Veronica has her doubts about the efficiency of the Sherwood Police Department.


When Veronica arrives at school on Monday, there's a sort of solemn hush around, wherever she walks. At first she thinks that Heather's kept to her promise to ruin her, but the silence is more sympathetic than shunning. A couple of times, people she's never spoken to before say "Veronica, I'm so sorry!"

In art class, Fleming'd pulled her into an awkward hug. "Oh Veronica, you're so brave!" she'd bleated. Veronica had tried to untangle her hair from one of Fleming's multiple bead necklaces and excused herself.

In the hallway, Heather Duke grabs her by the wrist and drags her into the bathroom.

"Heather, what the hell is going on?"

"You didn't hear?" Duke says, eyes wide. Veronica grits her teeth.

"Cut the crap and just tell me!"

"Veronica...Heather Chandler's missing."

"What?!"

"Sorry about your friend," a stoner girl says, slinking out of one of the stalls. "Thought she was just your typical airhead bitch. Guess I was wrong."


"No way," Heather MacNamara says when they tell her in the locker room at gym.

"Heather..." Duke begins.

"Oh shut up Heather!" MacNamara snaps. "I know Heather better than all of you, and she would never run away!"

"You think something bad happened to her?" Veronica asks.

"You're both being ridiculous," Duke snaps. "Shit like this doesn't happen in Sherwood Ohio. God, Heather, are you some kind of idiot?"

Heather M falls silent. She picks up something from Chandler's locker, which she's been moodily digging around in. "Heather left one of her swatches," she says gloomily. "Does that sound like our Heather?"

Duke takes the swatch. "Let me have that," she barks.

"No, give it to Veronica." Heather stands up and puts it on Veronica's wrist. "She'd want you to have it. She always said you couldn't accessorize for shit."

Veronica smiles a little bit, and Heather smiles back.

"Careful, Heather, you might actually be digesting food for once," Veronica teases, although she can't hide the relieved smile on her face.

"Yeah, where's your urge to purge?" MacNamara snipes, clearly not over their argument.

Duke shrugs, throws the chicken bone over her shoulder. "Fuck it."

She looked healthier than I'd ever seen her, Veronica writes in her diary. JD's uncharacteristically cheerful too. Maybe Heather's disappearance helped somebody after all.


The police come in around sixth period to interrogate everyone about Heather's disappearance. It's a sad sight. (Not because Veronica thinks Heather's actually dead -she's a mythic bitch, for fuck's sake, she's probably immortal -but with these officers, she might as well be.)

"Where were you on the morning of September 13th?"

"Today is September 13th," Veronica points out dryly.

"Show some respect young lady," puffs the officer in front of her, red-cheeked and looks like he's barely out of high school.

Veronica rolls her eyes. "I apologize. Today is September 13th, sir."

"She's right, you know," the second officer says. He's only a little older. Veronica has nicknamed them Tweedledee and Tweedledum, respectively.

"Shut up! Where were you on the night of September 12th, then?"

"I was at my boyfriend's house."


"I was at my girlfriend's house," says Jason Dean, crossing his arms. "Can I go?"


"I was in my yard, playing with my dog?" Heather McNamara says. Her leg moves nervously. "Any way we could hurry this up? I'm missing a Calc test."


"I was a party," Heather Duke drawls. "At Remington University. It was so very. We all got trashed, so I took Heather home to sleep it off. I woke up in Heather's house, made her a hangover cure, and went home before she woke up."


"Did you know the victim?"

"Everyone knows Heather Chandler," Martha Dunnstock says, fidgeting in her chair. "I mean -we didn't all like her, but that's just high school, right?"


"She was so hot, man. Everybody wants to fuck Heather," Kurt Kelly says.

"Yeah, and she's not even a prude like Veronica, you know? I dunno why God had to go and kill such hot snatch, man." Ram Sweeney contributes.


"So you think the victim's dead?"

"If there's any justice in the world," JD drawls. "So, probably not."


"Probably," Peter says. "The death rate in Ohio is pretty high these days."


"I hope not," admits Betty Finn. "Are you allowed to call her a victim yet without proof of foul play?"

The first officer squints at her. "What are you, a goddamn lawyer or somethin'? You do your job, and you let us do ours."


"Any suspects?" the chief asks when they return.

The first officer shakes his head. "There was this kid in a trenchcoat on the way back -something Dean?"

"I keep telling you," the second officer groans. "Don't judge a kid by his trenchcoat. There's tons of people that own trenchcoats and don't grow up to be serial killers!"

"Yeah? Well who do you think did it, genius?"

"I dunno, man. Maybe she offed herself. Pretty girls are complicated, man."

"Like you would know."

"Chief?" the police captain's radio buzzes.

"Shut up you idiots!" he snaps, and then into his radio: "I'm here."

"You gotta come out here and see this. We found Heather Chandler's car by Sherwood Lake."