The girl is dead. There is no other explanation offered, there is nothing to possibly amend this death, this bitter loss. They get the call and they both come, neither of them quite sure why they do.
Logan is the second to arrive, and Keith stands in the kitchen, ignoring his presence, chopping celery as though it was a vital task. The wedding band shines on Mr. Echoll's left hand, a remembrance that he belonged to someone else, that he should not be mourning as much as he was, that this was supposed to be nothing, just a blip in his radar. He was incapable of convincing even himself, if that were true then why was there a hole in there? One that his darling little wife couldn't even touch, let alone fill. The gaping space that had been reserved for Veronica and Veronica alone...Lilly was somewhere else, lost inside him, not the jarring absence that shakes him to the core. He wonders how, why and who. Who is he going to kill?
Eli is already on the couch, flipping through the channels disinterestedly, trying to concentrate on something else. It's different for him, he doesn't feel so guilty, there is no one else to deflect this, no significant other, no one existing in the background, the memory of Lilly still staining him. His eyes met Logan's and both of their jaws tense simultaneously, canned laughter breaking the stagnate silence also punctuated by the sound of knife hitting cutting board.
He continues to surf the channels and comes upon a news broadcast, Veronica's face plastered on the screen, the wry smile flitting across her frozen face. The picture could not capture her, could not show the true Veronica Mars. The newscaster is grave, and once the word 'rape' escapes his lips Logan witnesses Weevil's hand tightening around the remote control, plastic shards shattering and dropping to the carpet. With evident restraint he leans over to shut the television off and stands up, shoulders stiff and eyes decidedly expressionless.
"Hello," Logan croaks the greeting out, swallowing hard. His throat is sore from resisting the inevitable tears, his face awash with grief and his face lined. He wonders whether Weevil ever left Neptune, if he ever ended up in jail, as he himself predicted previously.
Keith slowly turned around, his age all the more obvious in this state. The skin surrounding his eyes was red and inflamed, his nostrils raw and sore. "Logan, Eli." He stated with reverence.
"Sheriff," Weevil conceded, old habits die hard.
"Sit down, sit." It was not a suggestion, but most definitely an order. His mouth was a small and straight line, not a single millimeter on his face revealed any good humor, all cheer lost on him. The two boys...scratch that, men, obliged silently, both accepting the beer offered to them via Mr. Mars.
"What happened?" Logan was the first to ask, perhaps the only one to be unaware. Habitually he glanced at the two men seated around him, both of their eyes diminished by unbelievable grief.
"She...she was found in- on - the road, multiple blows to the head, lacerations on the throat and wrist along with..." Keith choked out a mind blowing sob, tears streaming down his cheeks and dribbling onto the oak table.
Weevil kindly took over the deed with far less veneration. "Someone forced sex on her, pre and postmortem, she's missing teeth and a finger." Weevil was not a crier, he exercised any and all emotion through outbursts and implosion, and Logan was uncertain which of these two therapies he was currently employing, but there was something in his tone, something disturbingly saddened.
Logan pressed his face into the folds of his own sweater, sobs racking throughout his entire body before he could bring himself to a halt. Neither of the men in his company tried to cease this, they allowed him to stain his two-thousand dollar Angora without much contemplation, the two had obviously done their fare share of mourning. "Who did it?" His voice was hollow and without inflection, a tone that Weevil knew all too well. He could not help but be impressed by his determination to kill the guilty party, though he was a bit too thick to realize that if they were apprehended, Weevil would have indefinitely extracted his own brand of vengeance.
"We don't know. She was covered in...DNA," The crude reference was worse than the actual term. Logan could envision her, dying alone and bleeding on the side of the road, just like Lilly. A prophecy fulfilled, the same two men loved her as they loved Lilly over ten years before.
"I'll kill him," Logan stated simply and without any sort of expression, speaking as though it were the only solution. Weevil nodded in agreement, tugging at his wife beater uncomfortably.
"Same here." This was the only mildly surprising admission, an ex-sheriff willing to kill instead of using the law? But none of them thought three times about it. Weevil came to his feet, pacing slowly and with determined concentration. The fabric of his shirt shifted ever so slightly, just enough for Logan to read the name emblazoned at the base of his neck.
"Why do you have her name tattooed on you?" He questioned without emotion, though his eyes spoke volumes. Weevil glanced upon him without mercy or caring, but spoke nonetheless.
"Veronica's my sister's name." Neither laughed, but both wanted to. Logan doubted he would ever laugh again and Weevil knew he would the day he found the man who violated Veronica Mars and castrated him.
I'm not sure whether or not this will be a one-shot, but I'll label it as such until I make up my mind.