This is an exceptionally long chapter. I felt it needed to be.

Edited to correct an accidental upload of a rough draft.

Disclaimer: Veronica Mars is owned by someone who isn't me.

X X X X X

"So, Mars, any plans between now and then?" Logan asked after we dropped off Meg and Duncan.

"Yes," I said solemnly. "I thought I'd go retire to my home for some quiet contemplation and prayer."

"Really?"

"Well, I do plan on saying, 'Oh God,' a lot . . ."

"And your father won't kill me because . . ."

"Because right now my father is in Los Angeles taking care of two things at once. Your Mom wanted a report – shouldn't her shooting be done by now?"

"Just sticking around for any reshoots. Plus Matt Roush of TV Guide wants to interview her on her 'big comeback.' She should be home tomorrow."

"Alright," I said. "Plus there's a bail jumper up there he's going to try to track down."

"So that's at least 24 hours we have to ourselves?"

"Mmm-hmmm. Now let's go make Jack Bauer look like a slacker."

Logan pressed down on the accelerator.

Despite our braggadocio, and hormones, we did not in fact spend the entirety of the next 24 hours in bed.

Part of it we spent on the couch, and in the tub, and the living room floor, and . . .

Okay. I'm sure you don't want to hear all of that.

At one point, I brought up Mac's continued domination of him at all things video and computer-game related.

"Just had to bring the mood down, didn't you, Mars?" But he didn't seem too angry.

"Are you going to keep trying?"

"Of course."

"Oooh, goody. I could use the extra money."

"Your faith in me is touching."

X X X X X

The next morning, after Meg was done with church, Logan, Duncan, Mac and I met at the Echolls estate to plan our get-Beaver-Casablancas strategy.

Mac was shoveling in bagels like she hadn't seen food in a month. "I had almost nothing to eat yesterday," she said grumpily. "They even put bits of pork fat in the vegetables. If I hadn't found a vending machine selling Twizzlers I wouldn't have had anything to eat at all."

"I'm fairly sure not all Southern cuisine is lard-based," Meg said.

"I wasn't going to take that chance."

"So," Logan said, "Do we know where Beaver is today?"

"Actually, yes," Duncan said.

I raised my eyebrows. "And you know this how?"

"Through my brilliant investigative skills."

"Duncan . . ."

He laughed. "Pure luck. They're having a charity fundraiser at the Casablancas house for some small animal or other."

Logan and I said in unison, "The lesser spotted monarch shrimp!" and started laughing. Then I said, "And you know the brothers Casablancas will be there because . . ."

"Because Big Dick always insists his sons show up at events like this," Logan said. "Makes him look like a family man even though he's rapidly working his way through wife number two." After a second, "Even if those two boys are facing trial for false imprisonment."

"Okay, that's the easy part. Now the hard part . . . how exactly do we get in? "

"Why would we want to?" Logan said. "Let's wait until school tomorrow. Confronting Beaver on neutral territory is one thing; invading the Casablancas estate is something else entirely. Besides, the only one of us the Casablancases wouldn't hate on sight is Mac. Meg they might give the time of day to, but that's about it. Duncan beat the crap out of both boys and I'm sure whatever security guards they've hired have orders to shoot to kill if either Veronica or I come within 100 yards of the place."

"But –"

"But nothing, Veronica," Mac said. "Logan's right. And even I could talk my way onto the estate it's not like I would be able to interrogate them. Intimidating, I'm not."

I sighed. "Okay. But we still need a plan."

And so we spent a couple of hours devising one. Logan was all for "drag him into a back room and beat him until he tells us what we want to know," but I was afraid that might bring us, you know, legal charges. "Although I'm keeping it open as a plan B."

We did use the "Drag him into a back room" part, though.

Finally we came up with something involving all five of us. Hey, if Wallace wanted to be involved, he should have been there.

Then, Logan having had enough of having the crap kicked out of him for one day, we spent the next few hours playing hold 'em.

When the final hand rolled around, Meg's pair of nines beat Mac's king-queen suited. As Meg gathered up her money, Logan looked at Mac and said, "Finally found something you weren't perfect at."

"I still outlasted you, Echolls," Mac said. "Far as I'm concerned that's all that matters."

Lynn Echolls walked in right about then. "Well, hello!" She said. "Veronica. Duncan. Meg. And . . . have we met?"

"I don't think so. I'm Mac."

Lynn said, "Oh, you're the one my son keeps cursing the name of every time we talk."

Mac looked at Logan. "Cursing my name?"

"Hello, mother," Logan said, ignoring Mac. "How did everything go?"

Grinning widely, Lynn said, "Oh, wonderfully. It was just like riding a bicycle."

"So your back and feet hurt and you got tired after ten minutes?" I asked.

Lynn laughed. "Something like that. No, the people on The Closer were wonderful and I think it should be enough to get me a few more jobs. And the interview went very nicely. I don't think Trina will like it, though."

"Trashed Daddy Dearest?" Logan asked.

"With every word," Lynn said. Her tone may have been joking, but there was a definite serious undertone.

Logan smiled grimly. "Good."

Apparently realizing that what she said had confused everyone in the room except Logan and me, Lynn clapped her hands and said, "Well! Sorry, didn't mean to bring down the mood! You folks go on with whatever you were doing."

And since we were more or less done, that's when things broke up. Logan drove me home, gave me a long kiss goodbye – "For the next time our parents are out of town at the same time," he murmured as he left, leaving me weak in the knees and hopeful that Dad would get called to track down someone in Australia sometime soon.

As long as he didn't fly there via Transoceanic.

X X X X X

Speaking of people Dad was tracking down, the bailjumper in LA had been a complete non-starter. "Ten other people were on his trail," he said. "I wouldn't have had a chance unless I'd been Superman."

"You mean you're not?" I said with a mock pout. "Go ahead and crush a little girl's dreams."

"Sorry, honey, if you want to learn to fly you're going to have to take piloting lessons like everyone else."

"At least I don't have to worry about kryptonite."

"That's the spirit. Always look on the bright side."

"Was Lynn happy with your work so far in getting Abel Koontz cleared?"

"Ecstatic," Dad said. "She kicked in a $500 bonus."

"Always a plus."

"So, time for some Daddy-daughter time."

"Oooh! I hope you're the daddy!"

"I think that can be arranged." From his briefcase he produced a DVD set.

"Buffy season 6!" I know a lot of Buffy fans didn't like season 6. Chalk me up as a contrarian. I could give you my arguments if you gave me half an hour.

"And pizza, whatever you like."

"Can we order from Cho's Pizza?" I was planning to throw them as much business as I could.

And we watched the first four episodes (I tried to get him to skip right to Once More, With Feeling, but Dad has this absurd rule that you have to watch a show in order), chowed down on a large Cho's with mushrooms and pepperoni, and did not for one second of those four episodes think about Aaron Echolls or Beaver Casablancas.

X X X X X

By next morning, we were ready. Mac and Meg had worked on their part of it after the poker game broke up yesterday. "It's all set, Veronica," Mac said.

"Good," I said. "Now, I want the two of you well away from this."

"I'll be in my car," Mac said. "Don't worry. That's well within range."

"Good. Meg?"

"I have some work to do for the TV station."

"Good. And thanks."

At lunch, I filled Wallace in on what was going on. He was kind of bummed that he didn't get to be part of it.

"Sorry, Wallace," I said. "But I promise, the next time we get ready to brutally interrogate someone, you'll be the first person I call." I grinned. "In the meantime, plausible deniability. And don't you have basketball practice anyway?"

"Yeah. But for this, I think I'd skip it."

"I know you would," I said. "And I appreciate it." I thought a second. "Actually, there is something you can do."

As school ended, Duncan and Logan swooped in on either side of Beaver Casablancas and once again guided him into my restroom "office." My bag was lying on the sink and the stall doors were all wide open.

"Hi," I said. "I have a few more questions for you."

Looking nervous and innocent, Beaver said, "I promise you, Veronica, I've already told you everything I remember about that party."

I sighed. "Beaver, Beaver, Beaver."

"I prefer Cassidy."

"I know, Beaver," I said pointedly. "You know, you're really quite an accomplished liar."

"I don't know what you mean," he said a bit wildly.

"Of course you do," I said. "First, a couple of days after we get you and Dick arrested for false imprisonment, you feed me a line about how Logan told both of you to give him an alibi; how he was really in Neptune the day Lilly Kane was killed." I was taking a calculated risk here.

Duncan started paying close attention. "It wasn't a line, Veronica," Beaver said.

"Uh-huh," I said. "You had to know I'd do some checking up on that."

"You actually investigated?" Logan said, sounding hurt.

"Of course I did. I thought it was complete crap and imagine my surprise," I said, glaring at Beaver, "When that turned out to be exactly what it was. There was no proof; no evidence; none of that. So obviously, you lied."

"What does this have to do with Shelly Pomroy's party?" Beaver demanded.

"I'm getting to that. Then, when I asked you about Shelly Pomroy's party, you said Dick and Sean had put you in the room with me and left you on the bed, and that you had run outside and thrown up on Carrie Bishop's shoes."

"Yeah,"

"Funny story," I said. "Carrie Bishop doesn't remember it that way. She remembers you walking out confidently past her. You weren't running; you didn't bend over. And you certainly didn't vomit on her brand new shoes."

"Maybe it was Vanessa Mencken's shoes," he said. "It was a year and a half ago, after all."

"But you seemed . . . so certain it was Carrie," I said. "So, tell me, Beaver: What could you have done in that bedroom that would have had walking out proudly and then lying to me about it fifteen months later?"

He looked over at Duncan and Logan. "I'm not telling you with them in the room."

"We're not going anywhere," Logan said.

Duncan said, "Speak for yourself. I didn't know anything about this damn alibi of yours." He looked at me. "I can't believe you lied about that, Veronica. I'm out of here." And he turned and walked out.

"I'm sorry, Veronica," Logan said. "I have to be sure he doesn't go do something stupid."

That left me alone with Beaver in the room.

"Dump out your bag," he said.

"What?"

"I said, dump out your bag. Dump out your bag and I'll answer your question."

I sighed and emptied the bag's contents onto the floor. I picked up the taser before he could get to it. "Uh-uh," I said. "I don't want you getting any ideas."

He looked through the bag and found the camera. "Just what I thought." He threw the camera down on the floor. "I'm not stupid, Veronica," he said.

"I never thought you were, Beaver," I said, sounding defeated.

"The name is Cassidy!" he yelled.

"Fine. Cassidy. Well, the camera's broken and the witnesses are gone. It's just us and these four walls. Now. What did you do?"

"What do you think I did, Veronica?"

"You tell me," I hissed.

"I had sex with you while you were unconscious," he said.

"I think that's called rape."

"Technically, yes. But it's not my fault, really. Dick and Sean were egging me on and I had to prove them wrong." Then he said, "I'm actually sorry I caused you all this grief. I never disliked you. Until you got me arrested." The son of a bitch was still trying to get me to feel sorry for him. Unbelievable.

"I got you arrested?" I said. "You got you arrested by kidnapping Logan. And don't tell me how it was all Dick's idea to do it, either. You went along with it."

"It was something to do," he said. "It was Dick's idea to shanghai him to Mexico, though."

"And that doesn't change the fact that you raped me!" I said, starting to cry.

"I suppose it doesn't," he said. "For what it's worth, I really am sorry about that." Then he said, "And if you tell anyone about this -- even your boyfriend -- I'll have my lawyer sue you for slander. We'll see how well that case for false imprisonment holds up then." Then he turned around and stormed out.

I stopped crying immediately. A useful ability, to be able to turn the waterworks on and off at will. Not that the tears weren't real hearing this confirmation that Beaver had raped me.

But any real crying would have to wait until later. Until this was all over. And it wouldn't be over until tomorrow.

Then I went to pick up the busted camera and the rest of the contents of my bag.

Then I went into the stall and took out the real camera and microphone, hidden comfortably inside the toilet.

Honestly, the more I'd been thinking about it the more I'd been expecting this revelation. Beaver had been trying to make himself look nauseated and upset by what he'd been asked to do. But he wouldn't have done that just to play with my head -- and he would have had no idea that Carrie Bishop would have remembered a detail like that. So I'd been sure he'd done something inside that bedroom he didn't want me knowing about.

I called Mac. "Did it work?" I asked.

"Perfectly," she said, shaking with rage. "I have everything here on my laptop. I can't believe I ever thought he was cute."

"Don't blame yourself," I said. "A lot of people bought his act. But then, he bought ours, too."

"I'll get right to work on converting it," she said. "The sound quality's a bit rough but by Meg and I are done it'll be audible."

I went across the hall, where Duncan and Logan were waiting.

What? You bought their act too?

I'd told Duncan about the Casablancas' "phony" accusation yesterday. Duncan hadn't believed a word of it, thank goodness -- he'd already seen how vindictive the Casablancas brothers could be. And Logan knew damn well I'd never investigated him.

Now it was Mac's turn. And then Meg's.

X X X X X

During the next morning's Neptune High news broadcast, Meg said, "And now we take you to the interview I did last night with Neptune High basketball star Wallace Fennel."

And this is what I'd found for Wallace to do. See, we needed someone who wouldn't complain when --

The program was suddenly interrupted. Everyone looked up. The last time this had happened, someone had announced they'd kidnapped Polly.

You could clearly see Beaver, and partially see me.

"What do you think I did, Veronica?" came Beaver's voice.

"You tell me," I said in response.

"I had sex with you while you were unconscious." Beaver said again. Around the room, everyone gasped; everyone around the school did, I think, except for me, Mac, Wallace, Meg, Logan, and Duncan.

"I think that's called rape."

"Technically, yes."

That's as far as the tape got; but that's as far as it needed to go.

Beaver, I hear, ran from the school the minute he heard the words "You tell me." Weevil Navarro, I understand, was on his feet five seconds later. He and Clemmons practically collided, Clemmons running towards me, Weevil in the other direction.

Somehow Beaver made it off school grounds. How, I have no idea.

Clemmons came into my classroom and said, "Veronica, my office, now!" In the meantime, the teacher in charge of the morning news broadcasts had confiscated the tape.

No matter. Mac had made a couple of dozen copies of the relevant parts, which started with Beaver's command for me to dump out my bag.

Clemmons was torn between sympathy and anger. In the end, I didn't get in any trouble because of what I'd gone through, and no one else did either because no one could prove anyone else had anything to do with it.

Don Lamb showed up, called by Clemmons, apparently. I showed him the tape.

When it was done, he issued an immediate warrant for the arrest of Cassidy Casablancas on the charge of rape.

When Lamb put down the phone, he looked at me to see what I said next.

I satisfied myself with three words.

"Told you so."