A/N 1: THANK YOU! for the amazing feedback, reviews, and favorites that came in as a result of the previous chapter. I think I responded to all the reviews, but if I skipped yours accidentally, I am SO sorry. My goal was to get this out in fewer days than it took me to get out chapter eleven. And I beat that by one day! (This is why it's important to have goals, ladies and gents.)
A/N 2: We're getting deeper and deeper into Veronica's mystery, and I'm really doing my absolute best to keep all the details straight. It's given me a lot more sympathy for Rob Thomas and the whole VMars writing team because - sheesh - it's hard! So, if you notice an inconsistency, please PM and I'll try to fix it. My beta is helping me keep it straight (three cheers for Scandalpants!), and I have a running document of details and dates mapped out, but sometimes I miss stuff.
Chapter 12: Step One Leads to Step Two
On the way back to her dad's house, Veronica sat in the passenger seat of Logan's car and allowed herself to be calmed by both his presence and the sound of the tires humming along the road. Interlacing their fingers, she rested their clasped hands on her knee.
"So, riddle me this Batman," she said, drawing small circles on his wrist with her thumb.
He shot her a quick glance, a frown on his lips, and then turned his eyes back to the road. "Hmm?"
"What was up with the wild goose chase I went on Saturday? The drug store. The seedy bar."
Logan's face broke into a wide grin, but he tried to school his expression into one of innocence before meeting her eyes. "Hmm?"
She dropped his hand and flicked him on his temple. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, dumbass."
"Can we please go one night without you talking about my ass? I'm starting to feel objectified."
She rolled her eyes at his answer, which while amusing, avoided her original question. "You were so secretive when you left dad's office. I assumed -"
He shook his head at her and, while his expression was blank, his words were laced with amusement. "And what do people say about assuming things?"
I'm not the ass in this relationship. But, he may have a point.
Rolling her eyes again, she held her thumb and middle finger up so they were in his line of sight as he drove. "Don't make me flick you again. My fingers are deadly weapons."
He waggled his eyebrows and looked down at his crotch and then back up again. "Don't I know it."
"Talk, Echolls." Her mind was still reeling from what Logan had revealed at dinner as well as the discoveries she had made earlier about her own mystery. It was nice in this moment to forget about all of that. Even if her boyfriend was being a little pervy.
"Fine. But I object to the way you are robbing our relationship of any and all mystery." When he stole another glance at her from his periphery, she raised an eyebrow, her arms crossed.
After giving a final sigh, he started drumming the fingers of one hand against the steering wheel. "I'd like to remind you that in one of the worst cases of failed communication in the history of the world, I thought that you had blown me off two years ago." The hand that was drumming stilled long enough to grip the steering wheel tightly and then relaxed. "Your dad told me last week that you were coming back into town, and I knew I wanted to see you, but I wasn't sure if you would want to see me."
She frowned at him, taking his hand in hers again. "But what were you doing at The Copper Cart?"
He squinted an eye at her, and screwed up his face, pretending to recall the facts of the day in question.
"I may have messed with you." He took his hand from hers and held up his thumb and index finger so there was only a quarter inch of space between them. "Just a little. I got your dad to call me when you left the office, and I drove around town for a while to see if you'd follow me."
She flicked him in the temple again, this time hard enough to make him yelp and he ran his fingers over the sting. "You baited me!"
"I didn't bait you. I tested you."
She was annoyed. Definitely annoyed, but he just laughed at the look she shot him.
"When Veronica Mars cares about you, she leaves no stone unturned." Pulling up in front of her dad's house, he parked the car at the curb and turned off the engine. He ran a finger along her jawline, and then cupped her cheek with his hand. "I just wanted to see if I was still on that shortlist of people." He leaned forward to kiss her, but before their lips could touch, she pushed him back, shaking her head.
I think he's telling me I'm predictable. Not even one week back together and the mystery is gone.
"So you're not involved in shady dealings at a bar at the edge of the 02 zip?"
Shaking his head, he leaned forward again. "Nope."
"And you hung out at a drugstore for close to thirty minutes because?"
"I wanted to give you the chance to catch up to me. Also, I was out of toothpaste and shave gel and wanted a snack." He gave her a quick peck on the lips.
She ran a hand along his cheek and nodded her approval at the feeling of smooth skin under her fingertips. A direct result of him using said shave gel. "Feels like a clean, close shave." Leaning forward, she breathed in the faint hint of aloe that still clung to his skin, even after their hours at the diner.
Their lips almost touching, she turned her head at the exact moment he went to kiss her again, causing his lips to graze her cheek. She unsuccessfully tried to stifle a laugh at the sound of his frustrated groan. "Why weren't you mad I tracked your car?"
His hand came up to frame the other side of her face. "Are you kidding me? I was fucking relieved you took an interest." He kissed her lips, a hard fervent peck, and then pulled back. "And it turns me on to see you all PI'd out."
Laughing, she ran her hands up his chest, and then gripped his shoulders. "Didn't used to."
He brushed his lips over her forehead, and then ran his thumb along her cheekbone. "Actually, it always did. I had to stop myself from jumping you in the pool house that night junior year when you infiltrated my poker game."
So I didn't imagine that little smirk of appreciation thrown my way that night.
She closed her eyes as he kissed his way along her jawline and up to her ear.
"But you hated me then."
"Doesn't mean I didn't want to jump you."
She pushed him away, a faint smile on her face, and earned another groan from Logan. Torturing him wasn't her intent. In fact she felt just as tightly wound as he was. She just needed a few more answers. A few more assurances that this steadier Logan, coupled with what she hoped was a steadier version of herself, were flesh and blood and sitting in his car.
And maybe I'm getting off a little on torturing him.
He hung his head, looking up at her from under his lashes. "Veronica, I'm pulling out some of my best moves here. Work with me a little."
She scrunched up her forehead, her head cocked to the side. "These are your best moves? Man, you've really lost it."
His head snapped up and at the dark look in his eyes, she pressed a hand against his chest to get him to focus for just one more moment.
"One last question and then I invite you to try and impress me." At his glare, she threw her head back with a laugh. It felt good to poke and prod at each other without the intention of trying to do harm. "Why did you switch to Crest ProHealth toothpaste?"
"I like the way it makes my mouth tingle."
Logan made it clear at that moment that the time for mild interrogation was over, his lips finding hers. He seemed content with keeping things light at first, just gentle kisses, and a hand tangled in her hair. But then he was kissing her neck…then back to her lips…then shit, he bit her shoulder and soothed the sting with his tongue.
We cannot possibly have sex while parked outside my dad's house. Wait, is that a hard and fast rule I made for us?
His mouth found her earlobe and he began to nibble at it, sending a shiver down her spine.
Okay, woah. Maybe it was more of a guideline.
Her range of motion was limited by the seat belt she had yet to unbuckle. She managed to release the seat belt without separating from Logan, but when she tried to throw back the shoulder strap, she got a little tangled. His self-satisfied smirk at how flustered she was made her want to simultaneously kiss and smack him.
She pulled him closer and felt his chuckle against her shoulder as she tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. She just knew that he was primed to make a comment about how much she seemed to be enjoying his moves now, and she considered pulling back to preemptively tell him to shut up.
When his hands started moving under her shirt, she pushed him away firmly, becoming aware for the first time both that he had removed the elastic from her hair and that her hands were under his shirt. "Nuh uh."
His face was all confusion and he parroted his own words back to her. "Nuh uh? Why 'nuh uh'?"
There are a million reasons for 'nuh uh.' Okay, I'm having difficulties thinking of them right now, but they'll come to me.
Straightening out her shirt, she scooted over in her seat a few inches to put some distance between them, her brain searching for a reason. She settled on, "It's getting late, and I've got a full day planned for tomorrow." Combing her fingers through her hair, she looked over at him. "And we're parked in front of my dad's house."
His head fell back on his seat and he sighed, but she saw a smile play on his lips. "Are you reading that dating book The Rules? Because you're a pro at the whole 'leaving them wanting more', thing."
"Compliment?"
"Mild complaint phrased to sound like a compliment."
"Clever."
Jumping out of the car, she grabbed her bag, and then came over to Logan's side, opening his door.
"Be a gentleman. Walk me to the door."
He hopped out of the car and took her hand. While he shook his head at her again, she could see that he wasn't legitimately upset.
There was something quite amusing about being in their mid-twenties and making out in a car in front of her dad's house. She allowed herself the indulgence of another few minutes of kissing before they made plans for Logan to cook her dinner at his place the following evening, and she went inside.
I just want this part to last a little longer. We never got to have this part for very long.
As she stood in the doorway of the house, a small smile on her lips, she mentally prepared herself to be on the receiving end of a string of complaints from her dad. She understood why her being out three nights in a row might make him snappy but decided she could probably bribe him with pastrami sandwiches the next day.
She woke up the following morning to find she was already the recipient of a text from Logan. A fact that made her far more gleeful than she thought it objectively should.
From Logan Echolls – 8:28 AM
Would it make me the girl of the relationship to say I can't wait to see you tonight?
She laughed, rubbing sleep from her eyes and willing her synapses to work a little faster so she could generate an appropriately snarky comment in response.
From Veronica Mars – 9:09 AM
No. But the amount of hair products you use would.
Tossing her phone on the pillow beside her, she sat up in bed, and turned on her bedside lamp. She reached for her messenger bag, pulling out her dayplanner and a pen. As she flipped to the current date, a half sheet of paper ripped from a notepad fell into her lap. She picked it up and saw it was the to-do list she had made on her first day in Neptune:
1. Catch up with Mac.
2. Bake snickerdoodles for Alicia and the family.
3. Closure.
The third item on the agenda was almost unreadable because of the number of times she had crossed out and rewritten it.
Number one will have to wait until Saturday. Number two can be accomplished today. And as for number three – not a chance in hell that's happening. What a difference five days makes.
Sticking the list back into her dayplanner, (Logan would certainly find it amusing) she started a new list that would serve as a guide for the day. Over the years, Veronica had discovered that the best way to deal with emotional and mental complications without breaking down was to eliminate any gaps in her schedule. By eliminating the gaps, she eliminated any time for self-reflection.
The result of that day's plan was a tightly ordered series of events. Some had to do with her ongoing investigation, but she also remembered to make time for her dad and Wallace.
She limited herself to only two hours' time for ruminating on her own case. She hoped her eyes were refreshed enough to capitalize on the amount of new evidence she had uncovered.
With a strangled groan, she got out of bed and began to get ready for the day. As she was brushing her teeth, she had to acknowledge she was close to exhausting her own investigative options on her case.
She needed help, especially now that she was aware of just how much this guy had altered his pattern by sending her a package while she was in Neptune for break: the message not only made sense in a way the others hadn't, it had been postmarked from Chicago but received in Neptune.
The person besides herself who knew the most about her investigation was on the other side of the country, and had made it abundantly clear how foolish she thought Veronica's actions were.
I may need to concede defeat on this one.
After getting dressed, she texted Wallace an invitation to come over before her date with Logan so she could load him down with snickerdoodles. Between spending time with Wallace, torturing herself by looking at the sketches one more time, and bringing lunch to her dad, she ensured her day would be full enough to avoid any times of solitude sans task.
Camped out in her dad's living room with a pot of coffee and a bowl of cereal, her attempt to uncover new information was fruitless. She was used to an investigation taking longer than she wanted, but having so little to go on was new to her. The thought of having to return to Chicago after Christmas, no closer to solving her own case, was almost crippling.
How long is this going to go on?
In an uncustomary sign of frustration, she let out a little breathy growl of anger, and brushed all of the sketches off of the table in her dad's living room, scattering them across the floor.
She hated whoever was doing this, and the way he was causing her to feel out of control. She had tried to be positive the night before, but without any indication as to the identity of the sender, her more natural bent towards cynicism was emerging.
She didn't bother to put the sketches away in their individual envelopes, and simply tucked them under her dad's coffee table, intending to deal with them when she got back from lunch.
On her way to pick up lunch, she convinced herself to call Agent Baxter to fill her in on the newest development in her case.
Step one in the 'I have a martyr complex and think I'm invincible' recovery group: ask for help.
They were in agreement that the message contained within the sketches, 'When you are ready for me to love you, I w', was more than a little ominous. Erin also acknowledged that discovering that element was a crucial break.
It also served to reinforce Erin's belief that Veronica needed to clue her dad in to what was happening. "He has tools, resources, professional expertise and the time to dedicate to this, Veronica. You need to tell him."
I hate that step one inevitably leads to step two: listen to advice. Damn step one.
Gripping the steering wheel as she drove, she did her best to remain calm. "I told you I would."
Veronica heard Erin's exasperated sigh come through the line. "Actually, you didn't. You promised me you'd tell someone, but you never said it'd be your dad."
"It would kill him to know this, Erin."
"More than if something actually happened to you? Something he could have helped prevent?"
She wanted to squeeze her eyes tight against the words but couldn't while driving, so settled for biting her lip.
"Veronica, are you still there?"
"Yeah." Taking a deep breath, she held it in her lungs for several seconds, and then let it out. "I'll tell him."
Look at me forging new patterns. Admittedly my hand was forced a little, but that's just semantics.
Erin's relief was palpable, even through the phone line. "Oh thank god. When?"
"Soon." At her noncommittal time frame, Erin groaned, but Veronica spoke before she could vocalize her complaint any further. "I promise. He'll know by next Thursday. Just give me some time to see if I can make something of these leads. I want to have something positive to tell him when I do."
"Do you have any idea how exasperating you are?"
This pulled a light chuckle from Veronica's lips and despite being alone in the car, she nodded in agreement. "Some."
The previous evening, her dad had been more amendable to the offer of a long lunch at his office than she thought he would be. She showed up to Mars Investigations, sandwiches and fresh coffee in hand, and reconfirmed he was okay with her going out that night. It wasn't until she prodded him a little more that she discovered that earlier in the week he had made plans to take Alicia to see The Nutcracker in San Diego.
"And when were you going to tell me, young man?" The finger wag might have been overkill, but she liked getting to reverse the roles.
Her dad hung his head, and shrugged his shoulders. "Right now?" He rested his chin on his hands, and fluttered his eyelashes. "Please Veronica, can I go to San Diego and play with Alicia?"
Throwing her napkin at him, she crinkled her nose at him and shook her head. "Never say that again. Will you guys be home tonight?"
"Yeah, but it'll be late. Around midnight." He tossed the remnants of their lunch in the garbage can behind him and stood up from his desk, which Veronica took as a sign that it was time for him to get back to work.
"You going into the sheriff's station today?" She stood up and grabbed her bag, heading for the front entrance of the office with her dad following behind her.
"No, just working from here." Looping an arm around her shoulder, he pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. "Have fun today, kid. I'll see you tomorrow."
It occurred to her as she stood there that this was part of the reason she had such a hard time confiding in her dad when she was in trouble. When she was in control of a situation, like when she investigated Lilly's murder, or the bus crash senior year, her dad was her champion. He never thought she was incapable of accomplishing anything. However, despite the fact that they worked on those cases together, at the end of the day she wasn't his co-worker or his partner: she was his kid. When things got too intense, he didn't hesitate to withhold information from her.
He'd do anything for her, and she didn't want him to deal with knowing that there were parts of her life too broken for him to fix. Maybe she wasn't giving him enough credit, or maybe she just liked that in spite of everything he still saw her as a kid.
Before she left she threw her arms around her dad's neck, and hugged him tight.
"Woah, kid, everything okay?"
She nodded against his shoulder and then pulled back. "I love you dad." She cut him off from asking additional questions by turning around and heading back out of the office.
This is going to kill him. Knowing that I'm in trouble. That he might not be able to fix it.
As she got into her car and pulled away from Mars Investigations, she checked all of her mirrors – both out of habit, and to ensure that no one was following her.
Enjoy it while you can, Veronica. The second you tell dad what's going on, you'll be lucky if you don't have a permanently assigned security detail.
By the time Wallace came over to collect his cookies, her dad's kitchen was spotless. Not only did she sweep and mop, she disinfected the countertops, cleaned the light fixtures, and reorganized his pantry. She hoped he'd take it as another sign of her considerate behavior, and nothing more.
She glowered at Wallace, snapping him with a towel as he poured himself a glass of milk. "Your ass is grass, Fennel, if you get any crumbs on my freshly mopped floor."
"Why can't you be this committed to cleaning our place?" He took a long gulp of milk and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.
She handed him a napkin, rolling her eyes. "Everyone knows it's more fun to clean someone else's."
Don't worry, roommate. I have a feeling our place will be on the receiving end of a deep clean the moment I get home.
He took another couple of cookies from the plate on the counter, and she swatted at him. "Paws off my dad's cookies. I gave you a plate of your own." She picked up the other plate of cookies, removing the aluminum foil, and slid a couple cookies back onto the plate Wallace had just taken from. At his groans of protest, she raised an eyebrow. "I can easily take the whole plate away. I'm sure Logan would appreciate them."
She inwardly cringed when she realized what she had just done, bringing up Logan's name for no particular reason. The way Wallace's face lit up with amusement told her that he wasn't going to let that go without being commented upon.
"Interesting. So, you and Echolls are a thing?"
"It's called a relationship, Wallace. You might consider trying it one day."
"Oh, I've considered it a lot. I just feel it would be a crime against humanity to limit all this," he gestured up and down the length of his body, "to one woman."
She grimaced, wrinkling her nose up in distaste. "Oh, god. What did you do with nice Wallace? Wanna-be-playa Wallace, please go away."
He threw an arm around her, and squeezed her shoulder. "Don't hate the playa, V, hate the game."
Further evidence that Wallace is the best friend a person could ask for. Teased me just long enough to gloat without requiring that I go into excruciating detail about Logan and me getting back together.
Laughing, she pushed him away from her and towards the living room. "I'm going to choose the one less traveled and express derision for both."
He took a few steps backwards, laughing as he did and then suddenly stopped moving, his lips downturned into a frown.
"What?" For a moment she wondered if the 'if he ever hurts you' speech that she expected to come from her dad was going to be delivered by Wallace.
The way he was doing his best to look innocent and impish did not bode well for what he was about to say. Finally he sighed, and looked up at her. "I was just wondering how much trouble I would get in if I asked you to make me a sandwich."
Shaking her head at him, she picked up a cookie from the plate and threw it at him. He fumbled it, but picked it up from the ground and bit down.
"I will not make you a sandwich, but I can probably scrounge up some chips."
"That'll do."
Frequent were the days wherein Veronica wished that some part of her teenage years hadn't occurred. But she also acknowledged that the easy familiarity she had with Wallace was something that developed because of many of those events. It was odd having a best-friend who was a man, but it also felt natural.
Meeting Wallace, letting someone into her life again, was really the inciting incident that allowed her to feel even half-way okay about her last high school years.
And for that reason alone she would tolerate his request to make him a sandwich. It helped that she knew he wasn't being even halfway serious. She grabbed a bag of tortilla chips from the cupboard, a container of salsa from the fridge, and padded into the living room.
Martha Stewart eat your heart out.
Wallace had made himself comfortable on the couch, his feet extended in front of him to rest on the coffee table.
Her eyes shot to the stack of sketches and envelopes still out of sight, neatly stacked under the coffee table. It wasn't like Wallace to snoop, but what he was holding was unmistakable. It occurred to her that in her earlier flash of frustration, when she scattered the sketches across the room, that she could have easily missed picking one up.
She felt a mixture of panic and relief that the decision to confide in someone about her case was being taken out of her hands.
I don't know if I want to breakdown and tell him everything or deflect like mad. Deep breaths now.
Hearing her enter the room, he flipped the paper around so it was her face looking back at her. In this one, her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, her face seen in three-quarters profile, and she was wearing sunglasses.
Wallace, my dad, Logan. By the time this week is over I might as well post on Facebook that I have a stalker and see if anyone fesses up.
In a mocking tone, Wallace read the words on the back of the page. "The night drifts when she's away, and I'll smile and gaze 'til dawn's day." He flipped the page again, shaking his head, and then tossed it onto the table. "Is that what passes for romance nowadays?"
Not the reaction I was expecting. Definitely thought he'd go for something along the lines of, "this is some scary ass stuff, Veronica."
"Huh?" She was too busy trying to figure out exactly how to explain away the presence of some potentially devastating evidence to really make sense of his reaction.
"Echolls might do a bang up job of helping others that have talent, but if he tries to publish stuff like that he's going to get laughed right out of a job."
She let out a shaky breath and gave what she hoped would pass for a genuine smile. "Yeah well, let's keep that between you and me. Underneath that brooding exterior is a rather sensitive soul."
Who also has an insatiable need to keep me safe. This is something he needs to know, but not something that should be sprung on him.
Wallace scratched his chin, and then reached out to take the bag of tortilla chips from her. "Now, who does that remind me of?"
She scoffed, her eyes wide with faux offense, "I don't brood." Reaching into the bag, she pulled out a handful of chips, and then caught Wallace's eye. "I don't!"
The jokes and teasing were a comfort to her, which felt odd given the circumstances. Since concluding that the sketches were given to her by a stranger, she only ever felt anxious while looking at them.
He nodded, but the grin that remained on his face told her that it was only to appease her. "Well, you have to admit he's a sentimental son-of-a-gun. Did he draw you by candlelight?"
Truth. But I kind of like the sentimental. Speaks to my much repressed but never totally destroyed romantic side.
She opted to play along. Dismissing the significance of the sketch rather than dwelling on it seemed the best way to go. "Yes, actually. He wanted to recreate that scene from Titanic. You know where Leonardo DiCaprio draws Kate Winslet naked? I convinced him to save that for our second date at least."
He choked on the chip he had just bitten down on, and covered his mouth with his hand. She wasn't certain if he was actually gagging, or just pretending, but either way she hoped that the unsavory mental image he had conjured would convince him to drop any additional discussion.
For a few seconds, the only sounds were the two of them snacking, and she was foolish enough to think the matter of the drawing had been forgotten. But then Wallace picked up the sketch again. She had to stop herself from jerking it out of his grasp, knowing there wasn't a way to make that action convincingly nonchalant. Sitting there, watching him examine the page so casually, when it had been the source of so much distress for her, was more than a little unnerving.
I think my heart is palpitating. That can't be good.
"His poetry may suck, but he's not so bad at the whole drawing thing." He flipped the page to her again, so she could see. Her only response was to give him a tight-lipped smile.
Looking at the page once more, Wallace frowned, his features schooled into the same expression of confusion that they held when she had first walked into the room.
"What? Did he draw me with a pimple on my forehead or something?" She took it from his hands, and then tossed it on the chair beside the couch, actually feeling more at ease now that it was out of her sightline.
He waved a hand to where it now sat on the chair. "No, but I swear I've seen that picture before."
She looked at him, furrowing her brow as she shook her head. "How could you have seen it before?"
"No, not the sketch Echolls drew, the photo he based it on."
She stood up, grabbing the sketch from the chair, and looked at it again. "What makes you think he based it off a photo?"
"I just know I've seen it before. Figured that was probably why."
As she continued to stare at the sketch she momentarily forgot Wallace was there. It occurred to her that the sender could have her under surveillance, but it didn't completely work as a theory.
If Wallace is right and this is based on a photo he's seen before, it couldn't be a surveillance photo.
Her attention was stolen from the sketch by Wallace waving a hand in her face. "Woah Narcissus, want to focus on your best-friend for a second?"
She swallowed the lump in her throat that had formed as a direct result of all the questions that Wallace's simple observation had sparked. Looking up, she gave another tight-lipped smile and nodded. "Sorry, I'm here."
She set the sketch back on the table and sat next to Wallace on the couch, her body angled so she couldn't see her face staring back up at her.
There's something going on that's obvious enough for Wallace to notice within the first two-minutes of looking at that picture, but that I've missed even looking at it countless times.
"How much ribbing of Echolls can I get away with?"
"Huh?" Pulled out of her thoughts, she was uncertain as to exactly what Wallace was referring to. As much as she loved spending time with him, this was a moment where she truly needed to be alone. But she knew she couldn't get away with dismissing him since she had invited him in the first place.
"You're a little slow today, V. Tomorrow's Friday. Remember? Logan and I are meeting up to get a beer."
The pieces clicked together, and she was finally aware of exactly what Wallace planned to do. Grabbing his hand, her tone was a little more urgent than she would have liked. "No, Wallace. You can't tell him you saw that. Promise me."
She saw the precise moment Wallace became aware that more was going on than she was telling him. She waited to see what he'd do with that realization. If he'd push her to talk about it, or if he'd let it go.
He opened his mouth to speak, but then clamped his lips together. Shrugging his shoulders, he did his best to look nonchalant, but his tone of voice was serious. "Sure, no problem. Wouldn't want to disturb his sensitive constitution. There's plenty of other things we can talk about."
She leaned into his side a little and smiled up at him. These days Wallace only gave her one free pass on any given topic, and then if it came up again, he forced the issue. It was his way of giving her space to tell him things voluntarily, without letting her get away with isolating herself.
Since being roommates, she'd concluded that was good for her. Hell, if he hadn't pushed the issue, she never would have told him all the details of the disaster that was her relationship with Skyler. And she definitely would have never started therapy.
Her guess was that if she didn't fess up by the time they left for Chicago, he'd make her tell all on the plane ride home. She was now working against several deadlines. She had a week to tell her dad, ten days to tell Wallace, and maybe that much time before Erin made good on her earlier threat to call the Chicago PD.
Logan hadn't given her a deadline, but she had promised him a couple days prior that she'd tell him of her suspicions and it was also implied with her words the night before. If everything was really going to be different this time, she had to let him be a part of helping her solve this.
Her eyes fell on the stack of sketches, still hidden away under the coffee table.
I'll tell him tonight. I have to.
It took Veronica twenty minutes to talk Logan out of picking her up for their date. No matter how many times she tried to explain that it made little to no sense, given that the date was at his house, he wouldn't budge. It wasn't until she mentioned that if he came to pick her up, she'd 'accidentally' let it slip in front of her dad that she might stay the night at Logan's that he conceded. The idea hadn't actually occurred to her until that moment, but there was a definite appeal.
Standing on his doorstep, she smoothed out the wrinkles in her sweater, and then reached up to knock. The speed with which he answered the door indicated that he had been standing close to the door waiting for her arrival. Taking in her outfit he grinned, and then frowned when he saw what she was holding.
She handed him the bouquet of flowers, a mix of yellow and white roses, and a bottle of wine, then side-stepped into the house.
"What are these for?"
Chiefly my own amusement.
With her back turned to him, she removed her jacket and tossed it on the chair, along with her messenger bag. "Well, the wine is to go with dinner. And the flowers are for you." Wheeling around to face him, she shrugged. "Because you're the girl, remember?"
His laugh was dry and he set both the flowers and wine on the console table. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her close. "You think you're so cute."
She shook her head, and looked up at him, angling her head back so their eyes could meet. "Actually, I know I am."
The glint in his eye and the slight smile on his lips told her that, while he shook his head, he wasn't really disagreeing with her. If that hadn't been evidence enough, the hitch in his breath before he kissed her would have confirmed her suspicions. He pulled away first, moving one hand from her waist, to take her hand. He grabbed the flowers with the other and she took it upon herself to pick up the bottle of wine.
Looking first at the flowers, and then at her, he frowned. "Not sure I actually have a vase."
"Please. Based on what Melinda and Heather did to your office, they've probably supplied you with more than one."
It's not like I'm actually jealous that two women helped decorate his entire place. But I'm calling dibs on the next remodel.
As Logan moved around the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards to find a vase, Veronica poured a glass of wine for each of them. Making herself comfortable at the island, she watched as he filled the large vase he'd found with water then unceremoniously dropped the flowers in, not bothering to remove the bouquet wrap or the rubber band.
It made her smile to see the ways in which Logan's attention to detail sometimes failed him. She wouldn't criticize, though. She needed him to stay in a good mood for as long as possible.
Taking what she assumed would be the first of several deep breaths that evening, she assured herself that this was going to go fine. Monsters were scary when hidden away in a closet, but in the morning they were often discovered to be nothing more than a trick of the light.
Logan told me he hasn't punched someone in a good long while, but my guess is he's going to make an exception for this guy. Once we find out who he is. Which is not something I actually have a problem with.
He took the wine glass she offered him and, as he did, wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed her on the temple. She thought she heard him breathing in the smell of her hair, but she couldn't be sure. Sitting there, she allowed herself the opportunity to enjoy the silence and the feeling of his arm holding her close.
As much as she wanted to, they couldn't just sit there all evening. And since Logan was unaware there was anything on the agenda besides dinner, she needed to move the night along. "What'd you make me?"
"Macaroni and cheese."
She looked up at him, her eyes crinkled, and tilted her head to the side. "You made macaroni and cheese?"
"Fancy mac and cheese." When she raised an eyebrow, he laughed, waggling his eyebrows. "It has many French cheeses in it." The way he used the promise of cheese as a seduction tool just made her laugh.
She took a drink of her wine and nodded in understanding. "Well, if I knew it had French cheeses in it."
He set his wine glass aside and angled his stool so he could face her head on. "Why roses?"
Looking down at their feet, intermingled as they dangled in the air, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She didn't know why having to explain that she was also sentimental at times caused her to feel embarrassed. "No reason."
Tucking another errant strand of hair behind her ear, he leaned in to whisper to her. "Liar."
She exhaled a heavy breath and then looked up at him from under her lashes, not quite wanting to make complete eye contact.
This isn't that hard, Veronica. It is okay to gush a little around your boyfriend. No one would blame you.
"White roses, among other things, can signify new beginnings, and yellow roses friendship." She shrugged, still avoiding looking at him directly in the eye. "It seemed to fit."
With just enough pressure to get her to lift her head, Logan smoothed the hair back from either side of her face and brought her face up to meet his gaze. "So are you saying you just want to be friends?" It was genuine curiosity, rather than uncertainty that she heard in his voice.
She shook her head and sighed again.
In for a penny.
Ruffling his hair, she smiled. "Of course not. But I missed being your friend as much as I missed being your girlfriend. Some days even more."
His answering smile indicated that he not only knew what she meant, but had felt the same way. His hands were still on the sides of her face, making it easy for him to kiss her again.
With their lips separated only a couple of inches, he winged an eyebrow, an unmistakable glint in his eye. "You know, dinner has to bake for another forty minutes."
Not at all believing his innocent tone, she shook her head at him, and leaned back far enough to grab her wine. She smiled over the rim of the glass as she asked, "So, what are we going to do until then?"
Flashing a smile, he grabbed her hand again, pulling her off the barstool and into the living room. For the first time that night, Veronica registered that music was playing, and that the lights throughout the house were dim.
We're missing pathways of rose petals and candles, but I think I know what he's going for.
"Quite the seduction scene you've set up here."
"You've called me a girl twice today. Thought you could use the reminder that I'm all man."
Taking the wine glass from her hands, he sat it on the coffee table, and pulled her towards him.
"Did I offend your delicate sensibilities?"
"Nothing about me is delicate," he answered, kissing her just below her ear.
She ran her hands up his chest, and then took hold of his shoulders, looking up at him as she did. "What about dinner?" The breathy and low quality of her own voice sounded foreign to her ears, but she decided she could allow it. Logan was the only witness, and he was never one to kiss and tell.
Working his way down her neck, he placed one final kiss on the juncture between her neck and shoulder. "We have plenty of time."
"Plenty of time for what?" Just in case he was unaware that she was being intentionally coy, she batted her eyelashes.
The small growl that emitted from the back of his throat, coupled with his answering smirk, told her he knew exactly what she was doing. "Dancing?" He moved one hand from her waist and trailed it up her spine to rest at her neck, rubbing his thumb along her soft skin.
Logan excelled at the slow burn; light touches, and gentle kisses that eventually gave way to more. But clearly he had forgotten that she was just as adept at the technique. Her hands drifted slowly from where they rested on his shoulders and moved up into his hair. "And then?"
And then I should sit you down and ruin this wonderfully romantic mood you've set by regaling you with details of the psycho who has been in my life for the past seven years. Sound like a plan?
She saw him flick his eyes up to the ceiling and let out a breath through his. "And then, maybe we could do some horizontal dancing."
Her hands stopped the pattern they were raking along his scalp, and she pulled back to shoot him a disapproving stare. "Horizontal dancing?"
He laughed at her reaction and shrugged as he kissed her forehead. "Too far?"
Shaking her head, she moved her hands down his sides to take hold of the waistband of his jeans, walking backwards as she did until she bumped into a wall. "Nope. I just don't understand what's wrong with vertical dancing."
The rational part of her knew that this should not happen right now. That she should put a stop to this immediately. If things continued to progress in the manner in which they were, her carefully planned true confessions would be happening post-coital. As hot as Logan claimed he found her PI work to be, whispering theories about her stalker to one another could hardly count as foreplay.
What the hell. It'll do just fine as pillow talk.
Instead of putting a stop to it, she raised an eyebrow, a clear sign of challenge. Tilting her head back she saw that he was both amused and turned on by the subtle invitation her words provided.
He took a half step closer to her, wedging her between his body and the wall.
Slowly, she brought her hands up from his waistband to the top buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning the first two, and standing on her tip-toes to kiss his sternum.
Logan's hands were at her waist now, moving in small circles and finding their way just under the hem of her sweater. The sensation of his slightly chilled fingertips on her skin made her breath stutter, and he smiled at her reaction.
I should be outraged that he just got the upper hand. And yet, my ire remains unraised.
As she tilted her head back to rest it on the wall, Logan peppered kisses across her eyelids and down her jawline. The sweet, steady build of intimacy relaxed her enough so that the words from the song playing on his stereo broke into her consciousness.
And I can draw the line on the first date
I'll let you cross it
Let you take every line I've got
"This song is pretty sexy." She rolled her eyes at herself. It was a ridiculously simple observation, but as his fingers drifted across the skin of her stomach, she had convinced herself it was incredibly profound.
Rather than laugh at her, he met her stare and nodded. "Yeah."
She moved her hands back up his side to take hold of his neck, and pulled his head down so he would kiss her again.
When she pulled away, both of their chests heaving, she could still hear an inner nagging voice telling her this should not be happening. Groping each other in his living room while dinner was cooking, was not going to make saying, 'Hey honey, hate to bring this up, but I have a stalker,' any easier.
"Logan, maybe we -"she sucked in a breath when he bit down on her earlobe, and decided it could wait.
What harm can a couple more kisses do?
As focused as she was on alternately talking herself in and out of her current circumstances, she hadn't been aware that one of his hands had moved down to her leg, until he lifted it up and pressed her into the wall a little more firmly.
Her head hitting the wall again, she raised one more feeble protest. "What about dinner?"
He kissed his way from her ear to her lips. "I have a microwave."
That's it. I'm helpless to argue with logic like that.
She nodded, and then proceeded to resume unbuttoning his shirt. "Okay."
It was as she successfully unhooked the last button of his shirt, that she thought she heard the sound of someone opening Logan's front door. When she tilted her head to the side so she could listen a little more closely, Logan took it as a sign she wanted to be kissed again, and worked his way down her throat.
Pressing her hands firmly against his chest, she shook her head. "Logan, I think someone's here."
He stopped kissing her long enough to pull back to listen and, when he didn't hear anything right away, darted his head down to kiss her.
Turning her head to listen again, his lips grazed her cheek.
He jutted out his bottom lip, pouting. "Hey –"
"Hey Logan, you here man?"
Veronica groaned, Dick's booming voice effectively cutting through the mood, and she threw her head back to hit it on the wall a few times.
The two of them remained motionless staring at one another, until Logan shrugged, making it clear he didn't know what to do.
"Sexy music. Dim lighting. Is my boy getting his freak on?"
The irony of a guy named Dick being a cock-block is not lost on me. But I think I can be forgiven for not finding that too terribly amusing right now.
Shaking his head, Logan stepped away from Veronica so she could smooth out her sweater and hair as he buttoned up his shirt. "Your boy was trying," he called out.
"The Logan I know doesn't have to try. One intense look and breasts practically free themselves from bra cups."
Veronica crossed her arms, shooting Logan a hard glare, and then moving around him to pick up her wine glass, turning off the music as she did.
Nothing like being reminded of what a himbo Logan used to be. Real romantic.
"So, who's the lucky –" Dick stopped speaking as he came into the living room, taking in the sight of Logan buttoning his shirt, and Veronica pacing with a wineglass in her hand. "Ronnie?"
Dick put his arms out to the side, a panicked expression on his face, and darted his eyes around the room. "Holy shit, did I time travel? Is this five years ago?"
Veronica didn't respond at first, just blinked her eyes rapidly, and with a tight-lipped smile, nodded at him. Raising her glass, she made as if to toast him. "Dick, you're as charming as ever."
Logan punched Dick in the shoulder without warning, causing him to yelp and jump back, rubbing his bicep. "What are you doing here, Dick? I told you I had plans."
"You said you were having someone over for dinner. I thought, the more the merrier."
Smart boy, knowing that Dick Casablancas wasn't exactly the first person I'd want to know we're dating again.
With both of his hands pressed to Dick's chest, Logan moved Dick out of the living room and towards the front door. "You thought wrong."
As Logan worked to extricate Dick from his house, she sat on the edge of the couch, and took deep breaths to calm her still rapid heartbeat.
Okay, that was a close one. Logan's ability to distract is unparalleled.
From where she sat, she could hear Logan and Dick talking, but couldn't make out any of the words, until Dick raised his voice loud enough for her to hear.
"Ronnie, you think this time you can leave Logan with his balls at least partially intact?"
This is why people move away from the towns they grew up in.
It had to be a sign of personal growth that Dick's comments didn't even faze her anymore. It was all just white noise.
She heard the front door close, and seconds later Logan was back in the living room and moving towards her with a predatory look in his eye. She stood up, keeping the coffee table in between the two of them. "Dick has a key to your house?"
Logan shrugged. "He got a little offended when he found out Heather had one and he didn't. Pouted for days." He moved towards her and frowned when she countered his move. "We're not picking up where we left off?"
She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and kept her gaze averted from Logan's. "Maybe we should eat first. Talk a little bit?"
It was foolish of her to think that Logan wouldn't hear the tremor in her voice. When she looked up at him, she saw his expression had already changed, making his worry evident. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing out the parts that her hands had rumpled beyond their usually messy state.
He nodded, taking a step towards her and reached for her hand, interlacing their fingers. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." The way Logan kept shooting her glances from the corner of his eye told her that there'd be no repeat of their previous activities until she told him what was on her mind.
Nothing sets the stage for a serious conversation like sexual frustration and fancy French cheeses.
When they got back into the kitchen, Veronica poured herself more wine, chastising herself for how off-plan the night had already gone.
Despite her best intentions, she had almost been caught up in a Logan Echolls sex-haze. It occurred to her that Dick Casablancas, by unintentionally interrupting them, was actually a catalyst for the impending conversation. She didn't know whether to send him a thank you card, or add this to his already long list of grievous misdeeds.
While conversation flowed somewhat freely during dinner, the silence of things waiting to be said was palpable. It was heard in the way that Veronica laughed a little too loudly during Logan's anecdotes about work. And in how she'd lose focus from time to time, pushing around her food on her plate, and then look up to find Logan staring at her, waiting for her to respond to a question.
There were few things in this world that Veronica was afraid of, but something about letting Logan into this part of her life was more than a little terrifying.
Waving Logan's hand away at the offer of more wine, she pushed her plate aside.
Or, I could get rip roaring drunk and get sick enough to avoid this all together.
They sat in his dining room, him at the head of the table and her to his right, saving them from the awkwardness of either sitting next to each other while trying to talk, or being separated by an entire width of a dining table.
He pushed his own plate aside and then rotated his chair to face her. Veronica mirrored him, angling her body towards him and allowing their knees to touch. She sat with her hands in her lap, her eyes focused just over Logan's shoulder at a spot on the wall. She knew his expression was probably schooled into one of intense worry, and she hoped to avoid it for just a few seconds longer.
"Thank you for dinner. It was much better than the box kind." Her eyes left the spot on the wall only to focus down on her hands.
Logan's sigh at her obvious attempt to avoid talking confirmed for her that despite her outward bravado, she was still a coward in certain aspects of her life.
Buck up, Veronica. A relationship wherein you can't talk about the messes of life isn't going to work.
She saw Logan shift in his seat, and his hand move from where it rested on his leg to cup her chin and bring her eyes up to meet his. "Veronica, what's going on?"
Internally, she made a bargain with herself. She'd allow herself the opportunity to deflect one more time. If Logan didn't go for it, she'd tell all, no additional self-made obstacles. It worked with Wallace, after all.
She shrugged, doing her best to appear nonchalant. "Not much. What's going on with you?" The false brightness of her voice didn't even fool herself. She wasn't sure if she was imagining it, but it also felt like her eyes had started to water.
Logan tilted his head back, his eyes rolling up to look at the ceiling, before returning to her face. "Not much. Just sitting here, listening to my girlfriend try and bullshit me."
"Girlfriend, huh?"
He ran his thumb ran along the ridge of her cheekbone, and she didn't know why exactly until she felt a tear fall on her other cheek.
Guess I wasn't imagining the fact my eyes were welling up. Let's attribute this sudden bout of emotion to the two glasses of wine I've had.
"Just tell me, Veronica. I can handle it."
She leaned forward to kiss him, not in an attempt to distract from the conversation, but in order to gather some modicum of strength from their physical connection. The kiss was slow and unhurried. When she pulled back, she cleared her throat, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and sat up a little straighter in her chair. This would not undo her.
Treat this like any other case. Provide the facts. Don't get emotional.
Logan noticed the change in her posture and mirrored it with his own, also sitting so his shoulders were back. He looked alert, ready to either actively listen or respond to whatever it was she was about to tell him.
She leaned forward to take Logan's wine glass, drinking down the liquid that remained. She flicked her nose with her thumb, like a boxer, and wiggled her shoulders back and forth.
Logan reached up to play with a strand of her hair, smiling at her. "Liquid courage?"
"Just a bit." Taking one last deep breath, she resolved to get through this quickly, and without shedding another tear. "There's a lot to tell. Believe it or not, it all started the first time we dated. Junior year of high school."
At the sound of his cell phone, ringing loudly, Logan frowned at her. "Calling my cell phone to get me off your trail? Very tricky, Mars."
She put her hands up so he could see that they were empty. "It wasn't me."
He reached into his pocket, silencing the call, and rolled his eyes at her. "Alright Shaggy. Please proceed."
Nodding, she threw her shoulders back. "The first time we dated, a package showed up for me on the doorstep of my dad's house –"
This time it was Logan's landline that interrupted her from continuing.
Figures the moment I give up my avoidance tactics the universe decides to help me with them. Shitty timing, universe!
He threw his head back and groaned. "Your machinations are thorough and quite detailed, I'll give you that."
She laughed at both the situation and Logan, whose face was scrunched up in a mixture of annoyance and awe at her ability to orchestrate both phones ringing at once.
Serving as a third obstacle was the sound of the doorbell ringing, several times in quick succession. She couldn't help the bubble of laughter that came from her throat. It became a swell of raucous laughter when his cell phone started to ring again, and she covered her mouth with her hand to try and silence it.
"I bet that's Dick at the door," he said. "Probably trolling for leftovers."
Once his cell phone stopped ringing for the second time, his land line started again.
Veronica stood up and with a shake of her head, headed towards the kitchen.
"Where are you going?"
"It's not my fault you're Mr. Popularity tonight." She turned around to face Logan, continuing to walk backwards. "You get the door, I'll get the phone."
He looked conflicted, uncertain as to whether or not he should agree to her plan, but after a few seconds, he nodded and stood. "Fine, but this isn't over."
She rolled her eyes at him, and tried to choke down her annoyance that he thought that she had somehow planned the series of distractions. Still, the fact he thought she was capable of it was a sort of compliment. "Obviously."
Logan's house phone started ringing again, the sound filling every room, and she walked a little quicker to pick up the line. Counting the fifth ring, she grabbed it, breathlessly holding it up to her ear.
"Echolls residence."
"Who am I speaking to?"
Interesting way to start a conversation.
"Veronica Mars. Who am I speaking to?"
"This is Rachel with Neptune Alarm, ma'am. Is everything okay there?"
It was odd for the alarm company to speak to anyone besides the home owner. Holding in a groan at what this probably meant, she slapped a hand to her forehead. Logan, the wonderful sap that he was, had listed her as an authorized contact on his alarm account.
Moving on my ass. Deal with the alarm company first, and Logan later.
"As far as I can tell. Is there a specific reason you're calling?"
"We got a report that two of the security cameras on the property were disabled."
Shit.
SHIT.
SHIT!
She gripped the receiver tightly and tried to keep her tone calm, even as she made her way to the front door. "Which cameras were disabled?"
"The one at the front gate entrance as well as the one on Mr. Echolls' front porch. Would you or Mr. Echolls be able to check the connection?"
"Of course." Holding a hand over the receiver of the phone, she reminded herself this could all be coincidence, but not truly believing it.
Neptune doesn't do coincidences. Ever.
"Logan, it's the alarm company. Something is wrong with your security cameras."
They met each other in the hallway, and at the sight of what Logan was holding in his hand, the breath in her chest caught and she felt all the blood rushing to her head.
This can't be happening right now.
Logan apparently didn't notice her reaction as he continued to stare at the manila envelope. "Sugarmuffin, maybe you could ask me before you start to get mail delivered to my house." He ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowed. "How did this even get delivered, though? We didn't buzz anyone in."
When she didn't respond to his teasing, Logan looked up. Her eyes were fixed on the envelope, one hand was clutching the receiver of the phone, and the other was clenched in a fist.
He took a step towards her, his eyes darting back to the envelope, obviously concluding that something about its presence had upset her. "Veronica, you okay?"
Logan's concern snapped her into action and she took off running down the hallway, dropping the cordless phone on the kitchen floor. When she got to his front door, she grabbed her messenger bag, feeling around for her taser as she did. She flung open the door, the taser gripped tightly in her hand and looked up at the porch security camera.
The wire had been cut and the two ends dangled lifelessly.
A part of her was vaguely aware that tearing down Logan's driveway while her stalker may or may not be on the premises was foolish, but with her adrenaline pumping, and the sound of her own pulse in her ears, much of her rational thought was drowned out.
She ran for the gate into Logan's property, eyes darting to each side in an attempt to remain aware of her surroundings. She should have called the sheriff's department, told Logan, and then searched the grounds with him, but instead she flew out of the house half-cocked without much of a plan.
The security camera at the gate was too far up for her to see clearly, but she was certain she saw the telltale sign of another cut wire.
As she took a step forward to get a closer look, two arms encircled her waist. Panic rose up in her chest, manifesting in a sharp gasp and then a scream. She started to flail, reaching in her bag for her taser, but the arms around her waist tightened and she heard Logan's voice in her ear.
"Veronica, it's me. It's okay." He continued to whisper the words to her, keeping his grip firm.
She turned herself around so she was facing him, and dropped her bag to the ground. Her arms were wedged between their two bodies and, at the feeling of his chin resting on her head, she let out a shuddering sob. After taking several deep breaths, she let go of the grip she had on Logan's shirt and took a firm hold of his shoulders, clutching at him almost desperately.
"You're okay." He continued to whisper soft assurances to her, his hold on her never loosening. "It's going to be okay."
"He's here." Her words were muffled against his shirt, and it didn't occur to her to explain exactly she was talking about. "He followed me."
She had initially meant that he followed her to Logan's house, but once vocalized it occurred to her that he hadn't just followed her to Logan's house. He had followed her from Chicago to Neptune.
Erin's theory was wrong. The stalker wasn't using a service to hide the city of origin from her. Everything she knew pointed to the fact that he wanted her to figure out it was him. The sketches were possibly based on photos of her. He had hidden a message in the gibberish. He always declared he loved her. It didn't matter if she had moved to LA, Chicago, or New York. He was intent on living wherever she was.
At the faint sound of paper crinkling, she pulled back from Logan, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
He held up the manila envelope, wrinkled from the way he had held onto it while hugging her. His tone was measured, and there was only a hint of fear in his eyes. He was trying to remain calm for her sake but she knew he was shaken by her strong reaction.
"Does what you were trying to tell have to do with this?"
She nodded, noticing that the envelope wasn't yet opened. Logan only knew the presence of the package had upset her, but still didn't have any idea what was happening.
Placing another kiss on the crown of her, he rotated his body so that he could guide her into the house. "Come on, let's get you inside."
Careful, Logan. I might insist on making it my own fortress of solitude. Keep all of the bad stuff out for as long as possible.
"Yeah." Walking towards the house, she shot a look over her shoulder at the gate.
He had been here. She couldn't downplay the seriousness of the situation any longer. Not only was he in Neptune, but he had been on Logan's property, thereby changing his pattern yet again. Whoever this person was had proven to be calculated in all his actions. But over the course of a week, he had broken his pattern twice.
As they walked into Logan's house, him locking the door behind her and setting the alarm as he did, she felt herself calming down. While the change in pattern was scary, going off plan meant he'd likely start making mistakes. The more mistakes this guy made, the easier it'd be to catch him.
Logan's still held the envelope in his hands, and she could see the way he trying to keep his frantic energy under wraps. He was having a hard time standing in one place, and his fingers were drumming on the envelope. Taking a step towards her, he handed it to her.
She gave him a curt nod, opened the envelope, and pulled out the sketch.
In this one, her hair was just past her shoulders, styled in loose waves. He had drawn not only her face, but her shoulders as well, and put her in a halter top with a low neckline.
Flipping it over, she read the words on the back. While it was in the same hand-writing as all the others, she thought it looked just a touch messier than was typical. The words on the back again deviated from the regular pattern.
Let us move forward with strong and active faith. – Franklin Delano Roosevelt
I love you.
She held the picture up for Logan to see, and then stared at it again, frowning.
"Veronica, tell me what's happening. Please."
She looked up at his pleading tone and was almost thrown back by the force of his anxiety. She hadn't wanted this information to be sprung on him, and her hesitancy in confiding in him had caused that exact thing to happen.
Now to figure out the best way to clue him in.
She gave him the sketch and watched as he first inspected the drawing of her, and then flipped it over to read the words.
His jaw clenched as he looked up at her, making it evident he needed more than this. He needed her to explain.
This was one part of the evening that she hadn't planned. She hadn't actually decided how she was going to tell him. Her eyes dropped to the floor, staring at her feet. She wanted to sound confident, but when she spoke her voice sounded small. "I think I'm in trouble." Lifting her head, she met his gaze, and offered him a tremulous smile. "I don't know who sent me that. But it's been going on for a while."
"You've received things like this before? Someone's been stalking you?"
Something about him actually verbalizing the world 'stalking', calling it what it was, overwhelmed her. All she could manage was a head nod.
He sighed, and she caught the tail end of his breathy, "shit" before he folded her back up into a hug.
She allowed herself to relax into his hold, the feeling of his hand running up and down her back calming her.
"The alarm company called the sheriff's department. They'll be here soon."
Pressed against his chest, she shook her head emphatically. "My dad doesn't know yet. I don't want him to find out like this."
He sighed again, and she wondered if he was going to fight her on this. Rather than push her away or chastise her, she felt him shift his hands so he could run one through her hair. He kissed her forehead, and mumbled against her skin. "We'll just tell them that someone tried to break in and have them search the grounds."
She gripped his shirt, and nodded. "Okay."
Running a hand down her arm and squeezing her hand, he looked down at her, his forehead knit with concern. "You have to tell him. You know that, right?"
Pulling away, she nodded again, and took the sketch from him. "I do. And you, too. I know." Reading the words for the second time, she frowned.
This time the not so subtle dig at Logan was apparent, both in the way an inspirational quote had been incorporate, and in the advice about 'moving forward'. Something about seeing her with Logan again had aggravated whoever sent the package enough to make several very risky choices.
She handed Logan the sketch to look at again and crossed her arms over her chest. She was more than a little furious that this guy thought he could play with her life like this. That he could offer an opinion on Logan that she'd actually heed.
Clenching her jaw, she began pacing the length of Logan's foyer. The longer she stood there in the presence of this man, who she knew would do anything to protect her, the more she felt her fear giving way to anger. "I'm going to nail this son-of-a bitch to the wall."
Logan's head snapping up was what told her she had spoken the words out loud, and hearing them had an almost immediate effect on him. All concern dissipated from his face and his lip curled up into a smirk. He ran a reassuring hand up and down her arm and, unless she was much mistaken, she thought he looked proud of her.
Taking hold of her hand, he pulled her towards him. He folded her up into his arms once more and rested his chin on her head. "That's my girl."
A/N 3: Please, oh please, oh please review? This was a pretty tricky chapter to write, and I'd love to know how it came off. Also, Dick made an appearance! He won't be a huge part of the story, but he'll be around from time to time.
A/N 4: I've already written a big chunk of chapter thirteen! (It was originally a part of this chapter, but it would have made this one about 16,000 words.) Next is writing the third and final chapter of Reunions. But, both will be updated by Christmas. Scouts honor.
FINALLY: I'm on tumblr now! My tumblr link is in my profile, but my username is nevertothethird. Feel free to send me asks about anything. Okay, done now!
