Two people, one scene. A bit shorter than some of my recent ones, but I couldn't see breaking it off anywhere else.
Some people have asked if this is another fakeout. I think you'll learn the answer in this chapter.
Disclaimer: Rob Thomas created the town of Neptune and most of its residents, charming and otherwise. I am not Rob Thomas.
X X X X X
The picture I was looking at showed two people.
A somewhat younger Aaron Echolls, grinning widely, holding a rifle in his left hand in front of him with its butt end on the ground. His arm was around his companion, also holding a rifle. A dead deer lay on the ground in front of them. Aaron and his companion were both grinning widely.
Logan had said he'd never gone on these outings very often. It had been my stupid assumption when Logan first brought this up that he had. Once he said he hadn't, it should have occurred to me that Trina's gone in his place. But it hadn't until I saw the picture.
There was Trina at maybe the age of 14, standing there looking as though she'd just won the Academy award.
The caption underneath read, "Trina's first solo kill."
I would have bet my chance at heaven that the rifles they were using were .22's.
"Answer me this, Logan," I said. "How many of these father-child hunting trips did Trina go on?"
"Once a year," Logan said. "Minimum. And she has a hunting license herself and goes a couple of times a year on her own." Which meant she at least knew how to use a rifle without blowing her own hand off. It didn't say much for her aim, but not everyone who knows how to use a gun can be an expert at it. Logan continued, "But she wouldn't, Veronica. I mean, I'm hardly Trina's biggest fan, but her sins are in loving Daddy Dearest and publicity too much and everyone else too little. She's not a psychopath."
"Okay. Then why was she out of breath when she ran up after the shooting?"
"I don't know," Logan said.
"Did she look like she'd been exercising?" I persisted.
When Logan didn't answer, I said, "How did she know that Lynn had been shot coming out of a clothing store? This morning, Vanessa Mencken said that detail hadn't been on the radio."
"Maybe Trina saw it on TV."
"In her car?"
"Or maybe it was on one of the other radio stations."
"One way to find out if it was released." I picked up my cell phone and called the balboa County Sheriff's Office. "Inga!" I said. "Hi, it's Veronica Mars. Could I speak to Deputy Leo D'Amato for just a second?" Whispered to Logan: "She's putting me through." Then: "Hi, Leo. Yes, I have another favor to ask. Would it help I said you're the best-looking deputy there?" To Logan: "He says that's not much of a compliment."
"He's right," Logan said.
"Well, it doesn't matter, it's still true," I told Leo. "Anyway. About yesterday's shooting – no, I'm not asking for any private information. I just want to know what you told the public. Specifically, if your statement mentioned what Lynn Echolls was doing when she was being shot at."
There was a sound of rustling papers from the other end of the phone. Leo told me that no, in none of the official statements – or the press conference – did they mention that she'd been shopping. They said that it took place "As Lynn Echolls was walking down Breaker Avenue."
"Thanks, Leo," I said, and hung up. I told Logan what the deputy had told me. "And this was about an hour or so after the shooting," I said. "I caught Trina before she had a chance to go inside or talk to you or Lynn about what had happened."
"What about her cell phone?" Logan asked.
"What, Don Lamb called her directly from the crime scene? Not likely, Logan, and you know it. There weren't even any news crews there by the time we left. And there's more. When I was doing that reconstruction yesterday –"
"With Trina's help," he said.
"With Trina's help. I'm guessing that she didn't think it would help me any. Anyway, it took me a good ten minutes to find a spot where I'd have a clear shot at where Lynn was standing. It's a small grove of trees, but trying to find a place where I wouldn't accidentally end up firing into the crowd but I could still easily be seen wasn't easy."
"Anyone with ten spare minutes could have done it."
"Trina lived on this estate for how long?" I asked. "She could have found it in about thirty seconds. Especially being an experienced hunter. And with hundreds of people milling around on the front lawn the last thing anyone else would have wanted to do is be visibly moving through the underbrush."
"She was wearing kind of muted clothing that day," he admitted.
"Let's try another experiment," I said, and Logan and I walked out into the living room. "Do you remember where Trina was when she was sulking?"
"Sitting by the pool in the backyard," Logan said.
"Good. You stay in the living room – I'll look at you so you can signal me when to go – and I'll come in here as fast as I can.
"This isn't a digital watch," Logan said. "No stopwatch function."
"Ballpark it. We're not timing someone going for the world record in the hundred-meter dash." Then I went out into the backyard, turned one of the lounge chairs around, and lay down it. About thirty seconds later, I saw Logan wave his arms and I pushed myself up and sprinted to the living room.
It took me about twenty-five seconds. When I got there, I was breathing slightly heavily, a fact Logan pointed out.
"But I'm not 'out of breath," I said.
"No," he said, frowning. "You're not."
"And if Trina had simply been in the backyard and come running in here at the first sign of trouble, she would have been there a lot faster than she actually was. My memory's kind of fuzzy, admittedly."
"Maybe," he said. I understood Logan. He was having a hard time grasping the concept that his sister could have inherited more from their father than a lack of acting ability. Then, "Are you being careful with your shoulder?"
"I am. It makes it a little awkward not being able to pump my left arm, but I'll manage. Now for the second part of the experiment." We walked to the front door. "I'm going out to the little thicket of trees and taking my position. Signal me and I'll pretend to fire a shot, drop the rifle, and run around the house."
I walked out to the small stand of trees, found the same I'd been in yesterday when I'd 'fired' at Trina, and got into position.
In the doorway, Logan raised his hand and lowered it quickly. I fired my pretend rifle, dropped it, and took off running around the back of the house. I took what seemed to me to be the shortest route, even though I have no idea whether or not that's the way Trina ran, because I was trying to play this as conservatively as I could.
I opened the back door as quickly as I could, then went inside and ran straight for the living room.
This time, my breathing was substantially heavier. And from a standing start it had taken me slightly over at a minute at a dead run, except for those few seconds it had taken me to get the back door open.
"It took you more than thirty seconds to get me inside and on the couch," I said. "I'm sure of that. If Trina came running as soon as she could she would have probably beaten us to the living room. Instead, she didn't show up until I was already on the couch."
"She could have waited when she heard the gunshot."
"But none of that explains why she was so out of breath," I persisted. "If you need more evidence, I've got some. When I talked to her agent, the agent told me that he tried to convince Trina that she'd make more money if Lynn accused Aaron than if she kept quiet about it. But Trina didn't listen; she was really, really pissed and went out and spread the word about Lynn's revelation before the press conference. And Trina's all about getting herself good publicity. Not that she hasn't been doing the rounds since, but still, you'd've thought that would make her happy that she was about to get all that free hype."
"She loved Aaron that much?"
"I think so," I said. "Tell me. Did he ever abuse her?"
A long period of silence, then a very quiet, "No. Never."
"Quick review: She's been angry at Lynn for a while – even before Lynn decided to go public and accuse Aaron Echolls of being a killer, remember?"
"It all started with the script," Logan said.
"Exactly. And then Lynn decides to go public about Aaron having killed Lilly, mentioning oh by the way that he abused you and her along the way. The dozens of affairs were already public knowledge, but that can't exactly have helped Trina's sanity. So she tries to really support against it, but when her own agent tries to get her to back down and only a couple of local people seem as angry as she is, she decides to do something herself."
"Where'd she get the rifle from?" Logan asked.
And that was a good question. Trina was still talking to people at 5:30, and from all accounts she never left the estate. The only thing I could think of was that she already had an unlicensed weapon or two lying around – or maybe Aaron had. A little extra cash could easily get past the paperwork required to buy a rifle, and even in California it was easier to purchase rifles than handguns. Rifles weren't typically the weapon of choice for murderers. On balance, though, this was the weakest part of my argument. I explained my reasoning to Logan, and he said, "Wouldn't put it past either of them."
"And she certainly knows how to use a rifle," I said. "She's been hunting, she's killed deer. That she's shot at Lynn three times and missed only means she's not a particularly good shot."
"I don't think that first rifle had a scope," Logan said. "She would have been trying to take the shot with her naked eye."
"Maybe all three times. The police didn't find the second rifle." I paused. "And then there's the climax of my argument."
"She came back wrong."
"Exactly. So you believe me now?"
"It's just – I don't –" then he got quiet for a second and said, "God damn it."
I went over and hugged him. I couldn't possibly know what he was going through. To find out that his abusive father had been a murder had been a shock – but one that couldn't have been completely unexpected. But to find out that the sister you thought of as clueless and non-malicious, and whom you loved dearly despite disliking her intensely, had ambitions to imitate dear old Dad – that was something I could never understand.
"So, what do we do next?" he said.
"Trina left with your mother about an hour ago," I said. "I think we need to find her."
"Call the Sheriff's Department?"
"No. Lamb wouldn't listen to either of us. But we call everyone else who might have seen them. And I mean everyone." I clasped Logan's hands. "We'll find her, Logan," I said, meaning Lynn.
"And then we'll kill her," Logan said, obviously not.