Author's Note: Sorry to leave you in suspense! Thanks for all the nice reviews while I was gone. Here's a long chapter for your troubles.
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Veronica Mars.
CHAPTER TWENTYONE
Keith Mars studied the person seated opposite him. Keith was fairly certain his subject had told him everything she knew about the Sorokins' sleazy sex trade empire, but this girl could obviously keep a secret. The interrogation room they occupied at LAPD's 23rd Precinct station was silent except for the quiet scratching noises made by the girl's fingernail as she traced the lines and grooves of the scarred wooden table in front of her. She finally cracked under his scrutiny.
"Okay, I confess!" Veronica told her father. "I shot the Sheriff. But I didn't kill the Deputy."
Keith sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh, lacing his fingers behind his head. "I guess I'm a little confused as to how we could have been working practically the same case and yet I'm only hearing this information about the Sorokins now. I thought we were a team, like the Hardy Boys. Except one of us is a girl."
"Dad, I would have said something, but I promised to keep my involvement a secret. Nothing in my case led to Sivya Denisovitch. Besides, if I told you I was working for the FBI, they might have killed you. Or had you abducted by aliens."
"No more secrets?" Keith held out his little finger.
Veronica hooked her own pinky in his and they shook. "I drink milk from the carton when you're not home," she confessed.
"That's okay. Sometimes I read your diary."
"I know. I've been keeping a fake diary for you to read since I was fourteen."
Father and daughter grinned at each other. Keith stood and opened the door of their tiny interrogation room. "Come on, kid. Time to learn more about the human trafficking business."
"Somehow I missed that episode of School House Rock," Veronica commented.
"I could sing for you-"
"Please, Dad. These poor girls have been through enough."
The station was bustling with activity, but Veronica spotted Agent Schuler and led her father into the fray. When Keith had called to tell his daughter about the shootout in the Sorokins' warehouse, Veronica had immediately relayed the information to the FBI. She and Schuler had rushed to LA, intent on questioning the kidnapped girls and the two captured mobsters. Now Schuler was glaring impatiently at his watch.
"The Russian interpreters aren't here yet," he told Veronica. "I need to take Vadim and Ilya downtown to the Federal Building and transfer them to FBI custody. If we're going to make our meeting with Molly Fitzpatrick in Neptune tonight, we should leave LA soon."
"I can wait here while the police question the girls from the warehouse," Veronica offered. "I'll ride back with my dad."
Schuler looked relieved. "Good thinking. Be sure you get copies of the girls' statements. I'll see you tonight." He signaled two uniformed police officers to escort the prisoners to his vehicle.
As Schuler exited the station, the translators arrived and were quickly ushered into interrogation rooms to begin interviewing the Sorokins' kidnapping victims. Keith was particularly interested to hear from Sivya's friend. So far, the only information they had from the girl was her name. Petra Ustinov.
Petra was painfully thin, and she appeared even more frail in the harsh fluorescent light. Keith and Veronica stood with the station captain behind the observation window.
"Let me talk to her," Keith implored Captain Shea. "She's seen me before, she knows I've been looking for Sivya Denisovitch."
"The girl from the snuff film?" Shea asked. He hesitated. "Alright. But I'm going in with you, and don't even think of asking leading questions that might jeopardize our legal case."
Keith nodded eagerly. "Thank you, Captain."
Shea fixed Keith with a hard stare. "I was impressed with your work on the Lilly Kane murder, Sheriff Mars. Otherwise I wouldn't even consider letting a P.I. interview my key witness. Don't screw it up."
"Understood."
Captain Shea gestured for Keith and an interpreter to follow him into the cramped interrogation room. Veronica watched through the two-way glass as the interpreter settled next to Petra, while her father and Shea took seats across the small table.
"For the record, please state your name and how you came to reside illegally in the United States," Captain Shea started. Petra stiffened in fear and anger as the interpreter translated his words. Her words were an unintelligible torrent, but the interpreter quickly made her answer known.
"My name is Petra Ustinov. I came here from Belarus to marry a man who said he loved me. He lied. I entered the country on a fiancé visa he arranged for me, but as soon as we left the airport I was driven to a filthy warehouse. I was held there for weeks, and when they finally brought me out it was to…"
Petra trailed off. She looked away from the men, biting her lip hard and trying not to cry. She took a few ragged breaths and regained her composer.
"I had no intention of breaking your laws."
Keith swallowed with difficulty, trying to clear the lump in his throat. "What about Sivya Denisovitch? Did these men lie to her, too?"
Petra nodded as she laughed bitterly and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. Her ridiculously heavy mascara smeared under her large brown eyes. "Sivya wanted to be a famous actress. Stupid girl. We were all stupid girls."
"Who killed her, Petra? Who killed Sivya?" Keith asked urgently.
"I don't know," Petra sobbed. "She ran away three weeks ago, and no one saw her after that. We thought she had escaped. And then you came to the bar, asking questions. Vadim found the business card you gave me. That's how I got this," Petra gently touched a large purple bruise on her jaw.
Keith reached across the table and took her hand in his. "I'm sorry for everything they put you through. Help us bring them to justice."
Petra hesitated. "Can I stay here? In America? There's nothing for me in Belarus."
Captain Shea shook his head. "I'm sorry. Immigration and Customs Enforcement will hold you in federal custody until this case is closed. You'll be deported, unless ICE accepts your claim for asylum."
Petra looked dismayed. She tried to withdraw her hand from Keith's, but he held on. "Please. Help us find Sivya's murderer."
"I would," Petra told him, "but I don't know who killed Sivya. Vadim and Ilya made us watch the DVD. I don't know where they got it. They told us this is what happens to girls who misbehave."
Veronica could see her own heartbreak reflected in her father's eyes. They listened to all eight of the kidnapped girls' interviews, but no one knew who had killed Sivya Denisovitch. One day she had vanished, and the next anyone saw of the girl was her murder on the DVD.
Keith and Veronica left the police station tired and discouraged. Veronica grabbed the car keys from her father. "I'll drive, Dad. You've had a long day."
Keith nodded and shuffled around to the passenger side of his sedan. "It's not over yet. I need to meet with Natasha Denisovitch and tell her the bad news about her sister." He rubbed his eyes wearily. "Captain Shea gave me a copy of the DVD. I hope Natasha doesn't ask to see it."
Veronica shot her father a sympathetic look as she pulled onto the freeway headed south towards Neptune. "I'm sorry about Sivya. But I'm glad you're okay. No more gun slinging for you, Dirty Harry."
Keith gave a sleepy grin. "I bet those Russian punks aren't feeling very lucky today." He reclined his seat and closed his eyes.
Traffic crawled, and car horns blared impatiently. Veronica sighed. "I'd like to live in a world where people only honked if they were horny."
Keith reached over and patted her knee, his eyes still shut. "I'm disabling your car horn when we get home. And then I'll go to work on Logan."
"Logan's car," Veronica corrected.
"Yeah. That's what I meant."
*********
Veronica's dad dropped her off at the Neptune Grand only after she promised to return home to their apartment that night.
"I just need to take care of a few little things first," Veronica told him. She didn't mention that one of those little things was baby Joey, waiting upstairs with Wallace in Logan's suite.
So much for total honesty, Veronica thought unhappily. Despite her pledge, she didn't think her father was ready to hear how far she and Logan had progressed in their domestic bliss. Especially when Logan was currently incarcerated.
"I am not your manny," Wallace complained as soon as Veronica entered the suite. "Why did I have to babysit?"
"Because somebody said that he wanted to help me with this case," Veronica reminded him. She quickly dressed Joey in his warmest clothes. She had to hustle if she was going to meet Molly and Agent Schuler in time. "That was you, wasn't it? My BFF who almost let me get killed in an alley behind the Pi Sigma Sigma house?"
"Yeah, okay. I said I'd help," Wallace relented. "But why can't I help in more manly ways? Like seducing hot women for information."
Veronica rushed to stow her field gear and hefted the bag over her shoulder. It was heavier than normal; this time she had remembered to pack a crowbar. "Because I'm short on hot informants and Manny Weevil had plans for tonight."
"Good thing I usually set aside my Saturday nights for debilitating self pity. Otherwise I might have had plans, too."
Veronica cast a sympathetic look at her best friend. "Wallace Fennell, we've got to find you a girl."
"Damn straight. Isn't that your job, to find things?" Wallace asked.
"For you, pal, I'll put all my other cases on hold. You don't mind babysitting while I play Yentil the Matchmaker, do you?" Veronica teased.
Wallace immediately handed Joey to her. "On second thought, I just remembered that I am a super-fine specimen of manhood, and I won't require your services after all."
Veronica balanced the baby and her heavily laden bag on one arm while rummaging through a drawer in the credenza. "See Joey, all it takes to meet girls is a little self confidence. And beer." She fished out Logan's wallet and handed Wallace one hundred dollars.
Wallace looked uncomfortable. "V, you don't have to pay me. I was joking about the babysitting thing, it wasn't a big deal. I studied most of the afternoon anyway."
"I'm not paying you," Veronica shrugged. "Logan is. Take it and buy something nice for the girl of your dreams. Flowers. Chocolates. If you hurry, you might still have time to swing by Unicornicopia before it closes. Girls love unicorns."
"I'll remember that," Wallace chuckled. He took the money and shoved it in his pocket, but continued to gaze thoughtfully at Veronica and the baby. Joey caught hold of the small diamond pendant Veronica wore in memory of Lilly Kane. Like all infants, Joey immediately put the necklace in his mouth, and Veronica attempted to gently extricate it from him. She smiled tolerantly, lovingly even, as Joey tried to hang on to his shiny new toy. She looked up to find Wallace's eyes riveted on her.
"What's up, Buttercup? I can give you an extra twenty if you want to spring for a deluxe Edible Arrangement. Just a fruit basket? I think not. It's tasty, healthy, and a work of art. No girl of Wallace's dreams should expect less."
"No, it's just that…" Wallace faltered, but Veronica waited patiently while she bounced Joey on her hip. Wallace forged ahead clumsily. "You're not going anywhere, right? I'm going to see you again after tonight?"
"What?!" Veronica asked in surprise.
Wallace had obviously been worrying all afternoon. "You came back from summer vacation and moved in with Logan practically as soon as your feet touched the west coast. And then come to find out you're hiding a baby in your hotel suite."
"So let me get this straight," Veronica said. "You think I spent the summer pretending to be an FBI intern, but instead had a not-so-secret love child with Logan."
"Maybe," Wallace said defensively. "He looks just like you, V!"
Veronica pretended to be wounded. "Ouch. I don't go around saying all of you people look the same."
"You people?"
"Basketball players. You're all so freakishly tall and well-coordinated."
But Wallace doggedly pursued his concerns, refusing to be side tracked by her jokes. "I'm serious, V. Just tell me Logan is really in jail, and that you're not running away with him tonight. Your dad will be seriously pissed at me if this is some scheme to disappear with Logan and your..."
"Love child?"
"Stop saying that!"
"I promise that Logan is really in jail. And he will continue to be in jail until I get Joey back to his mother, so I need to split. But I will see you tomorrow," Veronica vowed with a smile.
Wallace still appeared doubtful, but he dutifully walked her and Joey downstairs to Veronica's Saturn. "Don't look so worried, Papa Bear," she told him. "This case will be all wrapped up by tonight."
"Just be careful." He closed her car door and waved goodbye as she drove away.
As per her agreement with Molly Fitzpatrick, Veronica took Joey to Balboa Park on the east side of town. It was a quiet, blue-collar neighborhood. At seven o'clock, the sun was just setting. Tall trees cast long shadows over the empty grass field. The swings in the playground swayed slightly back and forth in the light breeze, as though pushed by invisible hands. Devoid of people, the park felt ominous as day turned to night. Still, Veronica preferred no people to finding Liam Fitzpatrick or Danny Boyle waiting for her. Checking again to make sure the coast was clear, Veronica exited her car and took baby Joey to the swings. She sat with him in her lap as they rocked gently.
"You're mom really missed you," she told Joey. She smiled sadly. "Logan and I are going to miss you, too. He would've liked to say goodbye himself, but he'd rather go to jail than put you in danger."
Joey cooed happily as they swayed to and fro. "I know," Veronica continued. "It was kind of showy, but Logan's into big gestures. Still, he'd want me to tell you to be good. Stay in school. Don't do drugs. And he'd probably add something about avoiding St. Patrick's Day parades. Green really isn't your color anyway."
A car pulled up to the curb and Veronica tensed, poised for action. She relaxed when Molly Fitzpatrick emerged, also looking nervous. Molly waived a little and rushed to the swing set.
"Joey!" she cried in relief. She took the baby from Veronica and held him to her, showering his tiny body with kisses.
"Agent Schuler will be here any minute," Veronica told Molly. The other girl took a seat on the swing next to Veronica, still cuddling Joey to her.
"What if Liam finds out I got him in trouble?" Molly fretted.
"You show us where Liam stashed the stolen goods from the Hearst robbery, and you and Joey can disappear forever, courtesy of Uncle Sam," Veronica reassured her. "Agent Schuler has your false documents and will take you to the U.S. Marshalls' Office in Los Angeles tonight. They're the ones that oversee the witness protection program."
"Okay." Molly took a deep breath and kissed Joey's tiny fingers. "I'm really scared, Veronica."
"This will all be over soon-"
Veronica's reassurances were cut short by the appearance of a shiny black sedan with tinted windows. It cruised down the street in front of the playground, slowing as it approached. Veronica watched in anticipation as the driver's side window slid down silently. "Schuler?" She wondered.
Veronica stood and took the baby from Molly's arms. "Come on," she told the other girl. She offered her hand, but Molly was still staring at the black sedan, her mouth open in horror. Veronica whipped around in time to see the barrel of a large pistol pointed out the car window.
The hail of gunfire was deafening. Dirt and blood flew in the air, mingling with Joey's wails and the acrid smell of smoke. Liam had found them.