Keith looks exhausted. Almost as tired as I feel. He sits against the cold wall, his head in his hands. "Dad?" I call, rushing forward towards his cell. He looks up at me, his eyes alert and wearisome. "What happened? Cliff just said—"
"Veronica." He cuts me off, walking to me. "I need you to go home and get something. Then you need to bring it back and hand it over to Vinnie. It's very important." He begins pacing, anxiety pouring from him, ageing his face.
"Anything." I gasp without hesitation. He nods, like what he expected.
"I need you to get the file on your mother. I need you to help him find her."
I don't answer. I just stand there dumbfounded. I can't comprehend why he wants me to do this. "Help Vinnie Van Lowe find my mother?" I whisper, sounding each vowel in confusion. I look away from him, glancing anywhere but at his face. I'm not sure if he understands how hard this is for me. Maybe too hard. "Why?"
"Just trust me." He utters, his face contorting in a look of agitation and worry.
"Will it get you out of here?"
"It might." He can see that I'm not entirely convinced. "Veronica." He eyes me carefully, as if telling me that I should do this. I narrow my eyes, staring at him hard. Grudgingly I agree. I pull out my phone to call Wallace.
"Hey, I'm not going to be able to come over, I have to do something for my dad. I'll talk to you later." I leave the message on his voicemail as I make my way towards my Saturn. As I take the wheel a wave of weariness overcomes me. I struggle to keep my eyes open. I shake it off and drive home to our apartment, passing the extravagant mansions of Neptune along the way. The safe's combination is fresh in my mind and finding the file is surprisingly easy. The manila folder marked Lianne is thicker than I remember and I realise that dad has been adding to it. I'm curious as to why his interest would have picked up when a photo falls out of the side. It's a picture taken from when I was only little, maybe four years old. Mum and I are holding hands happily, dancing in our old living room. I stare at the image, before placing it in my pocket. It fills me with mixed emotions.
I call Cliff, wondering why dad needs this for his release. More importantly though, why he is in there in the first place? "Hey Cliff, it's Veronica."
"Well, hi there. What can I do you for?"
"Why is dad in a cell?" I ask, not wasting any time.
"As it so happens, he specifically told me not to tell you," Cliff replies. In the background I can hear people arguing. I figure he's working and his client isn't complying.
"Please Cliff; I'll help you with a case." I plead.
"Fine. But I get to choose which one." He concurs. "And that means with no exceptions." I realise I'm holding my breath. "He's being held for accessory. For Murder."
If it wasn't so serious, I'd laugh at the absurdity of the situation. My father a murderer? Then I'm seven feet tall. But then it dawns on me. Why is he being charged at all, and what does my mother have to do with it?
"Thanks Cliff. Just call me when you need my help." I hang up and make my way to the car. I'm driving for perhaps five minutes; the documents on my mother placed beside me on the opposite seat, when I'm overcome by drowsiness. My vision becomes blurry and I lose concentration on the road. I pull over, ignoring the beeping vehicles behind me. The flashy Mercedes and Porsches overtake me with ease, their young, annoyed drivers flipping me off as they drive past. I get out of the car, walking with difficulty to the passenger side. I lean on the door to maintain balance, not knowing what's going on. I know the feel of GHB. This is definitely not it. It feels like a sudden wearing down process; one that makes neither sense nor comfort. I open the door to grab the folder, holding it tightly in my hand. I bend down against the soft, black seats, leaning on my palms for support. I close my eyes in perplexity before losing sense of what is what. It all fades away as I black out.
Lily is standing a few feet away, smirking mischievously. I call out to her but she can't seem to hear me. In the distance I can see Aaron Echolls watching her. I run at him, wanting him to disappear. But just as I'm close enough to reach him, the scene changes. I'm standing on a bridge and Logan's bright yellow car beside me, the driver's door wide open. I step towards the edge of the bridge, immediately predicting the worst. I don't see Logan anywhere. The water below is a dark mass that crashes and hurtles. I step back, my breath catching.
"Veronica?" His voice murmurs from behind me. I turn to find him a bloody mess on the side of the road. He reaches out to me, revealing a trail of dirt and blood down his forearm. Tears well in my eyes as I stride closer to him. As I kneel down beside him I know there are only seconds left. I place my hand to his face, trying to stop my jaw from quivering. He doesn't look angry or sad for his death. Nor does he seem happy with me there. He frowns when I lean over him, his eyes narrowing noticeably. "You said it was over." He whispers. Although almost inaudible, the blame and disappointment and guilt are obvious. I mumble incoherencies at him, standing up from his now limp body. My bloodstained fingers mark my face as I try to wash everything in my mind away.
I begin to run. The road is empty of cars and the dim streetlights barely guide my way. I try shouting for anyone but no one answers. My hair clings to my forehead and the back of my neck with sweat as I run for what seems like miles. And still no one answers.
I run this road every night. And every night I know it's a dream, but the precision of my surroundings keeps me from questioning it. I cry silently, as though my voice has died away and all that is left is the choking sounds erupting from my throat as what can only be sobs.
"Veronica." I can still hear him saying. "Veronica."
"Veronica!"
My eyes fly open. The first thing I notice is the bright Neptune sunlight blinding me. The second is a familiar worried crouching down beside me.
"Logan," my speech falters slightly, wondering if I'm still sleeping. I wipe my face; realising tears had been rolling down my face. I'm sitting in my car with the door open, my body halfway lent out into the open.
"What happened?" He glances from me to the parked car, and back to the road where his own car is parked. Nothing seems to be clicking for him. "I've been trying to wake you for almost five minutes. I saw you passed out when I was driving past." He pauses. "What's happening to you Veronica?" He asks. "I thought the FBI would have toughened you up a bit." He jokes, trying to lighten the situation. It doesn't work.
My eyes widen. I have no idea what is going on with me, only that nightmares keep haunting my sleep, yet won't let me wake. They change all the time; different people, different events. Always the same outcome though, I'm left with no one. No one at all.
I stand up, not answering his question, or commenting on the FBI. All it really did was give me a desire to never be near a photocopy machine for the rest of my life. Maybe longer. Sure, the building seemed cool, and the agents that came through looked sophisticated and exciting, but nothing I did gave me any sense of accomplishment. I wobble slightly, however my balance seems to be returning. I stretch, until I lose stability and fall. Logan catches me roughly, holding me up. "I don't think you should drive." He stresses firmly.
"I'm fine." I say, trying to stand on my own feet. He won't let me. His hands are tight around my shoulders, his fingers digging slightly into my arms. The skin under his grasp is burning with anticipation, and I can feel my pulse quicken. I try to look away from him, but his gaze is set. His brown eyes are so intent on staring that I can't help but look back. It's a mistake.
The light-headedness I feel has nothing to do with my drowsiness. He doesn't blink and the intensity is overwhelming. I can't think about what's going on, but somewhere deep down I'm telling myself that I need to stop whatever this is. It takes all of my willpower.
"I need to go." I utter quickly. He lets me go. His mouth forms a tight line.
"I guess Piz will be missing you." He says monotonously, looking away hastily.
I nod in apparent agreement, still not in complete control of my thoughts. I step back, crossing my arms over my body in sudden self-consciousness. He looks annoyed, and I don't let myself wonder why. He nods goodbye, as if that is where we are at in this awkward, unexplainable relationship; acquainted enough for a nod, but not friendly enough for an actual 'bye'. I don't press the issue.
I climb into my car, aware of a pair of eyes watching me walk away. The warmth inside the vehicle has culminated since the door has been open for so long, letting the black seats heat up to a slightly uncomfortable level against my legs. I prepare the folder in my lap, something I only just remembered, before starting the ignition.
"Veronica." Logan calls as I'm beginning to drive away at minimum speed. I stop, winding down my window. "You said my name, you know." He elaborates, "In your sleep. You said it over and over and over." His face is still set in a mask of neutrality, but I can tell there is some underlying feeling he isn't letting me see. I don't try to figure out what it is though; this is something that I don't actually want to find out.
He gets into his own car and drives past me. I keep my eyes straight, ignoring the bright yellow blur in my rear-view mirror. I'm still parked on the side of the road, my hands clutching the steering wheel. I sit there in silence for a solid thirty seconds before completely breaking down. My head rests on the steering wheel as violent sobs make their way from me, filling the car with the pathetic sound of my crying. I wipe my eyes, but I can't stop. It just keeps on coming. Logan isn't dead, I'm not alone. But despite everything that I've been through, now—just when things seem to be improving—is the time that I lose control over everything.
By the time I've arrived at the Sheriff's Office my face is free of tears and any hint of desperation is gone. I walk right past Sacks and straight into Vinnie's office at the back. He looks neither surprised nor concerned that I'm there, however his characteristic flippancy is evident.
"Veronica." He accentuates each vowel sound, elongating my name. "Long time no see; how is your dad these days?" He smirks.
"He's going to be fine once you release him." I tell him, smiling with confidence.
"Now, why would I do that?" He asks coyly.
"You've been filled with an overwhelming need to do the right thing! Wait no. That can't be right; it would mean you're actually capable of human emotions." I gasp. "Have you… developed a conscience?" I feign shock with my mouth open and my eyes wide. He just continues smiling. I shrug. "Or, I'll help you find my mum."
He eyes me sceptically, like he doesn't believe I'd actually turn her in. He walks around the desk, sitting on the edge closest to me. I hold the folder up for him to see, waving it in front of him like he's incapable of understanding what it is. He reaches for it, but I pull it away before his fingers close around the documents.
"Ah-ah-ah." I tease, "Being hasty won't get you anywhere. How about you let my dad out first?"
He sits there for a few seconds, scrutinising me before nodding. He calls for Sacks on his intercom. "Release Mars," He orders once Sacks is at the door. I have to be honest, apart from holding the wrong people and his lack of morals, he really isn't doing a terrible job. The crime is relatively low and the people aren't preparing their pitchforks. Although, since when did the opinion of Neptune's population really measure how well someone was at their job. First there was Lamb, then Woody Goodman. I sigh.
Vinnie walks back around to his chair opposite the desk.
I slap down the folder in front of us, opening it up to the first document, relaying credit information from the last three weeks, and recent number plate sightings. Photos of her in various places are spread out across the table. I look at him, keeping a straight face.
"Do you want me to find her for you, or do you think you can manage this little chore?"
AN: Thanks for the reviews guys, they were much appreciated. So I'm not entirely sure what I think of this chapter. I'm possibly relatively pleased with it, but I'd love to hear your opinion.
