I do not own these characters. This takes place towards the end of season 2, when Veronica is having nightmares. This is from Lamb's point of view.
When Keith Mars calls me, as a general rule, I avoid the it for as long as I possibly can. We used to be friends, but that was a long time ago. Now I've earned his enmity, and that of his daughter, Veronica. Veronica... There's a photo in my desk of the two of us. It was just before Lilly had been killed; she'd come down to the station and Sacks was in the picture-takin' mood. She wrapped her arm around me and kissed me on the cheek. Hell, that's the first smile I can remember having in a long time that wasn't insincere or smug. I was looking at that photo when Sacks came in and pointed to the phone.
"Listen Lamb, he won't quit callin'. I think somethin's actually wrong," he said.
I exhaled slowly through my nose, sitting up straight with some indignation. I slammed the drawer shut. There was no lock on it; a lock was like a neon beacon that said EAT AT JOE'S to Veronica. I'd learned that much. She thought I was stupid, but really, I was just smart enough to "subcontract" work to her without her knowing it. Then, I'd take the credit. Everyone was happy. Right?
But the crash. The crash was driving me nuts. Nobody could figure it out. Our department was overworked and underpaid – I would pull 50k a year, and people were blowing up buses? Bullshit. Sacks motioned to the phone again, and I sighed more loudly than before and picked up the phone.
"Mr. Mars, how can I help you?" I sang, the acid tangible in my voice.
"Don – forget about all of that. Listen, it's Veronica. I can't get hold of her. She hasn't been sleeping well and I'm afraid she's done something stupid. I don't know what, but I'm in Dallas on a lead. Can you please check on her? Just, make sure she's okay. Please."
The desperate please fell on deaf ears. "Keith, I'm sure she's fine. She's probably with whatever... flavour of the week. Why don't you call the Echolls kid? Hopefully she's still alive," I said snidely. I don't know why the subject of Veronica inspired such anger in me, but it did. It made me venomous, and almost rabid. Every time I opened my mouth, the words just fell out in rapid fire.
Keith was quiet for a second, and then he spoke again. "I thing something has happened," he said. He spoke very, very slowly and clearly. His voice shook – with fear or anger, I couldn't tell which. "Please."
"UgggghhhFINE," I barked. "Fine. But I swear to God, Mars, if she's playing at detective and just blowing off your calls, I'm going to find something to arrest her for and I'm going to bring her in," I threatened.
"At least then I'll know she's safe," he said. The line went dead.
I banged my fist down on my desk and sat for a moment, very still, contemplating with wide, tired eyes my empty cup of coffee that sat before me. I just needed a sixty second break from reality, to refresh and reboot. It was ten o'clock at night. I'd been there since five in the morning. I wanted to go home. I lived on the other side of town than the direction Keith was begging me to go.
Fuck. My. Life. I was about to go and play babysitter for Miss Veronica Mars.