The sound of sirens had long since faded in the distance, Lucky having lost the Neptune High rent-a-cop with a few sharp turns and moderate traffic. Given their relationship, she wasn't expecting cavalry in the form of the sheriff's department. Now she was thankful for her seatbelt as they sailed over bumpy and uneven roads. Nope, this wasn't the highway.

She didn't know how long they'd been driving or in what direction. For all she knew, he'd been serious about jumping the state canyon. Didn't matter, though, because she wouldn't see it coming anyway. He'd grabbed a shirt from the floor and fashioned it into a blindfold. The smell of his sweat and aftershave on it almost choked her, but she didn't dare try to adjust it. He hadn't tied her hands, and for that she was thankful, but she knew he hadn't put down his gun. Her hand was in her pocket, trying to feel her way over the buttons of her cell phone, and any unnecessary attention could prove fatal.

"Where are you taking me," she asked finally, trying to muffle the sounds of the cell as she hit what she hoped was speed-dial 2, her father.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Veronica," his teasing voice replied. "Maybe you should take a lesson."

"What happened to you, Lucky?" she couldn't help but wonder aloud. "You didn't used to be like this." Though, of course, she didn't know if it was true. She just assumed that a man didn't come psychotic straight from the womb.

"Like what?" he asked, but she could hear amusement in his voice. She wasn't sure if that should be comforting.

"What do you think?" She pulled the phone a little ways out of her pocket so the listener could hear better. "You tried to do I-don't-know-what to Gia, you would have killed my friend, and you kidnapped me at gunpoint. Does that sound like something a sane person would do?" Probably not the best way to placate an armed man, but she really wanted to know. There had to be more to this than a fixation on the Mayor's space-case daughter.

His voice when he spoke was quiet, childlike, and it made her shiver. "Sanity wasn't made for lost little boys."

When Logan saw Veronica's number on his caller id, for a second he thought it was all a misunderstanding. She was fine, safe, at home sick with the flu or something. He'd just misheard the prosecutor say that some guy had taken her hostage at gunpoint.

But when she didn't return his greeting and only muffled conversation came through, his heart jumped out the window. It was Agent Ben all over again, only this time the man in the car with her really was dangerous.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Veronica," he heard a familiar voice say. "Maybe you should take a lesson." He just about crashed his car.

Pulling into the nearest gas station, he jumped out of the car and ran inside. "Payphone?" he demanded, and the clerk pointed him towards the back. When it began to ring, he reluctantly took his ear from his cell phone.

"Keith Mars," the man answered.

"Mr. Mars," he replied shakily, putting a hand against the wall in front of him for support. "It's Logan Echolls. I have Veronica on my cell phone and I don't know what to do."

Keith dropped his head against the steering wheel for the second and a half he could afford without crashing. Veronica was alive and talking. He couldn't have asked for better news at that point.

"Lucky's got her and I'm listening to their conversation, but it's not telling me much," Logan continued, and he could hear the boy's fear clearer than his own.

"Where are you?" he asked, looking down at the GPS tracker. He was following the signal south, taking the highway in hopes of making up their head start. If he was right, and he probably was, Lucky was headed to Mexico. "I need to get my hands on that cell phone."

"I was on my way to your place. I'm at the Marathon just down the road."

"Well I'm about thirty-five minutes south of you, tracking her phone." Keith sighed, looking at the constantly moving dot on the screen. "I can't afford to go back, but maybe you can help from there."

"Anything," Logan breathed. "Just tell me what you want me to do."

"I need you to get to the office and be my eyes and ears from there. There's a loose board on the window ledge to the left of the door. You'll find a key underneath."

He chuckled. Sounded like Veronica.

"Dag nabbit!" He looked up at her oh-so-ladylike expletive as she rifled through her purse. "I can't seem to find my keys. Do you think I left them at your place?"

"It's possible," he smiled, caught in a memory. "In fact, I'm betting they're imbedded somewhere deep in the couch."

She smiled at that, too, and moved towards the porch railing. She reached up on her tiptoes and grasped the bottom of a hanging plant, twisting until the water drop-dish came off. Raising a mischievous eyebrow, she tipped it forward to show him the tiny screwdriver taped inside. At his curious look, she walked to her bedroom window and began unscrewing the screen.

By the time they broke up, he'd perfected the art of sneaking in her window at night.

"I'll be there in five minutes," he replied thickly, blinking his eyes to clear the memory away. "I'll call you as soon as I get in the door."

Veronica had tried to keep Lucky talking, but the man was being intentionally evasive. Not that she hadn't expected it, but desperation was pushing her mind to new tracts of imagination and she didn't like what she found there. Her projected scenarios had always been too vivid.

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked finally, knowing that he probably wouldn't answer. She still had to ask.

His silence was as foreboding as expected.

"Well then, what are you going to do yourself? You know that you can't get over the border with me all blindfolded and uncooperative, and my dad will find me sooner or later, wherever you go. That's kinda what private eyes do."

"You know, you talk way too much for a hostage." It wasn't a warning, just a statement.

And Veronica laughed. "Hey, at least you didn't take Gia. You would have shot your own brains out half an hour ago."

He laughed at that, but it wasn't an amused laughter. It was a scared one. Something about Gia made him trip. Or maybe it wasn't Gia; maybe it was Woody.

Keith had told her a little about his conversation with Lucky in lockup. That Goodman wasn't all that people thought he was. She herself had heard Lucky yell, "He deserved it!" Yeah, whatever was going on with Lucky had everything to do with Woody. If she could find out, maybe she'd have something to work with.

"I'm going to stop at a gas station now," he almost whispered as she felt the car slow. "I'm going to take the blindfold off, and you're going to close your eyes and pretend to be sleeping, understand? If I hear so much as a whisper, see your lips so much as move, not even your father will find you."

The sudden menacing in his voice was startling after his previous calm, and her breath hitched to the point of hyperventilation when she felt the butt of his gun in her side. "I understand," she breathed out, closing her eyes tightly as he took his shirt from over her head.

She leaned her forehead against the warm window of the passenger door and fought the urge to open her eyes. Blindness was helplessness, and in her world, nothing was worse. As she heard the door open but not close, she knew he was watching her, waiting for her to make some kind of move. There were no other sounds than the radio playing outside and Lucky's off-key voice singing along to it. She doubted there were any other cars there. Yelling would do no good.

But to pay, he would either need to use a credit card or go inside. Either way, there would be a record of him.

When his singing stopped and she heard a distant bell, she figured he chose option number two. Smart man. Credit cards were easier to track than surveillance tapes. But he was probably still watching. She didn't have much time.

"I'm at a gas station," she said as clearly as possible, shifting her head so her arm was blocking her mouth. "I can't see where we're going, but we've been driving what seems like rundown back roads for a while now. I don't think there's anyone else around right now." Her voice began to shake…just a little. "So far Lucky hasn't hurt me, but he has a gun and I'm scared. Please come find me."

That was all she could get before she heard the bell again and she clamped her lips together.

"She's not hurt, Keith. She said they're stopped at a gas station on some back roads somewhere," Logan sighed as he fell back into Keith's desk chair. He'd probably broken about six laws—including the laws of physics—to get there, the cell phone plastered to his ear the whole way. All he'd wanted was a clue, any clue, as to where she was. And when he heard her speak, so soft and scared after such a threat, it just about broke him. "That's all she could say. I heard the car door shut so I think they're about to leave again."

"I can work with that," Keith breathed into the phone, and Logan could hear exhaustion in his voice. "I'm driving the highway in their direction. Should give me a little time to catch up."

Suddenly, something on his cell caught his attention.

"What is that?" Lucky's voice came suddenly, sharper than he'd heard it before, and he held his breath.