradise is peachy right now. No problems. We’re practically throwing our own Jimmy Buffett concert as we speak. Cheeseburgers for everyone.” She pulled out an unopened container from the bag marked manicotti, her dad’s favorite, and held up the wrapped item. “Or in your case, manicotti.”
Keith took the container and pulled up a chair beside her, recognizing the change in subject. “So this is the big orientation weekend at Hearst? Do you have your class schedule all worked out?”
Veronica nodded as she returned to picking at her own pasta. “I think so. Though we’re supposed to meet with our advisor and talk our selections over, make sure we’re getting the core classes we need.”
She took a bite of her lunch and stopped. Her father wasn’t eating, he was just sitting still, watching her with a fond smile on his face. “Dad?”
“Sorry, sweetheart. I was just remembering how you use to play school when you were little with all your stuffed animals. And now you’re going off to college.” He shook his head. “It’s just hard to believe it came so quickly.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat that seemed to come up whenever she thought about leaving her dad. “Hey, lucky you that I decide to go to Hearst. You’re not getting rid of me that easy,” she replied.
The phone rang and broke the moment. Her dad gave an affectionate tug on one of her pigtails and dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. He picked up his manicotti and headed into his office as Veronica reached for the phone. “Mars Investigations.”
She grabbed a note pad and began to jot down Mrs. Jenkins’ latest suspicions about her husband. She had just hung up the phone when she heard a muffled noise and jumped up from her seat. “Dad? Are you alright?”
Her father rubbed at his shoulder as he sat back heavily in his desk chair. “I’m fine. Just try to get down that box off the top of the filing cabinet and it slipped and fell on my shoulder.”
“Are you okay? Did you pull the incision open? Do you need any painkillers, or should I call the doctor, or should we go to the hospital?” She fought to keep the note of hysteria from creeping into her voice.
“I think it’s fine.” He slid a hand inside the collar of his shirt and checked his injury before pulling his hand out and showing her his fingers. “See, no blood, everything’s still healing nicely. I’ll be alright. Was that Mrs. Jenkins again on the phone?” Keith asked.
Veronica could still see the thin lines around his mouth and the paleness on his face as she reached around him and pulled open the desk drawer to remove the bottle of painkillers the doctor had prescribed. “Yes. The latest object of Mr. Jenkins’ affections is apparently named Coco. And don’t change the subject. Take one.” At her father’s doleful expression, she kept her face firm. “Take it, mister, before I have to get all Nurse Rachett on you. You were supposed to take it easy for six weeks and you’ve been running around like nothing’s wrong for the last month.”
He threw up his hands. “Fine, fine. And if I get loopy with the clients, it’s on you, missy.”
She retrieved a cold bottle of water and handed it to him, watching until he’d swallowed the pills. “Dad, you know, I’ve been thinking. I may not go to this whole orientation weekend.”
“What are you talking about, Veronica?”
“I don’t really go for the rah-rah stuff and half the things on the schedule sound like glorified pep rallies. I got a feel for the campus life when I did the tour in the spring - it was all very Animal House. I think I may just go for the required meeting with the advisor, get my I.D. card, and call it a day.”
Her father shook his head. “Veronica? I’m fine. A little pull to the shoulder can’t keep a good man down, and I do not need my daughter to baby-sit me for the weekend. Besides, how am I supposed to sneak in the foxy ladies if you’re there all the time? You want to spoil the old man’s fun?”
Veronica frowned and crossed her arms, prepared to do battle when the opening of the office door startled them both.
“We’re not finished with this,” she warned as she exited into the main room and found a man standing there taking in the cluttered office. He was very attractive in a young Pierce Brosnan sort of way, attired in a well-cut suit that whispered old money, the sort not usually found in Neptune. Veronica found herself smiling as he removed his sunglasses and held out his hand. This town had its share of celebrities, but his baby blues would have stood out in any crowd.
“Hello, I’m Tyler Wilson. I was hoping to meet with Mr. Mars, if he has an opening? It’s rather urgent.”
Veronica shook the proffered hand and gestured to the sofa. “Of course, if you’ll wait just a moment.”
Her father appeared at the doorway just as she turned. “Good afternoon, Mr. Wilson. Why don’t you step into my office.”
Veronica settled back behind her desk to listen.
“Now, what can we help you with?” Keith asked.
Tyler Wilson leaned forward, then glanced back over his shoulder at Veronica, who was trying her best to appear fascinated with her computer screen. “This must, of course, stay in the strictest of confidence.”
Keith nodded. “I understand, and I can assure you that anything you need to say can be said in front of my assistant as well.”
“Very well,” Wilson began. “I’m a professor in the psychology department at Hearst University. Are you familiar with the school?”
Keith nodded. “As a matter of fact, I am.”
Wilson nodded, “Then you know that it’s well-respected nationally. The tenured positions are very competitive and it’s finally my turn for consideration by the faculty. I’ve worked hard the last few years for this chance, and until a few weeks okay, I was sure I’d be approved.”
Keith sat back in his chair and gestured for him to continue. “I assume something happened to cause you to feel differently?”
“Indeed. I’ve had excellent support from other department members, stellar teaching reviews, and my last published research was well received.” He paused, “But as I said before, it’s very competitive. I have one more article, some really ground-breaking research on socialization in young female adolescents, which is due for publication later this year. It’s critical for my chances. I’ve almost completed analyzing all of the raw data collected from literally years of observation.”
Keith leaned forward and smiled. “Well, I’m afraid I’m not a psychologist, Professor Wilson, so I’m not sure Mars Investigations will be of much help to you - though I’ll be the first to agree that teenage girls can be quite the mystery at times.”
Wilson laughed. “That they are. But here’s where I could use your help. I believe that someone is trying to steal my data from this study and sabotage my research.”
Keith opened his notepad. “Why?”
“Starting a few weeks ago I began noticing things. I always keep my office locked. Only my research assistant and I have keys, but I’ve found it open twice now in two weeks.”
Keith interrupted, “Are you sure it isn’t your research assistant being careless?”
Wilson shook his head. “No. Sam’s out of town on vacation. I know it’s not him. And not only has the door been unlocked, but the file boxes where I store the case files have been rifled, as though someone were going through them in a hurry.”
“Anything else?” Keith asked.
“My desk. It’s small things, but there are papers shuffled around, things a little off from where I left then.” He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “I’m a little obsessive-compulsive, and I’m very precise about how my desk is arranged and where I leave things. And someone has definitely been moving things around.”
Keith jotted another note. “What about the cleaning staff, or the department head? Could someone else have unlocked the door?”
“No, I work late most nights, and I’m usually still there when the custodians come by, so I don’t think that it could be them. Of course, the department head does have a key, but he’s teaching a summer aboard program in Prague right now, so it wouldn’t be him.” He smiled. “Believe me, Mr. Mars, I’ve racked my brains for a reasonable explanation as to this. I don’t want to seem delusional or paranoid to the other members of the department. But I think that someone is trying to steal my research.
Keith rubbed his hand along his face and nodded his head. “Then that leads me to the next obvious question, why? And who do you suspect?”
Wilson took a deep breath. “I hate to even suggest this, because she’s been such a mentor to me. The area my research is focusing on overlaps heavily with that of a colleague in the department, Nora Harding. She’s done so much work in this area over the years, but lately she’s been . . . coasting on her laurels, you might say.”
“And you think she might be trying to steal your research?” Keith asked.
“It sounds crazy, I know. After all, she’s The Nora Harding, she’s even an old friend of my family.” Wilson shook his head. “But I found her in my office the other day when I’d stepped out for a minute, and things had been moved on my desk when I came back. She’s also been asking a lot of questions about the study I’ve conducted, more than just professional curiosity.”
“What would she gain though? Would she really be able to replicate your work or use the research?” Keith asked.
“No,” Wilson said. “I think she just wants to be sure I don’t get tenured at Hearst so that I’ll move on somewhere else. That way I can’t challenge her position, you know.” He leaned forward. “But Mr. Mars, I can’t stress to you enough, this investigation must be discreet. I don’t want to falsely accuse Professor Harding. That’s why I came to you first, before going to the Dean.”
Keith tapped his pen against the notepad in his lap. “Professor Wilson, is there anyone else? A disgruntled student angry over a grade? Colleagues in the department upset over internal politics?”
Wilson shook his head. “Not that I can think of. I’ve worked hard over the years to build collegial relationships both at Hearst and as a part of the Neptune community.”
“What about personally? Often times we find that these sorts of matters have roots in more intimate relationships.”
Wilson shook his head. “I’m afraid I’ve been so busy with my research over the last few years that I’ve had very little time for personal relationships.”
“Of course.” Keith closed the note pad and rose from his seat, extending his hand. “Professor Wilson, we’ll get right on this.”
Wilson rose and took his hand. “Thank you. You come highly recommended, so I’m sure that you’ll find an answer soon. I’m making no progress on the article with this hanging over my head. I want it resolved as soon as possible.”
“We’ll do our best,” Keith replied.
Wilson paused in the doorway and turned. “Mr. Mars, one more thing. If you do discover it’s Nora, I’d like to speak with her myself, see if we can’t resolve this privately. I don’t want to go to the department chair unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“Of course. If you’ll just speak with Veronica about the payment, we’ll start work on it today, and we’ll be discreet.”
Veronica explained the fee schedule and received Professor Wilson’s check and dimpled smile before he left. Bet he made the girls of Hearst swoon with that, she mused as she filed the money away in the bank bag and headed into her dad’s office.
He looked up. “So, think you maybe could do that orientation thing after all? It’s the prefect cover for poking around the campus. Whereas slightly balding, middle-aged men lurking can occasionally be misinterpreted.”
She smiled. “Is this a diversionary tactic so you can still sneak your ladies of the night in for a wild and crazy weekend?”
“You know it.”
She took the note pad with the details he’d written down. “You’re sure your shoulder is okay?”
He pulled out his bottle of pills and shook them. “Oh, I’m feeling no pain. Besides, I need to follow Mr. Jenkins Saturday night and see if I can get the money shot of him and the newest side dish at the Seventh Veil. Which is a place where I blend far better than you.”
Veronica winked. “Only as a customer. But it would involve costumes and stage names and possibly pole dancing lessons for me, so fair enough; I’ll go be the college kid for the weekend. And you,” she pointed a finger at him, “you will take care of yourself.”
Keith’s voice softened. “You know I will, sweetheart.”
Veronica hefted her bag out of her car on Friday afternoon, looking up as she heard the sound of male voices drawing nearer. An answering smile broke out over Wallace’s face as he finally made it across the parking lot.
“Hey Supa Fly.” Wallace grinned as Veronica groaned at the nickname. “You’re finally here.”
“Here in the flesh,” she replied.
“Everybody, this is Veronica,” Wallace introduced her to nods all around and then rattled off the various players’ names faster than she could sort them. Tall seemed to be the defining attribute for the group though.
“So how’s Hearst? Pros? Cons?” she asked, before realizing she’d lost Wallace’s attention.
“Dude. Tell me that isn’t who I think it is.” Wallace hit one of the other guys on the shoulder, “I thought you made it clear he wasn’t welcome here unless he brought his A game.”
A couple of the other guys laughed, and one of them called out, “Like he has an A game.”
Wallace glanced back at Veronica, who was regarding him with a combined head tilt and pout as she held out her bag. He shrugged and grabbed it. “Don’t even use that thing on me, and I heard you, girlie. Hearst is good, we’re the pros and I think you qualify as the closest thing to a con in this group.”
“Wallace, we got to go, man, or we’re going to be late for practice,” one of his teammates interrupted.
Veronica took the bag back. “I expect the personal tour later, BMOC.”
“You know it,” Wallace replied as he took off at a run. He tossed over his shoulder, “I’ll come find you after practice.”
Veronica watched him disappear and dropped her bag back to the ground as she grumbled to herself, “Where did I put that map?”
Having hurdled the check-in and loaded with nametags, leaflets, schedules and exhortations to “get to know Hearst”, Veronica climbed the stairs of Whitmire Hall, her home for the weekend, as the orientation counselor had cheerfully chirped when she handed over the keys and room assignment.
Pushing open the door, she inwardly groaned as the strains of Toxic blasted into the hallway. She double-checked the room number and staggered inside towards the empty bed with her bag.
“Hi! You must be my roomie for the weekend, I’m Katy. Katy Campbell.” Veronica turned to find an overly enthusiastic brunette bouncing - literally - over to her side of the room. “Doesn’t this song just make you want to dance?”
Veronica really hoped her mouth wasn’t hanging open, but she wouldn’t have been surprised. The room seemed to have lost all air after Katy’s faster-than-light introduction. “Sorry, not much of a dancer anymore. And, hi, I’m Veronica.”
Veronica held out her hand, and was quickly enveloped into a bear hug by the girl she was pretty sure was going to be her nemesis by the time the weekend was through. Ditched by BFF? Check. Roommate from hell? Check. She couldn’t wait to see what was next.
Fifteen minutes into Katy’s wandering monologue on Cottowood Falls, Kansas, her hometown, Trey, her boyfriend she’d just broken up with, and California, which she already loved, Veronica leapt to answer the knock on the door as if it were a lifeline. She opened the door to see Wallace and a couple of the guys from the team, freshly showered from practice and wearing their Hearst gear. Before Wallace could open his mouth, they both jumped at the high-pitched squeal from behind her.
Veronica grabbed her purse. “I’ll see you later,” she tossed over her shoulder. She pushed Wallace out the door as she heard Katy shriek, “You know basketball players!”
She let out a sigh of relief as the door shut behind them. “Run. Now.”
Wallace laughed. “So you’re coming to the cook-out with us then?”
“Yes. And if we hurry I think we could lose her,” Veronica said with a nod of her head to the closed door, which was still emanating small squeals of giddiness.
Veronica was reintroduced to the other guys by Wallace, and the group of them made their way to the main quad where the cook-out was taking place. She tried to hide amongst the basketball players who were easily twice her height, but somehow - she was willing to bet it was some karmic kick in the ass - Katy still found her easily, latching onto her arm and declaring them to be the best of friends. Looking over at Wallace, Veronica mouthed ‘save me.’ Wallace just laughed and led the group over to an empty table.
It was part way through Katy’s third, or was it fourth, story about Cottonwood High, where she’d been cheerleading captain, homecoming queen and Miss Cottonwood Falls that Veronica was able to make her escape. Motioning to Wallace that she would call him later, Veronica slipped out of the crowd of people who just couldn’t say enough things about the greatness of Hearst to find the Psychology building.
Veronica glanced again at the campus map. Davies Hall should be right about . . . here. Veronica looked up at the distinguished brick building and mounted the steps to the wide wooden doors. Which were, of course, locked. She noted the card reader to the side. They were supposed to be issued identification cards tomorrow, but . . . She backtracked down the steps and scanned the side of the building for another entrance. There had to be another way in.
She circled to the back and discovered a small, nearly empty parking lot surrounded by several trees. Only one vehicle, a car that made the LeBaron look like a shiny new floor model, was there in the gathering dusk. Veronica waited and kept her fingers crossed until the rear entrance opened and a tired looking older woman wearing a blue uniform stepped out the door.
Veronica darted to catch the door before it could close and launched into her best Katy impression.
“Ma’am? Could you, like, please let me in? I have a class in there, and I totally forgot my wallet, and it’s got, like, everything in it, my campus card, my license, my credit cards. Please! I’ve got to find it tonight.”
“Whatever.” The woman shrugged as Veronica slipped past her. Okay, maybe building security wasn’t quite as tight as Hearst heralded in their brochures after all. Veronica scanned the directory in the center hallway and found the office numbers she was looking for. Professor Nora Harding - 308. Professor Tyler Wilson - 309. Bingo.
Veronica climbed the steps to the third floor and found it deserted, the two professors’ offices facing one another near the center of the hallway. Professor Wilson’s door bore a name plate and a single sheet of paper listing office hours and contact information. Professor Harding’s was a more colorful jumble of flyers advertising different campus events and causes.
A quick search yielded a chair in one of the empty classrooms. With the added height, Veronica positioned a tiny camera in place on the sill above Harding’s door aimed to record access to Wilson’s office. That should answer Wilson’s question soon enough. She stepped down and dusted off her hands with satisfaction.
She returned the chair to the classroom and sat for a minute in the quiet of the now darkened building. It was only a little after nine, but the prospect of going back to the cook-out and hanging with Katy and the Hearst ballers wasn’t exactly enticing. And she had been out until 3 a.m. on last night’s stake-out.
She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to Wallace to let him know she wasn’t coming back, then checked the rest of her messages. One from her dad, asking how things were going. Nothing from Logan.
Her finger hovered for a moment over the key to dial his number before she pulled back and returned her phone to her bag. She’d call him tomorrow. She headed back down the stairs and exited the rear door to Davies Hall. One lumpy mattress, coming right up.
“Good morning and welcome to out first official orientation meeting for Hello Hearst!”
Veronica sucked down another sip of her coffee, hoping it would somehow neutralize the chipper orientation counselor who was trying to give Katy a run for her money in the who can annoy Veronica most this weekend event.
“We’re so happy that some of you could join us last night for the Hearst meet and greet cook-out, but for those who arrived this morning, you haven’t missed a thing, ‘cause we’re just getting started. I’m Jessica, and this is my co-counselor, Nick,” she introduced, as the two stood in the center of the room, dressed identically in khaki shorts and white polo shirts embroidered with the Hearst seal.
“You’re got to be kidding me,” muttered Veronica as Katy leaned over and whispered, “Wow, that is so cool. Don’t you think they kind of look like Nick and Jess? I was totally bummed that they split up. You think they’re a couple?”
She was saved by a response by Nick’s direction that they should all form a big circle and get ready for introductions.
“Since we’re all starting off new to each, Jess and I wanted to play a little icebreaker game to help you get to know each other. So we’re going to all introduce ourselves by letting everyone know a little something about who we are.” He smiled broadly, “So tell us your name and an adjective that describes who you are. Okay? I’ll start.”
He gave the group a big wave. “I’m Nosedive Nick, because I love to sky dive.”
Jess popped up beside him. “And I’m Jazzy Jessica, because I love to dance and I’m on the Hearst Highkickers, the official dance team.”
Veronica rubbed her head. Could Wallace not have warned her about these little games so she could skip out? No wait, he was to busy hanging out with his basketball pals. She vaguely listened as she contemplated how Vicious Veronica would go over with the group, though it was a pretty good description for her current mood.
She realized the group was all staring expectantly at her and she took a last swallow of her coffee and played along with a small wave, “Hi, I’m Visual Veronica, because my hobby is photography.”
“That’s great, Veronica,” Jazzy Jess concluded with a clap of her hands. “Well now that we all know each other, we’re going to take a campus tour so that you’ll be all ready for this afternoon’s scavenger hunt!”
“Isn’t this awesome, Ronnie? You don’t mind if I call you Ronnie, do you?” Katy asked as she hooked her arm though Veronica’s. “I can’t wait to start this fall.”
“So very awesome, indeed,” Veronica sighed and trailed along behind the Nick and Jess show. “I can hardly wait.”
Veronica relaxed gratefully into the chair in Davies Hall, thankful that Katy’s scheduled class had taken her elsewhere for the hour. She’d stuck closer than a burr since this morning’s tour, through the appointments to get their campus identification cards, and the fun game designed to show how quickly STDs could spread around the campus.
Hey Nick and Jess? Want to see how fast I can get chlamydia from the mayor of Neptune? No? Me neither.
She closed her notebook as Professor Harding ended the lecture on recent developments in psychology and moved her way towards the front of the class where a few other students had gathered under the apparent theory it was never to early to brownnose.
The lecture had been one of the orientation’s high points so far. Harding looked like the prototype of the absent-minded professor, glasses perched haphazardly on her graying hair as she repeatedly patted her pockets throughout the hour for the chalk she’d just laid down moments before. But she had a passion for her subject that made the time fly. Veronica hoped Wilson was wrong in his suspicions; she’d really like to take her class.
She waited patiently until the room cleared and stepped forward as the professor shuffled her lecture notes back into a folder. Time to put phase two of the investigation in place, since last night’s video feed had shown nothing. “Professor Harding? Hi, how are you? I’m Veronica.”
Nora Harding turned around and pulled her glasses down as she peered at the nametag they were all stuck with for the duration of orientation. “Hello . . . Veronica.”
“Right, Veronica. As you can see, obviously. It’s always so weird when you have a nametag and then everybody knows your name.” She giggled. “I’m sorry, I’m totally babbling, but it’s just, wow, it’s just so cool to get to meet you. I read your study on the causes of teen depression for a paper I did in my AP Psych class and it just inspired me to really pursue my dream of becoming a psychologist.”
Professor Harding smiled. “Well, thank you, Veronica, I certainly appreciate that.” She started to move towards the door, lecture notes and materials now in hand.
Veronica kept pace and followed behind her. “I know you must be like, super busy, and I don’t want to bother you, but I was hoping you might could give me some advice about classes to take, and things like that. I know I’m just going to be a freshman, but I really want to get off on the right foot.”
Harding glanced at her watch. “Well, I have a meeting with a colleague in a few minutes, but why don’t you come on up to my office and we can talk for a bit? Are you primarily interested in adolescent psychology?”
Veronica gave a small shrug. “I’m not sure yet. It seems like there’s a lot to study in that area.”
“There certainly is. Many developmental psychologists have focused on the earliest years, which are, of course, critical. But I believe that by creating an extended adolescence in our society, the social and developmental changes of that time period are becoming increasingly important for long-term mental health.” Professor Harding groaned as she unlocked her door. “I’m sorry, dear, you’ve gotten me on one of my pet topics. I’ll rattle on for hours and bore you to death. Come on in and I’ll see if I can give you some more practical advice on classes you might want to take next year.”
Veronica glanced across the doorway to the closed door of Professor Wilson’s office and followed Harding inside. She sat down her bag and scanned the room for somewhere to plant another bug. The desk was overflowing with papers stacked haphazardly in piles, and more boxes sat around the room. One wall housed a floor to ceiling book shelf packed with reference materials and texts. Given the dust that lingered, many of them hadn’t been touched in years.
Professor Harding noticed her attention and laughed. “Ah yes, as you can see, I’m what Freud would call anal expulsive. But, I can usually find things when I want to, and I know I have a sheet of the department classes offered next year somewhere . . .” she trailed off as she began to rifle through a filing cabinet.
Veronica slipped the bug from her pocket and wandered over to the book shelf, pretending interest as she slipped past the titles and secured the bug in the corner of one of the shelves where it was virtually unnoticeable. Satisfied, she turned around just as Professor Harding produced a wrinkled sheet of paper from the file.
“Here it is. Now, if you are interested in adolescent psychology, I would recommend this class.” Veronica nodded and listened as the Professor made notes and outlined several options on courses. She pointed to a class description halfway down the page that listed Wilson as the instructor.
“What about this class with Professor Wilson? Is he a good instructor?”
“He’s a very bright young member of our faculty, and not hard on the eyes either,” Harding winked. “But you’d have to have these two prerequisites since that’s an upper-level class, so . . .” She glanced down and tapped at her watch before jumping up suddenly. “Oh dear, I’m sorry to have to run like this, but I’m going to be late for my meeting if I don’t dash.”
Veronica stood and accepted the paper with the recommendations. “Not at all, and thank you again for taking the time. I really appreciate it.”
Harding followed Veronica to the door and stepped into the hallway. “Certainly dear, and stop by next semester when you’re here, alright?”
“I will!” Veronica watched as Harding pulled her door shut and bustled down the hallway. Not what she’d expected at all. Harding didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d set out to deliberately sabotage a colleague. Veronica hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. But then again, if there was one thing the detective business taught you, it was to never take anyone at face value.
She headed off for her advisor appointment.
“So are you ready for dinner, roomie?” Katy was bouncing with excitement as she frosted her lips for the fifth time.
“Almost, roomie,” Veronica responded brightly. “Just need to slit my wrists,” she muttered under her breath.
“So I heard Wallace mention that he’d be at dinner tonight. He’s such a cutie. Are you sure you guys never hooked up?” Katy asked as they walked into the dining hall.
“No, but our parents did. So Wallace decided it would be too incestuous and resisted my advances,” Veronica replied.
“Oh.” Katy looked slightly confused. “Huh, that would be weird. Well, do you think he might be interested?” she bounced back quickly.
“Interested?” Veronica asked.
“In me. Or maybe one of his friends? I mean, I do plan on trying out for the cheerleading squad, so it just makes sense to date one of the basketball players, right?”
“Sounds perfectly logical to me.” Veronica waved at Wallace from across the cafeteria and negotiated through the crowded tables. She pulled him to the side, “Katy’s got the hots for you. And/or one of your teammates. She’s easy like that.”
Wallace smirked. “Told you this would get me some lovin’.” He pointed to his practice jersey. “Women can’t resist a man in uniform.”
“Whatever, Kobe. Just, you know, distract her with your manliness of something and let me catch my breath.” Veronica placed her tray on the table and watched as Katy happily settled between two of Wallace’s teammates.
“So what’s up for tonight?” Wallace asked.
Veronica shrugged, “I need to do a little investigating, but otherwise, I’m free. You think you can work me into your dance card, Fennell?”
“You’re already working a case here? Girl, you move fast.”
She waved a hand. “Total coincidence. Nothing big. Now tell me what’s the haps for tonight?”
“There’s a band on the lawn at Whitmore and the whole dorm will be partying. They do it for every orientation weekend.”
“Well, sign me up,” Veronica replied. “I just need to go do that thing. Can you do me a favor and keep Katy dear over there occupied for a while?”
“No problem. That’s the kind of favor I don’t mind.”
Veronica slipped out of Davies Hall a few hours later and pulled out her cell phone. She hit the button and waited as a muffled voice answered the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey, dad.”
“How’s my favorite college girl?”
“I am now fully oriented to the cornerstones of a solid Hearst education,” Veronica intoned. “Though I still have another day to go, so I maybe re-oriented before it’s all over. Are you at the Seventh Veil?”
His voice grew more distinct. “I just stepped outside. I think Mr. Jenkins may have already moved on to Lolly from Coco.”
“Do I even want to know where that name comes from?” Veronica shuddered.
“We’ll just say she works it into her stage act and leave it at that. How’s your case coming?”
“That’s actually why I called, to give you an update about Harding.”
“Find anything?” he asked.
“I just spent an hour going through her office and so far, nothing. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack though; her office is a wreck, piles of paper everywhere. And I thought your filing system was bad.”
“Very funny.”
“I thought so,” she replied. “No, I talked with her after the scheduled lecture, asked her for advice on classes - she was really helpful. I even asked her about Wilson, and she didn’t say anything negative, called him a bright young man.” She shifted the phone to the other side as she fumbled to find her keys in her bag. “I’m going to check the camera bug later and see if there’s any video that will shed some light. I’ll call you if I get a lead.”
“You do that. And don’t forget to try to have some fun too, Veronica.”
“I’m already down for the limbo and a hall crawl on the fifth floor tonight. Talk with you later, Dad.”
“Veronica!” She heard a voice yell from the steps and she smiled as Wallace jumped from the stairs.
“Girl, you have got to stop disappearing like that. You’re supposed to be here, getting jiggy with it.” He pulled her in a quick twirl.
“Fennel, I do believe you’ve had one too many if you’re quoting me the immortal Will Smith,” Veronica laughed as she complied with his dance moves.
“You wanna come with? We’re going to Time-Out right off campus. Best greasy spoon open late that you can walk to.”
“Now that is a ringing endorsement.” Veronica shrugged as she glanced around at the crowd of freshman shimmying to the cover band. “You know, I’m kind of beat though. Mind if I take a rain check for this fall?” She gestured over his shoulder, “You and Katy have fun there, though.”
She gave a quick wave as Katy made a flying leap at Wallace and enveloped him, and made her way up the stairs towards her room on the nearly deserted hallway, still preoccupied with the lack of progress on the case. Maybe the video footage would shed some light, but so far everything seemed to point to Wilson being overly paranoid.
She opened the lock on her door and fumbled for the light switch just as a muffled umph sounded from the open window. She grabbed her tazer from her bag and fired it up as she found the switch and flooded the room with light, revealing Logan Echolls sprawled across her floor.
“Logan? What are you doing? This is the second floor!”
He shrugged. “Told you I’d come by. Besides, dangerous townies don’t use the front door.”
She rolled her eyes as she helped him up to sit on the bed, gingerly flexing one banged-up knee.
“Do I even want to know how you found out my room number?” She caught his smirk and shook her head. “Never mind. Don’t tell me.”
“What? Jealous someone else has detective skills, Mars?” he asked, pulling her down onto his lap.
“Nope.” She sighed and relaxed against him. She’d felt so disconnected all day, almost on information overload and it was nice to push it aside for the familiar feeling of his heart beating against her cheek. “You okay?”
“I am now,” he replied. “Veronica? About yesterday at lunch? I’m sorry I left that way.”
“Let’s not worry about it, Logan. You’re here now. I missed you.” She leaned up to kiss him and felt his resistance melt away as she pushed him further back on the bed.
“I missed you too,” he murmured against her lips. She gave him a final smooch and jumped up, heading for the door.
“Hey,” Logan sat back up. “Where are you going?”
Veronica turned the door lock and flipped off the light switch. “I think this straight A honors student needs some lessons from the bad boy townie.”
Logan’s persuasive tutelage caused Veronica to lose track of time until the jarring sound of a key in the door lock sent them both scrambling for clothes that had been discarded over the course of their make-out session. Veronica had just managed to get her bra fastened and grab Logan’s shirt when the light clicked on, leaving Logan sitting shirtless behind her.
“Damn, Ronnie finds the hottest guys!” Katy giggled as she ogled Logan’s chest.
Wallace stopped dead behind her and covered his eyes. “Gah! I did not need to see that, Mars.”
“Looking good, Veronica,” called one of the guys from the group behind Wallace.
Veronica buried her head in the shirt as Wallace pulled Katy back and the door shut as abruptly as it had opened, with a quick yell for them to put some clothes on. Logan was shaking with laughter behind her.
She turned and threw his shirt at him as she struggled back into hers. “Oh, yeah, like that’s funny, Logan. I was sort of hoping to start over here without the reputation of the town tramp.”
He caught her arms and stilled her movements. “Veronica? Stop it. Nobody’s going to think you’re the town tramp for making out with your boyfriend.” He pulled her to her feet as Wallace’s voice sounded through the door. “Are you decent yet?”
“Come in,” Veronica replied. She grabbed her messenger bag and Logan’s hand. “Sorry about that,” she announced as Katy and the others filed back in. “We’ve got to go out for a while. See ya.”
She drug Logan past the group and down the rear stairs. “Where are we going, Veronica?” he asked.
She ran her hand through her hair, trying to straighten it. “You need to go home, Logan, it’s late. And I need to check something for a case.”
He kept pace with her and steered her in the direction of the parking lot and his SUV. “So I’ll help.”
“Logan . . .”
He opened the door. “Just get in.”
She slid into the seat and pulled her laptop out of her bag, booting it up as he closed the door on the driver’s side. “So what are we looking for?”
She yawned. “I just need to check some surveillance feeds, but I didn’t want to do it with an audience.” She began to run the footage that showed Wilson leaving the building for the day, then Harding coming out of her office into the hallway a few minutes later. She fast forwarded as the hallway remained mostly deserted until around 11:00 p.m, illuminated only by safety lights that cast an eerie glow over the hallway.
Logan leaned over, “Who’s that?”
“That’s Professor Harding,” Veronica replied. “And Wilson was right, she is breaking into his office.”
The image showed Harding looking back and forth down the hallway, then using a key, quietly easing Wilson’s door open. A few minutes later she came back out carrying a paper file box and passed under the camera.
“She must have taken it into her office,” Veronica said. The hallway remained clear for another thirty minutes as Veronica again scanned the video. Harding reappeared at nearly a quarter to twelve and locked Wilson’s door back before disappearing down the hallway carrying a single file folder.
“She must have left it in her office!” Veronica exclaimed. “Logan, I need to go back over there.”
He shrugged. “Okay. Can I even ask what’s going on?”
“This guy thinks someone’s trying to steal some research. I’m just investigating.”
“And breaking into professors’ offices?” Logan laughed. “I don’t know, Veronica, I might be a little more worried about that reputation than tarnishing your good name with me.”
“Just drive,” she responded.
The parking lot behind Davies was deserted and Veronica used her new campus card to access the building. They climbed the stairs quietly and Logan held the flashlight as Veronica quickly picked the lock.
The disarray was still evident, but the box was nowhere to be found until Veronica glanced beneath the desk. Tucked under the far corner sat a file box labeled Greater Neptune Psychological Assessment of Females Ages 12-15. Box 15 - East Neptune Middle School - Wilson.
“That what you’re looking for?” Logan whispered.
Veronica nodded as she slid out the box and pulled open the cover. She lifted a few files out and flipped through them. Each folder was labeled with a girl’s name and pertinent biographical information, followed by page after page of notes detailing answers to questionnaires and behavioral observations.
She slid the folders back in place and flipped casually through until a name caught her eye. Marisol Reyes.
She pulled the file, motioning for Logan to hold the flashlight closer. “That’s the girl, the one who turned up dead?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Veronica replied as she scanned the pages. A single page was attached to the back of the folder indicating that the subject had been the victim of a murder after being kidnapped. She flipped through the files again, noting the number of Hispanic names. She glanced at the cover of the box again. East Neptune Middle School. The middle school for the ’02 zip code, the one Weevil’s neighborhood attended. The one all of the missing girls had gone to.
She dove back into the box. There it was. A file on Rosa Ramirez. She rifled further. And one on Tracy Gonzales. She pulled them out. “Logan, I’ve got to photocopy these.”
“You sure?”
She nodded. “They’re files on the girls who went missing. There could be something in here that could help find Rosa.”
“Let’s find a copier.”
Veronica grabbed the box and Logan pulled Professor Harding’s door shut as they headed back into the darkened hallway. “I think there was a copy machine on the next floor,” she whispered.
The machine stood in the corner by the stairwell, the blinking coin feeder a silent sentinel to its side. “You have change?” Logan asked.
Veronica pawed through her bag. “No. You?”
“There’s some in the Xterra. Give me your card and wait here.”
Veronica rifled through the box as she waited for Logan to return. Wilson must have interviewed all the girls in that grade for his study. There had to be some connection.
Fifteen minutes later they’d copied the relevant files and Veronica was sliding them back into the box in Harding’s office when a muffled noise at the end of the hallway caused them both to freeze.
“Wait here,” she mouthed as she slipped over to the door and listened to footsteps echo in the hallway, then die away again. She gave a quick nod and slowly slid open the door as Logan followed behind.
They made their way down the rear stairs without detection and slipped out into the night.
“So you got what you need?” he asked.
She nodded. “Thanks, Logan, for tonight.”
“Anytime, Veronica.” He pulled her close and whispered, “Want to ditch this scene and come home with me? I’ve got a lot of empty room in my bed. Maybe you could teach me some lessons?”
She wavered for just a moment, before she shook her head. “I’d better go back, Logan, there’s stuff in the morning and . . .”
“Yeah, I know.” He was quiet as he released her with a kiss to her hair and circled to the driver’s side. “There always is.”
“Hey, dad,” Veronica said, her voice low as she sat on the fire escape outside her window.
“You alright?” Keith asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a late night,” she replied.
“Too much limbo?”
Veronica chuckled, “I’m not that flexible. No, Harding broke in and removed a box from Wilson’s office last night. We’ve got video.”
“Great, that was fast work.”
“Yeah, I just set the bugs and . . .” Veronica trailed off. “Dad, I forgot to get the bug in her office. I’ll go back this morning, no one will be there.”
“Be careful, Veronica. Are you sure everything’s okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she assured him. “Just not enough sleep last night. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
Veronica slid back through the window and pulled out her schedule. Breakfast, something about the athletic boosters Wallace was insisting she go to, an interest session for the campus newspaper, and then she could pronounce herself officially prepared to be a freshman at Hearst. She glanced at her phone and noticed a text from Wallace asking her to meet him for lunch before she left. She sent a quick affirmative back and grabbed for her shower supplies. If she hurried, she could swing by Davies and get the bug she’d forgotten before breakfast.
Before she could slip out the door to the shower, Katy rolled over and sat up. “Ronnie? Why didn’t you tell me you were dating such a hot guy?”
Veronica turned. “Oh, it just didn’t come up.”
“I’m so sorry about walking in on you,” Katy giggled. “We should have had a code.”
Veronica sighed. “Everybody wants a code. It’s not a problem, Katy. I’m just going to take a shower.”
“Oh, I’ll come with.” Katy bounced out of bed and grabbed her bag, padding after her down the hallway. “Veronica, you are just the coolest - hot boyfriend, friends with the basketball team. We should totally be roommates this fall. And is he really Aaron Echoll’s son? That was so tragic the way he died . . .”
Veronica groaned as the shower finally drowned out the sound of Katy’s voice.
With a hearty send-off from Nick and Jessica, the last meeting ended and they checked out of the dorm. Katy bounced off to join her waiting parents after insisting that they exchange emails and numbers so they could find each other in the fall. Veronica slung her bag back in the trunk and glanced at her phone. She still had time to go get the bug before she met Wallace for lunch.
She headed back to Davies and circled to the rear entrance where two cars sat parked. Entering, she eased up the steps to the third floor, where she could hear angry voices muffled by the door of Harding’s office.
She ducked back down a flight of stars and found the ladies room, locking herself in a stall. She turned on her laptop and found the frequency for the bug in Harding’s office to listen in.
“I can’t believe you did this Nora. Breaking into my office!” Wilson’s voice trembled with suppressed rage. “Are you that threatened by me?”
She laughed. “And I can’t believe you were foolish enough to hire a private investigator. You foolish man, don’t you know what you’re risking when you get some damn P.I. sticking their nose in here?” Harding paused. “I gave you the benefit of the doubt last spring. Your father might have the money to make Serafina Guerrero disappear, but if word gets out about you and that girl, one of the children in your study,” she spat, “you’ll going to hurt this entire department and I won’t let that happen.”
“They couldn’t prove anything, and neither can you,” he hissed.
Harding’s voice grew louder, “Then what are these?” There was a rustling sound of papers being shuffled, before she spoke again. “Photographs. Letters. She might have been quite the little Lolita to your Humbert, but she was fourteen, Tyler. Fourteen! What you did was illegal and unethical.”
There was silence for a moment. “The problem is gone. She won’t testify. Her family won’t press charges,” he muttered.
Harding laughed. “I know that, I helped your father work out the details. But what I’m concerned about are these new letters, the ones you’ve been getting from her and hiding in your case files? Not very clever, dear boy. Your research assistant came to me and told me he’d seen them.”
“That little . . .” Wilson exploded before Harding cut him off, her voice hard.
“Don’t even think about firing him. Now listen to me, and listen well. I’ve known your family for years and I helped bring you to Hearst. You have a bright future, Ty. You made a mistake. I sincerely hope it was your only one. Put it in the past and leave it there. Because next time, this won’t be swept under the rug. Now take your files and leave.”
Veronica sat stunned as the speakers relayed the sound of a closing door and the click of a lock. She waited several more minutes before slipping up the stairs to find the deserted hallway. She quickly worked the lock opened and retrieved the listening device, then made her way downstairs to the now empty parking lot with more questions than she had answers for.
She walked slowly across the campus in the bright sunlight trying to process what she’d just heard when Wallace called her name from across the quad and bounded across to join her.
“Hey deep thinker. You don’t have to get that serious for a few more months.” He stopped and gave her a closer look. “Something wrong?”
She shook her head. “Just that case I was working on. Took a turn I didn’t expect.” She pushed her thoughts aside and glanced around. “What? Do I get just Wallace? No posse?”
“Just me,” he replied. “Listen, Veronica, I’m sorry. I know I said we’d hang out, and we didn’t really get a chance too, and that’s partly my fault.”
“It’s okay.” She mock-slugged him on his shoulder. “As long as you’re still my BFF.”
Wallace nodded. “I am.” He slung an arm around her shoulder as they started across campus. “So how did you like it? You have a good time? Aside from Echolls last night, which I am officially blocking.”
She shrugged. “It was fine.”
He stopped and faced her. “You’re not going to try, are you?”
“What are you talking about, Wallace?”
“Hearst. You’ve already written it off, haven’t you? Veronica, I know it's not your dream school, but it can be good if you give it a chance.”
“Wallace, it’s still Neptune,” she replied.
“Yeah, but it’s not Neptune High. You still get to start over here. Be the new and improved V.Mars. Or stay the same old Veronica I know and love. But you’ve got to give people a chance. Don’t assume they’re gonna hate you. You might just be surprised how much you like it.” He gave her a grin. “After all, you do already know the basketball payers, so instant cool points.”
Veronica smiled, “Wallace, thank you. I had almost forgotten why I cut you down from that flag pole.”
“Hey, ixnay on the flagpole story okay. We’ve all got new reps to make.”
“But it’s such a good story,” she laughed as they headed towards the cafeteria.
Veronica rolled down the window and turned up the radio as the LeBaron chewed up the miles along the interstate towards home. Wallace was right. She had been fighting the idea of Hearst because of what had happened in the past, and because it wasn’t Stanford. She needed to give it a chance. Even Katy hadn’t been that bad, though Wallace didn’t have any serious competition for best friend status from her.
And she really needed to give Logan more time too. She pulled her phone out and hit the automatic dial. “Dad? Hey, I’ve got some things to talk over with you about the Wilson case, but I need to stop by Logan’s for a few minutes. Are you going home?"
“Yeah, I’m heading out in about a half hour. Don’t be too late.”
“I won’t be. See you soon, Dad.”
Keith hung up the phone and stared at the file in front of him. He wasn’t getting anywhere on this, he might as well go on home. Veronica had sounded upbeat and he was looking forward to talking about her weekend. He could pick up some takeout, kick back, and try to stop thinking about the files with his ex -wife’s name all over them that he found in his former partner’s hands.
He made the trip in record time to the apartment, and had just settled in front of the television with a cold beer and a plate of burritos when the door bell rang. Sighing, he sat the plate on top of the television and headed for the door.
“Did you forget your key, Ver . . .” He stopped dead at he stared at the woman standing in the doorway.
“Lianne.”
To Be Continued
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