FIC: YLD2 (122-130/151) (NC-17)

[vanessagalore]

Previously on The Year of Living Dangerously Part II [Spoilers for chapters 1-121] (for those of you who didn't take notes)

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VERONICA MARS
10:00PM SHO ch: 340 60min 2009 TV-MA
Remembrance of Things Past
Logan tells Veronica about Shelly Pomroy's
party.
Veronica: Kristen Bell. Logan: Jason Dohring.
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CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-TWO: "REMEMBRANCE OF THINGS PAST"

Fri. 3/20/09 very late: Logan's House, Venice Beach, CA

"Veronica, what do you want me to do?" Logan asks helplessly.

She exhales loudly. "Logan."

"What?" he replies, stroking the hair from her forehead and kissing the tip of her nose.

"I need you to tell me everything you remember from the night of Shelly Pomroy's party. Everything, Logan. I don't care how bad it was. I need to know. I can't not know anymore."

Land mine, he thinks. Hesitantly, he replies, "Veronica. Please...don't make me." He rolls away and looks at the ceiling. "The last time you questioned me...you know, 'seeing each other, warts and all'...don't you remember? You couldn't take it, you couldn't forgive me."

"I did forgive you."

"Eighteen months later. And...." he swallows. "It wasn't even...I know I shouldn't have but...we weren't even...."

"I know, we weren't even together, and I held you to an impossible standard," Veronica mumbles.

"You say that now, but I remember what you were like. I can't lose you again," he says desperately. "I won't survive."

They lie in silence, and then he hears her crying again.

She sobs, "I don't know what else to do, Logan. In my nightmare, it was Klein's trial, and they had everyone from Shelly's party testifying that I was a slut and I wasn't really raped. And I knew I couldn't defend myself because I can't remember what happened."

He turns back to her and folds her into his arms again. She trembles against him as he murmurs, "You weren't a slut, Veronica. We treated you like one, but you didn't do anything wrong."

"Then tell me what happened. I promise...I promise I'll forgive you, whatever it was," she offers. "I know Klein is going to use my rape against me to try to discredit me in the lawsuit. ...Logan, I'm so afraid."

Logan is shaken to the core. God...Veronica's afraid. I've never heard her say that...Veronica's AFRAID.

She says tremulously, "I thought I was...over my rape. I thought I was okay. But I'm not okay. I don't know what to do, Logan. Please. Tell me what you remember, maybe I'll...maybe I'll remember what I remembered at Briar Hill. I promise...we'll deal with it together. I won't run away, I'll talk with you about it, like I should have done after you told me about Madison. Please, Logan."

He stares at her wordlessly.

"Say something, Logan."

"I'm just wondering if this is the last time you'll let me hold you," he replies in a desolate voice. Logan touches her cheek, so gently that his fingertips just barely brush her skin, and she feels his longing and his fear deep inside her core.

She closes her eyes and tries to focus on that whispery touch. "Logan, I'm sorry...I'm sorry that I need this," she weeps. "I wish we could just forget it too."

He takes a breath and begins.

"I got to the party about nine o'clock. The first person I saw was Duncan. He was with Lilly's friend, Amanda. She was all over him, but Duncan wasn't into her. You remember, he was still acting like a ghost, hardly talking. When Amanda went to the bathroom, I told him he should loosen up and get laid. He told me to shut the fuck up and walked away."

Logan plays with his hair nervously. "I started drinking. I think we were doing jello shots; then I probably had four tequila shooters in about twenty minutes, and the world was nice and fuzzy, just the way I liked it that year."

He pauses, trying to remember. "I think Dick was trying to get Madison to go off to one of the bedrooms with him. He brought her a drink, and she made a face and blew him off."

"She was on Atkins," Veronica muses. "She told Dick it would be like drinking lard."

Logan nods. "Right, I remember Lilly was doing that diet too for a while. But Lilly never turned down a drink. Then Luke and Sean showed up. They were hanging out with Dick and Casey."

"So I still hadn't arrived yet?"

"No. I saw Luke hand something to Dick. I'm guessing it was the GHB."

"Luke told me Dick was going to take one dose and give the other to Madison."

"That sounds right. I wasn't paying that much attention."

"And then I got there. I remember walking in, pushing my way through the crowd."

Logan says quietly, "We were making fun of you. Your dad had just lost the recall election. Everyone was saying that the Mars family should just leave town." He hesitates, then amends, "I was saying that the Mars family should just leave town. I thought your dad had leaked the crime scene video to make Jake Kane and Duncan look guilty."

"Dad didn't do that."

"I know," he agrees softly.

"I think it was Lamb who leaked the tape. Then one of his buddies in the Town Supervisor's office pushed for the recall election, and Lamb got appointed sheriff." She exhales. "So you were making fun of me. That means you were watching me."

He nods.

"So what happened after that?" she presses.

"You got a drink, and then you were just standing at the bar drinking it. No one was talking to you; a couple people moved away. You drank the drink fast—you know, you were nervous, you just kept sipping it."

"I remember that. I tried to talk to Carrie Bishop, and she just walked away. I was wishing I hadn't come to the party, but I wasn't going to just leave even though you were all being such assholes."

Logan says, "Then Dick came over and started talking to me, and I didn't see where you went."

"I think that's when I went out to the pool. I remember just feeling really sick all of a sudden and wanting to get some air. I was having such a hard time walking."

They stare at each other in silence. Veronica finally says, "Then you found me by the pool."

"It must have been about half an hour later. Tad had come inside and asked me if I would sell him some of the GHB. I guess Sean told him I had some. So we went outside, he gave me the money, and I gave him one dose. He said he was going to split it with Carmen."

"You know that he took a video of her pretending to give a blowjob to a popsicle that night."

"I know. Veronica, I'm so sorry, we were such a bunch of jackasses that night."

"Yeah, you were," she replies. "You found me by the pool," she prompts again. "Just...tell me."

FLASHBACK: Out by the pool, Logan puts the money from Tad into his pocket and is about to head back into the party. On the far side of the pool, well away from the groups of kids chatting and drinking, he sees a familiar girl in a white dress on a lounge chair.

He walks over, incredulous. In a snide tone, he remarks loudly, "Oh, this is fucking great. Veronica Mars, drunk off her ass. You must have started before you got here. Come on, Ronnie, let's have another one." He withdraws a flask from his pocket and uncaps it; he holds it to her mouth. "It's the primo stuff, Ronnie, Don Felipe, 100% agave, from my dad's stash. Not that rotgut your mom drinks."

Veronica weakly pushes the flask away, almost spilling it.

"Whoa, Ronnie, this is expensive stuff, watch what you're doing." Logan takes a long pull off the flask. "Okay, stick to the rotgut, I don't give a shit." He pulls out his phone. "Let's take a picture to send to your daddy."

Veronica mumbles, "No...no. Logan...."

"Oh, she begs...she pleads. Maybe you should have thought of that before you took your dad's side, bitch." Logan takes a picture and examines the result. "Fuck, you can't see it, it's too dark."

Dick and Sean amble over and stare at Veronica curiously. Dick says, "What the fuck, Logan?"

"Ronnie's in the mood to party tonight," Logan replies. "I think she's trying to change her image. She's up for anything." He reaches down and strokes her leg, and Veronica pulls away from his hand as Logan laughs hysterically.

"She's not completely repulsive," Sean notes. "I'd hit that."

"You'd hit Mrs. Murphy, you're so desperate," Logan comments. "Try to have some standards, Sean."

Sean snorts. "Fuck standards. And from what I've heard, Ronnie'll do anything."

Dick says with superiority, "Aren't only virgins allowed to wear white dresses? Who does she think she's kidding?"

"I know, right?" Logan chortles.

Veronica moans a little, and Sean bends down to her. "What's that you say, Ronnie? You'll take us all on?"

The boys whoop in response. Logan says, "Like mother, like daughter. Ronnie likes 'em big and hard."

"At least that's what it says in the boys' room," Dick adds.

"Because that's what you wrote," Logan points out.

"I have a duty to inform the public of Ms. Mars' moral decay. Dootie," Dick smirks as Logan and Sean bust up laughing. "What's your favorite position, Ronnie? Grabbing your ankles?"

"Hey, Mars, is it true that Duncan likes it freaky?" Sean chimes in.

Veronica struggles to sit up, and Logan pushes her back to the lounge. "Easy, Ronnie. We're going to have a little party." He turns to the others and says, "You remember that hooker last week in Tijuana?"

"Body shots," Dick says, nodding. He pumps his fist, "Yes!"

"Yeah. See if you can get some more tequila, I don't think this is going to be enough." Logan shakes the flask theatrically.

"I'll get the salt and the limes," Sean suggests. He and Dick disappear to find supplies.

Logan leans down and says in Veronica's ear, "You don't mind if we have a little fun, do you, Ronnie? Sweet little Veronica Mars, who knew? You were probably stepping out on Duncan the whole time, you bitch." Logan notices that a few people have gathered around, murmuring. He waggles his fingers and announces, "Show starts in five minutes, people. Veronica Mars is practicing for her new career at the Seventh Veil."

"You were so out of it. You were conscious, but you couldn't really talk." He closes his eyes, remembering. "I put my hand on your leg, and you sort of tried to pull away. But you couldn't, and I laughed at you. I was so mad at you, mad at everyone...my dad was on the rampage at home, and Lilly was gone and Duncan was a zombie.... You were an easy target for all the hate I had. Dick came over and asked what I was doing—I guess Madison had completely blown him off by that point. I told him that you had said you were up for anything. We started making fun of you; we said that only virgins were allowed to wear white dresses. Someone asked you what your favorite position was, and was it true that Duncan liked it freaky."

Veronica frowns. "I...I don't remember that...I think I remember pushing your hand away—well, trying to, at least. Then there were a lot of people around. I thought...I remember thinking I was glad because people had stopped shunning me."

"People were wondering what was going on, and they gathered around." He swallows. "I might have called people over...I don't remember. I was really fucked up that night, Veronica. Then Dick started tickling you, and you were giggling. You couldn't get away, and we thought it was hysterical. God, Veronica...I wish I could take everything back."

Veronica asks, "So the salt lick was your idea?"

He nods. "I said we ought to do a salt lick like we saw in Tijuana the week before. It was a hooker in one of those bars on Avenida Révolución: you paid five dollars and got a shot and a lick."

Veronica shudders. "Ugh. You were licking a prostitute in Tijuana?"

"We just watched; it was a really disgusting bar." Suddenly, he bursts out, "Veronica, I can't do this. I can't tell you these things...I've tried to blot the whole night out, I've wanted to erase it from my memory for so long. I'm so sorry about everything."

"You haven't told me anything I didn't already know. You just added a few colorful details," she replies, her eyes unfocused and her face blank.

"Are you...are you remembering something new?" he asks nervously.

"No...not really. I sort of remember the salt lick. I remember you guys all around me laughing; I remember feeling sticky and the smell of tequila. I've never been able to smell tequila since then without feeling nauseous. I remember laughing because you were tickling me...it felt good to laugh, I don't think I'd laughed since Lilly died. I remember thinking that maybe you guys didn't hate me anymore. You were talking to me, hanging out with me...I guess I thought maybe you were going to be my friend again. I missed you so much, Logan. I lost you and Duncan too when Lilly died. My mom was being my mom...Dad was...he was barely talking, he was so upset about everything. I was so alone."

Logan rolls over and sits up on the edge of the bed. He drops his face into his hands and weeps. Veronica struggles to sit up and hitches herself over to him. She leans against his back. "Logan, I forgave you for the salt lick a long time ago. I don't even care about you giving Duncan the GHB."

He scoffs, "You should care. He was trying to save you from me. He was the hero, I was the villain."

FLASHBACK: Duncan, trying to escape the persistent Amanda who has licked his neck one too many times, wanders out to the pool and sees the crowd around the lounge chair. Curious, he walks over and is appalled to see what's going on. He grabs Logan's arm and yells, "What the hell are you doing? She can barely sit up, you freak!"

Logan laughs scornfully. "Wait dude, you can't be the cavalry and a martyr, man. Pick a side."

Angrily, Duncan retorts, "Leave her alone." He bends over and tries to get Veronica to sit up. She shakes her head, barely cognizant of her surroundings, as Duncan takes a napkin and tries to wipe the salt, sticky from saliva, from her chest and arms. He pulls her up onto her feet; Veronica is unsteady but stays standing.

Logan stares at Duncan for moment; he turns a little to conceal what he's doing as he opens a vial of GHB and pours it in a drink. Faux-apologetic, he taps Duncan on the shoulder and says, "Hey, I'm sorry, dude. You know, man, you're, I mean, you're totally right. It's no way to have fun, huh?" He hands Duncan the drink and smiles as Duncan accepts it. "Cheers."

Logan drinks, hoping to get Duncan to join him. Duncan stares back for a moment before drinking. Logan walks away, with a smug smile on his face. Behind them, Veronica, obviously still out of it, staggers away from them into the party.

"I left you there after I dosed Duncan. I...I didn't give a shit what happened to you, and I didn't let Duncan take you away."

"Is that what you think is so unforgivable? That you prevented Duncan from saving me that night?" Veronica asks.

He keeps staring into space. "I didn't just prevent him from saving you. I drugged him so that he raped you."

"It was consensual, Logan. It wasn't rape with Duncan."

He turns around and says intensely, "You say that, but you know it's not true. Neither of you were in a condition to consent to sex. So...it was rape with Duncan too."

"But he couldn't have intended to rape me. You just said yourself, he wasn't in a condition to—"

Angrily, he retorts, "Exactly. So it's the person who drugged him who's responsible. Me."

"Logan...lie back down with me," she begs. "Please."

Reluctantly, he turns around and lies down with her. She touches his face gently. "I believed you when you told me you just wanted to see Duncan having a good time. I was worried about him too. It killed me not to be able to talk to him, to not know what was going on with him after Lilly died. It scared me."

He nods.

She continues, "So you don't know what happened after you gave Duncan the drink with the drugs in it?"

"You disappeared when my back was turned, Veronica. I didn't know where you went. I should have been worried about you; I should have taken care of you, but all I wanted to do was get incredibly fucked up...and then get laid. I didn't want to think about anything that night."

"Did you see me again after that?"

He shakes his head. "The next day, I heard some people talking about you, how you were making out with everyone by the bar. Someone said you were even kissing Shelly."

"I don't remember that at all. Everything after the salt lick is a blur.... When I started asking everyone what happened, I kept expecting to suddenly remember everything about that night. But all I remember are the different stories everyone told me. And the only person whose story I trusted was Meg's...and all she saw was the salt lick."

"I should have taken care of you." He gazes at her with a haunted expression. "I hate that...that I was capable of that, to torture you like that. You didn't do anything to me."

She stares at him, trying to hear the unspoken words. "You're...." You're afraid you're like your father. Veronica whispers, "I don't think you're like your dad, Logan. You regret what you did."

"But...." He stares into space, remembering how easy it had been to hurt her when he was frustrated at Briar Hill, how seductive the rhetoric of the other guards had been. He knows that if they had been there longer, he might have.... No! he swears. I fought it, I'm not like him.

"I'm okay, Logan," she offers. "It was just words...and careless drinking and—" She stops short, suddenly certain that he hasn't told her everything about Shelly's party.

"You're not telling me everything," she guesses. "What are you holding back? What did you see that night that you're not willing to tell me?"

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VERONICA MARS
10:00PM SHO ch: 340 60min 2009 TV-MA
The Truth of the Matter
Weevil questions Oswaldo; Logan reveals
what else happened.
Veronica: Kristen Bell. Logan: Jason Dohring.
Eli: Francis Capra. Oswaldo: Frankie
Rodriguez. Arturo: Mario Ardila, Jr.
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CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-THREE: "THE TRUTH OF THE MATTER"

Fri. 3/20/09 very late: Deserted warehouse, Neptune, CA

"You're really fucking pissing me off," Weevil says to the boy hanging suspended from a hook in front of him. He goes to his bag of tools off to the side and rummages around. He pulls out a pair of channel-lock pliers and says sarcastically, "They taught me a trade up in Chino, you know. I'm a productive member of society now." To the other PCHers, he directs, "Hold him." Weevil walks toward Oswaldo holding the pliers.

"You see these?" Weevil asks. "These are a motherfuckin' great invention. Adjustable pliers." He demonstrates for Oswaldo. "I could make them fit anything."

Weevil remembers one of his cell mates at Chino telling him about working as an enforcer for a loan shark. 'You have to make them think you're crazy. You keep your voice completely rational, and then you say something completely batshit loco. It's the threat of what you're going to do that gets them. I hardly ever had to hurt them. Of course, when I did...' His cell mate had shrugged, with a broad smile that made Weevil's nuts shrivel in response. The man had been absolutely insane; he had never shut up the entire time he was locked up with Weevil.

Weevil says quietly to Arturo, "Take off his shoes and socks."

"What the fuck are you doing?" Oswaldo asks nervously. He struggles ineffectively as Arturo and one of the other PCHers get his shoes and socks off.

"Do you know you don't actually need your pinky toes? If you shoot off your pinky toe, it doesn't even keep you out of the army. I'm just going to take it off for you, get it out of your way," Weevil says calmly. He scrutinizes the pliers ostentatiously and adjusts them to pinky size. "Hold him tight now."

Oswaldo yells, "You're fucking crazy! My cousin's gonna kill you!"

Weevil laughs. "Your cousin? Hector's serving a dime up in Chino. And he's doing exactly what the Mexican Mafia tells him to on the inside. I don't think he's going to be able to help you, Oswaldo. It's too bad you decided to work for Liam. You know Emilio runs la Eme there; he'll probably be surprised to hear you're in with the fucking micks. Might even take it out on Hector." Weevil motions toward Oswaldo's foot; Arturo holds it tightly as Oswaldo kicks against him. Weevil puts the jaws of the pliers around Oswaldo's pinky toe and begins to tighten, slowly.

"Stop...stop," Oswaldo calls out, terrified. Weevil does not remove the pliers, but he stops increasing the pressure. When Oswaldo doesn't volunteer anything, Weevil shrugs and begins to tighten the pliers again. "Stop!...motherfucker, stop, what do you want to know?"

"I want to know why you told the sheriff about Logan Echolls and Kendall Casablancas. Then I want to know what else you do for the fucking Fitzpatricks. And ¿pendejo? Don't keep me hanging." The PCHers laugh at Weevil's joke and yank Oswaldo a little higher on the hook.

Weevil reflects, Fuck, it's the first time I've felt like a man since this motherfucker got me kicked out of the gang. Oswaldo is silent and appears to be considering his words carefully. "I'm waiting," Weevil says harshly.

"Liam told me to tell D'Amato about them."

"Why?" Weevil asks, leaning into Oswaldo's face. The man tries to pull away, and Weevil grabs his jaw. "Why did Liam have you do that?"

"I don't know! He's got a hard-on for Echolls, I think."

"And you always do what Liam says," Weevil comments.

"I know I don't give a shit about that white boy." Oswaldo looks like he has more to say, but he refrains and avoids Weevil's eyes.

"What else?" Weevil asks. "What else are you doing for Liam?"

Oswaldo mutters, "I tell him whenever I hear anything about the PCHers."

The PCHers are muttering angrily and glaring at Oswaldo. "Why the fuck would you do that?" Weevil says scornfully. "Go against your brothers? Be a fucking leva?"

Oswaldo stares back resentfully. Finally, he spits, "Because you turned the PCHers into a bunch of pussies. It's fucking embarrassing, but the Fitzpatricks have more cojones than you do, Navarro."

Arturo breathes in with a hiss; he pushes Weevil aside and kicks Oswaldo viciously in the crotch. "How do those cojones feel now, malinchista?" He pulls his fist back, ready to strike Oswaldo in the face.

Weevil grabs Arturo's fist. "Hold up! I'm not done with him." He pulls Arturo aside and says quietly, "Don't worry, I have plans for Oswaldo. But I need some more information from him."

Arturo nods reluctantly. "All right."

Weevil turns back to Oswaldo and pulls out a photograph, putting it front of Oswaldo's face. "Who's this guy?"

"What?"

"Who is this guy? We know he works for the Fitzpatricks," Weevil asks again. He grabs Oswaldo's jaw painfully and forces him to look at the photo. "The name."

"I don't know him," Oswaldo protests.

"Look closer, baboso."

Oswaldo sighs. "I think they call him KC. He's an errand boy."

Weevil asks, "How do I find this KC?"

"How the fuck do I know?" Oswaldo retorts.

Weevil stares at Oswaldo impassively. Finally Oswaldo says nervously, "He's from Neptune...that's all I know."

"He didn't go to Neptune High, fuckhead."

Oswaldo frowns. "I'm pretty sure he's from Neptune. I swear, that's all I know." Slyly, he adds, "Maybe you should ask Liam."

"Oh, you fucker," Weevil replies bitterly. He walks away and thinks. He decides Oswaldo doesn't have anything more useful to add. He beckons to Arturo. "Phase two." He hands Arturo a tourniquet and a syringe; Arturo nods approvingly. Oswaldo sees the devices and begins to struggle and scream.

Weevil walks back to Oswaldo. He motions to one of the PCHers. "Duct tape." He tears off a strip and with difficulty manages to place the tape over Oswaldo's mouth. "I'm not going to kill you, chingador. This is going to be even better. A little poetic justice for Hannah Griffith." Arturo pushes up Oswaldo's sleeve and ties the tourniquet around his arm.

Weevil steps back. He bums another cigarette and watches impassively as the PCHers shoot heroin into Oswaldo's arm. He thinks about that waif-like girl Logan was seeing senior year and imagines one of Liam's flunkies doing this to her as she begged them to stop. Wallace had told Weevil enough about Veronica's theories that he had connected the dots, and they had spelled Fitzpatrick.

Weevil is well-aware that if this fails—if Veronica's theories aren't proven and the Fitzpatricks aren't rounded up and sent to prison—there will be all-out war between the PCHers and the Fitzpatricks. You better be right, chica.

He has a moment of trepidation before he decides, Fuck that. Veronica's right. And...what the fuck. We haven't had a good gang war in years. It'll be good to bust some heads again.

~ • ~

Fri. 3/20/09 very late: Logan's House, Venice Beach, CA

"You're not telling me everything," Veronica guesses. "What are you holding back? What did you see that night that you're not willing to tell me?"

Logan closes his eyes. "It's not what I saw, it's what I did...and it wasn't just that night."

"What?!" she says, beginning to get angry. "What happened, Logan?"

"We set Beaver up. We played a prank on him. A really terrible prank. I never told you...because we thought Duncan was the one who ra—...who had sex with you that night. Then...after we found out about Beaver...you and I were trying to be together. I was trying. I was trying to be a good enough guy for you, and failing almost all the time. I didn't want you to know about it. I was trying so hard, Veronica."

"Tell me, Logan," she says apprehensively. "Please."

"The week before Shelly's party, Dick caught Beaver checking out a shirtless picture of Johnny Damon, you know, the baseball player. We spent that whole week calling him a faggot. We were fucking vicious, Veronica. We tortured him day and night. Then I had the brilliant idea of playing a joke on him. We stopped calling him a fag and told him we were going to help him lose his virginity. We set him up with a freshman girl named Cindy for the night of the party. Except...at the last second, when he had his clothes off, we were going to send in Seth. You know...our most flamboyant classmate."

Veronica is appalled. "Beaver told me that Dick set him up with her...and he said you left with Cindy."

"Yeah, she played her part perfectly. She went in a bedroom with him and kissed him a little, then told him to take off his clothes while she went to the bathroom. Then Seth went in instead; we threw open the door and took a picture of Seth trying to kiss him. Beaver was completely humiliated."

"You confronted him with his worst fear," she says slowly.

"We laughed our asses off, and then I took off with Cindy."

Veronica tries to think. "When was this? After the salt lick?"

"Right after."

Veronica says, "So later that night I ended up in the guest room. Either Dick carried me in there, or I stumbled in there to get away from them. And then they pushed Beaver toward me and left me with him...knowing that Beaver was upset about the prank you just pulled...and had a lot of motivation to prove he was a man." Bitterly, she adds, "A whole new reason to hate Dick Casablancas."

"We thought Beaver was harmless, Veronica. You did too. I'm sure Dick was laughing about it, thinking that Beaver wouldn't even have the guts to make a move on you."

"Are you defending Dick?" she asks angrily. "Right before he left me there with his psycho little brother, he said, ‘You better suit up, you don't know where she's been.'"

"Yeah, well, that's my line. He was just repeating what I'd been saying all day, every day, ever since you told me you were taking your dad's side. And Veronica, I swear to you, Dick never thought Beaver could do something like that."

"You're incredible. You're eaten up by guilt because you played on a prank on Beaver, but Dick left me there with him, and you're defending him."

"They would have done whatever I asked. If I'd told them that sunshine came out of your ass, they would have knelt down and prayed to you. But I told them you were a...slut and—" Logan is unable to continue.

"You don't get to take credit for that. Dick is going to have to answer for this."

Veronica falls silent. Logan searches her face, trying to read her expression. Finally, he can't bear it and says, "Say something. Veronica. Please...just yell at me or tell me I'm an asshole."

"I don't know what to say," she mumbles. "I've been imagining all sorts of scenarios. You saw him hitting on me, you told him that I wanted to have sex with him...I don't know what I thought. This is just...pathetic. You didn't know about Woody, and you played a juvenile, horrible prank on a damaged boy." Her voice begins to tremble. "But Logan...how could you...Logan, you were so cruel to him...and to me."

"I'm sorry, Veronica; I don't know how else to say it. I think I should go sleep on the couch," Logan says morosely.

He rolls away and quietly leaves the bedoom. As he shuts the door, his eyes meet hers; she is curled into a fetal position again, her body heaving with silent sobs. He wants nothing more than to go to her and comfort her. He hesitates. "Do you want...are you sure you don't want me to get your dad?"

She shakes her head and hugs herself tighter.

That's it, he thinks. That's the end. I didn't think I could hurt worse than I did after the fight about Madison, but I do. And I have no one to blame but myself.

He walks out to the living room; Kavner is stretched out, sleeping on the couch. Logan walks to the sliding door and goes out on the deck. He sits down and looks at the ocean. The events of Shelly's party pass in front of his eyes on an endless loop. He remembers how angry Beaver was—betrayed and shamed. Beaver had fought off Seth as if possessed while Dick tried to get a picture.

And Logan had laughed.

The next school day, when the rumors of Veronica's slutty behavior raced through the hallways of Neptune High, he remembers feeling almost relieved—she had proved him right. She really was.... But he had still been shocked when he saw her, with her chopped-off hair and new tough attitude. It wasn't the same girl who had walked through those hallways the Friday before the party.

Did I even feel guilty? Or did I just enjoy it?

That day, she didn't even try to sit with anyone at lunch. She had slammed her tray down on the table that would become hers and hers alone, and dared anyone to approach her. She had tossed her head back, enjoying the freedom of her new short hair, and had clearly told the world—and him—FUCK YOU.

I don't deserve her forgiveness. All those times in the years afterwards, when she didn't trust me, when she berated me for my sins...somehow she knew what we did, how we hurt her. Be honest, asshole, what YOU did. It wasn't Dick's idea to set Beaver up with Cindy.

He can't even remember being with Cindy. Faceless, no-strings-attached sex, with a girl who didn't care about her reputation: it meant less than nothing...a physical clenching and release that probably didn't assuage his pain and anger for more than a second.

He hears the sliding door opening, and he whirls around. Veronica struggles a little to close the door with one arm but manages before he can stand up from the deck chair to help her.

"Veron—" he starts.

"Don't talk," she whispers. She approaches his chair and says simply, "Hold me."

He helps her get settled in his lap; Logan tentatively strokes her back as she relaxes against him. Finally, after a long silence, she says quietly, "You were a kid. You were grieving for your girlfriend and acting out. God knows what your dad was doing to you. You played a cruel joke on your friend, but you didn't know what had been done to him and what he was capable of. You didn't make him rape me. It was five years ago, and you've been trying to make it up to me ever since. I'm not okay with it, but I think I will be." She sighs in frustration. "I don't want to be angry with you, Logan. Please."

He hesitantly puts his arms around her, and she says firmly, "No, really hold me, Logan. I want to get through this. I need you."

I'll never get used to her saying that, he thinks. Logan grasps her tightly, trying somehow to make her believe that he's sorry, that he won't ever let her down again. Suddenly, she begins shaking, and he realizes that she's sobbing anew. "What is it? Veronica?"

"I still don't remember anything. Logan, I don't remember anything!" She trembles compulsively in his arms as he tries to comfort her, rocking and patting her, and feeling each of her sobs like a lash from his father's belt.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
VERONICA MARS
10:00PM SHO ch: 340 60min 2009 TV-MA
Out of the Past
Oswaldo's fate; Logan and Veronica
grapple with the new information.
Veronica: Kristen Bell. Logan: Jason Dohring.
Eli: Francis Capra. Latina babe: Mayrin Villanueva.
Sacks: Brandon Hillock. Clark: Zadran Wali.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FOUR: "OUT OF THE PAST"

Fri. 3/20/09 middle of the night: Cortez house, Neptune, CA

Deputy Sacks and Deputy Clark walk up the front steps onto the porch of a small and ramshackle house. "I don't hear anything," Sacks comments.

"Domestic disturbance, we got to check it out," Clark responds. He looks in the window and grabs Sacks' arm. "Look."

Through the window, Sacks notes several parcels wrapped in brown paper, plastic bags, and a scale on the kitchen table. "In plain sight," he remarks quietly. "I'll call it in."

He mutters into the radio reporting their observations as Clark draws his gun and looks around nervously. Sacks says in a low voice, "Okay, let's do it."

Clark bangs on the front door loudly. "Neptune Sheriff Department, open up." When there is no response, he knocks out the glass window and opens the door.

They find Oswaldo Cortez passed out in the bedroom, with more drugs and almost a thousand dollars in cash.

~ • ~

Fri. 3/20/09 very late: Logan's House, Venice Beach, CA

Logan rocks Veronica like a baby, but she is inconsolable. "Talk to me, Veronica." It's become cold on the deck, and he wishes he had a blanket for her. He doesn't quite know what to do with his hands; he tries to caress her shoulder, but every move that he makes feels wrong—presumptuous and insufficient all at once.

"I thought...I thought—" she hiccups. "I thought maybe I'd remember something if we talked. I thought maybe I remembered something you did when Klein was questioning me. I thought maybe I blocked it out because I didn't want to think about you doing something awful. I've been so scared to ask you about the party. You're telling me everything?"

"I swear it, Veronica," Logan replies. Isn't it enough? "Maybe you remembered the salt lick...what we said to you was terrible. I wouldn't blame you for trying to forget it."

She stares vacantly at the ocean. "You said that and worse to me every day at school. I must have scrubbed my locker a hundred times that year. After a while, I just started putting stickers over the words," she remembers desolately. Veronica turns to face him. "Why would you....If you were mad at me for taking my dad's side, why would you say I was a slut? Why would you...you knew I wasn't. You knew Duncan and I had hardly kissed."

"I don't know. I guess it was the easiest way to hurt you." He touches her face hesitantly, wondering if she'll bat his hand away. "I convinced myself it was true, that the whole Mars family was despicable."

"It just seemed so unfair. Half the girls in school were having sex on a regular basis, and I was the one being called a slut."

"It's not easy to take you down a peg, Veronica. You're so goddamn strong. Any other girl would have pretended to go along with us at school and then supported her dad at home. But you took a stand."

She remembers what Dr. Friedman had said: 'The average girl sent to the school would be going along to get along her first week and scared to death about what was happening. It sounds like you were pushing back from the minute you got there.' Bitterly, she says, "And it always gets me in trouble."

"What?"

Veronica shakes her head, not willing to explain.

"Veronica...I don't want you to feel bad about supporting your dad. He was right; Jake Kane did cover up some of the facts of the murder, and that caused a lot of problems...for all of us."

Veronica keeps shaking her head, doubting him and doubting herself. "Maybe it would have been better to—"

"Veronica, stop."

She moans, "I hate that I need you...and I'm furious with you for what you did...and I hate that Lilly was so stupid as to sleep with your dad and set all this in motion. And I hate that I was so weak that I let Klein beat me. Everyone's going to know— Big tough Veronica, beaten by jumping jacks," she says with self-loathing. "I know Klein's going to try to make me look like a whore."

"He's not going to—" Logan suddenly realizes, with a sickening certainty, that this is exactly what Klein will do.

"He will. And Logan, I'm not as strong as you think I am. I'm not as strong as I thought I was. I'm not strong at all, I'm...god, I hate this, I hate that I need you so much." The revulsion in her voice is overwhelming.

Still at a loss, he tries to think of something to say that would help. Finally, he offers, half-joking, "Say the word and I'll beat Klein up for you. You know I would."

She laughs despite herself and snuffles a little. "No beating up, please."

"You are strong, Veronica. God...the way you faced me down in high school. You were scary as hell. You barely flinched when I broke your headlights."

"The poor LeBaron."

"I miss your LeBaron. The Saturn is nice. But...you're not a soccer mom. You deserve...I don't know...a Corvette or a Mustang. You're too cool for the Saturn."

"It's a hybrid," she protests, sniffling.

"Fuck the environment," he replies. Logan takes a chance and strokes her thigh. She doesn't pull away, and he caresses her softly and kisses the top of her head. "Are you cold? Let's go inside."

"Not yet. Just hold me for a little while."

He wraps his arms around her tightly and breathes with her.

~ • ~

Fri. 3/20/09 middle of the night: Navarro residence, Neptune, CA

Weevil's cell phone vibrates on the nightstand. He grabs it quickly and hits 'send'. "Yo?...Good. I'll be in touch." He hangs up.

The woman next to him caresses his bare chest. "Everything okay, nene?"

He turns to her. He had needed a drink badly after leaving the PCHers and had stopped off at Cabo Cantina. The brunette lying next to him had smiled at him across the bar, and he had decided to go for it. Weevil strokes her hair and murmurs into her ear, "Nada importante. Hazme el amor, cariño." He kisses her and pulls her into an embrace.

~ • ~

Sat. 3/21/09 very early: Logan's House, Venice Beach, CA

Logan wakes up with a jolt. After holding each other tightly on the deck for a while, they had stumbled back to the bedroom and had fallen asleep in exhaustion. He squints against the sunlight streaming in the window; Veronica's back is pressed against his torso, and he is suddenly acutely aware of a raging morning erection. He eases back away from her, and she whispers, "No, stay."

"I'm sorry," he replies quietly. "Stupid...."

"No, not stupid, feels nice," she says with a sigh, wriggling her ass slightly, sending a surge of excitement and anticipation through his body.

He buries his face in her hair, so thankful for its renewed blond coloring, and breathes in deeply. "It's what you do to me, Veronica."

"Come on...help me," she asks, pushing on her pajama bottoms, trying to push them down her body. When he hesitates, she adds, "Please, Logan. I want to make love to you."

"Veronica...." he begins. He's stunned by her fortitude and her insistence on normality; he remembers fearfully how she was concealing her anguish after the operation ended. But she seems calm and certain, with a new determination. When he looks at her face, he thinks he sees the strong Veronica that he loves, and Logan knows, somehow, not to ask if she's sure she's okay. He's pretty sure that both of them woke up crying more than once during the night, but in the hours before dawn, she seemed to relax against his body, and he against hers, ultimately surrendering to their love for each other rather than to the pain of their shared history.

Veronica's breathing speeds as he eases her clothing down and pulls his own boxers off. "The sling too," she whispers, fumbling with the buckle. "I want to feel your body." Logan assists her, throwing it aside, and helps her to unbutton her pajama top and slip it from beneath her torso. He gathers her in his arms and slips his cock between her legs, thrusting gently, as she moans under her breath. He brushes her hair aside and presses his lips against the tender flesh of her neck.

"Love you, Veronica," he mutters. "I thought—"

"Shh," she responds, arching slightly. "Logan, touch me, please...I need you to touch me."

"Not yet," he murmurs as he kisses behind her ear. "Want to drive you crazy." He bites her neck gently, making sure that if he marks her, it will be concealed by her hair. Logan draws the back of his hand down between her shoulder blades to her waist and reaches around to caress a circle on her stomach; he keeps the pressure of his cock on her slick opening tantalizingly subtle. "I could make love to you all day long," he whispers. "When this is over, I'm going to take you someplace beautiful where we don't need clothes and the only mystery is how much to tip the cabana boy in the local currency."

With a slight giggle, she asks, "When did you start tipping? Ah!" She catches her breath as his hand dips a little lower, almost, but not quite, where she wants it.

"I'm all about the little people, you know that," he replies.

Veronica, frustrated, reaches down and tries to grab his cock; he eludes her by pulling back. "You are a bad boy," she pouts.

"Bad to the bone," he admits as he eases her onto her back. "I've hardly kissed you; what's your rush, sugarpuss?" Logan plants a kiss under her chin and begins to kiss his way down her chest. He lingers between her breasts and seems to hesitate.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"Can't decide which one is my favorite," he says with a smirk. "I guess...I'll have to assess the situation thoroughly." Logan pushes his arms underneath to hug her tightly to him as he slowly licks a trail to her right nipple. She gasps from the tickling sensation; she looks down and sees him staring at her intensely as he swipes his tongue roughly across her nipple. He keeps his eyes on hers as he licks her with rhythmic and merciless strokes until she writhes under him.

"Lohhgahn," she moans.

"More?" he says superciliously, tonguing her furiously.

She throws her legs around his ass, trying to give him the hint. She begs, stuttering a little,"Please, t-touch me, Logan...god."

"Mmm. I still haven't picked a favorite." He lays his head on her chest and looks at her other breast; he softly flicks the nipple with his forefinger. With a mischievous look in his eye, he kisses up to her neck and whispers in her ear, "If I made you scream, how long do you think it would take your dad to get in here with his gun drawn?"

"I'm not going to scream," she says firmly.

He pinches her nipple lightly, and she inhales sharply. "Wanna bet?" he says smugly, and she smiles. Suddenly, he feels overwhelmed by her forgiveness and strength; when he had stumbled out to the deck the night before, he had been certain that it was over—she finally knew it all and would never be able to.... His voice breaking, he says honestly, "I love doing this to you, Veronica. I'm so...." He stops; he knows she doesn't want any more apologies or even his gratitude for her forgiveness. Unbelievably, she wants nothing more than to lose herself in his loving caresses. He settles for trapping her mouth with a kiss, tonguing her deeply, trying to show her how insanely thrilled he is to be with her still.

Logan gently rolls her nipple between his fingers; she breaks the kiss, gasping for air. "Need to breathe," she explains breathlessly before he begins to kiss her anew.

"Your left, I think," he whispers against her lips.

"What??"

"Your left breast is my favorite," he explains.

"What's wrong with my right breast?" she asks indignantly.

He laughs. "I could still change my mind. Let me see." Logan twists on the bed and kisses down to her right breast. He looks at her out of the corner of his eye and strokes his hand on her hip. He blows on her nipple and flicks it with his tongue as he watches her. "But my absolute favorite spot is right...here." He suddenly moves his hand and strokes her clit with his thumb as she arches off the bed with a little squeal. "Remember, you don't want to scream, Veronica. Your dad might run in here and catch me doing unspeakable things to you." He licks her nipple lasciviously, and she jerks compulsively at the sensation.

"Ahh!" Veronica goads him, "Unspeakable? You promise? Show me what you got, big boy."

"Is that a challenge?"

"You go too far, Marlowe," she snarks, making a face at him.

"Those are harsh words to throw at a man, especially when he's got his hand between your legs," Logan says slyly, pressing his thumb against her forcefully. Veronica grabs futilely at the sheet with her left hand and throws back her head with a moan. He watches her panting and struggling heroically to keep quiet. He whispers, "I think you like this, Veronica. You're so wet for me." He dips his finger to her slit and spreads her moistness around as she writhes for him.

Between pants, she gasps, "A lot depends on who's in the saddle."

He chuckles and twists on the bed to put his head between her legs and his tongue directly on her clit.

"Ohhh...ahh," she manages. "Logan, turn your..." She flails at his waist, and he gets the idea, turning his body so she can reach his cock with her hand. She circles him with her hand and gently strokes up and down as he sucks on her, alternating with rhythmic swipes of his tongue. "Logan, come up here," she hints again, and he finally gets her meaning. He arranges himself on the bed, his pelvis by her head, and she rolls on her side and takes him into her mouth.

"Fuckkk, Veronica," he can't help saying before resuming his ministrations on her. He remembers all the fun they had in this house before everything went to hell with Hannah's murder. Even with his leg in a cast, they had tried just about everything—both of them apparently eager to make up for all the lost time when they had been apart. When we were pigheaded idiots, he thinks as he luxuriates in her attentions. Fuck...there's so many things I want to do with her. I want to take her camping in the Grand Canyon and make love to her as the sun rises. I want to take her to the finest hotel in Paris and share oysters and caviar before I go down on her. He licks her, tonguing her hard and rough, as he imagines what he wants to do with her. I want to go sailing in the South Seas and get baked by the sun while she writhes on top of me. I want to buy her emeralds and diamonds and a cool convertible that suits her...and then let her lead me around by my cock for the rest of my life. I want to be good enough for her...I'm going to make her proud of me.

He loses his focus momentarily as she runs her tongue around the rim of his cock and then takes all of him inside her mouth again. "Slow down, Veronica," he begs. He looks up to see her swallowing him, and he has to close his eyes to try to maintain a semblance of control. Logan sits up and gently extricates himself. He rolls off the bed and stoops to look for a condom in their overnight bag. She is watching, her calm countenance unnerving after such a traumatic and emotional night. He kneels and puts on the condom under her watchful eye.

Logan lowers himself on top of her, and she whispers forcefully, "I'm not going to let them take this from us. Make love to me, Logan." She takes him and guides him into her, and he thrusts hard. He gives her a moment to adjust and then begins to fuck her slowly, never taking his eyes off hers. The demons are still there, but she has a look of determination that makes him think Klein should be the one who is running scared.

"I wish...I wish I could be on top," she says suddenly, and Logan is so surprised he stops mid-thrust.

He eases in and out, keeping up a slow rhythm, and replies, "But your shoulder..it's too—"

"I know," she says.

He looks her in the eye, and she blushes. Logan knows it's not just the novelty of the position; she's struggling for control and independence. He tries, "Your shoulder will be okay soon and—"

"I know."

"And you know you're in charge. Whatever you want...." Logan sees her expression of doubt and falls silent. He has an idea and surprises her by pulling out. "Let's try something." He rolls off the bed and grabs a straight chair, placing it in front of a full-length mirror.

"What are you doing?" she asks dubiously.

"You know me, I'm always thinking...at least, about sex. I'm an artist, and the bedroom is my canvas. Indulge me for a moment." He returns to the bed and picks her up in his arms, as she suppresses a startled giggle. Logan sits on the chair and turns her on his lap so that they are both facing the mirror. "Spread your legs a little...lean back...like that...ahhh." Veronica eases herself down on his cock, with her tiptoes on the floor and her back leaning against Logan. "I've got you," he mumbles, holding her torso and helping her to thrust up and down on him. As she begins to get the hang of it, he moves his hand to her clit and begins to stroke her. "I like the access," he murmurs, "And I love watching you get off."

Veronica is watching in the mirror as well. Logan is kissing her neck and staring at her intently, unable to tear his eyes away from her; she protectively keeps her arm pulled to her side, and he sees that she is a little tentative in her movements, fearful of aggravating her injury. She turns her head and kisses him as he thrusts up hard into her. She tears herself away from his mouth and tries to speed up but the awkwardness of the position hinders her; he grasps her torso firmly and takes over, lifting and lowering her until she gasps, "Dammit! I need...Let's go back to the bed...Logan...."

He helps her stand up and hurriedly takes them back to the bed. As soon as Veronica lays back down, she reaches for him. He kneels between her legs and seats his cock within her in a single aggressive stroke. She wraps her legs around him and matches the movements of her pelvis to his. Logan catches her mouth in a kiss and speeds up, fucking her intensely, until she has to break the kiss to pant for breath. "I'm coming," he says breathlessly. "Are you...." He fumbles, trying to connect his thumb with her clit as they thrust together; when he succeeds, she gasps and moans, arching into him as he climaxes. She throbs around his cock, her entire body humming with desire and adrenaline and her vision just a little red-black around the edges. He collapses beside her, his cock still inside her, and caresses her ass. He nuzzles her neck as she breathes heavily in his ear.

"That was...creative," she observes drily.

"Veronica Mars, ever the romantic," he chuckles. He palms her breast gently and adds, "You know, if we ever get to have sex when we're both healthy, my brain might explode from it. I think you enjoyed watching in the mirror, Veronica." He whispers seductively, "I really love watching you get off, Veronica. And I love knowing that I'm the one doing it to you." And that you're letting me do it...god, Veronica, you're letting me in your body again.

She teases, "There's something you need to know, Smarty Pants, and it's for your own good—" She stops abruptly with a confused expression on her face.

"What's the matter?" he prompts.

She closes her eyes and mumbles, "'There's something you should know; it's for your own good...it's for your own good.'" Her whole body has tensed up in his arms, the relaxation and satiety of the moment before completely forgotten.

He quickly pulls out, uncertain what has just happened. She rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling. "Veronica, what's going on?" he says, caressing her hair, desperately afraid of whatever she's thinking. What is she remembering...what is she thinking...did I do something, say something?...god, Veronica, don't....

She lies perfectly still, lost in thought. Veronica opens her eyes and stares at him blankly. "It's something about Beaver. I need to talk to Dick. I need to ask him something," she replies finally.

She refuses to say anything more, and he's too scared to press her. A few minutes later, Keith knocks on the door to wake them up. Veronica goes through the motions of packing like a zombie. She catches him staring at her mournfully and says quietly, "You didn't do anything. We're okay, I promise. I'm just...I'm trying to make sense of something. If I'm right...it changes everything. I promise we'll talk as soon as I speak to Dick."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
VERONICA MARS
10:00PM SHO ch: 340 60min 2009 TV-MA
Theory of Convergence
Mac's captors try something new; Weevil
and Wallace plan their next step; Veronica
talks to Dick.
Veronica: Kristen Bell. Logan: Jason Dohring.
Keith: Enrico Colantoni. Dick: Ryan Hansen.
Mac: Tina Majorino. Wallace: Percy Daggs III.
Eli: Francis Capra. Man #1: ??? Man #2: ???
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FIVE: "THEORY OF CONVERGENCE"

Sat. 3/21/09 morning: Somewhere in the United States

The man says furiously, "You're holding back. Where else would Veronica Mars be?"

Mac protests, "I'm telling you, I don't know. They weren't at Logan's condo in Aspen?" Mac knows full well that Veronica will probably never cross the town limits into Aspen after the incident with Madison, but Logan jointly owned the condo with Trina, and his sister had refused to put the townhouse on the market. Mac had hoped it would be a plausible location that would buy her some time, but the man had made a phone call and received an answer within an hour. Mac adds, "I know they like to get away to Aspen."

"Enough of this bullshit," the other man says. Mac has become certain that he is in charge, despite the other man's seeming to take the lead. He explains, "They're not in Neptune, but their cell phones are still there. So I'm betting they're using disposable phones. You're going to leave a message on their machine asking them to call you. You're supposed to be returning to Neptune tomorrow night. You want to set up a get-together, maybe. And then, when they return your call, we'll be able to track them."

"I won't do it," Mac exclaims.

"You are going to do it. You have a little brother, don't you?"

Mac stares at him furiously.

"I'll write down what I want you to say, and then we'll practice. We might even let you live if you cooperate."

Mac looks at Alan, unconscious across the room, and thinks that she doubts that very much. She nods, trying to appear cooperative, as she tries to think of a way to warn Veronica.

~ • ~

Sat. 3/21/09 morning: Candice Pauling's apartment, Neptune, CA

Wallace's cell phone vibrates on the nightstand; he hustles from under the covers and grabs the phone before it can wake Candice. "Hello," he whispers as he exits the bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind him.

"Hey, sleeping beauty," Weevil replies. "Do you think you could get your ass out of bed? You said you would call first thing."

"It's only ten o'clock, vato. Candice and I went to a late movie. You talked to Oswaldo last night?" Wallace asks.

"In a manner of speaking. I don't think you want to know the details. Plausible deniability, I think they call it."

"No, I definitely don't want to know the details. What did he say?"

"He's working for the Fitzpatricks, which we already knew. He said Liam told him to tell the sheriff about Logan's affair with Kendall."

"So Liam wanted to throw suspicion on Logan, in other words," Wallace muses. "Did Oswaldo know the kid in the picture?"

"He said they call him KC, and he's from Neptune...said he was an errand boy for the Fitzpatricks. That's all he knew."

"But he's about our age...why isn't he in the yearbook for Neptune High?" Wallace walks to Candice's computer and boots it up.

"I was thinking about that...maybe he transferred to one of the alternative schools."

"You mean..."

"Like auto repair, or cosmetology," Weevil suggests.

"How would we find out about that?"

"I asked my cousin Lucia who got her associate's degree in cosmetology. She said the principal of the school has to sign off on any alternative program."

"Clemmons," Wallace comments, nodding his head. "Maybe he knows who this kid is."

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking. I'll meet you in half an hour at your dorm."

"Uh...I'm not at the dorm. I'm at Candice's. Hold on a sec...I'm googling KC and Fitzpatrick." Wallace stares at the results. "I don't know. Lots of Facebook results." He types a few keystrokes and sighs. "When I add felony or crime, I get hits for the Kansas City police department. Let me work on this before you come over. Give me a couple hours, okay? We haven't had breakfast yet."

"You can drive, right?" Weevil asks.

"Yeah, I got my mom's car. What happened to your car? I thought you said it would be fixed by the end of the day."

"I sold it. I needed some cash all of a sudden, to finance a personal matter," Weevil explains obliquely. Revenge isn't cheap, he thinks, even if you get the PCHer discount.

~ • ~

Sat. 3/21/09 late morning: Venice Beach to Rio Linda, CA

Keith has been driving for about four hours when he announces they're stopping for lunch. Veronica has been napping in the back seat. Logan has been uncharacteristically quiet all morning, dozing on and off in the passenger seat. When they pull off the highway into a diner, Veronica asks if she can have the phone. "If it's okay...I kind of need privacy for this call. It won't take long. I'll meet you inside in five minutes."

"No, not good enough. Someone needs to stay here with you," Keith says as he hands her the phone.

"No one's following us, Dad. Kavner said it was all clear the last time you checked in with him."

"How about if I stay out here outside the car?" Logan suggests. Keith nods, and he and Logan step out of the car. Veronica smiles, without it reaching her eyes, and turns her back to them.

Outside the car, Keith looks to Logan for an explanation of Veronica's behavior. Veronica had asked Logan not to discuss her nightmare or his revelations with her father just yet; and she had refused to tell Logan what she wanted to ask Dick. 'Please don't worry...I'm just trying to understand something. We'll talk about it after I talk to Dick,' she had said again.

Logan says carefully, "Veronica's trying to work on something, maybe something she talked about with Dr. Friedman yesterday."

"She's okay?" Keith asks with concern.

"I think so. We talked for quite a while last night."

"You're not concealing something from me, are you, Logan?" Keith presses.

"She asked me not to talk about it yet," he replies. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Logan..." Keith says sharply. "If there's something—"

"I know she's going to tell you when she's ready. Please."

Keith sighs heavily, not reassured in the least. He nods toward the diner. "Burgers, you think?"

"Yeah, I'm sure that would be fine. I'll help with the driving after lunch, too."

In the car, Veronica dials Dick's number with trembling fingers. "Hey, Dick, it's me, Veronica."

Dick asks, "Ronnie? What's going on? Have you heard from Mac?"

"No, Dick, that's not why I'm calling." She falls silent, uncertain how to broach her questions.

Finally Dick says, "You're scaring me, Ronnie."

"Dick, Logan told me about the prank you pulled on Beaver at Shelly Pomroy's party...setting him up with Cindy and then sending in Seth." She waits, but Dick does not speak. Veronica exhales heavily. "We're going to talk about that at some point, Dick. You knew he was upset and worried about being a man, and you pushed him at me when I was basically unconscious."

"Ronnie...Veronica, I'm—"

All her carefully planned words fly out of her head, and she says shakily, "How did Beaver react when he found out about me and Logan junior year? I remember, he was there, at the surprise party Logan's dad put together, when everyone found out we were seeing each other."

"What??" Of all the things Veronica could say, Dick is completely surprised by this particular question.

"How did Beaver react when he found out about me and Logan?" she repeats.

"He was surprised, shocked maybe. We all were."

"Was he worried?"

"Worried? I don't understand," Dick replies, confused.

"What about a few days later, when he came to tell me about Logan's alibi? Did you know that he was going to do that?"

"We read about Abel Koontz being cleared in the paper. Beaver started saying that Logan must have done it, and we had to tell somebody. I told him he was crazy; Logan wouldn't have killed Lilly. I don't care what she did to him—she could have slept with the whole Navy, and he would never have hurt her. The dude is completely pussy-whi—"

Veronica interrupts, "It was definitely Beaver's idea to tell me?"

"He wanted me to tell you, and I told him he was off his rocker. Beaver fussed at me about it for a couple days, and finally I told him, if he was so certain Logan had killed Lilly, to go tell you himself."

"Right," Veronica says, lost in thought.

"Ronnie, what's this about?"

"Did Beaver ever talk about me investigating my rape?" she asks suddenly.

"He, uh, he joked about it."

She hears Dick take a breath, but he doesn't say anything. First time Dick ever held back, she thinks. She assumes he was going to say, 'we all joked about it,' but thought better of it. She has an overwhelming flash of anger at Dick's utter irresponsibility: how could he have not known that his little brother was a raging psychopath? Veronica tries to concentrate on her breathing; she'll have it out with Dick at some point, but right now, she wants to focus on information.

"What did he say happened between him and me? You didn't know, did you? Please tell me you didn't know the whole time, Dick." She wipes a tear from her eye and grips the phone tightly.

"I swear I didn't know, Veronica. I know...I was a total jackass to you in high school. I'm sorry. I didn't know—"

Veronica's voice quivers as she says hesitantly, "Dick, is it possible....Do you think Beaver told me about Logan's alibi to break us up...so Logan wouldn't tell me what happened the night I was raped? You know, the trick you played on him. Beaver knew Logan's alibi was false the whole time, but he never said a word...until I started asking questions about Shelly's party."

"Geez, Veronica. I guess it's possible. I never thought about it."

Veronica is stunned into silence by Dick's usual blasé attitude. Finally, in a hard and bitter voice, she answers, "Well, maybe you should. You know, Dick, I really want you to think long and hard about how you can make up for what you did to me that night."

"What I did? Veronica, I swear we were just screwing around, we never thought—"

"Dick!! You sent your psycho little brother in to molest me. Don't bullshit me! You knew I was drugged, or drunk beyond the capacity to say no. You were manhandling me at the party. You knew I wouldn't let you do that normally. And then, you said to Beaver, 'Don't forget to suit up, you don't know where she's been.' Classy, Dick," she says with a clenched jaw.

Dick protests, "Veronica, that was Sean who said that, I swear it. It was Sean's idea to egg Beaver on."

"But you didn't stop Sean, did you?"

Dick is silent.

"Like I said, Dick, I want you to figure out how you're going to make it up to me. No more excuses. You're Logan's friend, so we have to find a way to get past this. I don't want Logan to have to give up his friend; he's lost too many people in his life, and I know you're his best friend. But this is long overdue, Dick. You owe me, bigtime." Veronica terminates the call before he can respond and sits in silence in the car for several minutes trying to get herself under control.

Think about anything else. Don't think about it. Stop thinking about it. She keys in her own phone number and gets her voicemail messages. There's a long message from Duncan, telling her about his and Lilly's first evening together in their new house. Duncan relates Lilly's reaction to the large sandbox in the backyard and the over-the-top princess decor in her bedroom. There is also a message from Mac.

'Hey, Ronnie. Give me a call at 323-555-7839, that's my new cell. I can't wait to hang out in Neptune tomorrow night.'

Veronica frowns. 'Ronnie?' She dials the number and gets Mac's voicemail; she leaves a message that she'll try again later.

She disconnects and sits staring into space. She can't stop thinking about Beaver trying desperately to manipulate her. She had thought talking to Dick might help, but as usual he only added confusion and uncertainty. Veronica keeps reviewing what Sean, Beaver, and Dick said had happened at Shelly's party; no matter how she tries, she can't decide which version is the closest to the truth. First she hears Dick's voice, urging Beaver to wear a condom; then it's Sean, pushing Beaver toward her while Dick laughs nervously. Then it's Sean and Dick together forcing Beaver into the room and holding the door shut while Beaver tries to leave. She imagines Dick laughing about the rape with Beaver and giving him a high-five for bedding Veronica Mars. Then she pictures Beaver freaking out over her investigation and plotting how best to distract her; she wonders how far he would have gone if she hadn't stopped asking questions.

Logan taps gently on the window, and she jumps a mile high. Veronica turns toward him and pretends to smile. She opens the door and gets out of the car. She unobtrusively checks her reflection in the side view mirror. Yep, my armor's back in place now, she thinks.

Logan asks, "Everything okay?"

"It's fine," she replies. "Mac and Duncan called. Maybe things are going to get back to normal now."

"What did Dick say?" he asks, unable to restrain his curiosity.

She shakes her head and doesn't answer.

He puts his arm around her, and they walk toward the restaurant.

Keith has picked a booth in the back of the diner with no other customers nearby; Logan notes that Keith has positioned himself so that he can see everyone who enters. They slide into the opposite side, and Keith excuses himself to go to the restroom.

Logan turns to her. "Please tell me what's going on, Veronica. Why did you need to call Dick?"

She glances at him nervously before looking back down at the place mat in front of her. Hesitantly, she explains, "Back in junior year...Beaver told me about your alibi, you know...."

He nods that he understands.

"I think he told me about your alibi so I would stop investigating the night I was raped. He wanted us to break up."

Logan frowns. "But you had already found out that Duncan—"

"Beaver didn't know that. He didn't know that Duncan and I slept together that night. We didn't make an announcement, Logan. Only you and I and Duncan knew...well, maybe Carrie Bishop too. All Beaver knew was that I was asking questions about Shelly Pomroy's party, and then you and I were together at the surprise party. And you knew what had happened."

"What did you mean, when you said it changes everything?" he asks, puzzled.

"I've never trusted you, because of the way that I found out about your alibi. I thought you...he made me think you might have killed Lilly. He made me frightened of you, Logan. Even after I found out the truth...Logan, I might have been able to get past the salt lick, but Beaver made sure that I thought you were a liar and a murderer so that he would get away with raping me, and...I'm so sorry, Logan. I've been horrible to you because of him."

Logan says regretfully, "Veronica. He just took advantage of the truth to provide some misdirection. I should have told you I had lied about my alibi when I found out you were investigating."

She just shakes her head. "I hate him, Logan. I know he was molested, and he was fucked up...but I hate him."

"What did you ask Dick?" Logan asks curiously.

"I asked him if he thought Beaver was upset when he found out that you and I were dating." Responding to his quizzical look, she adds, "He's not sure. He did say that it was definitely Beaver's idea to tell me about your alibi after the news came out about Abel Koontz being exonerated."

"Dick said 'exonerated'?" Logan asks dubiously. "Even 'alibi' is a stretch." He takes her hand. "Veronica...I hate Beaver too, for hurting you, for killing those kids, for killing Meg. But...does this matter? We knew he was...."

"Of course it matters!" she replies, glaring at him. "He manipulated me. He made it impossible for me to trust you, no matter how hard you tried."

Nervously, he protests, "But you trust me now. You said you were going to be okay with everything that happened."

"I know. I know I'm not being rational. And Beaver's dead...he can't be punished for anything." She drops her eyes again. "I just feel—" Her dad sits back down, and she suddenly breaks off speaking.

After a moment, Keith says, "You know, some people might even consider me a cool dad, one who you could talk to about pretty much anything, Veronica."

"Dad...it's...I can't, not yet. Maybe I will in a little while," she responds in a quiet voice.

"You know I love you, Veronica, and I'm here for you," he adds.

"I know, Dad."

~ • ~

Sat. 3/21/09 afternoon: Somewhere in the United States

"Got it," the man announces, after scowling at his computer screen for the last half hour as they tried to ping the cellular number that had called 'Mac's' voicemail. "They're moving. It looks like they're on the I-5, heading north, around Los Banos."

"Let me see," the man in charge says. He looks at the display and grabs the mouse; he zooms out on the map and stares intently. "Fuck. I think they're heading to Rio Linda. How the hell did they figure that out?"

"We can pick them up in Rio Linda, no problem. Brian's there. They're probably about two hours away."

The man nods thoughtfully. "Call him. They're driving a Saturn VUE, license plate number 6BLA504." He turns to Mac, who has been listening fearfully. "I think you're going to going to be seeing your friend pretty soon."

Damn you to hell, Mac thinks.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
VERONICA MARS
10:00PM SHO ch: 340 60min 2009 TV-MA
The Twist of the Truth
Keith finds out what's troubling Veronica
and Logan; Leo interviews Padraig
Fitzpatrick.
Veronica: Kristen Bell. Logan: Jason Dohring.
Keith: Enrico Colantoni. Leo: Max Greenfield.
Padraig Fitzpatrick: Brian Scannell.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-SIX: "THE TWIST OF THE TRUTH"

Sat. 3/21/09 afternoon: Outside Rio Linda, CA

Logan is driving with Veronica in the passenger seat next to him. Since their lunch stop, the two of them have been lost in thought; Keith, seated in the rear, has tried several times to start conversations only to give up when the other two merely grunted in response. He watches his daughter as she stares out the window without really seeing. Keith observes Logan casting worried glances in Veronica's direction. Finally Logan reaches toward Veronica; he puts his outstretched hand on her knee, and she turns to look at him. Logan says quietly, "You're okay?" She nods slightly and takes his hand.

Sometimes it's very hard to be Veronica's father, Keith thinks. He says aloud, "I think this is our exit."

Logan nods in agreement. As they exit the highway, Veronica asks, "Can we stop for a second? I need to use the bathroom." She motions toward a gas station just ahead.

"Of course," Keith replies. "We can get gas while we're here."

"I'll do it," Logan says.

Veronica gets out of the car and heads toward the convenience store just beyond the gas pumps, and Keith follows her. The men's and women's rooms are directly beside each other, and Veronica disappears into the bathroom without a second look at her father. He uses the facilities and exits into the convenience; he dawdles at a postcard rack displaying cards featuring Sacramento and Rio Linda while he waits for her. Several minutes pass, and a middle-aged woman enters and knocks on the bathroom door. Suddenly concerned, Keith pushes past the woman's husband and taps on the door himself. "Veronica? You okay in there?"

"Just a minute," she says, but her voice sounds off to his critical ear.

"Let me in, honey." He waits, then says again, "Veronica, please let me in." Finally the lock turns, and he pushes in, carefully shutting the door behind him.

Veronica has managed to dump the contents of her purse all over the bathroom floor, and she is trying awkwardly to pick up all her items. Keith opens the door and suggests to the other customer, "Why don't you use the men's room? We'll be another minute. Thanks." The woman harrumphs and turns to the other bathroom.

"I put my purse on the counter, and then I knocked it off. I hate this; I can't even take care of myself anymore. I'm pathetic," she says in an anxious voice. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Veronica, let me get it for you," he says quietly. Keith sees that she's been crying again; he tries not to embarrass her by looking. He stoops and busies himself with the miscellany of her purse. She runs the water and splashes her face with her good hand; he notes her awkward movements and sees how frustrated she is by the clumsiness forced by relying on her left hand. "I think that's everything," Keith notes, trying to sound matter-of-fact. I don't know how to help. How the hell am I supposed to...?

She turns off the water and towel-dries her face. She stares at herself in the mirror for a long minute before turning to regard him. Veronica tries to smile, but he sees her eyes welling over again. He puts his arm around her and leads her out of the bathroom. Outside the convenience store, he spots a bench and pulls her down next to him. "Veronica, please tell me what's going on. Honey...." He sees Logan by the car doing a double-take and puts up a hand with a subtle shake of his head, hoping Logan will stay away.

"Dad," she sniffles.

"Veronica, it's all right. Please talk to me."

Hesitantly, she begins, "Last night, I...I asked Logan to tell me what he remembered about the night when I got...when Beaver hurt me. I'm pretty sure I remembered something about the party during the last day at Briar Hill when Klein was confronting me, but now I can't remember it again. I've been so worried about what Logan would tell me; he's been so upset since the end of the operation. I've been thinking that maybe Logan did something that night that he's been afraid to tell me about."

Keith draws in a quick breath; the pain of her words is viscerally intense. "What— Did he do something that night?"

She sighs, so deeply it wounds him. "Everyone at the party was feeding me drinks and mocking me because of...because of Mom and because you were questioning the Kanes about Lilly."

"Including Logan?" Keith can't help the anger in his voice.

"Dad, I've known about that for years. I can remember that, just a little bit; it's fuzzy and seems unreal, but I have like...flashes of what happened. I knew Logan was part of it; I remember him being one of the people tormenting me that night. He told me a long time ago how much he regretted what he did. But he...Logan told last night me that he and Dick also played a terrible prank on Beaver at the party; they were...it was so stupid and cruel, like kids are, because they don't know what can happen. They were teasing Beaver about being gay, and they had one of our classmates set him up. I didn't know about that. It was so thoughtless and mean, and I guess it's possible Beaver was upset about it before he..." Veronica's voice trails off.

Keith frowns but doesn't know what to say. Finally, he says, "A prank? They didn't intend to...."

She nods. "Embarrassing, maybe even humiliating..but it was just kid stuff. What they did was really mean, but they didn't know Beaver had been molested, so...." She shrugs expressively.

Keith envisions a fragile boy struggling with the unbearable pain of his abuse cracking under juvenile teasing and feels a renewed surge of anger toward Woody Goodman. A couple seconds of terror and a relatively painless death was far too good for Woody, for all the unhappiness he caused.

Veronica continues, "Then...in junior year, I was asking questions about the party, and that's when Beaver told me that Logan's alibi for Lilly's murder was false. I think he wanted to stop me from asking questions about my rape. He must have been terrified that I would stumble onto the truth. I called Dick today and asked if he thought it was possible that was why Beaver came to me about Logan's alibi. And...he said, 'maybe.' Dad, if I hadn't stopped investigating, I think Beaver would have—"

Keith is jolted; it's not a connection he had drawn up until now, but Veronica is certainly right—that Beaver was certainly willing to kill to keep his secret safe. He urges helplessly, "Try not to think about that, Veronica." Keith feels nauseous, thinking about a boy plotting to blow up a school bus with no concern for 'collateral damage'.

"Dad, I can't stop thinking about it. Maybe Beaver thought...if I was killed on the bus, it would solve everything. I can't help it; I've been freaking out since I realized that Beaver ratted out Logan to manipulate me. And I've always been so suspicious of Logan; I think Beaver's responsible for that, and it makes me so angry. I've been so cynical and untrusting." She exhales, shaking with stress. "Dad, I still can't remember much of the party. I thought maybe talking with Logan would bring back what I remembered with Klein. You know Klein is going to paint me as unstable. He's going to talk about that last group therapy session to make me look crazy. He's going to say...." Veronica's eyes close, and she drops her head. She mumbles, "I feel crazy, Dad. Sometimes I think I am...unstable. I'm so afraid Klein's going to reveal what I said that last day, and I'll...have a breakdown or something." She breathes out uneasily.

Keith quickly replies, "Do you want to drop out of the lawsuit? One phone call, Veronica, and this will all be over. Let's tell Epstein he's going to have to go after Klein some other way. The feds' corruption case with the payoffs to the education commissioner will have to be enough. Maybe they can convince Maria to testify against Klein. You don't have to testify. Let's drop the case, Veronica." He smoothes her hair from her forehead.

"Don't you dare!" she whispers intensely. "I won't give in to them, I won't! ...It's just, it's just that somehow I have to remember what happened that last day at the school. I'm going to have to watch the videos. I can't be surprised, Dad; I have to be prepared for whatever they're going to say about me. I have to know what I said during the group therapy session. Dr. Friedman said if I decided to do it, she would help me."

Keith is completely at a loss for words. Finally, he says, "Veronica, are you sure? You were...it's going to be very hard to watch."

She turns to him. "Have you watched it?"

He sighs loudly. "Parts of it. And I was listening over the wire while we were rushing to get you out of there. ...You said you and Logan talked about that night? Are you...okay? And...you and him?"

"I think so. Logan and I are trying so hard, Dad. Why does it always have to be so hard for us?"

Keith thinks about what the therapist had said about a random word triggering obsessive thoughts for his daughter because of the programming the school had attempted. He struggles to find the words to reassure her. "Veronica, I—" Keith stops short as Logan walks up.

"What's going on?" Logan asks nervously.

"I told Dad what we talked about last night," Veronica admits reluctantly.

"Everything?" he queries, obviously upset. Logan catches Keith's eye momentarily and looks away. He puts his hands in his back pockets and wavers slightly from one foot to the other in his agitation.

"Logan, sit down," Keith says gently. Logan tentatively sits on the other side of Veronica; she leans against him, and he automatically puts his arm around her. Keith continues, "You know that I don't know much about that night. I don't know if you guys can ever really talk to me about it. Just know I'm here for whatever you need."

Logan lets out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. Keith recognizes Logan's look of uncertainty, verging on despair, and resolves to find a way to talk to him alone.

Keith adds, "Veronica, are you sure you're up to this today? Why don't we get a hotel room and do this tomorrow, or just forget about it? We can go back to Los Angeles, and you could spend more time talking with Logan's therapist. I think we ought to concentrate on getting you better and forget about Hannah and the Fitzpatricks."

"NO, Dad!" She hesitates, and then continues, "Dad, as we get closer to where Hannah was hiding, I've been imagining how it was for her. She was so alone; she couldn't even call her mom and dad for help." She glances at Logan. "I know Logan feels terrible for what happened to her. We've got to keep trying."

"Veronica, I don't want to do this if it's upsetting you—" Logan starts.

She responds firmly, "Logan, you're not understanding what I'm saying. I've got you and Dad, and Wallace and everyone else who always takes care of me, whether I want them to or not. I keep thinking how awful it was for her on her own, with only a stranger to help her. She had to grow up overnight, without anyone to turn to. And then, whatever they did to her before they killed her." Veronica turns back to her father. "Dad, we can't give up now. I feel like we're close to a big break. Please, I want to do this. I want the world to know what really happened to Hannah. And...you know it's better if I have something to think about so I can't obsess."

Keith turns to Logan. "Are you okay with this?"

Logan looks startled to be asked for his opinion. "Whatever Veronica wants," he mumbles in reply.

"No, Logan, that's not what I asked. Are you okay?"

Distantly, he says, "I keep worrying...I can't help feeling that I caused all this." He waves his hand vaguely. "All the shit that happened at Shelly's party, and then everything with Hannah. I was such a jackass in high school." He sighs in distress. "I don't know what to do. I guess I want to try to make it up to Hannah by solving her murder."

"Logan, you didn't cause—" she protests.

"Logan, you were in an impossible situation with no adults to help you," Keith interrupts. "Yes, it was probably the wrong move to pursue Hannah. I wish I could say that if you had come to me that I would have helped you."

"I didn't even help you very much when you came to me," Veronica notes. "I criticized you instead."

"Your criticisms were duly noted," Logan remarks drily. "I don't know, Keith. I guess we should do this. Maybe we can learn something while we're here. If the Fitzpatricks really did kill her..." he sighs loudly. He looks up and notes, "Maybe I've been hanging around Veronica too long. I want to know. I feel it too...that we're close to something."

Reluctantly, Keith nods. "Veronica, promise me, if you're too tired, or you're upset about something, you'll tell me. You don't have to hide this from me." He glances at Logan. "You're going to tell me what's going on too. And we're going to be okay, I promise you."

They head back to the car. Keith hangs back a little and watches them. Logan's arm is draped solicitously around Veronica; she seems to cling to him, trying so hard to put her trust and faith in him. It's so unlike his daughter to reveal her neediness and worry; it's shocking in its explicit display. Logan's shoulders are slumped, as if he's carrying a heavy burden, and Keith knows that he truly is.

He is suffused with anger at all the adults who let these two down over the years: Lynn and Aaron, possibly the worst parents ever to have lived; the Pomroys, who let that party occur, with all its unsupervised drinking and drugging; Lamb, who refused to investigate Veronica's rape and botched the Lilly Kane investigation and almost every other case during his tenure; the Kanes; the Mannings; the Casablancas; Dr. Griffith; his own wife. Even himself, if he's honest: he was obsessing about the Lilly Kane murder instead of taking care of his own daughter, who couldn't have more clearly called out for help from him with her butchered hair and sudden tough attitude that he now knows was her reaction to the rape.

The list seems endless, with all the Neptune grownups failing their children repeatedly. He remembers Veronica at fifteen, trying so hard to be all grown up, but really still a child and so vulnerable, and he thinks about Logan suffering at home and rocked by three terrible deaths in as many years. They are paying the consequences, but wasn't it really the adults who should have been responsible? They were kids. They're still really just barely adults, and only because life has forced them to grow up too fast. Why didn't we see...we should have reached out to them. We could have prevented....

Veronica triggers the window button and says, "C'mon, Gramps, let's blow this popsicle stand. We're not going to solve this sitting here." She smiles; it's not quite her killer Veronica grin of old, but it's real and palpable.

He smiles back and hurries into the car. "Take it easy on your old man, Veronica." My badass action-figure daughter is still in there somewhere.

~ • ~

Sat. 3/21/09 afternoon: Neptune Sheriff's Department, Neptune, CA

Sheriff D'Amato walks to the interrogation room where Padraig Fitzpatrick is waiting and looks through the one-way mirror at the suspect. The man is a seasoned criminal; he appears confident and calm, but Leo sees cracks in the facade. His foot taps nervously, and Padraig clasps and unclasps his hands as he waits.

Leo unlocks the door and enters; he takes a seat opposite Padraig and places a thick stack of manila file folders on the table between them and a clear evidence bag on top. Padraig looks at the bag surreptitiously before resuming his overtly innocent demeanor. "Sheriff, this is all a big misunderstanding. I don't know anything about money laundering. I think it's my brother Liam you should be talking to."

"Hmm. That's family loyalty for you. Do you happen to know where your brother might be?" Leo asks.

"He doesn't report to me," Padraig replies contemptuously.

Leo consults a paper. "It looks like Liam took a trip to the Cayman Islands in September of last year. Do you know anything about that?"

Padraig's shocked face betrays him. Without thinking, he blurts out, "That sonofa—" He gets hold of himself and clamps his mouth shut. More cautiously, Padraig continues, "Like I said, Liam doesn't tell me everything. I'm his brother, not his keeper. If he's messed up in some scam, it doesn't have anything to do with me. I haven't done anything wrong."

"Really. What about conspiracy to commit murder?" Leo says thoughtfully.

"What? What murder?" Padraig asks, confused.

Leo pushes a photo across the table. "This car stereo is from the vehicle in which Kendall Casablancas was last seen."

Padraig can't help sneering at the name 'Kendall'. "So?"

Leo continues, "The stereo turned up in a pawn shop in San Diego. And the owner produced a bill of sale showing that he got the stereo from Paddy's Used Car Emporium."

"Doesn't prove anything," Padraig remarks. "The murderer probably sold us the radio. And we're a legitimate used parts reseller. We distribute radios all the time to shops up and down the West Coast."

"Well, the judge gave us a warrant based on that radio, and we looked around your chop shop. And we found the car. Well...some of it. Obviously, the majority of it has already been fenced. But we found the frame, and a few parts with the VIN number that you haven't been able to sell yet. And more importantly...we found the seats from the vehicle."

"Seats don't have a VIN number," Padraig replies scornfully. "There's no way to identify seats that belong to a particular car."

"Ah, see, that's the thing. The leather seats with contrasting piping are distinctive; apparently there weren't too many Navigators with that option. And the owner recognizes a rip on the passenger front seat. Seems he had a mishap the week before the car was stolen and hadn't had a chance to have it taken care of yet."

"What's your point? So you found a car seat."

Leo holds up the evidence bag. "Crime scene techs found a hair on the seat. Preliminary analysis indicates it's consistent with Kendall's hair. We'll be sending it to the forensic lab in Los Angeles for definitive identification. I'm confident it will be a match."

"This is ridiculous," Padraig huffs. "I have an alibi for Kendall's murder." He leans forward and says smugly, "I was in your holding cell that night, arrested on a bullshit receiving stolen goods charge."

"That's interesting that you know the date of Kendall's murder off the top of your head."

Padraig stares back angrily. "So I remember the day she was killed. Big deal. It doesn't prove anything. I didn't even know her."

Leo muses, "Says here she took a fall for your brother Cormac back in the nineties."

Padraig mutters, "Don't know anything about that. I didn't kill her. I told you, I was here in your holding cell."

"All right, so maybe you couldn't have actually killed Kendall. It could just be that you were an accessory after the fact. Or maybe it's even criminal conspiracy." Leo shrugs. "It's still eligible for third strike sentencing. And added to the conspiracy and racketeering charges in the Griffith money-laundering case? I think you've got a problem, Paddy. You might want to start talking."

"I didn't have anything to do with that bitch's murder."

"A bitch, huh? So you do know her. Did you have an axe to grind? Did you hate her enough to have her killed? Did you kill her to avenge Cormac's murder? That's still an open case, as I recall."

"I didn't even know she was in town. I didn't even know what she looked like now."

"Oh, so you noticed the plastic surgery." Leo pushes a copy of the photo of Kendall with Dr. Griffith across the table. "Do you think Dr. Griffith did a good job? I hear he doesn't take too many cases nowadays."

"What?" Padraig stares at the photo in horror. His lips work without saying anything.

Leo, watching closely, thinks he's saying, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Leo asks, "Sure you don't want to tell me what your brother was up to?"

Padraig glares at Leo furiously. "I want my lawyer. I'm not saying another word."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
VERONICA MARS
10:00PM SHO ch: 340 60min 2009 TV-MA
Welcome to Acheron
Wallace and Weevil ask for Clemmons' help;
Veronica, Logan, and Keith in Rio Linda; Mac's
captors assess the situation.
Veronica: Kristen Bell. Logan: Jason Dohring.
Keith: Enrico Colantoni. Eli: Francis Capra.
Wallace: Percy Daggs III. Mac: Tina Majorino.
Sheriff: William Sadler. Van Clemmons:
Duane Daniels. Man #1: ??. Man #2: ??.
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CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-SEVEN: "WELCOME TO ACHERON"

Sat. 3/21/09 afternoon: Clemmons Residence, Neptune, CA

Wallace and Weevil have been waiting outside the Clemmons house for about an hour; the principal had told Wallace he was running some errands and would be available to speak with him sometime after two o'clock.

Mr. Clemmons steps out of his car and glances at the two young men approaching. "Mr. Fennel. Mr. Navarro. I'm wondering what was so urgent that you needed to see me on a Saturday." He walks to the rear of his car and opens the trunk. There are several bags of grass seed, topsoil, and a few garden tools.

"Let us get that," Wallace suggests. He nudges Weevil, and they hoist the bags out of the car and carry them to a spot indicated by Clemmons.

"Thank you, boys, I appreciate the help." Clemmons stands with his hands on his hips, obviously eager to begin working in the backyard. "I'm glad to see you've kept out of prison and made something of yourself, Mr. Navarro."

"Oh, I'm completely reformed," Weevil says without a hint of sarcasm. He thinks about torturing Oswaldo and setting him up the night before, and he smiles genuinely. "Life gives you back whatever you put into it."

"That's good to hear. You're working at Hearst College now?"

"Yeah."

Clemmons turns to Wallace. "And I know you've done well on the basketball court, Mr. Fennel. How about your academics?"

"Engineering honor society," Wallace says proudly. "And it wasn't easy, but it was worth it."

"I think you'll find that most things in life are like that. Well, I'm really enjoying catching up with you, gentlemen, but as you can see, I have quite a bit of yard work ahead of me. What's this about?"

Wallace glances at Weevil and takes out the surveillance photo of 'KC'. "Do you know this kid? Veronica is—"

"Veronica? This is something for one of Ms. Mars' cases?" Clemmons remarks. "I should have known. What's she got you involved with now? Dognapping? Perhaps a photo of a wayward spouse." He tsks audibly.

"It has to do with Hannah Griffith's murder. Veronica believes she wasn't really a victim of that serial killer in Los Angeles," Wallace explains. "You read about Veronica's recent investigation at the school in Vermont where Hannah was?"

"Yes, I do remember reading something about that." Clemmons extends a hand for the photo. "This boy looks vaguely familiar, but I'm sorry, I don't know his name." He tries to hand the photo back.

"Okay, we're going to need more than that," Weevil retorts. "He's not in the Neptune High School yearbook, but we've found out he's definitely from Neptune. He goes by the name 'KC'."

"KC?" Clemmons repeats.

Wallace suggests, "We wondered if maybe he was in one of the alternate programs."

"Ah. Auto mechanics, heating and air conditioning, something like that?" Clemmons replies. "Yes, that could be it. I wouldn't have had much contact with him after he entered an alternative program as long as he completed the requirements."

"Yeah. How can we find out his name?" Weevil asks.

"Well, if you'll come by the school on Monday, I'd be happy to take a look through my files and see if I can find his information for you. Now if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I'd like to enjoy my day off." Clemmons turns dismissively and picks up a shovel.

Wallace exchanges a glance with Weevil; he sees that Weevil's about to blow up, and he puts a restraining hand on Weevil's arm. He rushes to say, "Sir...it's important. We've been working to identify this boy, and we're worried that Veronica's in danger. You've heard the news about the statewide manhunt for Liam Fitzpatrick and Tom Griffith?"

Clemmons nods thoughtfully. "Yes, I did hear something about that."

"Veronica did a lot of the investigative work that led to those warrants," Wallace explains. "The Fitzpatricks aren't too happy with her right now. Could we go to the school today and look through your files?"

"Mr. Fennel, I hardly think—"

"You know, Veronica helped you out more than once," Weevil interrupts. "I think she told me she helped you get promoted in fact."

Clemmons sputters, "That has no relevance to this—"

Wallace chimes in, "And we helped you out last fall. Didn't that little incident when the school's computer servers were completely compromised get swept under the carpet? I wonder if the superintendent knows what happened."

Frowning, Clemmons says, "I see Ms. Mars has taught you well."

Wallace adds, "She needs our help right now. All of us. Please." He looks around the yard. "And...afterwards, we'll help you with your garden."

Weevil opens his mouth to protest, and Wallace quickly elbows him in the ribs. Wallace says, "We'd be happy to help, right, Eli?"

Weevil rubs his side and says, "Yeah. We'll help you." He glares at Wallace, who ignores him.

~ • ~

Sat. 3/21/09 afternoon: Sheriff's Department, Rio Linda, CA

Logan drives slowly down M Street as Keith and Veronica look out the window. "Rio Linda is...depressing," Veronica finally sums up. Many of the buildings appear to be rundown or even boarded up, and the cars on the street are mostly older models, many with large dents, fenders attached with bungee cords, and taillights repaired with tape. Even the trees are scruffy; the ground is sandy dirt with few actual lawns and the occasional pitiful palm tree struggling to survive. They pass a hardware store and see several Mexican men lounging, apparently hoping for daywork as laborers. A market advertising cheap cigarettes and discount beer kegs is next to a check cashing establishment that offers 'lowest rates'.

Logan thinks, Where's the beautiful river of 'Rio Linda'? There's nothing beautiful here. He imagines Hannah walking down the street, looking fearfully over her shoulder in case someone from Briar Hill followed her here. Or maybe...would she have had an escape plan ready just in case someone recognized her? She probably always carried a change of clothes and enough money to run if necessary. I wish I'd realized she needed my help. He clenches his fist, cursing his idiocy in using her against her father and his obtuseness when she called him after she escaped.

Veronica looks at him quizzically, noticing his tension. He mutters, "Just thinking about Hannah."

She nods. "I know. It's pretty bleak. It's a long way from Neptune High and the beautiful mansions in 90909. And it's not the pretty meadow from her postcard."

"I should have—" Logan begins.

"Don't. Let's just see what we find out," Veronica urges quickly. She reads his mind. "If you'd helped her, you would have led her father's private detectives right to her, and she would have ended up back at the school."

"I could have gotten a lawyer—" he replies.

Keith interjects, "It wouldn't have helped. The courts have reaffirmed over and over that parents are allowed to send their kids to any school they want. That's Rio Linda Boulevard up there...turn right," and Logan maneuvers the vehicle into the right lane. They find the county sheriff's Rio Linda office and park in the lot. As they exit the car, Keith pulls Logan aside. "Your weapon...leave it in the car. I don't want a problem in there." Logan nods and removes his weapon and the holster, locking it with Keith's in the glove compartment. They walk into the shabby building and look around while they wait for the desk clerk.

The desk clerk is tapping on an out-of-date computer and cursing its noncompliance. Veronica reads a poster taped onto the cheap paneled wall: 'Support Rio Linda-Elverta Incorporation: Get Rio Linda the police protection it deserves'. She tugs on her dad's sleeve and motions toward the poster. He nods as he looks around the room at the worn furniture and lack of modern office equipment; one deputy is typing a report on an old-fashioned typewriter. He mutters, "Looks like Sacramento County isn't doing much for Rio Linda...just what would have happened to everything outside of 90909 in Neptune if Woody's plan had gone through."

The desk clerk asks them to take a seat for a moment. Veronica wanders over to the wall and reads some of the framed newspaper articles. 'Fiery Plane Crash Kills Three; Rio Linda Deputy Among the Victims', dated December 27, 2008. She reads curiously that the private plane had been on its way back from Vancouver; another posted article dated two months later contains a statement from the National Transportation Safety Board that the officials continued to regard the incident as 'suspicious' and were still investigating. A nearby plaque lionizes the deputy killed in the crash as 'Rio Linda Hero of the Year'. Another article lists the volunteer efforts of the Rio Linda Sheriff's Department at several local halfway houses for prisoners released from nearby Folsom Prison. She has begun to scan an article talking about the private security hired to protect the local combined school district when she notices that the desk clerk has motioned to them to enter the sheriff's office. Veronica quickly catches up and joins the others.

"How can I help you, Mr. Mars?" the sheriff asks, examining Keith's credentials closely. "You're a little far afield here in Rio Linda."

"We've been hired by Ms. Stephanie Denenberg, the mother of Hannah Griffith, the latest victim of the Saturday Night Slasher in Los Angeles. We were told by an informant that Ms. Griffith was living here in Rio Linda just after she disappeared three years ago. Her mother is hoping to find out a little about her daughter's life. It's just for a sense of closure...you can understand a mother's anxiety in a case like this," Keith explains. He pushes a copy of Stephanie Denenberg's contract with Mars Investigations across the desk to the sheriff, who scans it with a frown.

The sheriff appears to be lost in thought. Suddenly he looks up and says, "You're those investigators who were at that school in Vermont...the ones who got Assemblyman Frazzino arrested on those bull child abuse charges. He's done a lot for Rio Linda, including sponsoring a lot of bills supporting child welfare." The sheriff shakes his head in disgust.

Uh-oh, Veronica thinks. She opens her mouth to speak, but her dad places a warning hand on her knee.

Keith replies soothingly, "It was a difficult situation. I'm sure that the truth will come out in the end. There were a lot of victims at the school."

Somewhat mollified, the sheriff grunts in response. "What can I do for you?"

"We'd like to ask your help in reconstructing the last few years of Hannah's life. We have a couple photos here, and we've run a few possibilities for alterations she might have made to her appearance." Keith hands over a stack of 8x10 glossy photos, featuring Hannah with different hair colors and styles, and a sheet of paper with a Rio Linda address. "And this is the address where we believe she was living after she ran away from the boarding school."

"She was hiding here? In Rio Linda?" the sheriff asks doubtfully as he takes the photos.

Veronica chimes in, "From the school and from her parents. She wouldn't have wanted to attract attention. She was living with a woman named Katherine Silver who was using the alias Katey Shaffer. We're assuming Hannah was using an alias as well."

The sheriff looks at the materials cursorily and taps a few keys on his computer. He shakes his head, muttering, "Nothing in the system on either of those names. Just an expired driver's license for Katey Shaffer with an address in Sacramento. There's certainly no record of her here in Rio Linda." He glances up. "We're a little short-staffed here. Money's tight, and we really don't have enough deputies to cover our area as it is. I don't think I can justify putting a deputy on this."

Keith puts up a placating hand. "That's okay. Mostly we just wanted to check in with you before we began looking around. So...we have your permission to operate in your jurisdiction in this matter?"

"Yes. I appreciate your checking in with us. I don't think you'll find anything. When did the girl die?"

"January," Veronica replies.

"Two months ago? Awfully cold trail."

"Her mother is just trying for some sort of peace of mind in a very difficult situation," Keith replies gently.

"Huh. Well, if her daughter ran away, she probably deserved to be at that school," the sheriff opines. He glances at Veronica. "Kids...they think they know everything."

Veronica seethes inside; Logan grasps her hand warningly. Keith quickly says, "Thank you again, Sheriff. We'll be in touch." He stands up and leads them out of the office, grasping Veronica's elbow to propel her forward as Logan closes ranks behind.

Veronica shakes off her dad's hand as soon as they leave the building. "What the hell?" she asks angrily.

"Veronica, I don't trust that guy," her dad answers. "We're not going to get any information out of him. At the very least, he's overworked and underpaid, and he isn't going to go out of his way to help us. And, at the worst...." He shrugs meaningfully.

"I don't understand," Logan remarks.

"I had a bad feeling," Keith says obliquely.

"What do you mean, a bad feeling?" Veronica queries.

Keith sighs. "Something seems wrong here in Rio Linda. I don't know what it is, but I wouldn't be surprised if the sheriff was involved. He had a pile of papers on his desk about methamphetamine busts," he reveals.

Veronica snorts, "Reading upside down, the Mars specialty." She smiles ruefully at her dad. "You're thinking...."

"I don't know what to think, but meth is a possible connection to the Fitzpatricks."

~ • ~

Sat. 3/21/09 afternoon: Somewhere in the United States

The two men have been holding quiet discussions for several hours; Mac occasionally sees enough of the computer screen to confirm that they are watching a moving dot on a map of Northern California. The man in charge takes several phone calls and gives terse instructions to the callers. Mac tries to hear what they are saying; she's been trying desperately to avoid giving into her fears by concentrating on gathering as much information as possible on the two men. She has refused to think about the fact that she's seen both their faces and could easily identify them.

Alan has been unconscious now for about eight hours in Mac's estimation. She keeps looking at him, trying to determine if he's still breathing. The men not even caring whether he's dead or alive is almost scarier than the beating they gave him the day before. She swallows, certain that Alan isn't going to be able to help her. It's all me...think, Mac.

As she listens, she tries to move her bound hands and feet to prevent them from falling asleep; with no other options, she's decided she might have to try something crazy. She has contorted her fingers as much as possible but hasn't been able to work the end of the duct tape loose. At one point, she tried so hard to loosen the tape that the chair tilted sideways momentarily before falling back to the floor with a bang; the men looked over suspiciously, and she had said lamely, "Sorry, fell asleep." The man in charge had regarded her with narrowed eyes, and she had realized that he was considering whether she was worth keeping alive.

At that point, Mac had resolved to find a way to become essential to her captors; if nothing else, maybe she could misdirect the men away from Veronica. She fought the rising panic down and tried to imagine what Veronica would be planning in this scenario. Be smart, Veronica...please realize that I was sending a message with 'Ronnie'. Mac has been trying to prepare another message in case they have her call Veronica again. Got to be ready.

The cell phone rings again, and the man in charge triggers the send button. "Yeah....You saw them at the Rio Linda sheriff's department....Both of them are armed? Why didn't you just take the guns?...What do you mean, following them?" His eyes flick to Mac's. "What's the plate number?" He scribbles on a sheet of paper. "Hold on, I'll run the number."

The man cradles the phone between his ear and his shoulder and types on the laptop; Mac recognizes the login screen for the FBI databases she had been using at the RCFL in San Diego. She wonders if they're still near San Diego; when she and Alan had been taken, they had been drugged, but she thinks they were driven here by car, and she has decided that they couldn't have driven for more than a couple hours. Or maybe not.... Mac keeps watching and listening, trying to think of something else.

The man stares at the screen for several seconds before announcing, "The car's registered to the Nick Harris Detective Agency. They must have hired security. You'll have to improvise....Yeah, that's why we're paying you the big bucks, Brian....Perfect....Yeah, we accessed their call records. They called a residence at 849 Santa Ana Avenue near the airfield; why don't you check it out?...I don't know how they found out she was in Rio Linda, but they know a lot....Let me know." He hangs up and turns to Mac. "I think it's time to get out of here." He fumbles in a duffel bag and withdraws a prescription pill bottle. "You're going to take two of these."

"No," she protests weakly.

"Your choice," the man says. "You take the pills, I'll give you some water, maybe even some food when we get where we're going. Otherwise..." He puts down the pill bottle and takes a syringe out of the bag, showing it to Mac.

Mac breathes heavily, trying to think. She says, "What about Alan?"

"Oh, you're right." He rummages in the bag again and pulls out a gun with a silencer attached. He quickly flips the safety on the gun and shoots Alan in the head; he's completely matter-of-fact, almost indifferent to the resulting carnage. Mac's vision blurs as she looks at the oozing bloodstain on the wall behind Alan's head.

The man says calmly, "You're absolutely right, Mac, we really didn't need him anymore." He picks us the phone and dials a number. "Cleanup on aisle nine," he says lightly. He chuckles in response to something he hears on the other end. "Yeah, Sheffield. Stupid cocksucker stickin' his nose where it doesn't belong....We'll be out of here in an hour." He hangs up and turns to Mac. "You gonna take these pills or what?"

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VERONICA MARS
10:00PM SHO ch: 340 60min 2009 TV-MA
A False Sense of Security
Veronica, Logan, and Keith find where Hannah
was living; followup questions for Mrs. Griffith;
the security precautions hit a snag.
Veronica: Kristen Bell. Logan: Jason Dohring.
Keith: Enrico Colantoni. Leo: Max Greenfield.
Evelyn Blake: Lynn Cohen. Mrs. Griffith:
Kavner: Eric Bana. Harris: Steve Harris.
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CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-EIGHT: "A FALSE SENSE OF SECURITY"

Sat. 3/21/09 afternoon: Residential area, Rio Linda, CA

Logan pilots the car down a street about ten minutes away from the sheriff's department. The houses are small and rundown; they see several rusted out cars propped up on concrete blocks in the yards. At one house, an old refrigerator, avocado-colored, sits with its door hanging open on the sagging front porch. Veronica stares at it as they drive past; Keith glances at her, certain what she's remembering. Most of the homes have wrought-iron bars over the windows and doors, and several have large dogs chained prominently in the yard.

Logan slows down as they approach the number they're looking for. They see people hanging out, not doing anything; they stare curiously at the car as it passes. A man is working on a junker car halfway down the block. As Logan parks, he stops what he's doing to look at them suspiciously. Logan unlocks the glove compartment and hands Keith his gun before putting his own back in the holster under his light jacket. Veronica frowns, unhappy about the weapon. Before he exits the car, Logan leans over and kisses her forehead. He whispers, "Don't worry, you'll be the man in this relationship again soon enough." She makes a face, and he taps her nose softly with his forefinger. "Stand down, Starbuck," he says lightly.

She scoffs. "Frak me."

"Come on, let's go."

They walk up to the house. The porch is littered with advertising circulars and trash. Keith rings the bell as Veronica tries to look in the window. She uses a tissue to wipe off some of the dirt and grime on the glass. She comments, "I think the house is empty."

Keith knocks loudly, in case the doorbell isn't functioning. The man working on the car down the street has stopped pretending to do anything other than stare at them balefully. Keith says, "Wait here." He walks toward the man, who crosses his arms and makes no move to meet him halfway. Logan and Veronica watch as Keith extends a hand. The man looks at it without uncrossing his arms, and Keith drops it and asks a question. The man shakes his head, offering what looks like one-word answers. Keith nods a thank you and turns back. He rejoins them on the porch.

"Anything?" Veronica asks.

"He claims he doesn't know anything about the people who used to live here and refused to look at the photos of Hannah." Keith sighs. "From the smell and the bloodshot eyes, I'd say he started smoking up early this morning."

Logan asks, "Are we going to try to get into the house?" He glances around nervously. At the far end of block, the men hanging out on a porch seem to be looking their way.

Keith shakes his head. "There's too many people watching right now. We don't need any more methheads coming after us. When we talk to the landlord, we'll ask if he'll let us look around. We'll break in as a last resort; I can pretend to be a telephone company worker on a repair call." He surveys the neighborhood. "Let's try the neighbors...see if anybody knew Hannah or Katey Shaffer."

No one is at home on the right, but the house appears to be occupied. Keith leaves a note on his business card without much hope of a response. On the left, a man opens the door a crack and slams it shut when he sees them.

"Friendly people hereabouts," Veronica comments. "We're not going to get anything out of these people."

"We came a long way. Let's try some of the other neighbors before we leave," Keith suggests. They garner the same lack of response from three more houses. Two doors down, they approach a house without any trash in the yard. All the windows have wrought-iron bars on the windows, and the front door is protected by a heavy iron grate.

Veronica sees a curtain twitch behind the iron bars; she watches carefully and thinks she sees an elderly woman watching them. "Dad...let me try this one alone."

"Veronica—"

"I think it's an older woman. She'll be too frightened of all of us. You're right here; I'll be all right. Look at the house; it's the only one on the block that's been painted in the last ten years," Veronica notes persuasively.

Keith sighs. "All right. Be careful. If anything's wrong—"

"I know. Give me the photos," she requests, and he hands her the packet.

Keith and Logan watch nervously from the sidewalk as Veronica walks up the steps onto the porch and rings the bell. She takes out her private investigator ID. She calls out, "Hello, my name is Veronica Mars. I'm a private investigator from Neptune, California. I'm putting my ID where you can see it through the window. I have some questions about a young girl who lived in the brown house across the street until a few months ago."

She holds the ID up to a small window high up on the door. After a minute, she hears several locks being turned, and the door is opened. The woman says, "Let me see that." Veronica gives her the ID, and the woman stares at it for a long time before returning it.

Veronica points to her dad and Logan on the sidewalk. "That's my father and my friend. We're working for the girl's mother. She was killed in Los Angeles in January, and the mother would like to know more about her life here in Rio Linda." And especially who killed her.

"She was killed?" the woman replies, shocked.

Veronica hands her a copy of the press clippings about Hannah's death. The woman reads silently, getting increasingly upset. Veronica asks, "Did you know her?"

"She said her name was Meredith. She helped me with my groceries one day when I wasn't feeling well. There's no one else decent left around here," the woman says bitterly. "Not like thirty years ago, when this was all nice working class families. And I can't sell. Houses ain't worth a tinker's dam in this neighborhood now. Look at the trash in front of that house," she exclaims, pursing her lips in annoyance at the adjacent house.

"Meredith. Did you know her last name?" Veronica asks. "It would help us a lot if we knew the name she was using."

"She never said. She didn't look like this. Her hair was different."

Veronica slides the photos out of a manila envelope. "Did she look like any of these, Mrs., uh?"

"Evelyn Blake." The woman adjusts her glasses and peruses the different Photoshopped versions of Hannah. "Like this one, I guess, but a little bit shorter. Maybe a little darker too," she finally decides, pointing to a picture with shoulder length dark brown hair.

Veronica thinks about her own recent makeover and how long she had had to sit in the beauty salon the day before while they recreated her original hair color. They went to the trouble of dyeing her hair back to its original color before they killed her. They wanted Hannah to be identified. She tries to think if any of the press coverage or the autopsy reports had mentioned whether Hannah's hair had recently been dyed. They might not have paid much attention because they were assuming she was a prostitute.

Mrs. Blake seems to read her mind. "The article said she was working as a prostitute. That doesn't sound like Meredith. She was a nice girl."

"Was she working here in Rio Linda?"

"She didn't say. But I saw her waiting at the bus stop at the end of the street most days at 3:30." The woman points, and Veronica sees a sign with a bus icon.

"The phone records indicate that the phone was disconnected in mid-November."

Mrs. Blake thinks before replying, "That sounds about right. I think that was the last time I saw them."

"Do you know her new address?" Veronica asks. "We're hoping to speak with the woman she was living with."

Mrs. Blake regretfully shakes her head 'no'.

"Do you know why they moved?"

The woman laughs without mirth. "No, but I can guess. Too many meth dealers."

"Methamphetamine?" Veronica presses.

"It's like a plague here in Rio Linda. People start using, and then they start dealing to buy more, and then...." She shrugs. "House blew up over on Arroyo Seco 'bout a year ago. Newspaper said they were 'cooking' meth."

"Is that why no one will talk to us?"

She snorts. "They won't talk to you because they figure you're probably cops or feds. The brown house has been vacant since they left. Not too many people want to live around here anymore. And you can see, the landlord doesn't do much to keep the property nice."

Veronica withdraws some more photos from the envelope. "Mrs. Blake, have you ever seen any of these men around here?" She shows the woman pictures of Liam Fitzpatrick and his brothers, Daniel Mulvaney, Gerry Black, and Dr. Griffith. The woman shakes her head at each photo. "How about these, if you don't mind?" Veronica hands her a sheet with photos of the entire Neptune Sheriff's Department. Without access to the FBI databases, they weren't able to locate photos of the agents on Mike's list, but Keith had thought it was worth eliminating the possibility of a crooked cop in Neptune as well.

The woman notes the uniforms and looks up at Veronica quizzically. "Aren't these policemen?"

"Yes. There's been some concern that a law enforcement official was involved in Meredith's murder."

Mrs. Blake regards Veronica shrewdly. "Pretty dangerous investigation you're running, miss. I see you've already managed to get hurt," she notes, nodding at Veronica's sling.

Veronica flushes. She motions at the sheet. "Do you recognize any of these people?"

Mrs. Blake turns back to the sheet of photos. She looks at each picture and returns the photos to Veronica. "I don't believe so. But then again, I haven't seen Meredith since November. She was killed in...."

"January," Veronica says helpfully.

"I'm sorry. If I saw any of these people, I've forgotten their faces by now."

"Can you think of anything else?" Veronica asks persuasively. "There was a terrible misunderstanding between Han— Meredith and her mother, and her mother was devastated when Meredith was killed."

The woman shakes her head regretfully. "I just spoke to her that one time. She seemed like a nice girl, very quiet. She kept to herself and didn't bother anyone. So did the other woman, the one she was living with. She'd lived here for five years, and I never spoke to her. I have to say, they're about the only ones on the block that never had to call the police to break up a fight or arrest someone."

Veronica hands her a business card. "Thank you so much for speaking with me. This is my dad's agency, Mars Investigations. Can you give us a call if you think of anything else? And...if we have more questions, can we call you?"

"Of course. I'm here, everyday. I'm in the book. Be careful, young lady." Mrs. Blake closes the door and engages all the locks.

Veronica rushes back to Logan and her dad. "Hannah was using the name 'Meredith'. She had dyed her hair dark brown, maybe shoulder length or a little shorter. The woman said she didn't know where Hannah moved to or the last name she was using, but Hannah used to take the bus to work every day, around 3:30." She points toward the bus stop. "There can't be too many businesses with those kinds of hours on this route."

"Sounds like a restaurant job, maybe a grocery store. Good job, honey," Keith says, nodding. "Let's look up that bus route and see if we can find any restaurants along the way."

~ • ~

Sat. 3/21/09 afternoon: Griffith Residence, Neptune, CA

Mrs. Griffith flings open the front door and stares stonily at Sheriff D'Amato. "Sheriff," she says coldly.

"Mrs. Griffith, may I come in? I have a few follow-up questions," Leo asks in a neutral voice.

Without responding, she opens the door wider to allow him entrance. They sit down in the living room. Leo says, "Have you heard from your husband?"

She shakes her head 'no'. "Of course not. Wouldn't your deputy have told you?" she adds sarcastically, pointedly inclining her head toward the squad car parked out front.

Leo takes out his notes. "Mrs. Griffith, your husband's checking account transactions indicate that he hired A-One Security for something back in September. There's no record of an incident report. I'm wondering what happened."

"There was a break-in. I was nine months pregnant at the time; I came home from the doctor's, and Tom was boarding up a broken window. He was pretty upset with me about to go into labor at any moment and got an alarm system installed the next day. He had a bodyguard watching me for about six weeks."

"A bodyguard? For a break-in?" Leo asks, surprised. Pretty extreme reaction to a break-in.

"He said they were looking for narcotics. Apparently he surprised them rifling through his papers trying to find his prescription pads and scared them off. He said he was worried about me and the baby."

"Did he say anything about not filing a police report?" Leo queries.

"I guess I didn't think to ask," Mrs. Griffith replies reluctantly.

"And he had a bodyguard watching you for about six weeks? Why did that stop?"

"One day he came home and said we didn't need the extra security any more, and he was canceling the bodyguard. We kept the alarm, of course," she says, pointing at the keypad mounted by the front door.

Sounds more like someone was threatening Griffith, Leo thinks. "Has anyone harassed you? Or maybe followed you?"

"No! What are you saying?" Mrs. Griffith answers nervously.

"What exactly did your husband say when he canceled the bodyguard?" Leo presses.

"I told you, he just said we didn't need the extra protection any longer. I was busy with the baby, and I was just relieved that he didn't seem so stressed."

Leo ponders the new information. "So your husband was very stressed, oh let's say, September through...."

"Through early November."

"And then he calmed down," Leo says leadingly.

Mrs. Griffith says evasively, "Um, yeah."

"Did something else happen? Mrs. Griffith...it sounds to me like your husband was playing a dangerous game of chicken with the Fitzpatricks. Did anything else happen?"

She sighs loudly. "It's not going to matter, is it. Our life is ruined already."

Leo raises his voice. "What is it? Tell me."

"Tom was a nervous wreck the first couple weeks in January. I've never seen him so wound up. I'd wake up in the middle of the night and find him sitting in the kitchen drinking. I told him that I was going to go to a lawyer if he didn't start working on the marriage. That's why we went away for Martin Luther King Day. The Los Angeles police tracked us down in Cabo San Lucas with the news that Hannah had been killed."

So the doctor was already a nervous wreck before Hannah was murdered. "Thank you, Mrs. Griffith. If you think of anything else, I appreciate it if you'd give me a call." He stands up to leave.

Mrs. Griffith says nervously, "You think he did it, don't you. You think he was working with the Fitzpatricks and was involved with that woman's murder."

"We're working under the assumption that he performed her plastic surgery. I don't know what his connection is with her murder, but it doesn't help that he ran. If you hear from him, or if you think of a way to contact him, urge him to turn himself in."

~ • ~

Sat. 3/21/09 afternoon: Residential area, Rio Linda, CA

Kavner is following the Saturn at a discreet distance when a dirty white paneled van suddenly pulls out in front of him. He hits the brakes to avoid hitting the van, which slows down and blocks him from passing. He asks the other guard, "Hey, Harris, can you see...is Keith still up ahead?"

Harris cranes his neck out the window. "Yeah. I see him. What's with this guy?"

The truck puts on its left turn signal and slows to a stop, then turns off the signal and proceeds slowly, applying the brakes every few houses. Kavner says, "I guess he's lost. Call Keith, tell him what's going on." He swerves a little, trying to see ahead of the van.

Harris places the call. "Yeah, some guy's between us....I don't think so. I think it's just a local yahoo...Okay, I got it." He hangs up and tells Kavner, "They're following a bus route. They're going to keep heading west on O Street, then a right on Front Street, and a left on Q Street."

Kavner repeats, "Right on Front, left on Q. Write down this guy's plate, just in case."

Finally the van stops and, after waiting for oncoming traffic, makes a left turn into a driveway. Kavner hits the gas and tries to catch up to Keith.

A half-mile further down the road, with the Saturn still out of sight, he sees flashing lights in his rear view mirror. He slows the car and asks the other guard, "Was I speeding?"

"Maybe. Better pull over."

Kavner says, "Call Keith." He pulls over to the side of the road and shuts off the car. As Harris hits redial on the cell phone, Kavner reaches into the glove compartment for the registration and insurance cards and puts them on the seat ready to hand over. He triggers the switch to lower the window.

They hear a loud whoop and a voice over a loudspeaker. "Put the phone down, and keep your hands where we can see them." Kavner watches in the mirror; two cops approach the car quickly, unsnapping their holsters and putting their hands on their weapons. He glances at his partner, who sets down the phone; they both put their hands up and wait.

The two cops take a position on either side of the car. "Sir. Open the car door and step out of the vehicle."

"Officer, I'm armed," Kavner replies. "Shoulder holster. I have a concealed weapon permit in my wallet."

The officer draws his weapon and trains it on Kavner. "Slowly take out your weapon with two fingers and hand it to me butt-first. No sudden movements," the officer instructs, holding his left palm out while keeping his revolver steadily pointed at Kavner's head. "Your friend armed too?"

"Yes, sir," Harris replies. He and Kavner carefully hand their guns to the officers.

The two cops open the car doors. The first officer instructs them, "Please exit the vehicle. Keep your hands where we can see them and your mouths shut." They are thrown against the car and thoroughly searched; both men have worked in private security long enough to know better than to protest. The cop says, "Lay down on the ground, face down, hands laced behind your head." Kavner and Harris comply; the two cops pull their hands down, cuffing their wrists behind their back, and haul them up to their feet.

"Officer," Kavner says. "What's the charge?"

"Vehicular homicide and leaving the scene of an accident with injuries. You killed three kids when you ran that red light last night, you fuck."

As they are escorted to the police cruiser, Kavner protests, "Officer, we were in Los Angeles until this morning. This is a mistake. We can prove it."

"Tell it to the judge. The eyewitness told us the make, model, and license plate of your car and described you perfectly." The officer opens the back door of the police car and pushes Kavner into the backseat. "Watch your head."

"I need to call my boss. We're working private security. Check our ID. You'll see that we're employed by the Nick Harris Agency in San Diego."

"You'll get your phone call down at the station," the cop advises. He slams the door and gets into the front seat.

His partner joins them with a bag containing their personal belongings from the car. The second cop asks, "Dispatch called for a tow truck?" and the first cop nods in response.

Kavner protests, "Look at the car. It hasn't been in an accident."

The cop ignores him. He begins to Mirandize the two men. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights?"

Kavner exchanges a glance with the other guard. This is very bad.

The first cop takes the radio handset and triggers it. "This is Unit 10. Suspects are in custody. Do you have an ETA on the— Hold on." A tow truck pulls up, and the cop continues, "Never mind. Tow truck's here. We'll head down to the station."

The tow truck driver leans out the window. "Dispatcher said you had a car going to the impound lot?"

The officer replies, "Yeah. That was fast."

"Oh, we were in the neighborhood." He hops out of the cab and passes a clipboard to the officer. "Sign here, and here."

After the patrol car leaves, the tow truck driver turns to the man in the passenger seat, who gives him a thousand dollars cash and jumps out to take possession of the car.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
VERONICA MARS
10:00PM SHO ch: 340 60min 2009 TV-MA
Momentum
Veronica, Logan, and Keith finds Hannah's
employer; a break in the Slasher case;
Clemmons tries to jog his memory.
Veronica: Kristen Bell. Logan: Jason Dohring.
Keith: Enrico Colantoni. Eli: Francis Capra.
Wallace: Percy Daggs III. Clemmons: Duane
Daniels. Mel: George Gerdes. Police Chief:
Denis Arndt. DA Denning: Gregory Itzin.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-NINE: "MOMENTUM"

Sat. 3/21/09 afternoon: Commercial area, Rio Linda, CA

On Q Street, they find an area with a few stores. Keith directs Logan to pull over and park. They show the picture Mrs. Blake had picked out to a few disinterested shopkeepers who deny ever having seen Hannah. They get back in the car and in a few blocks find a diner, 'Mel's: Good Food Fast'. "Looks promising," Keith comments. They walk into the diner and take seats at the counter. The only other customers are a man finishing a piece of pie at the end of the counter and a woman seated by herself in a booth eating a hamburger.

A man wearing an apron emerges through a swinging door leading to the kitchen. He wipes the counter and hands them three menus. "What can I do you for? Coffee all around?"

"Sounds good," Keith replies.

"Just passing through?" the man asks as he sets up three cups and saucers and begins pouring.

"We're looking for someone. We're wondering if you've seen her." Keith pushes the photo of Hannah with dark brown hair across the counter.

The man looks startled. Evasively, he asks, "What business is it of yours?"

"We're private detectives from Neptune, California. So you know this young woman? I believe she was using the name Meredith here in Rio Linda," Keith replies.

"I don't want any trouble," the man says, his face pale and nervous.

Veronica chimes in, "We're not going to cause you any trouble. We're just looking for information."

Suddenly suspicious, the man asks, "Do you have identification? How do I know who you are?"

Keith and Veronica take out their wallets and show him their PI licenses. The man stares at them for a long minute. He nods toward Logan. "Who's he? He looks familiar."

"A friend, helping us out," Veronica replies. "We're not here to make trouble for you." She hands him a copy of the news report on Hannah's death. "Meredith's real name was Hannah Griffith, and she was killed in Los Angeles on January 17."

"I don't know anything about that," the man protests, looking at the garish headline, 'Serial Killer Strikes Again'.

"I'm guessing Meredith was working here," Keith surmises. "Probably under the table, from the way you're reacting."

The man flushes. "I told you, I don't know anything. I think you should leave."

"Are you Mel?" Keith asks, pointing at the diner's logo posted above the coffee maker. "Mel, if I have to, I'll get in touch with the Labor Department and the IRS." He cranes his neck and looks toward the kitchen, from which the sound of clattering dishes and running water can be heard. "I'm wondering if your dishwasher has all the documents the INS requires."

"All right, all right," he answers quickly. "Yeah, my name's Mel. I was trying to help her out."

"Okay, you were trying to help Meredith," Keith says leadingly. "What last name was she using?"

"Grey. Meredith Grey. I'm sure it was a fake name. She had a driver's license, but a child could see it was fake. I told you, I was trying to help her out. She seemed like she was in trouble."

Keith says soothingly, "I'm sure you had only good intentions."

"My friend Katey brought her by and said her niece was staying with her for a while and needed a job. That was about two years ago. I needed counter help, and she seemed like an okay kid, so I tried her out. She did a good job, and I kept her on."

Veronica can't help saying, "You realize that at the time she was only sixteen? Do you have a work permit on file for a minor?"

"She told me she was eighteen," Mel replies indignantly, glaring at her.

"Of course, of course. You can't be responsible if she misled you." Keith glances sternly at Veronica, who mutters 'sorry' under her breath. "I'm sure Meredith was very grateful to have a job."

"You're damn right she was."

Logan clears his throat. "Meredith's, uh, mom is the one who hired us. I know she wants to know what Meredith's life was like while she was living here."

"She didn't talk much. Sometimes you'd catch her staring into space and have to wake her up."

Logan presses, "Did she have friends, boyfriends?"

"No," Mel answers, shaking his head. "She kept to herself, didn't talk about herself at all." He sighs and looks away morosely. He turns back and admits, "I was pretty sure she was a runaway. I figured it must have been pretty bad where she came from."

"It was," Veronica replies.

"You know, she did seem happier around the middle of December. I asked her about it, and she said 'my birthday's coming up' and smiled."

"She probably turned eighteen," Veronica remarks. "The school couldn't take her after that."

"What? What school?" Mel asks.

"She'd been sent to a disciplinary school—it was an abusive situation—and she ran away," Keith explains. "The school is ruthless about pursuing runaways as long as they're minors. What about the woman who claimed to be her aunt, Katey Shaffer? Do you know where she is?"

"They moved in November because there were too many drug dealers in the neighborhood where they'd been living, and Meredith never told me her new address. I got the impression it was an apartment; might have been off Elverta Road—there's some apartments over there. She might have complained a couple times about having to take two buses to get here, so maybe you could find it that way? There's not too many apartment buildings here in Rio Linda. And I haven't seen Katey since..." Mel thinks. "I guess I haven't seen her since last summer. My wife used to drag me to these crystal meditations, some nonsense like that, and that's where we met Katey. Now my wife went back to the church," he rolls his eyes, "and she don't go for that stuff anymore."

"You didn't even have a phone number for Meredith?" Keith asks.

"Sure, she had a cell phone. I can give the number to you. It's in the back," Mel says, pointing with his thumb. "I'll get it for you."

He disappears through the swinging door. Veronica turns to her dad. "You believe him?"

"Yeah, it's what we figured. A cash job, with an employer too lazy to bother with ID or permits who probably saved a little money by paying her less than the minimum wage."

"What a sleazeball," Veronica comments.

"The alternative to a sleazeball employer probably would have been a trip back to Briar Hill," Keith points out.

"I know. But waitressing is a hard job if you're not even making minimum wage."

Mel returns with a slip of paper. "I don't think it's in service anymore. When she didn't show up for work, I called and the message said the call could not be completed as dialed."

"When was this?"

"It was a Sunday, early in January. She'd worked the day before and didn't say anything about not coming in. I tried calling all week and finally gave up after four or five days...I guess I figured something spooked her, and she ran again."

"Can you try to remember which Sunday specifically?" Keith asks. "She was killed on the seventeenth, so that would have been...let's see...the fourth or the eleventh that she didn't show up."

Mel turns to a calendar on the wall and flips back to January. He ponders for a minute before turning back. "Had to have been the eleventh, the day that she didn't show. Yeah, that seems right."

"Anything happen just before that?" Keith queries. "Was she upset? Any mysterious phone calls...anything out of the ordinary?"

"Now that you mention it...there was a guy the night before. He asked me what her name was and if she had a boyfriend. I told him he was barking up the wrong tree. Customers used to hit on her—she was cute, a little too skinny for me, but some like 'em that way—but she would just smile, turn 'em down flat, and get back to work."

"I don't suppose you remember what this guy looked like," Veronica says.

"Geez. Two months ago." Mel ponders. "I don't know, maybe dark brown hair, starting to go bald, just a little thin on top. Mid-forties. Average lookin'."

"How tall?" Keith asks, writing the description down.

"'Bout like him, I guess," Mel says, nodding at Logan.

"Six foot," Logan notes.

Mel protests, "You know, it was just a guy checking out a pretty girl. I'm sure he didn't have anything—" He sees their expressions and clamps his mouth shut.

Veronica says, "Take a look at these photos; see if any of them are him." She hands him the photos of the Fitzpatricks and their cronies and the Neptune Sheriff's Department, even though the description doesn't particularly match any of their suspects.

"No...no..." Mel mumbles as he looks. At the end, he says, "None of these guys."

"Any chance he paid with a credit card?" Keith asks.

Mel points at the sign above the cash register. 'No checks, no credit cards.' "Sorry. People are always trying to rip you off. Cash is a lot safer."

"I bet," Veronica comments. No sales tax, no employee benefits or payroll taxes, no bothersome INS or OSHA visits.

Nervously, Mel asks, "You're not going to tell the police, are you?"

"You might want to make sure all your current employees are documented, Mel," Keith advises. "I think it's possible that the FBI might want to talk to you about the man you saw on January 10. In the meantime, I think you shouldn't talk to anyone about this. If you think of anything else, I'd like you to give me a call." He hands Mel a business card, and they get up to leave.

They pass by a blackboard advertising the daily specials. In pink and green chalk, today's lunch special is listed as 'Roast Beef Sandwich, piled high, with horseradish and mayo on a toasted whole wheat bun with lettuce and tomato. More roast beef than you can handle in a single meal.' Veronica stops short and rereads the board. She grasps Keith's sleeve. "What was that email address? The one that Father Patrick contacted when Liam was arrested. 'Roastbeefman' at yahoo, right?"

Keith nods. "What is it, Veronica?"

"I'm an idiot, that's what. There was a joke at Quantico about an agent who always flashed his badge and asked for 'more roast beef' at a New York deli. If you flashed your credentials at someone, an agent would say 'I roast beefed 'em.' Buspeak, you know...bureau lingo." Veronica's face is flushed with excitement.

Keith replies, "It's more confirmation that it's an FBI agent working with the Fitzpatricks."

They walk out of the diner. Logan turns to her with a worried expression and says, "Veronica, this whole town gives me the creeps. I think we should go back to Neptune and dump all this in Leo's lap. Let him find the FBI agent who's working with the Fitzpatricks."

"You trust Leo now?" Veronica asks incredulously.

Logan shrugs. "What choice do we have? He's already trying to round up the Fitzpatricks. He's leaving us alone at least."

Veronica says intensely, "I think we should tell Mike about the email address. Maybe he can trace it."

"You know he's still suspended," Keith comments.

"He said his buddies were helping him. Dad, I think we should try to get Mike to come interview Mel as soon as possible. He can put Mel in protective custody. Mel's our only real witness."

They get in the car and sit silently, all of them reviewing what they learned from Mel and nervously assessing their next step.

"We've accomplished a lot. Maybe it's enough," Keith offers. "We have a witness; we have confirmation that Hannah was living here in Rio Linda. We know the name she was using. We can prove that Hannah wasn't a prostitute in Los Angeles. That's probably enough to get the media interested; let them push to reopen the case."

"Let's talk to Katey Shaffer's old landlord, and then hit those apartments that Mel mentioned on Elverta Road. We can show Hannah's picture around and see if anyone recognizes her," Veronica suggests. "And we still don't know what happened to Katey Shaffer."

"All right. Call Mike; tell him about the email address and see if he'll get someone he trusts to come interview Mel. Give him Hannah's cell phone number; he can pull up her records. Check in with Kavner too," Keith says.

She calls Mike and fills him in on their progress. Mike promises to get back to her after making a few phone calls. Then she dials Kavner. "Must be a bad signal. Only two bars," she comments, scowling at the screen. "It's not going through."

"Try again in a few minutes." Keith adjusts the rear view mirror. "I can't see them behind us." He watches nervously; a short while later, he recognizes the gray Ford Focus a fair distance behind them and relaxes.

~ • ~

Sat. 3/21/09 afternoon: Los Angeles Police Department Media Room, Los Angeles, CA

The Los Angeles Chief of Police steps up to the microphone at the lectern in the front of the room. Flashbulbs pop and shutters click as the chief adjusts the microphone, causing a sharp whine of feedback. Reporters murmur among themselves.

"Good afternoon. With me today is Mitchell Panevic, Assistant Director in Charge of the Los Angeles Bureau of the FBI, Special Agent Morris of the Serial Killer Task Force, and District Attorney Paul Denning. I will make a brief statement, and District Attorney Denning will provide some additional information, and then we'll take your questions. This morning, acting on a tip provided by an eyewitness, the Los Angeles Police Department arrested Andrew Shekar, age 36, a resident of the Altadena section of Los Angeles. Mr. Shekar has been charged with the murders of Catherine Kerr, Theresa Drummond, Lysa Dean, Evangeline Bellemer, Gloria Doyle, Elizabeth Kapp, Mary Alice McDermit, and Linda Lewellen. He remains a suspect in the murder of Hannah Griffith. Our thoughts and prayers remain with the families of the victims. I'm very proud of the diligent efforts of the major crimes unit of the LAPD in cooperation with the FBI to bring this man to justice. District Attorney Denning has a short statement before we take your questions."

The man says firmly, "The District Attorney's office is confident that the evidence against Mr. Shekar will lead to a conviction. Mr. Shekar has a long history of assault and battery, harassment, and stalking charges on his record. He served a one year sentence for attempted kidnapping in 2001. I'll take your questions at this time."

~ • ~

Sat. 3/21/09 afternoon: Neptune High School, Neptune, CA

Clemmons unlocks the front door and leads them down the darkened hallways of Neptune High School. "Weird to be back, right?" Wallace whispers to Weevil.

"Best years of our life, my ass," he replies. "I couldn't wait to get out of here."

"Excuse me, Mr. Navarro?" Clemmons asks.

Wallace quickly says, "Lots of good memories here, Principal Clemmons. Eli especially truly made me feel welcome when I transferred here."

Weevil smothers a laugh. "Yeah, that was the year I volunteered for the spirit committee, too. Go Pirates," he adds. He punctuates his remark by punching Wallace in the arm, just a little too hard.

"Yeah, that was what you were known for, your school spirit," Wallace retorts.

"I thought it was my keen fashion sense," Weevil replies, tugging on his leather jacket.

Clemmons unlocks a door at the end of a long hallway. The room is filled with boxes. "I believe these boxes are what we're looking for," he says, indicates a stack of file storage boxes marked 'Inactive'.

"It would have been between fall 2002 and spring 2006 if Veronica knew this guy," Wallace muses. He pulls the lid off the top box and pulls the first file out. "Hershlag, Natalie."

Clemmons frowns. "Those files are supposed to be in alphabetical order, separated by year." He looks over Wallace's shoulder.

Wallace muses, "1999, Estevez, Carlos Irwin. 1997, Patrick, Tara Leigh. 2004, Bishop, Eric. 2002, Guynes, Demetria. I don't think they're in any order."

Clemmons comments with annoyance, "I assigned Ms. Mars to refile these folders after their contents were jumbled in an accident. Apparently she just put folders in boxes in random order."

Wallace's eyebrows raise high. "Yeah, I think she mentioned that you gave her that assignment to manipulate her into investigating an old incident involving her mother, so that you could secure that promotion you were looking for." When Clemmons glares at him, Wallace rushes to add with a fake smile, "But you know we were all happy that you succeeded Principal Moorehead."

"Whatever. Let's get this show on the road," Weevil says impatiently. He takes another box and opens the lid. "What are we looking for?"

"KC," Wallace muses. "Anybody with the last name starting with 'C' or 'K', between 2002 and 2005. And first initial 'K', I guess. It could be first and middle initials."

About half the files, the ones pertaining to female students, are eliminated quickly. As Weevil and Wallace pull folders that seem even remotely possible, they hand them to Clemmons. After a few minutes, they have gathered a small pile; Clemmons is reading each file carefully. While looking at the second folder, he chuckles, "I remember this student. A real character. I recall one time when he—"

"Oh come the fuck on!" Weevil interrupts impatiently. "Is it the guy?"

Clemmons drops the file onto a nearby cabinet. Coldly, he replies, "Mr. Navarro. I don't appreciate the rough language. This is my day off, and I'm doing you a favor. I was really looking forward to working in my garden today."

"Perhaps you should just read a little faster," Weevil suggests, exasperated. "Then we can get busy spreading some manure for you."

"Shh," Wallace says hastily to Weevil. "Principal Clemmons, we're just nervous about Veronica." He gives Weevil a withering look and pokes him in the side.

"Sorry," Weevil mutters. Under his breath, he tells Wallace, "You touch my ribs again, and I'm going to have to hurt you." To Clemmons, he adds, "Sorry, sir."

Clemmons intones, "If this is so urgent, perhaps the police should be involved."

"Please, Mr. Clemmons. By the time we convince the sheriff to look at these files..." Wallace shrugs suggestively. "Could you live with yourself if Veronica got hurt because you didn't want to look at a few files?"

"All right, Mr. Fennel. I'll continue, but this seems like a wild goose chase. I'm not seeing how this mythical student 'KC' relates to the Fitzpatricks."

"Neither are we. But I've learned to trust Veronica's instincts. I think you have, too," Wallace replies pointedly.

Clemmons nods thoughtfully. "Hand me the next folder."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
VERONICA MARS
10:00PM SHO ch: 340 60min 2009 TV-MA
Turn of the Screw
Complications in Rio Linda; KC is identified.
Veronica: Kristen Bell. Logan: Jason Dohring.
Keith: Enrico Colantoni. Eli: Francis Capra.
Wallace: Percy Daggs III. Clemmons: Duane
Daniels. Brian: Scott Elrod. Frank: Stephen
Dorff. Joe: Todd Stashwick.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY: "TURN OF THE SCREW"

Sat. 3/21/09 afternoon: Residential area, Rio Linda, CA

Keith knocks on the door of a modest ranch home. He notes out of the corner of his eye that Kavner pulls up and parks the Ford Focus a short distance down the block. A young man with long dark hair, wearing an open shirt over a dirty white T-shirt, open the door. "Yeah? How can I help you?"

"Kenneth Sanford? I'm Keith Mars. I left a message earlier today," Keith replies.

"Oh yeah. You're that private investigator who called about the old tenants at my house over on Dorado. You wanted the forwarding address, right? Come on in, I wrote it down for you. I'll get it." Kenneth steps aside and leads them into the house.

Veronica frowns. Why is my spidey-sense tingling? This is too easy.

As they walk into the living room, Keith inquires, "Is it possible we could get into the Dorado house? We think it might be important to help us locate the girl who was living there."

The door slams shut behind them. Veronica whirls around; directly behind her, she sees a man training a gun on them. He says, "Welcome to Rio Linda. Put your hands up."

Keith tries to go for his gun, and the man holding the gun knocks him hard on the head. Keith crumples to the ground as Veronica screams. Logan reacts more slowly and struggles to get his gun out of the holster. Veronica yells, "Logan, no!"

'Kenneth' pulls a gun from his belt and strides over to Logan, putting the barrel of the gun onto Logan's forehead. "Bad idea, dumbfuck." Logan stops moving, with his hand still under his jacket holding the butt of his gun. 'Kenneth' bats Logan's hand away and takes his weapon, putting it into the waistband of his jeans. He says to the other man, "Get the old guy's gun." To Logan, he sneers, "Go ahead, make my day. Give me a reason to shoot you." Logan puts his hands in the air slowly; his face is flushed with anger, and he breathes heavily.

"Just do what they say, Logan," Veronica says quietly. Damn it. Damn it! As she tries to think furiously, she protests, "You don't have to hurt us. We'll cooperate."

'Kenneth' stoops to the floor and disarms Keith, who is lying unconscious on the floor. He stands up and kicks Keith's leg; Keith doesn't react, and 'Kenneth' looks satisfied. He says, "Frank, check the girl. Make sure that's really a sling on her arm. I heard she's tricky. Thinks she's smart." In a singsong tone, he chants, "Veronica Ma-ars. Girl detective." He cackles loudly at his joke.

Frank moves to Veronica, who is trying her best to look nonthreatening. Frank steps behind her and puts his gun to her head. "Don't move an inch, girlie." He roughly pulls the sling off her shoulder and discards it; Veronica tries not to react, but she winces in pain when Frank pokes her in shoulder.

"Stop it, you're hurting her," Logan snaps.

'Kenneth' pushes the gun hard into his forehead, forcing Logan's head backward. "Shut up."

"Please don't hurt her," Logan says quietly, breathing hard with the effort not to react physically.

Frank ignores him. "Yo, Brian. Where's the duct tape?"

Brian, also known as 'Kenneth', nods toward the counter dividing the dining room from the kitchen. Frank grabs Veronica left shoulder and propels her into the dining room in front of him.

They hear a knock on the front door. Brian calls out, "Joe?"

"Yeah."

"Get in here."

Joe walks in and shuts the door carefully behind him. "Situation's under control?"

Brian replies, "Yeah. Call the tow truck; get the security guards' car back to the impound lot right away before the cops realize it's missing."

Veronica asks recklessly, "What did you do to Kavner and Harris?"

"Shut up," Frank says, shoving her hard toward the counter. She stumbles and catches herself on a chair; the pain shoots down her right arm, and it feels like her shoulder is on fire. She pulls her right arm tight into her torso to try to calm the throbbing in her shoulder.

Brian is still talking. "Take their Saturn, dump it out by the airfield. You know where I'm talking about. We've got to get out of here right away, before Sanford comes home. We'll be in touch."

The man nods and says, "You got it," as he walks out the front door.

Frank says to Veronica, "Put your hands behind your back."

She turns white, knowing what that will do to her shoulder. The pain has ratcheted up with every second of their rough treatment. "I can't. Please."

Logan interjects, "She can't put her arm behind her back. Please don't make her do that. Please don't!"

Brian knees him in the groin, and Logan bends over in agony. "I told you to shut up." To Frank, he says, "I wish we didn't have to keep these assholes alive."

"It's only temporary," Frank observes. He tears loose a long strip of duct tape. Frank pulls Veronica's arm viciously behind her back, and she passes out from the pain, collapsing onto the floor in a heap.

~ • ~

Sat. 3/21/09 afternoon: Neptune High School, Neptune, CA

Wallace opens another file box; the first file he looks at makes him gasp aloud.

Weevil asks, "What?"

Wallace walks over to Clemmons and pushes the file into his hands. "Is this the guy?"

Mr. Clemmons says with irritation, "Mr. Fennel...patience is a virtue—" He looks at Wallace's face and stops talking. He reads silently for a few seconds. "Yes, I believe this is the boy I was thinking of. He withdrew from the school because he was sentenced to a juvenile facility his sophomore year for car theft. After he was released nine months later, he applied for the automotive mechanics program, and I authorized it."

"What's the name?" Weevil asks impatiently.

"Kevin Carney," Wallace answers. "He voted for Wanda Varner in the student council election; I remember Veronica looked for him to ask him about his vote. So that's how she knew him."

Mr. Clemmons frowns. "It looks like Kevin dropped out of the automotive program the day he turned eighteen, and he never got his diploma. It's such a shame."

"What??" Wallace asks, already thinking about calling Veronica with the news. "What's a shame?"

"Well, his uncle tried to take Kevin under his wing. The uncle turned his own life around after a very shaky start...really made something of himself. I remember him well; he was a student here when I first started teaching, and I think he spent most of his senior year in the principal's office. But he managed to finish college, worked hard and got an advanced degree, and now he's an FBI agent," Mr. Clemmons continues. "I believe the uncle was trying to intervene on his nephew's behalf, offering to take custody even."

"I got to call Veronica," Wallace says quickly. He pulls out his cell phone and walks to a corner of the storage room. He paces nervously with the phone pressed to his ear.

"What about this mess?" Clemmons asks.

"I got it," Weevil replies. He begins to pack up the files without paying attention to alphabetizing.

"Can you at least make an effort to put them back in order?" Clemmons says sternly.

"They're already completely out of order," Weevil protests. "We'd be here all day." He continues without changing his modus operandi, and Clemmons purses his lips in irritation.

Wallace walks back over, saying, "I don't like it. She's not picking up. She said they wouldn't turn the phone off."

"What's going on?" Clemmons asks.

"I left a message, told her to call me right away," Wallace replies, distractedly. "Mr. Clemmons, I'm sorry to do this to you. I think we're going to have to owe you one for this. Come on, Weevil. I want to take this to the sheriff." He picks up Carney's folder. "Can we take this? We'll bring it back after the sheriff makes copies."

"You're going to take this to D'Amato? I thought he was—" Weevil breaks off suddenly and looks at Clemmons.

Wallace answers, "We don't have a choice. We're going to have to trust him." He pitches in to help Weevil finish putting away the rest of the folders as quickly as possible. Clemmons is about to protest, but something in Wallace's expression makes him keep quiet. They finish clearing up, and Wallace and Weevil hurry out of the school.

Clemmons, more leisurely, follows them out and locks the front door. As the two young men get into their car, he calls out, "Good luck, gentlemen."

Wallace starts up the car before Weevil is completely seated in the passenger side and peels out of the parking lot with the tires screeching.

~ • ~

Sat. 3/21/09 afternoon: Somewhere in the United States

VERONICA

She remembers scrabbling frantically at the smooth plastic, seeking purchase on something, anything, that would make it give way. Her nail snagged on something, and she had desperately worked at it until that nail ripped off. She remembers being surprised that it didn't hurt at the time; but even more clearly she recalls imagining that the air was disappearing with every breath and what was a fingernail, after all, compared with suffocation. She had pounded ineffectually on the door—why won't it budge?? While she struggled and pushed against the immovable slippery surfaces, he had been taunting her: 'Veronicaaah...where are the tapes? Where are the tapes?! Veronicaaah.' Tell him what he wants, tell him where you put the tapes, he'll...no. He won't.

All of a sudden she had smelled the pungent, fierce odor of gasoline and she knew what he had done. She heard the struggle but didn't know what was happening—it seemed to go on forever, and she imagined that every breath was the last bit of remaining oxygen—then her straining ears heard the soft metallic click, a scuttling sound, and a sudden whoosh. And then...heat.

She had imagined the freezer heating to an unbearable degree and then her body melting into the plastic as she screamed, trying frantically to lift herself from the inexorably heating and disintegrating wall of the freezer that was threatening to burn into her skin. She had sensed with an irrational conviction that the toxic chemicals in the freezer were certainly burning and releasing noxious gases, and she remembered praying that whatever fumes there were would have the good grace to render her unconscious before she could feel the pain of the flames. And she pictured Aaron watching implacably as she was immolated....

She remembers the gravel of the rooftop digging into her flesh as she scrambled away from Beav- Cassidy. Her nerve endings were tingling with the aftershocks of the taser wielded so callously by her tormenter, and her thoughts were jumbled together in chaos: can't think, hurts, can't move, get away from him now, HURTS, I still can't believe it's Beaver...Beaver?! She fell forward, hard, onto the roof, wondering how she could have been so wrong about everything.

She had looked toward the edge as he urged her to jump. She had pictured herself teetering helplessly, the ground so dizzyingly far down, with nothing to stop her descent except the cold hard pavement far below, and then grasping futilely at a terrace as it screamed by her head. Her head swam with the frantic calculations and recalculations of the probability of surviving a gunshot versus the certainty of ending up a shapeless bag of roadkill on the sidewalk. And then, the cold metal feel of the gun when she got hold of it—not the first gun she had ever held, but the first time she had held one as an instrument of death, almost...almost the instrument of her own death. It felt like evil—alive and seductive. Just point the gun at him and pull....

She remembers lying in the bed, in the girl's pink quilted jacket, trying not to tremble as Mercer talked. Then she was fighting with him, the hard floor coming up to meet her head, and the sound of it echoing in her skull, her nose suddenly oozing blood and a sharp pain aching above her eye. She remembers fighting him for her life, scratching his face—trying to rip it right off his skull if it were possible—and then the sickening, sticky feel of bloody, gouged tissue under her fingernails as Mercer's fist hit her face, full force. She had managed to get away and she ran, I'm not fast enough, he's going to.... The blood and snot blotted her vision as she scrambled up the stairs, almost slipping, and pounded so hard on Wallace's door that the bruises on her hands took weeks to heal.

Then, in Moe's room, she had felt the effects of the adulterated tea, so stupid, so stupid: she had looked around frantically and hid pathetically in the closet, calling her dad for help, pick up, pick up, pick up. Everything was so fuzzy—her brain completely refusing to work—but she knew they'd hold her down and rape her before....

She can't believe it's possible to hurt this much without passing out. Her wrists, bound with duct tape behind her back, are pulling and tearing that fragile connection in her shoulder that was already stretched beyond the breaking point. Klein's face floats, disembodied, above her, bellowing, 'We don't do anything when we're drunk that we don't wish we could do when we're sober...Maybe you thought it would feel even better if you had sex with someone...You don't want to admit that you're a slut...Once again, you're refusing to take responsibility for your actions.' He grabs her face and brandishes a lipstick as she pulls away and shakes her head, 'no.' A lipstick...Klein had a lipstick?...what is he doing...what? And then she thinks she remembers seeing Logan's appalled face, but she's not sure it was really him, because more than anything she had thought she'd gone insane, and he was furious with her anyways. Beaver and Aaron and Mercer were there laughing at her—it couldn't be true, but they were there—cackling as she protested and fought against Klein and the fucking bitches at the school, and above all she knew she deserved to be there: somehow they'd all found out that she was a raging black hole and no one loved her....

Her eyes are leaking, with the tears running down her face onto the duct tape plastered over her lips; she is shaking with fear and pain, her breath snorting and irregular. When the van hits a pothole, she screams in agony into the duct tape gag as she helplessly rolls onto her shoulder. She knows it's really over this time, and because she fucked up, her dad and Logan are going to die too. There's no cavalry to come, this time. There's no rape whistle, no cell phone to dial, no one expecting her arrival to jump in their car and come find her. Kavner and the other guard are probably already dead because of her.

The only question is...why are they still alive?

She feels a movement beside her; and then...fingers tentatively grasping and fumbling against her back. She sucks in a breath as Logan's fingers find hers, the contact hesitant and then more assured. He grips her hand with thumb and forefinger: you're not insane, Logan is here, Dad is here. You're not dead yet.

Use the pain. Use the fear. Turn it into something else...fuel.

Fuck you...I'm not going to be a pretty corpse. You're going to have to fight me.

He fumbles at her wrists, and suddenly she realizes. He is trying desperately to work the duct tape loose. It hurts like hell, but she pulls her arms as far out as possible to try to help him. He picks at the tape relentlessly while she struggles to hold the position despite her throbbing shoulder.

I have to rest, she thinks, as the emotions and the physical sensations threaten to overwhelm her again. She relaxes her arms for a few seconds. She feels him stop suddenly, and she tries to grab his fingers to reassure him. Veronica takes a deep breath through her nose and tries to hold her arms out again.

She loses track of time; it feels like he's been picking at the tape for hours, but she knows it has probably just been a few minutes...or has it? At one point, she dozes off in exhaustion and wakes up with a start, wondering how long she slept. Without warning, she is jostled heavily, and she whimpers into the duct tape gag. But...she realizes Logan's movements have changed, pulling now rather than scraping his fingernails. She concentrates hard and thinks he's worked a corner of the duct tape loose.

She tries to pull in the opposite direction from his movements, and they are rewarded: she faintly hears the soft rrripp of the tape being pulled off. From the front of the van, the men's voices can be heard, laughing coarsely as they listen to heavy metal on the van's radio. She smiles grimly: it was a mistake to leave them alone in the back.

Logan is persistent; his movements are frenzied now that he's made some real progress. She ignores the screaming pain of her shoulder and helps as much as possible. All of a sudden her hands are free; she allows her arms to relax forward, and she just breathes for a moment at the abrupt reduction in her overall pain.

Then the van slows down. She pays attention; they lurch from side-to-side as the van makes a turn. She hears the two men, Brian and Frank, talking; it sounds like they are discussing the route.

Logan kicks her hard to get her attention, and she struggles to roll over. In the darkened van, she can just barely make out his face. He motions repetitively with his jaw, and she understands. With her left hand, she pulls a corner of the duct tape loose from his mouth.

He leans into her ear and whispers, “I have to put the tape back on your wrists. We're stopping. We don't have time to get loose.”

She knows he's right, but still she shakes her head furiously, no, no, I can't, don't make me. She can't bear the thought of drawing her arms back into that position again, and she begins to cry again, her whole body quaking at the thought of resuming that position.

"Veronica, you have to. You can do this. I'm going to try to do it so you can get out again when there's an opportunity. You can do this, Veronica. You gotta make them believe that you're not a threat; make them think you're hurt and beaten, and then...when you have a chance, you're going to take it and save us. Turn back over and put your arms behind your back, Veronica. Please. I know you can do this. Put my gag back on and turn over."

Veronica pushes the duct tape onto his mouth again. She can see his eyes burning with determination. She turns back over, trembling, and pulls her arms behind her. He rolls over and positions his hands at hers; he fumbles with her wrists as the van turns two more times. There's no way that the duct tape is as tight as it was before, but her shoulder still hurts like hell. The van slows to a stop; the driver puts the van into 'park' with a lurch, and the two men walk around to the back of the van just as Logan finishes smoothing the duct tape over her wrists. She runs her fingers over the tape; she has no idea what it looks like, but it feels like the tape only wraps around once. She tugs experimentally on the tape, and she decides...maybe. She has to make sure they don't have a reason to look at her bonds.

Sell it, Veronica. Make them think they've beaten you.

And then...take them down. And make them pay.

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-One