I loved all of your reviews and I'm so happy that so many of you are really getting into this story! To those of you who haven't figured it out yet (and I know this is a large window of time) I generally update sometime between Saturday night and Sunday afternoon, however, I believe there is some sort of button you can press that will send an e-mail to you whenever I do get to publishing my chapters. And I guess Saturday night/Sunday afternoon is relative to time zones, of course.
I am really excited about this chapter, to be quite honest. I kind of prefer the Logan chapters and I think you guys do too. Originally, this was just a short piece and I was really conflicted with where I wanted to take it, but thanks to my lovely betas, I rewrote it and I must say, I like version two a heck of a lot better.
One final note, something my beta brought to my attention, I use the term "aughts" in this story. For those of you who don't want to look it up, it is a term used to describe the first decade of a century, or in the context that I use it, the decade spanning from 2000 to 2009. Just a little FYI. Another term, and I've been led to believe this one is more popular in the U.K. is "naughts" but I cannot confirm this as I've never been to the U.K. So, without further ado, enjoy!
Chapter 11:
Logan sat in the backseat of the taxi cab on his way back to the airport. The meetings were over. It was done. There certainly wasn't any reason to stay in town any longer; that was obvious. Except to maybe catch a few waves. The view from his window proved that is was a beautiful day, clear blue sky with a hint of a breeze. There were probably a million good surfing spots nearby; he could rent a board and go out for a few hours, clear his head from the meetings that afternoon. Veronica, in the flesh, sitting across the table from him. He had half a mind to run back in there, throw her over his shoulder and bring her back with him. Marcus would probably blow a fuse if he did. Did he really have to know? Logan ran a hand through his hair and sunk into the seat. His phone began buzzing right on cue and he sighed.
Logan looked at the I.D. and tossed his phone aside, preferring to be alone with his thoughts despite the fact that many of them were about a spunky blonde that he used to know. Was Neptune really that terrible in her mind that that was preferable?
"Veronica!" he called out, pounding on the door with his fist, "Veronica, I know you're in there." He continued to knock. She hadn't left the house since it had happened. That was a week ago. If she was eating, she'd be running out of food by now. If she wasn't, he had bigger problems to deal with. He shook the bag of takeout in his hand, "I have your favorite: lasagna. All yours if you open the door."
"I know you think that you're alone, but you're not," he said, sliding down the door until he sat on the ground, setting the bag next to him, "there are a lot of people out here who care about you."
He sighed and gently banged his head against the door, picking up one of the unclaimed newspapers that littered the ground. The headline naturally referenced the murder of the recently elected sheriff.
Logan flipped a few pages in, scanning the headlines as he went until another one piqued his interest.
BODY OF WOMAN FOUND IN ALLEY NOW IDENTIFIED
The body of a woman found a week ago in an alleyway outside of Java the Hut coffeehouse was positively identified as LIANNE MARS, of Neptune, CA., ex-wife of recently deceased Sheriff KEITH MARS, also of Neptune. She is survived by their only daughter, VERONICA MARS. The official cause of death is still to be determined, although foul play is suspected. It is undetermined at this time whether or not the death of Ms. Mars is related to that of Sheriff Mars. Anyone with information regarding the suspicious death of Ms. Mars is encouraged to contact the Neptune Sheriff's Department. No memorial service has been planned as of this printing.
He crumpled the pages and tossed the newspaper aside before standing. "Veronica!" Logan called out with desperation. "You can't run from everything, you know. Eventually something is going to catch up to you and you're going to have to deal with it," he continued, giving the door one last good pound. She had to have known. She's Veronica Mars, after all.
For a second, he thought about breaking down the door. It was a cheap apartment; it wouldn't be hard to do. Although that kind of forceful action would probably result in her actuallynever speaking to him again. After a few hours and not a single sound from inside, he sighed and pulled out his cell phone, knowing she wouldn't answer but hoping anyway.
Logan wasn't sure how long Veronica had followed the investigation into her father's murder. Did she know that the new sheriff, Vinnie Van Lowe, had pinned it on her mother, who conveniently could not defend herself? Or while early reports of her mother's death suspected foul play, the official finding was a drug overdose?
At the time, he followed the story in the newspapers casually, skimming the articles when they appeared in the paper. However, when the stories stopped appearing, he did little to continue following the case. Even as an average citizen, he found that some of the so-called "facts" did not add up.
He undoubtedly wasn't a detective, not in the least, but given his proximity to the family over the years, the story certainly did interest him. Logan closed his eyes for a moment, leaning back into the seat as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. How could she end up like this? Like an entirely different person?
Shifting a little in his seat, he reached for his cell phone to call Marcus back. "I have an idea for my next book," Logan informed as soon as the other man answered.
He could hear the sounds of Marcus' disapproval through the phone before he spoke, "Mr. Echolls, how about we finish the projects that we've started before adding more to the mix?"
"Schedule a meeting with my publisher, will you? I'd like to get a jump on this while I have it," Logan ran his finger absentmindedly along a seam in the seat. His next book would be about the murder of the sheriff of a small town. The suspected killer would be his ex-wife, in a fit of jealousy and rage, but it is their detective daughter that solves the case and clears her estranged mother's name and finally puts the real killer behind bars for the rest of his life. Perhaps one day he could even turn it into a Lifetime movie.
"Mr. Echolls, what happened at the meeting today?" Marcus asked, trying to bring the conversation around.
He thought for a moment before answering, "Her name is Kate. The girl in the photo, her name is Kate. Don't you think that is a little weird? The girl in my vision called herself Katerina. That's pretty similar to Kate." A little too similar…
Marcus took a moment to process the information before responding, "Kate is a pretty common name, Mr. Echolls. How did you find this out?"
"Ver—The photographer, she mentioned it," Logan responded with a slight annoyance in his voice. How else would he know? Some days he was thankful that Marcus had spent most of the early to mid-aughts in the middle east, fighting the war. He had missed many of the breaking news stories that shaped his teenage years. Though Logan had always wondered what sort of background information the publishing company gave him in their briefing, he knew it had little to do with Lilly, Duncan, or Veronica and more to do with his current lifestyle choices.
"Mr. Echolls…" Marcus started, "Did you feel the need to ask her that to confirm the validity of your alcohol-induced dream?"
Logan rolled his eyes, "I didn't ask her. She offered it to me." She always did seem to understand him. What was he doing? He shouldn't be thinking about her. Veronica Mars was an F.B.I. agent deep undercover in South America. Off limits. One wrong move and he would blow her cover, letting a criminal roam free. The Veronica he knew would never forgive him for that.
"Did you sleep with her? Is that why she refused to sell you the picture? Mr. Echolls, how many times must I tell you that using your man parts, however lovely they may be, is not a way to get ahea—gain advantage," Marcus quickly corrected himself of a terrible pun that would not go unnoticed by his client, "in this business."
Logan exhaled and looked out the window. Marcus was half right: he did sleep with her, just not while in South America. Was it related to the fact that he was now coming back picture-less, perhaps? If it had been anyone else on the planet he probably wouldn't have given a second thought outside of fulfilling his own desires. After a moment of watching the scenery go by, he refocused his attention to the phone call, "I decided that I wasn't interested in the picture anymore. Mr. Henshley had some pretty good designs, why don't you call him back up and see if we can work something out. Maybe he's onto something with those boats." Maybe, if his book was actually about boats. Could he change the ending to include a boat? A Viking burial, perhaps? No, of course not.
"Logan," Marcus offered, without needing to be prompted, "I've worked for you ever since you made the mistake of showing up to an important meeting three days late, drunk. I know you. I know you better than you think and I know that you hated every last one of those designs. I know that you especially hated the one with the boats." There was a pause on the other end of the line before Marcus continued, "And Mr. Winder told me about the note. Did they threaten you? We can do something if they threatened you."
Of course that would be the route that Marcus chose, "How long are you going to hold that over my head? And technically I wasn't drunk, I was hung over. There is a difference my schedule-loving friend."
"What did the note say?" Marcus questioned again, refocusing the conversation back to the present.
Did the airport get farther away? He remembered it being closer to the hotel when he had landed. Logan ran a hand through his hair and then down his face, exhaling deeply, "It was personal, okay? Just between me and her and I'd like to keep it that way."
He didn't feel like talking about it right now. The events were still fresh in his mind, he still needed time to process everything. It was like seeing a ghost. No. It was worse than seeing a ghost. Ghosts aren't real. The girl that he saw, sitting across from him at that table, she's real, just different from the girl he remembers. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out the folded page from the book she had given him. That was real.
Slowly he unfolded the page and smoothed it out over his leg. Logan ran his fingers over her careful print. Granted, if she hadn't handed him the paper herself, he probably wouldn't have known who it was from. They never really were big on hand-written correspondence.
"What is this, dude?" Dick asked, pulling a box out of the in-room safe. Though their time at the Neptune Grand had been… well grand, they both felt it was time to move on. Together they had picked out a nice house on the beach to be their bachelor pad. It was big enough that they each could have their privacy when the moment struck, but not so large that they would never see each other.
Logan looked up from the box he was currently packing. Perhaps he shouldn't have procrastinated so long on packing, then he wouldn't need Dick's 'help' to be out by the end of the day. Truth be told, a part of him was afraid to move. What if she came back here looking for him? "If I have to stop and explain every little thing to you, we're not going to be finished by checkout," Logan warned, "Just put it in a box and I'll look at it later."
Instead of following his best friend's request, the blonde surfer opened the box. Inside was a small ring with a simple cut diamond. "Something you're not telling me?" Dick asked, showing Logan the opened box.
At this the other man tossed the shirt in his hands haphazardly into the box he was packing before lunging at the ring, "Give me that."
Dick held it above his head as though it would prevent the taller man from reaching it. Logan, easily grabbed it from his friend's hand and slammed the box shut, "It's nothing, okay?"
"Seriously? I thought you were over her. She's been gone over a year, it's been longer since you guys were together. Give it up already," Dick commented, reaching into the safe for any other important possessions.
Logan rolled his eyes, "I bought it when we were still together. I just thought… It doesn't matter. It was stupid. I was stupid. I slept with Madison." He looked at the box once more before tossing it into the box Dick was packing along with the rest of the contents of the safe, including the note to go along with the ring. He had planned a 'scavenger hunt' of sorts for her to find her ring, since she loved mysteries so much. "Finished," he commented, closing the safe before stepping back to the box of clothes he was packing.
She hadn't written much else outside of the solution to his code, just a few sentences for him, which he supposed were in case they didn't get a chance to talk privately.
Spanning years and continents, right?
I'm sorry.
I'm fine.
I would have preferred a bow.
The first line was vaguely familiar to him, as though he had heard it someplace before, but it gave him hope. Hope about them? Hope about her returning to Neptune? He wasn't really sure.
He was glad he had the second line in writing, because issuing an apology meant that she was in the wrong; something Veronica Mars never did. This certainly would be useful in future arguments. Future arguments? Would there be any future arguments? How could he just assume they would engage in future arguments when he was leaving her behind? Who knows when or even if he would see her again? This thought brought a feeling of sadness to his chest as he continued reading.
The third line was less reassuring than it was meant to be. This was Veronica, after all. Always insisting everything was okay when it wasn't. Thinking of her appearance at the meeting, concern flashed across his face. The F.B.I. probably gave her a handler of sorts, so if anything too serious went down, she would at least have a little back up, right? They wouldn't just dump her here and leave until she caught the bad guys on her own, would they? Well, Veronica never was known for her ability to play well with others.
The final line caused his face to light up and a chuckle to escape his lips. She was still buried in there somewhere. His Veronica. His snarky, sarcastic, perfect Veronica was still alive, at least on some level, and he knew one day he would see her again.
Looking up from the page he noticed the cab had joined the line of traffic waiting to enter the small airport. Taking a second, Logan carefully refolded the page, just as she had before, and placed it in his pocket before leaning forward to the driver's compartment.
He hoped against all odds that this cabby knew even a little English. Taking one last glance around him, he whispered something into the driver's ear. At the old man's nod, he relaxed back into his seat. His time in South America was about to be extended just a little longer.
As per my usual begging and pleading (insert pouty Veronica face here, resistance is futile my friends) please review. You guys truly inspire me to write more, work harder, and want to bring you the best possible work I can do. And when I don't think it is my best work, I feel really guilty all week. So seriously, you guys are my muse, and anything you have to say, good or bad, I love hearing it. I believe the lovely thought box is somewhere below here. So, if you could, type a few words (or more than a few, that's cool too) and hit submit. You guys are seriously the best. Until next week...
