Chapter Two

After the news broadcast finished, falling back to sleep was a definite no; she was wired. Veronica's mind kept rerunning the footage, remembering the pictures of the once happy girl, trying and failing to convince herself to leave it alone. She'd done it for nine years, she could do it now. This case, No, she thought, don't call it that. Whatever this was, something didn't sit right with Veronica and even though the details were sketchy at best, somewhere, somehow it intrigued her, and nothing good ever came from intrigue.

Actually a lot of good has come from it, just think about all the scum bags you've put behind bars. What's one more? A voice reasoned in the back of her head. What's one more? wasn't that her unofficial motto these days?

She tried to push all of it out of her thoughts as she showered and got ready for the appointment with Mrs. Jones, she focused on happier things.

Logan. Four more days now and she'd have him back.

See, she reasoned, you won't have time to work a big case like this, you will have way more important things to do. She smiled, but the happiness and the distraction were fleeting. Casey Cole haunted her thoughts as she quickly grabbed breakfast and headed out for the office. It was so distracting that she almost tripped over Jessie Cole, who was sitting on the front step of Mars Investigations, styrofoam coffee cup in hand.

She set the cup on the stoop, looking up at Veronica her eyes were red rimmed, puffy, and by her messy hair and wrinkled clothes, it was clear she'd left the house in a hurry. They were both silent for what seemed like an incredibly long time. Jessie looked away after awhile, before taking a deep breath, pushing herself up from the concrete.

"Veronica," her voice was shaky and desperate, "please I need your help, my sister…"

Veronica gripped the keys to Logan's BMW tightly in her hand, as if they were the last little bit of her resolve. Logan, think of Logan, four days.

"My mom told me not to come here today, said that we didn't need a 'private detective'," she frowned her eyes drifting from one brick building to another, never settling, "said 'Whatever the Sheriff thinks is good enough for me.' but you know as well as I do, he's an idiot." Veronica remained silent.

"I just talked to Casey, just talked to her. She was complaining about the boys she nannies." She was speaking faster, her tone nearing hysteria.

Boys, hadn't the news just mentioned one missing boy? Veronica's mind instantly was running through possible scenarios. Scenarios that the sheriff's department wouldn't consider in a million years.

NOPE. She stomped on her mental breaks, Easy girl, this probably doesn't mean anything.

"I know I don't know you, and that you don't want me as the Mars Investigations intern, but I can pay you… I swear, my boyfriend's he's…" she trailed off, "he offered to pay, and he's good for it. I can pay anything you want, name the price. I just, Casey deserves justice.. I -"

Justice. There was that word. Wasn't that her favorite word? Her unofficial call in life. Hadn't she spent a good portion of her teenage years bringing justice to those who couldn't or wouldn't go and get it for themselves?

Veronica Mars, the lead Marshmallow, defender of the weak and the innocent. In fact, wasn't that her main prerogative in returning to Neptune. Justice?

From her messenger bag, Jessie haphazardly was pulling out a manila folder, papers could be seen peeking up from the edges threatening to slip out onto the concrete. She held it gingerly in her hands, as if it was something precious, before thrusting it towards Veronica.

"Here's everything I could think of off the top of my head. In there are recent photos, the places she's worked in the last year, guys she was," she hesitated, "serious with. Some school records."

Veronica's movements were irresolute as she took the folder, placing it under her arm. Hadn't Casey's death been called in earlier that morning?. For the first time, she looked at Jessie, really looked at her. The confidant, bubbly girl from the day before was gone. Her face had been bright and made up, clothes stylish and colorful. She had been replaced with a raw, scared child, dark circles were forming around her eyes and messy hair framed her face. As for her clothes, it was clear she hadn't changed from what she'd been sleeping in the night before. Who knows how long she'd been waiting on those steps for Veronica to finally make it into the office.

"Go home, Jessie." Veronica struggled to make her tone soft, compassionate. She stepped past her then, fiddling with her keys for the one to unlock the front door. She avoided eye contact, knowing exactly what she'd see, and when she did look up it felt like a punch, right to the gut. Jessie's expression was shattered, her thin emotional walls obviously caving down around her. Her eyes were glossy with tears, but they never came, at least not while Veronica was standing there.

Jessie silently adjusted her bag on her shoulder, pulling the sleeves of her shirt to cover her hands. She looked up at Veronica once more, opening her mouth to say something, but then closed it immediately after. In an instant, her resolve changed from a sad, broken thing to someone with a new-found, fierce determination. Without so much as another word, she turned, stalking off along the sidewalk. Something inside of Veronica leapt, but she shoved it back down. She glanced at the folder she now held in her hands, in big block sharpie letters Casey Anna Cole had been written on the front. She wanted to open it, see what puzzle lay inside for her, but just as her fingers grazed the top, a bright, red Mercedes parked crookedly alongside the curb.


"Mrs. Jones," Veronica tried to keep the timbre of her voice calm, neutral, it was barely eleven thirty, and she was already ready to crawl back into bed and forget the day, "you came to Mars Investigations to find out if your husband was cheating, and well," she gestured to the picture of Mr. Jones's hands dangerously high on the blondes legs. Mrs. Jones let out a loud shrill cry, flinging herself forward on Veronica's desk. Her back heaving with horrible sobs.

In the hour and half that Mrs. Jones had been there they had gone over the details of her husband's not so secret affair at least five times, each time eliciting an equally more horrifying response from his wife. This was one of Veronica's least favorite part of the job, you catch the husband with his pants down,shattering a seemingly 'happy marriage' and then you have to pick up the pieces when they're scattered all over your office floor, all simultaneously while trying to still get paid. She rolled her eyes standing up from the desk, grabbing a small box of tissues from the bookshelf in the corner. She took the chair next to Mrs. Jones, handing her the Kleenex.

Turns out Mrs. Jones, who had come to Veronica with the initial suspicion that her husband had been cheating, actually hadn't really believed he'd been 'capable' of it. When the news and pictures of her husband, all but having intercourse on the front steps of the Neptune Grand, made it into her perfectly manicured fingers, the first time, she just stared at them, blinking and confused.

"We just got married." was her excuse, and Veronica felt sorry for her, but that had been an hour and a half ago and her patience was waning.

"B-but it was a business meeting."

Well,some sort of negotiation had been going on.

Her bottom lip trembled and she began dabbing ferociously at her eyes again, obviously trying to prevent her make-up from streaking. Veronica didn't have the heart to tell her the time for that had already come and gone.

"Mrs. Jones, is there anything else we can help you with? If not we're-" Veronica didn't get to finish though, as the woman briskly stood, almost clipping her in the face with her elbow.

"No, that's all, I think." She looked at the photos in her hand one more time, a new wave of hysterics coming on, "I'm going to go home and…" her voice trailed off, "I'll send a check your way later this week, thank you." and with that she flipped her mousy brown hair over her shoulder, quickly corrected her skirt, and then exited the room, stumbling a bit in the doorway.

Veronica watched her until she was gone and then sunk into the chair. Fingers bracing the bridge of her nose, she groaned loudly.

"Didn't take it well?" Mac chimed from the other room, humor coloring her tone.

"What gave it away, was it the running into doorways, or the fact that she was in here for two hours crying on my paperwork?"

Mac's return chuckle was light and bell-like. Her fingers could be heard clicking away on her keys.

"Hey, Mac, did you see the news this morning?" she played at being nonchalant, relaxed.

Throughout the course of her meeting with Mrs. Jones, she'd struggled to keep her focus on the case at hand; her eyes continued to wander to the file Jessie had given her not long before, her fingers itching to lift the cover and see what information lay inside. She'd been craving a good puzzle. While bail jumpers and adultery cases paid the bills, they were mundane tasks, like cleaning a toilet and she longed for something just a bit more complicated.

"No, should I have?"

Veronica didn't answer, she looked at the folder on her desk, it was less of a decision and more a knee jerk reaction; giving into the dry craving at the back of her throat. She scooped up the file, her keys and her bag heading out into the waiting room. Mac's eyes followed her in confusion.

"Whoa, where are you running off to?"

"Going to pick up lunch, run a few errands. If you want something, just text me."

And that's how it started. Veronica wasn't quite sure how she ended up parked down the street from Annie Baxter's small house in the 02 zip code, but she had. While most of the excitement had died down from earlier that morning, there was still a police cruiser parked out front and a news van close by. From what she had caught on the radio and the few articles she'd looked up on her phone, the main focus was on Adrian Baxter, the missing boy.

There was a hesitance to all of Veronica's actions, and she made it very clear to herself, she was just there as a concerned citizen.

Right, because all 'concerned citizens' camp out down the street to get a better feel of a crime scene.

What could she say, some people brought flowers, other's solved mysteries; it was just the hand she'd been dealt.

From the passenger seat beside her, she grabbed Jessie's folder. When she lifted the front, there was a short letter written on a piece of purple stationery paper, a four by six photograph paper clipped behind it.

Veronica,

This isn't a lot, just what I could think of off the top of my head. I attached a recent photo of Casey, the ones my mom is sending to the news are at least a few years old and maybe by showing you this you'll understand. I'm not going to leave this alone, I can't. -Jessie

With careful fingers, Veronica lifted and inspected the photo. The time stamp in the corner said it was only a few weeks old; Casey's arms slung around Jessie's thin shoulders as the ocean crashed in around them, her head thrown back in laughter. In a box somewhere, she had an almost identical photo.

Casey Cole was no Lilly Kane, not even in the same league. The only similarities being they were both young and both dead. But, Lilly had been the closest thing to a sister Veronica had had and as she looked at the picture of these innocent girls, she felt sorry for Jessie. She knew the loss all too well.

She moaned, shutting the folder and practically throwing it across the car.

Time passed quickly as she continued to fight herself, what had started out as a short stop on the way to get lunch gradually turned into an all afternoon stake-out. She was struggling back and forth like the waves in the ocean.

She noted that the house appeared to be in good condition; all the windows and doors out front intact; no forced entry. She wished she could get around to the back and take a look, but it was a risky move with a squad car out front. She'd just have to come back in a few days.

No, in a few days you'll be with Logan.

She didn't know why exactly she was hesitating, just that she was. She assumed it was a combination of things. While she initially didn't like Jessie, it was more of a subtle indifference, what she hated was more the lack of communication on her father's part, than Jessie herself.

Then, there was Logan of course. Logan had been a constant resident in her thoughts since the moment he'd shipped out, but the day came and went and he was barely a flicker to the flame that was raging inside her head. As she finally pulled the BMW away from the curb, heading towards the grocery store and then home, she knew she was losing the battle.

From her time at the store all the way back home to chopping vegetables for a salad on her father's kitchen counter, Veronica's thoughts volleyed back and forth. Narrowing down the pros and cons of each situation. Spend time with Logan vs. Finding a killer.

They could leave, she reasoned, go on vacation, take a few weeks until all of this blew over. But who was she kidding, really? Logan was a good distraction, an excellent one, but nothing would be able to pull her away once she sunk her teeth into something.

When the familiar Skype call came later that evening, ringing through her room, Veronica didn't even say hello, she got right to business, before she could change her mind.

"So I was thinking when you get back in four days," she grinned widely, "we stay in Neptune a few nights, give you a chance to sleep in a good bed and then we go on vacation! My dad can take the case load for a week or two."

Running again, Veronica? How teenage of you. She quickly batted the thought away.

"About those four days…" His voice was echo-y and metallic, like they were talking through tin cans and string. He looked up at the screen sadly, his brown eyes not quite meeting hers.

"No. NO, the government and I had an agreement, they get you for a hundred and eighty days and then I get you. I believe there's a contract somewhere, possibly signed in blood?" It was supposed to come out lighthearted, quippy, but instead it carried the weight of the days thoughts, the struggle of not giving in.

"Veronica," his voice was soft and raw, he kneaded his forehead with his slender fingers, "this time it'snot the government's fault. There are severe storm warnings," he paused, correcting himself before he slipped his location, "where we are, and we're landside for a few days, waiting for the storm to clear up. Who knows, we might be back on schedule, I'm just supposed to give you a heads up. Communications could be spotty coming up here." He smiled then, her heart ached for him to be home.

"So, how many days do they think it'll actually take for the storm to clear?"

Logan visibly grimaced, telling her this was the exact question he hoped she wouldn't ask.

"Anywhere from two to ten days." He mumbled the last part.

"TEN DAYS?" She almost fell off her chair, "you know that's a big jump from two, right?"

"It's all speculation, Veronica, and it's part of the job. I warned you when I left that this might happen."

But, they had been so close. She had practically seen the finish line when it had been yanked out from under her. She nodded, sighing and then settled into a light smile.

"Well, it'll give you just that much more time to prepare for what you're coming home to." She wiggled her eyebrows at him and he laughed,

"Are you propositioning me over Skype, Mars?"

"Absolutely, Lieutenant."

He regarded her warmly, "I can't wait."

Logan looked drained, it was easy to forget what he was off doing when it was just words on the screen, but it became harder when the evidence of it was so clear in his features. They were silent for a beat, taking in each other's presence. So, they wouldn't be reunited for a few more days; they'd made it this far, they could do a possible ten more. She grimaced at the thought.

"I hate to do this to you, but there's a pretty long line for the computers." He said finally, he clearly didn't want to go, but Veronica knew it was selfish of her to demand more time. There were plenty of girlfriends, spouses, and children, waiting to hear from their loved ones, it comforted her in some twisted way that she wasn't the only one who would be getting bad news tonight. There was an odd sense of comradery with these strangers that was foreign to her.

She always stumbled when it came to saying her goodbyes to him though, there was nothing she could say that would ever correctly describe the way she felt, and she hoped Logan knew that. She finally decided on something safe and neutral:

"Well, keep me posted as best you can." Just because he wasn't getting shot at, didn't mean she wouldn't worry, didn't mean some part of her wouldn't always be on alert, checking her email or keeping her Skype profile on at all times. Storms were just as dangerous, even if you were on land.

Logan nodded, "Of course." giving her one final smile before disconnecting.

She closed her laptop, taking the few steps from her desk to the foot of her bed where she had dumped her bag earlier. From the depths of her purse, she gingerly retrieved Casey's file, before dropping the contents on her mattress. She moved to sit, surrounding herself with the possible evidence. The picture of Jessie and Casey at the center.

She had ten days.

AN/ Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, I just finished it before work which is where I'm posting from. Don't hate me for the whole Logan thing, it just felt right for the story, I'll make it up to you I promise! What do you guys think so far? How am I doing? Thanks for reading homies, please leave reviews, I love hearing from you!