Beta Credit: Amy, Sarah, and Joey.

Chapter Five

"Without a license plate, it's like locating a needle in a shitty haystack," Veronica said to Mac, sighing heavily as she plopped down behind her desk. It had been two days since seeing the woman with the mole speed away in a grey SUV, and they weren't even one inch closer to tracking down her identity or the vehicle. There were just too many registered grey SUVs in a fifty-mile radius in and around Neptune to eliminate them in one fell swoop. Veronica was not sure of the make and model due to the distance between her and the vehicle. It was also too dark to see anything clearly with the only streetlight being ten feet away, too far to be useful. And there were similar problems with the security cameras in the vicinity of Neptune Elementary. They either did not work, were at the wrong angles, or were too far away.

Veronica glanced down at the flyer with the new sketch on her desk, the new sketch that she had a forensic artist draw up after her brief eyewitness account of the suspect. Even though the image was all over the local news and social media, it still hadn't generated significant leads. And despite their mild interest, the Neptune police hadn't put much stock in her encounter. Ethan's mother was still their main focus.

"Well, I was finally able to trim down the haystack just a bit." Mac handed Veronica a reduced list of women 's names and addresses who had registered grey SUVs in and around the area. "Those women are around twenty-five to thirty-five years old. And these," she handed over another list, "are the ones with police records. I also have a list of married men who have grey SUVs." She put that list on the desk. "You know just to check all the boxes. It's still a lot, but it's a tad better."

Veronica smiled. "Mac, have I told you lately how much I missed you? Don't ever abandon me again." She jumped up as if she was hit by an electric shock. Having Mac back at Mars Investigations was such a blessing. Just like with Wallace, Veronica had forgotten how much it meant to have Mac in her life, not only as a valuable employee but also as a dear friend.

Her friend waved off the sentiment, but her lips tilted upward. "Oh, you just missed my nifty hacking skills."

"I'm not gonna lie. Your skills do help my world go around," she said lightly. "Why did you go to Istanbul anyway?"

Mac shrugged, "I honestly have no idea."

"Well, happy you're back." Veronica smiled before flying out the door, praying that they would finally get a break in the case.

…

Veronica pulled into the driveway of Anne Martin. Her name was the fourth one on the first list. She had no police record, and she was thirty years old. She was the fifth woman Veronica had checked out in the last couple of hours and so far, no one had matched the profile of the kidnapper.

As she walked toward the front door, she scanned the front yard of the two-story beige house. A detached garage was visible toward the back of the driveway. No sign of a grey SUV, but if Anne Martin was even at home, it could be in the garage, Veronica considered as she rang the doorbell.

About fifty seconds passed before the door opened. An elderly woman in a pink sweatsuit gave a small smile. Behind her owl-like framed glasses, her blue eyes took in Veronica "Hello, are you my Uber Eats driver?"

Veronica shook her head. "Sorry, afraid not. I'm looking for Anne Martin. Is she home?"

The woman's gaze narrowed. "Anne? Wait!" Her voice raised an octave. "Aren't you that investigator who helped catch that pizza man bomber last year? Victoria Mars?"

And here, she thought her fifteen minutes of fame were up. Veronica forced a smile. "Veronica Mars." She corrected. "Yeah, that would be me."

"How's your husband?"

"He's doing okay, thank you."

"God Bless."

"I'm sorry, what's your name?" Veronica asked, trying to get the conversation back on track.

"Bonnie Jacobs. I was Anne's landlord." The woman divulged.

"Was? She moved out?"

Bonnie nodded. "Yeah, I'd say about two months ago. She rented the apartment above our garage with her adorable daughter Katie. I miss that baby."

Veronica did the math in her head. Ethan was kidnapped almost two weeks ago. If Anne Martin was the one who took him, why would she move about six weeks before the incident? To plan? To set up her hideout? Veronica wondered before asking, "Did she say where she was going and why?"

"Just out of state," Bonnie replied. "I just assumed she wanted to get away after her bad breakup." She paused, her eyes widening in alarm, then she asked, "Why are you looking for Anne? Is she in trouble?"

"Do you think she could be in trouble?"

"I'm just worried now. She did leave sort of abruptly."

"I just wanna talk to her." Veronica sighed and softened her demeanor. "Ms. Jacobs, I'm sorry if this is overwhelming for you and I don't wanna bombard you with questions, but I have to know about Anne, okay?"

Bonnie nodded. "I just don't want that sweet baby to get hurt. Katie's only three."

If Anne was the kidnapper, knowing that two defenseless children were with her made the situation even more critical. But even as her stomach clenched. Veronica tried to reassure the woman. "I just wanna know about Anne, so I can maybe find them if they need to be found. I'm not even sure yet. Now, can you tell me who Anne's ex is?"

"I don't know," Bonnie said, flapping her arms at her sides. "I never saw him. All I know is that he was married and I warned her that it wouldn't end well. She was all secretive about him, you know. I babysat Katie whenever she'd go meet him"

Veronica put that little-married-guy-fact in her mental filing cabinet for later. "Does she drive a grey SUV?"

The woman gave a slight nod.

Veronica lifted the sketch in her hand and showed it to Bonnie. "Does this resemble Anne at all?"

Bonnie grabbed the flyer and stared at it a moment. "It says 'Suspect in Ethan Anderson's kidnapping.' You believe Anne took that boy?"

"Like I said, I'm not sure about anything yet," Veronica replied truthfully. "Does the drawing look like her?"

"Not really," Bonnie said after glancing down at it again. "She has short blond hair and she doesn't have a mole, but…" Her voice trailed off as if she knew her next words would change everything.

"But what?"

"You—you have to know Anne's a good mother. I don't believe she's cruel enough to take another woman's child."

"But?"

Bonnie took a deep breath and then said, "She, uh, worked at the local Curtain Theatre as a make-up artist and she was hospitalized for mental illness as a teen. My husband and I were good friends with her parents back then, but she got better and put her life back together, you know."

Bingo. These pieces were beginning to create a possible scenario. Anne was an expert in disguises and changing your appearance for a particular reason, like whisking a kid from school that had security cameras. "Can I take a look around her apartment?"

"It's pretty much empty but sure. Let me get the key." Bonnie stepped away.

This could very well be the lead they had been looking for, Veronica thought, but the big questions remained. Why would Anne Martin abduct Ethan and where would she take him?

…

Logan knocked on the apartment door of former Chief Petty Officer Aaron Sykes. For days, Logan had been trying to dig up any info on Lieutenant Anderson but all he had gotten back was radio silence. Now after Logan had dared to jump into the fray between Anderson and Balotelli at the vigil, he found himself in the crosshairs of Anderson. Even though the great lieutenant was charged with assault and faced three months confinement on base, he was still asking around about one Naval Intelligence Officer Echolls. That had closed the door on getting any dirt on the man or so Logan had assumed.

This morning—as Logan was getting back into the car after he'd dropped Noah off at daycare—Logan had received a text from Sykes: Heard about your fight with Anderson. Want to talk? Meet me this afternoon. The petty officer had then relayed his address.

Petty Officer Sykes had received an honorable discharge two years ago after he'd stepped on an IED in Afghanistan and lost both of his legs. He'd belonged to the same squadron as Anderson and word had it that there was bad blood between the two shipmates, the bad blood that flowed over to civilian life.

The door swung open to a dark-haired Sykes in a manual wheelchair. Logan kept his gaze on the guy's face. Being in the U.S. Navy for as long as Logan had been, you sadly became accustomed to seeing amputees.

"Hey Echolls," Sykes said, "you are twenty minutes early."

"What can I say?" Logan smirked. "I hate being late to a party."

Sykes wheeled back to let him in. "I wish my new prosthetics were as punctual as you. I've been waiting months for new legs," he said flippantly.

As Logan stepped into the apartment, he wondered if he was literally late to a party. There were opened boxes and wrapping paper on the floor and coffee table. Lingerie draped over reading lamps, including one that also had a bridal veil. Empty beer cans, champagne, and wine cooler bottles completed the look of disarray everywhere you turned.

"I apologize for the mess," Sykes said, "my fiancée had her bridal shower yesterday and things got carried away. Haley's still passed out in bed. Can't wait to see what her maid-of-honor has planned for the bachelorette party."

Logan's mouth curved up. "When's the big day?"

"Not soon enough," Sykes replied. "I could do without the prior festivities, you know. Do you want a can of soda or something?" he asked, opening the refrigerator.

Logan declined the offer before saying, "I wouldn't know. My wife and I took a speedy shortcut to city hall."

"Yeah, I heard your honeymoon was the bomb, though." Sykes chuckled, but then he quickly sobered. "Sorry, man, that was a bad fucking joke." He took a swig of Pepsi before continuing. "It's—It's just that after the brutality we've seen and gone through and you almost get done in by a pizza delivery man. That is some shitty irony"

"Don't I know it" Logan smiled slightly as he took a seat on a stool by the kitchen counter. He'd always been able to make light of his fucked-up life as a coping mechanism, but bombing jokes were still difficult to roll off his back.

Sykes pulled up closer to the raised counter and put his soda can down. "Speaking of shitty irony, though, seeing that douchebag Anderson portrayed as an upstanding man and father in the media while he calls his wife a cheating, unfit mother, I just—I can't stand it."

"Why? Because of his stellar, versatile reputation as a lieutenant?" Logan asked deprecatingly. "Or the hazing?"

Sykes scoffed. "The hazing was done under the radar and rarely went beyond verbal attacks, at least when I was in his squadron. He knows how to not to get caught, or so I thought before the vigil."

Logan shook his head and said, "But now he's being portrayed as a distraught father who wants nothing more than to find his son. He'd give my father a run for his money with his acting skills and his 'poor me' routine. He'll probably get the assault charges dropped in no time. He's being seen as a victim here."

"Yeah," Sykes replied, "but he's far from the victim."

"Do you think Anderson had something to do with his own son's kidnapping?" Logan asked, raising his brows.

"Look, I don't know," the former petty officer said. "All I know for sure is that he's a hypocritical ass who accuses his wife of being an adulterer when he picks up women at every port."

"I can't say I'm shocked," Logan replied, "but if you know about this, why doesn't his wife and everybody else?"

"I'm not sure about his wife." Sykes sighed. "But I just know after his affair with my college-aged sister, he treated her like shit before he dumped her. I found this out only after the fact, five years ago. I, uh, of course, confronted the bastard and threatened to tell his wife. He said to go right ahead, that she wouldn't believe me, but I couldn't go through with it out of some misplaced loyalty to a higher-ranked officer. I also knew that he could make my life a living hell."

So, that was the bloodshed between them, Logan thought before he asked, "Why don't you speak out now?"

"I don't wanna drag my sister's name through the mud. She has moved on and she's in medical school, you know."

Logan nodded and scoffed. "So, why did you ask me here, man?"

"I know your wife's working the case," Sykes said, "and that you've been asking questions about Anderson."

"Yeah, but learning that the guy's a grade-A piece of shit womanizer isn't really a big break. It's just juicy gossip that may taint his squeaky-clean image in the public eye." Logan said dryly. "But it won't even do that since you won't come forward."

"I'm not done, Echolls," Sykes breathed in deeply as if trying to keep calm. "A couple of months ago, I was at the new Rodeo Bar on the outskirts of town and saw Anderson there with a blonde. They were arguing. I mean, having a big blowout, man. It's dim in there, so Anderson didn't notice me. The music was loud, but I was close enough to hear the end of their argument. He told her, 'I'm so tired of your temper tantrums. You're worse than my damn son.' She replied, 'You know what? You don't deserve me or your poor son. You'll be sorry one day.' and then stormed off. Anderson stayed and got shitfaced drunk."

Well, you could've started with that little piece of info! Logan wanted to scream. Instead, he just asked, "Did you catch the woman's name?"

"Ava or Ana? After seeing his fight at the vigil as headline news, I remembered that night at the bar and thought that she may be involved in his son's disappearance, but she doesn't look like that sketch."

"Do you—?"

Logan's phone jingled.

After he stood and pulled the phone out of his jacket pocket, his eyes glimpsed the screen. Of course, it was Veronica, he smirked. She must have had a sixth sense that he was on to something. Logan gestured to Sykes to give him a moment as he walked across the room and looked out the window. The laughter of kids rang out while they ran around the park across the street.

"Hey sweetums," Logan answered.

"Hey babycakes," Veronica replied in the same light tone before she quickly turned serious. "I just wanted to tell you I may be late for dinner. I think I finally found the owner of the SUV. It belongs to an Anne Martin. The only problem is she left town after a big breakup, according to her landlord. I'm trying to look in every nook and cranny of her apartment, but nada so far."

"A big breakup, huh?"

"With some married guy."

"I think it may be Anderson." Logan filled her in on everything Sykes just told him.

"Looks like I need to have another little chat with the lieutenant."

"I'm coming with you."

"Logan, you're not exactly his favorite person right now."

"And you are? Veronica, he could be directly or indirectly responsible for his own son's kidnapping. You need backup."

"I'm packing more than pepper spray as protection."

"Oh, that makes me feel so much better," Logan replied wryly. "I'm coming with you and waiting in the car, at least let me do that much."

Veronica sighed. "Okay, fine, meet you at his place."

After they hung up, Logan let out his own sigh. He loved his independent, badass wife, but he wished she wasn't always so fucking stubborn.