A/N: Thank you all for your wonderful reviews. They have really helped me keep on with this story, but I am getting worried that I may disappoint you all. High expectations and I am very new at this thing, and I know where I'm going with it even though it keeps evolving into something more. I hope you keep enjoying it. Thank you also for the follows and favorites. Caution for slight language.

Chapter 19

Veronica had Dick go back to MI with her so she could make his ID, promising Mac that she would bring the zip drive from the office home with them. The look Mac had given her was a silent thank you for giving her more than an hour to herself before dealing with real life, aka, Norris and the Castle. Dick seemed unfazed by the request, either he didn't care or didn't notice the look that passed between Mac and Veronica. He only ambled off to gather more of his things: boots and clothes for the next morning, files and paperwork for his foundation, promising to meet Veronica at the front door in ten minutes time.

They all parted ways: Mac leaving in wordlessly alone in her car, Keith driving himself to MI, Dick and Veronica climbing into Logan's car, they themselves headed to MI as well. Dick didn't say much the whole way there, seemingly focused on the traffic, but finally about two blocks out, he asked, "How was the meeting with the Ol' Sinclair's?"

Reminding herself to be cautious, Veronica answered lightly, "Pretty well, thanks. They didn't seem to know much about Patrick Muldoon. We didn't get very far into that, though."

"Why not?" Dick asked, still not looking at her. "I mean, wasn't that part of the reason you went there today?"

Veronica slowed the car down to take a left onto the street MI sat on and answered, "No. Mostly the meeting was to give them the facts of the case. We hadn't met with them since Saturday. They needed an update."

"Seems to me you were with them an awful long time just telling them the 'facts of the case,'" Dick said, imitating her voice. "What took so long to explain?"

"Why so nosy, Dick?" She asked him, avoiding his question with her own. "Things take time to explain sometimes."

He looked at her disbelievingly. "Something is fishy, Ronnie, I can smell it. Did you at least ask them if they knew about the Castle?"

"Not directly. We're pretty sure that they don't know anything about it. There is a way, actually," Veronica told him as she signaled to pull in front of MI's front steps, "that we can verify that without asking. That's another reason we're here. We have a roster."

They stepped out of the car to head into the building, already unlocked and opened by Keith, who had beaten them there. As they climbed the stairs, Dick asked, "You have a list? Man, you're resourceful. Any question I ever have, you seem to have the answer."

Satisfied that she had diverted his attention from the Sinclair visit, Veronica grinned back at him. She let them into the office, walking directly to the back part where Keith was already hard at work on his computer. She went around him to the safe, dialing in the code and opening it quickly. Rifling through the many files and boxes, she found the small box in the back that Mac had given her the first month she worked there, all those months ago. Veronica opened it and easily found the zip drive, clipped to a keychain with an emblem Veronica recognized as Hearst's. Pocketing it, she put the lid back on the box, set it back into the safe, shut its door and securely locked it back up.

Standing back up, she saw that her dad was on a cheap flight website. She gave Dick a sympathetic grimace, "Ooh, sorry Dick, it looks like you have to fly coach with us little people tomorrow. Too bad."

Making a face back at her, he responded, "If I chipped in for first class, would it make you like me better?"

She barked out a laugh, "Now, Dick, I know you don't actually believe that would ever happen. You're just too lovable the way you are that there's no way I could ever like you more than I already do." She came around from behind Keith's desk and stepped over to her own. "Let's get to work on this ID thing so we can get on with the night."

Stepping around Keith's desk toward her desk, Veronica stopped and turned back to her father when she heard him clear his throat loudly. Keith gave her a pointed look, requested, "Honey, can I talk with you for a moment?" Dick, taking the hint, stepped back out of the office and shut the door to give them some privacy. Keith smiled after him. "That kid is always more stoned in my mind. He's been quite the surprise this week." Rolling his chair back towards the safe, Keith bent down and reopened it. "I've been thinking a lot about this trip to Utah, honey, and I think you and Mac both need to bring back-up." Opening the door, he dug through it and brought out two black cases. "I've already talked to the airlines and they know you'll be checking them. It won't be a problem as long as you both produce your PI identification and your Concealed Weapons Permit." Unzipping one of the bags, Keith pulled out a small gun, checking the clip and verifying that there were bullets stored beside it. Zipping it back up, he then checked the other case in like manner. "I'm really grateful we had Mac take that test, too. It'll be handy on this case."

Veronica was staring hesitantly at the two cases. Experience had made her more comfortable around firearms, but she still wasn't a fan of carrying one. "You really think we need it?"

Opening his top drawer, Keith pulled out two small locks, locked each case and handed her the keys. "I'm sorry, honey, I know you don't like to have them. But without really knowing the danger level here, I think you'll all be safer knowing you have these with you." He set the cases in front of her. "Bring them. Make your father happy knowing you are as safe as possible." Looking her in the eye, he added, "And then I won't have to tell your boyfriend."

Grabbing the cases, Veronica grimaced. "You wouldn't do that to me."

"I won't because you'll bring the guns." He smiled tightly. "I don't want to ever have to make that phone call. Take them."

Identification successfully made, Dick and Veronica began gathering up their things to head home for the night. Keith strolled out of the office, watching them. Dick was surprised when Keith asked him to come to the back to help with something quick before they left. Veronica had her arms full, ready to head down to the car and did so as Dick turned back to the inner office.

Coming through the office's threshold, Dick followed Keith back to back closet where a large box sat on the ground. Eying it and then Keith, he asked, "Where do you need this?"

"I need it right where it is, thanks," Keith grinned conspiratorially. "I really just wanted to give you the head's up that I know Veronica won't likely give you. She's like that, you know, she probably won't even lay it all out for Mac, let alone you. I'm not trying to go behind her back, I just don't want you to be out of the loop in something this important."

"Okay…thanks." Dick said, looking back at the door, half expecting Ronnie to burst through it crying 'foul.'

"Tomorrow may be more dangerous than she expects. I have no proof that there will be any serious confrontations, but one never knows. Both of the ladies will be packing heat." When Dick nodded quickly with understanding, Keith continued on, "It's cleared with the airline and its fine. I'm assuming you know how to shoot?"

"Straight as an arrow, sir. Used to go to the shooting range all the time with Dick Sr."

"Good. Good. Mac is much more comfortable with her gun than Veronica is. They've both had formal training and they're both excellent shots, but for some reason, Veronica has never warmed to the idea of carrying. Most of our cases don't require us to carry, but I've insisted this time around they take them." His voice lowered when he heard the sound of Veronica stomping back up the stairs. "The hotel I've booked you for tomorrow and the next night is the same one that Mark Tennison's conference is at. If nothing comes up at the cabin, hopefully something does at that place."

Fidgeting with his cast, Dick looked straight at Keith and asked, "Is there anything else I need to know about, sir?"

"We have no connection yet between this case and yours other than Madison has been involved with both Mark Tennison and Patrick Muldoon within the last few months. But be careful, Dick. Don't get cocky and too sure of yourselves out there. I don't see how they could be connected, but you need to be careful."

Desperate to exert some energy, Mac had left Dick's house and headed directly to the Max for a quick workout. She was able to catch a kickboxing class and then soak in the hot tub before heading home. Stopping quickly at the grocery store, she grabbed a roasted chicken for Dick and Veronica plus vegetables and noodles for a fast dinner before Norris showed up.

Beating the others to the apartment, Mac began chopping the vegetables and setting out plates. Once finished with those chores, she went into her room to change, wanting to wind down a little. Pulling on jeans and a t-shirt, she eyed her room. Dick was proving to be a decent roommate: his clothes were all contained to one corner of the room, inside his over-sized duffle bag. There was no other evidence he had even spent time there. Her clothes were a different story. The ones that she had flung off this morning were still about the room: the sweats and shirt on the ground, the bra draped off of her lamp shade, panties on the floor next to the bed. Gathering them all together, she threw them into the hamper trying to forget why there was a necessity to pick them up. But she couldn't quite keep from thinking about his gentle fingers on her skin, the look in his eye when he kissed her, the way his breath caught when she had thrown off her bra. And, ultimately, the look of sheer disappointment in his eye this morning when she blatantly bypassed any chance of tenderness or affection.

Wandering back into the kitchen, she got out a Wok and turned on the stove, having just thrown in the vegetables when Veronica and Dick came in through the door. They were squabbling about something, as usual. Mac smiled to herself, thinking how Veronica thrived on debates and that perhaps she liked Dick a little more that she cared to admit. He was a good fighting opponent for her. Mac kept herself busy at the stovetop as the other two made their way into the apartment and heard Veronica excuse herself to go change. All at once she could feel Dick's stare on her back watching her work.

She knew she would never successfully ignore him, so Mac didn't even try. Instead, she pointed to the roasted chicken that sat in its container on the counter. "You could cut that up for you and V if you want. I'll buy it for you two, but I refuse to touch it. Knives are in the block by the microwave."

Coming up behind her, Mac could feel the heat emanating from his body in the little room as he wordlessly grabbed a knife and opened the package. He found a plate and began cutting and slicing into the meat, setting the pieces onto the plate without comment.

The vegetables now done, Mac added the noodles and sauces into the Wok, tossing it all together. Lowering the heat, she left the stove to finish setting the table, saying, "Once Veronica comes back we can eat."

Dick, who was just finishing with his task, set his knife in the sink. Bringing the plate full of slice chicken to the table, he caught her eye. "Have a nice break?"

Warily, Mac answered, "Uh, yeah. I got in a kickboxing class and a soak at the Max."

"Hmmm, sounds nice. A hot soak with a hot lady," He lifted his casted arm up, "This doesn't really make it easy. You look relaxed."

"Thanks, yeah, it helped." Keeping herself occupied, Mac pulled out glasses to fill with water, hoping that Veronica would appear soon. "Did you get an ID for the morning?"

"Oh, yeah, Ronnie hasn't lost her touch in that department. It looks better than what I had before." He picked up a large piece of chicken off the plate and stuffed it into his mouth. "Thanks for dinner."

Veronica found them in the kitchen, staring at each other over a plate of mutilated chicken. Someone, presumably Dick, had attempted to "carve" a roasted chicken and instead it looked like he had massacred the poor thing. She supposed it would still taste the same. Dick and Mac didn't even seem to notice her as she came in, so focused as they were on each other. She stepped between them, snaking her own hand through to unceremoniously grab herself a piece of chicken off of the plate that sat on the table.

"Are we ready to eat or what? I'm starved. Norris will be here pretty soon so we better get on with it." Her voice seemed to break the apparent spell between them, as both Mac and Dick found chairs to sit down in. Once they were all settled and digging in, Veronica told Mac, "I brought home the zip drive; we don't have time to get to it before Norris gets here, but maybe afterward, or on the plane tomorrow. Dad got us a flight first thing out, so we'll have an early morning. According to Mark's conference schedule, he flew in to Salt Lake this evening and will be there for a few days; if they're at that cabin, we'll find them there." Taking a bite of the stir fry absently saying, "Thanks for dinner."

Mac had become very fascinated on her plate. She was staring down, tapping her fork against the ceramic, deep in thought. Not looking up, she nodded to Veronica in acknowledgement to her thankfulness, but didn't respond verbally.

Veronica looked at Dick, who was watching Mac between his bites of food. He seemed interested in how Mac was acting and how uninvolved she seemed in the conversation. One eyebrow was raised in curiosity, an elbow propped on the edge of the table, his hand holding his fork, slowly chewing. Every few minutes, Dick would spear another bit of stir fry or chicken and bring it unhurriedly to his mouth while he scrutinized her.

"O…kay…"Veronica set her fork down on her plate, finished. "When you two come back to earth, I'll be doing the dishes." She stood up, bringing her plate to the sink. While she was in the midst of doing the dishes, however, the doorbell interrupted her work, and thankfully, Mac's mood as well. She heard her friend scoot back from the table and soon the door opened as Mac let Norris into the small entryway of the apartment.

Norris was a big guy. Especially standing next to people like Mac or Veronica, who were five-five and five-one, respectively. He was a hulking presence and took up a lot of space. When Veronica turned from the sink, she smirked when she saw that Dick had come to stand next to Mac, an arm hovering about her waist as if unsure whether he should claim her. Almost as if he felt threatened by the unknown force of what Norris represented, Dick seemed puffed up like an alpha-male marking his territory. He appeared to be standing straighter, talking louder. Maybe acting a little more like the ass hat he normally was, more so than he had in the past few days. Veronica wondered what made him that way. Norris was there to help them, not hinder them. He was seriously no threat. She hoped Dick would tone it down. There was no need or reason to piss off the one person they had at the police department on their side.

Drying her hands on a dish towel, Veronica quickly stepped up beside Mac and smiled appreciatively at Norris. "Thanks so much for coming tonight. I felt bad about making a problem for you at work."

Grinning good-naturedly, Norris shook his head. "No problem, Veronica. Lamb gets nervous anytime you're within view. He bird-dogs all of us whenever you're in there. It's been that way since you got back into town. It's nothin' new."

Pleasantries concluded they all made their way to the living room, where Norris sat in the only lounge chair, Mac and Dick on the couch. Veronica dragged a chair from the kitchen table and sat down in it, ready to get down to business. Glancing at the couple on the couch, she noticed that Mac seemed stiff again, stiff as a wire. It troubled her that her friend was so obviously overly-stressed. It bothered her even more that Mac appeared to be getting more and more strained by the moment. This meeting with Norris had nothing directly to do with Mac, but she seemed the most anxious of all of them for what he had to say.

Knowing that Norris knew why he had been invited here tonight, Veronica jumped right in, "Last Thursday night, as I'm sure you know, there was an anonymous call to 911 about a passed out surfer on Moonlight Beach." She intently watched Norris take a deep breath, blinking rapidly. "When he was brought in to County, there was no one with him, no ID on him, therefore,

he was admitted as a John Doe. Mac was in the hospital looking into a separate case the next morning and identified him as Richard Casablancas." Veronica gestured towards Dick. "Mac spoke to the admitting doctor earlier this week, and he tells us that the cops that responded to the call were told to leave the scene. I was hoping maybe you knew why?"

Norris had firmly clasped his hands in front of him, elbows on his knees and leaned forward, listening intently to what Veronica was saying. He chewed his lip. "Veronica," he stated matter-of-factly, "Lamb told them to leave."

"But why?" Dick asked, interrupting the flow of Veronica's questioning. "Why would they leave an unidentified man without at least taking a report?"

Veronica silently glared at Dick, then turned to nod to Norris. "Right. Why would he do that?"

Holding his hands up in a defensive gesture, Norris straightened in his seat. "I only know so much. I was there until right after the call came in that night, which was just after midnight. When you asked about the Muldoon's this morning, I knew something had to be up. So I asked around today. The general agreement is that Lamb knew it was Dick out there and didn't want him going to St. Marks." With that revelation, Norris reached into his jacket pocket, pulling something out and tossing it onto the coffee table in front of him.

There was a moment of complete silence as the other three stared at what Norris had thrown on the table before them. Slowly, Dick leaned forward from his seat and picked it up: a black leather wallet. "What the fuck, man?" He opened it, pulling from within it crisp dollar bills and credit cards. "How in the hell did you get my wallet?"

Opening his mouth, Norris began to tell his tale.

Thursday Night, 9:00 p.m.

Balboa County Police Department

Sitting at his desk, Norris was going through reports, whiling the hours away until his shift ended at one. It had been a long evening as it was; slow with not a lot going on. There were only a few other officers working tonight. The best part was that it was the one night of the week Lamb worked the late shift and, oh, joy, Norris got the privilege of working it with him.

There had been a few noise ordinance calls this evening. It was early but there seemed to be a lot of graduates out on the town, starting to raise a ruckus. The complaints were more of a warning; there were quite a few patrol officers already cruising the streets, waiting for the more serious calls that were bound to come in.

Being that it was 'after hours,' there was no regular receptionist taking phone calls. Whoever was closest to the phone answered the calls that came in directly to the office, and Norris was it tonight. He was also pretty much in charge of dispatch, if it came to it. But on a Thursday night it was usually dead and it had never before served as a problem.

The phone rang, and as expected, no one else was around to answer it. Lamb was shut in his office, door tightly close, most likely watching porn or some such. They had confiscated some computers from a raid earlier in the week and Lamb was 'researching' the case by going 'through' the hard drive. Likely story if Norris ever heard one.

"Balboa County P.D. How can I help you?" He answered, trying to not sound bored. Sometimes he would add a lilt to his voice, southern or Bronx, just to spice his evening up. Tonight he added a slight mid-western hitch to it, making the words sound more like 'Bail-boo-a Coo-nty pee dee. Who Can I help yoo?"

The other end was quiet for a moment. "Sheriff Lamb, please."

Mentally rolling his eyes, Norris told the caller, still using his fake accent, "I'm sorry, sir, the Sheriff is in the middle of an investigation. He may be unavailable for a few more hours."

The man on the other end clearly sighed. "Can you tell him that Patrick Muldoon is on the line, please? And that it's urgent."

Placing the call on hold, Norris pushed away from his desk, writing 'Patrick Muldoon, line one, urgent' on a sticky note and headed to Lamb's office door. Tapping on it, he waited while there was shuffling about on the other side of the door and the blind rose up, Lamb's beady eyes glaring out through the window. Holding up the note, Norris watched as Lamb read it, his eyes flaring marginally. A slight nod from Lamb and the blind went back down.

Returning to his desk, Norris didn't think much more about the phone call except to notice that Lamb was on the line with Patrick Muldoon for a good fifteen minutes before the light on line one went out, signaling the end of the call.

Thursday Night 11:55 p.m.

The phone rang again. Norris answered it, once again using his fake accent. It had been such a slow night that it was the only highlight of his evening, to see if anyone asked about it. He was surprised. Usually at least one person asked or laughed at him about it. Not tonight, however. Everyone that had called this evening seemed to have an agenda more pressing than asking Norris about where he was from.

"Sheriff Lamb, please."

He immediately recognized the caller from before, the one who had identified himself as Patrick Muldoon; a cocky, self-important tone that conveyed self-appointed significance. "One moment, please."

Taking the same sticky note as before, Norris crossed out the "urgent" written there and once again finger tapped the sheriff's door. He got the same response, as if pressing a replay button from earlier in the evening.

Sitting back down, Norris looked at the time, grateful he only had one more hour to go. He shuffled through the last of his reports, trying to figure out what he was going to do for the last hour of work. Staring at the computer monitor, not for the first time, he mentally cursed Lamb for putting a block on the gaming sites that would help while away the last hour. Deciding on YouTube, Norris clicked into it and began watching random videos.

Abruptly, Lamb came out of his office, stalking with purpose towards Norris' desk. "Have there been any calls for dispatch in the past ten minutes?"

"No, Sir. Nothing in the past hour."

Nodding with a slight frown on his face, his eyes formed in slits, Lamb told him, "I want informed of the next few calls that come in. I'm done with reviewing what I needed for the Taylor case. I'm supposed to be outta here at one, but I might stay a little later tonight just to go over the last of the reports, make sure everything is on the up and up." With that, he turned on his heel and headed straight back into his office.

Norris stared after him, intrigued. Lamb never stayed later than he needed to. Shrugging to himself, he turned back to his monitor and clicked on the videos of stupid animal tricks. Less than an hour to go now.

About ten minutes later, the call came in. It was from the 911 dispatcher, calling to request a squad car to meet an ambulance at the parking lot of Moonlight Beach. Apparently there was an injured surfer that needed attention. It was protocol for a squad car to be on scene, to verify no crime had been committed. Norris tapped on Lamb's window a third time. When he opened the door, Lamb listened as Norris told him about the call and the request for a car to meet the ambulance.

"Who did you call to respond?"

"I haven't yet because you asked me to let you know first. But O'Reilly and Jenkins are the closest to the vicinity." Norris told him. "I can radio them right now."

Holding up his hand to stop him, Lamb said, "Why don't you head home early tonight? It's slow enough, if that's the only call that's come in. I'll hold the fort down. I'll radio the guys and tell them where to go."

Halting his story, Norris looked around at each of them, who sat listening quietly. None seemed sure what to say. "I should have known something was up right then, but hell, it had been such a slow night that I couldn't wait to get out of there. I was out of the door in less time than it took for Lamb to radio them. I didn't think twice about it."

"That still doesn't explain how you got this," Dick shook his wallet, which was grasped firmly in his good hand. "Or why I ended up at County."

"Did you hear anything the next morning about the incident?" Veronica asked, hoping to keep on topic, "I called you Friday afternoon to see if Dick's car had been impounded, remember? When did you find out it was Dick that was the injured surfer?"

"All I heard was that the guy was taken to County. That he had tripped over some beach chairs and hurt himself, and that his friends wanted him there. No one mentioned anything about Dick or that he was labeled a John Doe at the hospital. And when you called, all you asked was whether Dick's car had been impounded, which it hadn't. You didn't give me any details; I'm sure I would have realized more if I would have asked questions when you called about it." Norris smiled wryly at her, "Your calls come so often, I don't even bother to ask any more about your motives. I know you'd just feed me a line anyway."

She fidgeted in her chair. "I appreciate your discretion as always, Norris. You know it. I can't always explain my reasons. I obviously didn't know the right questions to ask myself anyway. So when did you realize that it was Dick who was involved?"

Bringing his hand to his chin, Norris rubbed at the stubble there before answering, "Today. When you asked about the reasons of why there was no report filed, I knew right away something wasn't right. Lamb is pretty anal about his reports. I checked right after you left, and, sure enough, no report. So I talked to Jenkins. He's the rookie and doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut, so I figured he was a good place to start."

"What did you find out?"

"It's confusing and I don't get it at all. But according to Jenkins, when they got to the beach, Dick was there, as promised. They beat the ambulance to the scene somehow; they must have been around the corner or something. They get there; Dick's on the ground, heaped in a blanket of puke, I guess. But this is the thing. They frisked him, looking for ID. They find his keys, pinned to the inside of his wetsuit." He pointed to the wallet, "They figured out which car was yours right away. Opened it, found your ID—I guess in the glove box or wherever."

"So they knew it was Dick before the ambulance got there?" Mac asked, twisting to look at Norris better. "Why would they do that?"

"When Lamb called to dispatch them to the beach, he told them to ID him. That they could not leave until they knew for certain who it was that was passed out and to call him on his cell phone and not the radio once they did. So, fearing the wrath of Lamb, the officers did just that. They pulled his wallet and called it in. According to Jenkins, Lamb freaked out. He told them: keep the wallet and ditch the car. Lose the report. Have the medics take a John Doe to County and leave the car somewhere it wouldn't be found for a few days."

"That makes absolutely no sense," Mac stated, and the others nodded in agreement. "What possible reason could there be for that?"

A gruff laugh escaped Norris' lips. "Hey, I'm just telling you like it is. When I asked what happened to the wallet, Jenkins said he put it in the back of the evidence room and that he was waiting for Lamb to tell him what to do with it. So this afternoon I went in and found it, to bring it here tonight. It wasn't tagged or anything, so Lamb probably won't miss it. I don't claim that Lamb ever does anything that makes sense."

"Nothing ever makes sense with Lamb." Veronica said. Realizing something, she asked him, "What about the media? Were they involved at all? Did the department get any calls that you know of, asking about the incident?"

Shaking his head, Norris told her, "As far as I know, no. Lamb usually thrives on media coverage, but he has been keeping this low key for some reason." He shrugged. "No one besides Jenkins and O'Reilly even knew what Lamb told them to do until I asked. So even if someone called, no one was talking, because those guys aren't stationed in the office."

Veronica decided to go over the timeline, saying, "So we know that Patrick Muldoon called around nine, which would have right after you were getting to the beach and maybe even talking to Todd, that college kid. Then Patrick calls Lamb just before midnight, Lamb tells you to apprise him of any phone calls coming in after that point. Ten minutes later, the emergency call comes in. Lamb then tells you to leave. We know from the timeline that Dick was left at 11:30 passed out, according to Todd. At that point you were only passed out and, according to Todd, uninjured."

"You think Patrick Muldoon was there at the beach, watching me." Dick asked tonelessly.

"Yeah, I do, but we already knew someone was."

Seemingly agitated, Mac said, "Why do you think Lamb had his minions," guiltily she glanced at Norris, mouthing 'sorry' but grinned when he waved a hand of understanding at her, "get rid of Dick's car?"

Norris nodded in acknowledgment. "I've been wondering that all day. All I can figure is that Patrick must have threatened Lamb into submission, because the sheriff isn't known for making his own decisions. He's basically a puppet all of the time."

Disagreeing, Veronica pointed out, "But we've pretty much determined that the Muldoon's wanted to ruin Dick. One step in ruination is public humiliation. I just don't see Patrick Muldoon telling Dan Lamb to ditch the car and have Dick admitted as a John Doe. What I see is him telling Lamb to make sure there was a report filed with your name attached as being a public nuisance at the very least."

Walking Norris to the door twenty minutes later, Mac and Veronica thanked him again for coming over. They had talked a little more about whether Norris had ever heard of the Muldoon's before, which he hadn't, but nothing else seemed relevant for the time being. They were all pretty shocked with the information he had brought as it was.

Turning back to look at them as he stepped out into the night, Norris smiled a shy smile. "So, everyone is going to ask how this blind date thing went."

Feeling her face warm with embarrassment, Mac sneaked a glare at Veronica. Awkwardly, she laughed. "Yeah, I heard about your cover for being here tonight." She pointedly looked at her wrist, as if checking the time. "I would have to say it must not have gone well. The night is young and you're already leaving."

Norris eyes slid past her further into the apartment. "Yeah, Veronica didn't say you were already taken." His hand extended out, and Mac felt Dick come to stand beside her to shake Norris' hand. "Sorry about your car, man. I guess those guys chose a good way to get rid of it. I don't know if they planned that or not."

"Well, thanks for bringing my wallet back, at least. I'm glad I don't have to fight charges for blind strippers and incense candles." Dropping their handshake, both men eyed one another. "And as for blind dates…"

Norris put his palms up. "No harm done, man. It was just a cover." He turned to Veronica, who was smirking at the exchange between the men. "I'll keep you updated if I hear anything."

"Call MI, I might be unavailable for a few days. Dad knows what's going on, so if you can't get a hold of me, talk to him."

"Will do."

Shutting the door as Norris left, Veronica turned to Dick. "So Dick, those charges for blind strippers and incense candles, those were yours?"

Waggling his eyebrows, he told her, "You know it." Pulling the wallet out of the back pocket of his slacks, he opened it and went through it. "I'm a little surprised that everything is still in it. I guess I didn't need your counterfeit ID making skills after all. I still might test it out." He pulled out the ID that Veronica had made him. "Look at the marksmanship of this baby. I wouldn't be able to tell the difference if I didn't know."

Following Mac into her room, Veronica shut the door behind her, leaving Dick to his own devices in the living room. She watched as Mac found a small carry-on and began to pack. Just as Mac was coming out of her bathroom with a make-up bag, Veronica fished out the zip drive from her pocket and handed it to her, saying, "Dad sent me home with the guns. He wants us to take them."

Stuffing the smaller bag into her carry-on, Mac took the zip drive, pausing for a moment before continuing to pack. "He's probably got a point. It makes sense."

"Of course you're fine with it and I'm the one balking."

"Veronica." Mac stopped to look at her friend straight on. "My dad made me take the concealed weapons class forever ago. I'm used to hand guns. It's not a problem. I never have understood why you get so nervous around them. You're a woman who goes around alone an awful lot. It's only smart to be educated and comfortable around guns."

Having come to fiddle with the strap of the carry-on, Veronica didn't meet Mac's eye as she responded, "Yeah, well."

Mac laughed. "How is it that the PI's daughter gets the shakes when it comes down to deadly force, but the typical, average Joe's daughter is like 'sign me up!'" More serious, Mac told her, "We don't know what type of situation we're heading into. This Mark guy could be unhinged. He could have Madison tied up in a back room somewhere. I don't know. I doubt it, but I guess it's possible." She pulled the carry-on off of the bed to bring it over to her dresser. "If Keith thinks we need them, then we need them. I'm happy to oblige."

A/N: I hope I didn't miss too much emotion in this chapter. Next chapter they head to Utah. Mostly Madison's mystery for the next little while. I hope you enjoyed this! Thank you thank you for all your support. I may be able to get the next chapter up by the end of the week, but no promises. Still in a desolate internet area. I am trying very hard to keep this story making sense. In my mind it does, but like I have stated before, I have never written anything like this. I am flattered by all of your reviews. Thank you.