Sand gets into everything. He didn't notice it so much when he lived here alone. Maybe it's because he didn't insist on sweeping the house every evening, the way Veronica does. He'd never thought of her like that before: that she'd carry out chores with the same systematic thoroughness she uses to unravel cases. Maybe it's because Veronica makes her own lunch every morning, and sandwiches is still funny, for all her claims that she's literally gritting her teeth. Maybe it's the trail of pawprints across the kitchen floor.
"Come on, let's go for a walk," he says.
"OK," she says, and he looks up in surprise, because he'd been talking to Back-up and he has a feeling it's the first time she's spoken all day.
Lately, she's taken to working out here, which is weird, because she doesn't seem to want company and he's sure it would be easier to concentrate in her room.
Lots of things are weird. Staying up the whole night playing video games and never touching, like there's an invisible line between them they're not supposed to cross anymore. Celebrating Lilly's birthday, when he doesn't remember them mentioning Lilly once the whole time they were together. Skinny dipping was Veronica's idea, but he never found out whether she was serious, because two bottles of champagne-and-sand down the line it had seemed more risky, not less, and he'd called it a night. She would have laughed at him for that, Lilly. Another invisible line: a thread woven through both their lives, drawing them in, like this murder case that has Veronica so wrapped up.
And that's weirdest of all. What happened to Lilly was huge, not just because it was Lilly but because it was murder: it's not something you'd expect to be hit with ever again. Something came unstuck, that night. The world tipped away from them, the ground crumbling beneath their feet.
Now they're left standing on nothing but sand: shifting, slipping, sinking.
And somehow, waiting there in the doorway with the ocean ahead of him, he wonders if he'd trade it for the world.
The sun is low in the sky, afternoon sinking into evening on a tide of light.
Back-up races round them, chasing gulls as they swoop down like darts of fire, sunlight catching them as they skim the surf and soar back upwards. Logan smiles as Veronica throws her head back a little, the same glow seeming to catch hold of her, in spite of everything.
At first, she brought home work and he brought home girls, and they both pretended this was fine. Whatever it was, it didn't last long. He found other things that filled his time just as well: surfing; sleeping; studying, sometimes. And because Veronica seemed intent on working every hour God gave her in spite of the stream of social events on tap, he'd found himself offering his help. When she took him up on that, it was only so long before she discovered that she could spare the odd moment, after all.
She turns towards him, illuminated by the light behind her, the expression on her face unreadable.
"Do you know what I need that I'm not getting?"
He pauses, and there's more than a glint in his eye when he replies. "Do you want me to answer that question?"
He catches her involuntary smile at that, but she's not going to be sidetracked.
"Holes."
"Holes?"
"Cracks. Chasms. Cover-ups. Everything's watertight. I need loose ends. I need something, somewhere to not add up." She sighs, suddenly. "What if I keep on looking deeper and it's the same all the way down?"
Logan turns to meet her glance, hooking his thumbs over his pockets.
"As a wise dog once said, those who can, dig." He reaches down to pat Back-up on the head. "Even if all you get is sand."
"Back-up speaks to you too? No wonder he wanted to move in."
"Besides, Veronica, sand has a lot going for it. You know, you might think of it as just grit, stuff that gets in the way, but it's like, bits of dinosaur bones and Aztec temples and sunken cities."
"Man, I thought archaeology class was just a code word."
"Maybe there's a lot of things about me that would surprise you, Veronica."
She shakes her head, and smiles, and he stops in front of her. "What?"
"I'm trying to work out if that's a good thing or a bad thing." She looks up at him, shading her eyes. "You know what? If I want to be surprised, I'll let you know."
"I think you may be missing the concept there."
"What I'm missing is one custom-made surprise, express delivery, the one that's going to blow all this evidence out the water and find me the truth."
She bites her lip, but not before he's felt the frustration flung back at him, and for a moment it hangs in the air between them. Then her face softens, light breaking across it like the sun over the ocean.
"Tell you what, surprise me later." There's a warmth and a wickedness in her voice, and there's something more than the fading light in her eyes as she turns to go home. "So, how was your day?"
And suddenly they're both laughing, the two of them there walking home as the sky spills into the sea and the sun slips under the horizon.
Sand gets into everything. Kisses. Promises. Marshmallows.
Not that either of them gets round to sweeping the house that evening.