AN: I must offer my humble apologies for the length of time between chapters for this story. Blame it on a trip to Vancouver and LA! I definitely haven't given up on 'Deep' - in fact the next chapter has already been written.

Huge thanks to the almighty, all-seeing, all-knowing beta, Alaidh who has managed to beta this for me in spite of the many distractions of life! I really appreciate the time and effort you take over my stories.

Also, my heartfelt thanks for all the reviews and feedback I've received for the last chapter. Reviews are always a great reward for the late nights spent writing!

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Short Synopsis:

Max receives a note from Zack to meet her at Murchison Woods Camping Ground. Logan has heard rumours of mysterious disappearances in the area. Without telling Max of his concerns, he offers to drive her there and the use his camping equipment.

Once there, they encounter an old veteran called Tex and a group of kids growing a hybrid South American plant that has narcotic properties.

Max finally meets up with Zack and he tells her he has intel that Lydecker is on the prowl for her in Seattle and he strongly advisers her to leave Seattle.

While Max is meeting Logan, Lucy, one of the hippies, comes running into Logan's campsite begging for his help. Logan returns with her to her van and discovers the body of Poggs who has mysteriously died.

The hippies flee and Logan is discovered next to the dead body by the local law enforcement officer, Sheriff Bowie who issues several warnings to Logan and Max.

The strange discovery of a flock of dead birds that have apparently fallen from the sky, an unusual orange-brown coloured spider found crawling on the dead body, and the possibility that the water may have been polluted in some way leave Max and Logan with a lot of questions and no answers.

Logan desperately wants to access the internet to do some research on the few clues they have. To his surprise, Max tells him she has a plan and runs off…

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CHAPTER 10

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"Where the hell is she?" Logan muttered irritably as he scrubbed vindictively at the frying pan they'd used for breakfast.

"Not as if she couldn't have told me what she had in mind," he complained under his breath as he held the pan up to his face to check that the last vestiges of egg had been scoured from its surface.

With a quick movement he plunged it once more into the plastic tub of hot, sudsy water, remembering her snappy, "Stay here," comment – her final words directed to him before she turned and ran towards the river.

What he didn't hear was the "try to stay outta trouble" remark, murmured under her breath as her lithe, slim legs quickly gained Manticore speed. He hadn't seen the direction she'd gone in after that … which really annoyed him as well. By the time he'd swung his chair around and moved away from the car so that he'd have a clear view, she was already out of sight.

He muttered another string of barely coherent words as he gave the pan yet another torturous scrub, before finally pulling it from the soapy water and drying it with a dishtowel. He derived a small, momentary sense of satisfaction from its gleaming inner surface, but it was quickly eroded by a gnawing dissatisfaction that all he could do was sit and wait while Max was out there doing the work.

It never bothers me in Seattle…not much, anyway…well, sometimes.

He supposed the daily task of running his informant net meant that his mind and hands were usually focussed on a dozen different tasks at the same time. In Seattle there never seemed to be enough hours in a day.

Out here, there was just way too much time to think, too many unknowns to deal with…challenges to face that he'd never asked for.

He remembered reading somewhere, amongst all the stuff they'd given him in rehab, a comment by some guy that it had taken him six years before he'd begun to think of himself as being 'normal' again. God, for me it's been barely six months.

What was it John Darius had asked him: something about being in the chair because he'd been sticking his nose in other people's business? How often had he asked himself if he had the chance to go back and relive that afternoon, would he do it all again? What would he be willing to risk to take down Sonrisa?

"So, what did you learn from your mistake, Logan?" had been one of his uncle's favourite sarcasms to him.

Absolutely nothing, he had to admit, having come to the conclusion that, given the same set of circumstances, he'd be idiotic enough to do the whole thing over again.

He'd never been able to figure out why he had an over-developed conscience that wouldn't let him sleep at night when someone like Sonrisa was out there.

Just do, I guess, he shrugged with philosophic fatalism.

Just like Max is driven to look for Zack and the others. And like all causes, it rarely makes you happy, he thought dryly, considering Max's recent meeting with Zack.

He'd yet to learn what it had all been about, but Max had been obviously less than happy with the outcome. While sorry for her sake, he had to admit that a part of him was pleased that things hadn't gone so well between them.

He'd wondered from the beginning if she'd blow right out of his life once she'd connected with the other X5s. He wondered if his own gullibility with Val had been some sort of unconscious way to prepare himself for that. He knew he couldn't allow himself to get too close to Max…there were way too many reasons…it was all wrong…could never be.

He knew he was probably asking for trouble when he'd been vaguely aware that night in his apartment, even through the pain of Val's embarrassing betrayal, that he couldn't help but be a little relieved when she'd been so disappointed after finally meeting Zack.

Maybe that meant she'd stick around longer…do his legwork, eat his food, mock his obsessions.

Logan eventually brought his gaze back to focus on the here and now. The almost full, plastic tub of greasy water had to be emptied into the grass, away from their site. He wondered how much was likely to slosh onto his legs if he tried balancing the tub on his knees and bumping his way over to the trees.

Nope, Max can do it. She's the one who's so interested in the water around here, he reasoned wryly as he looked across to the wide sweep of the river that he could see through the trees from their campsite, so she can empty it.

Without thought, he put his hands to his wheels and headed in its direction. The birds had resumed their usual twittering; the sun shone yet again – the simplistic beauty of a rural scene.

Moving as close to the water's edge as he could while still staying on the grassy bank, Logan stared down at the ever-moving currents. The clarity of the water this time of the morning was deceptively clear and on the face of it certainly seemed to ridicule Max's ideas of a contaminated eco-disaster. Logan knew however, that ironically it was often clear water you had to be careful of.

Could she be right? Could there be some nasty bug in there killing normal organisms?

Logan shrugged. It'd take a microbiologist to solve that one and I happen to be fresh out of one.

Max.

She wasn't usually so edgy about things. He'd given her all sorts of potentially dangerous assignments in Seattle and he'd never once seen her so much as blink an eye. She seemed to be reacting differently this time…and he wasn't entirely sure why.

Logan wasn't sure what made him look up.

Perhaps it was the cool wind that unexpectedly whipped at his jacket or the fact that the sun had chosen that moment to hide her glory behind a bank of grey clouds.

Instinctively his gloveless hands went to his wheels but he did his best to make it appear to be a casual gesture. Only his thumbs moved, absently rubbing against the rough texture of the rubber tyres. His green eyes narrowed slightly as he scrutinized the opposite bank hoping to all intents and purposes it would simply appear that he was merely admiring the scenery.

Slowly reversing away from the edge, he stole a quick glance to the left and right, then slowly swung around.

He wondered if there was a foolproof method for diagnosing paranoia – maybe that was all this was. Maybe all Max's suspicions of Tex and spiders and poisoned water and dead birds and anything else she was suspicious of had bothered him more than he'd thought.

He was only halfway back to their site when he heard a distinctive sound that unexpectedly triggered a memory of student days at Yale. When it eventually came into view, he stopped and leant back in his chair with a blankly bemused expression.

"So…whatcha think of your new wheels?"

Max looks pleased with herself, almost smug, he thought as he watched her jump down from the driver's side and come around to stand in front of her latest acquisition.

"My new wheels?" he repeated, and for a moment Max caught a rare glimpse of his Cale upbringing in the tone he used.

"Well, we're just borrowing them, of course," she corrected blithely, not sure if his obvious lack of enthusiasm was the result of what she considered to be his overly active conscience. When she saw that he was still regarding the grimy, orange VW van that was decorated with bird droppings with open distaste, something inside her snapped.

"Logan, I'm not asking you to live in it! Just use it to crash town and borrow the sheriff's computer and phone. Do you have any idea what a bitch it was to even get this thing running!"

"Well, it sure beats having to pull down our tent and pack up all our camping stuff," Logan agreed diplomatically, even if he still eyed the van with a grimace.

Max put both hands on her hips. "So, you gonna get in, or what? I don't know how much time we'll have. We don't know where Bowie's taking the body. He could be dumping it in the river for all we know!"

Logan hesitated.

"You want me to get your bag from the car? It has your gun." Max prompted shortly, keen to get him moving while he was at least halfway in agreement with her.

Feeling very much that he was being railroaded, Logan reluctantly nodded.

Once Max had headed to the Aztek, he wheeled himself over to the passenger door of the van and pulled it open. With a sense of dismay he realized that the seat was a good deal higher than that of the Aztek's. Worried that his transfer may not be a thing of beauty, he set his brakes, and hoisted himself into the passenger seat as quickly as possible in the hope that Max wouldn't be there to witness it.

He'd just snapped on the ancient seatbelt when Max returned with his bag. "I grabbed these for you, too, in case you wanted them," she said, handing him his gloves before loading his chair into the back.

"Thanks," he told her as he tossed a thin piece of rope that he'd found on the seat to the floor of the van. "Doesn't look like this thing has been driven in a while," he murmured a little distractedly as he looked at the cobwebs festooned in every nook and cranny. There was even a gossamer film of them across the windshield.

"Mmm," said Max, unconcernedly wiping away some of the ones that were draped close to his head, before closing the wide door at his side with a loud bang that reverberated throughout the car and startled a few tiny spiders into an unexpected bungee jump before they collected their scattered wits and quickly made their way back to their original hiding places.

Logan instinctively ducked.

"You know, I would never have guessed that you'd be so snooty about cars. Is this some guy thing?" Max remarked cordially, missing his reaction as she concentrated on the still unfamiliar controls. Engaging the clutch she cranked it into first gear.

"I'm not a snob," Logan retorted defensively as he cautiously sat a little more upright. "I just happen to think these are the ugliest vans ever made."

Max raised both brows eloquently as she shot him a look of surprise. "I woulda thought this kind of thing would have been exactly what a radical, anti-conformist lefty like yourself would have driven back in the day. You mean to say that when you were at Yale you didn't run around with holes in your sweater and drive a broken down wreck?"

"My friend drove the broken-down wreck…and managed to turn it on its side by going too fast around a bend. The van very nearly slipped over the edge of a cliff."

"Impressive."

"Not if you were inside the van at the time," Logan told her dryly.

"Well, it's lucky for me."

"How's that?" Logan asked her frowning.

"Well, what would be the chance of your tipping twice in the world's ugliest car?" And as if to prove her point, she swung the wheel tightly and accelerated hard as she took the right hand turn out of the park.

"Um…Max."

She'd caught the movement in the corner of her eyes and then her senses registered the slight sensation that things weren't quite as cozy in the van as they had been.

Sure enough, when she quickly turned her head to the right, she saw Logan gripping his seatbelt and the passenger door swinging wildly open on its hinges as the van in its inimitable awkward style cornered the sharp bend.

"Oops. You know, I wondered what that rope was for," Max commented lightly as she brought the car to a quick halt.

"Now we know," Logan deadpanned as he gripped his seat with his left hand and carefully leant out to grab the wayward door and close it.

Max undid her seatbelt and reached into the back where Logan had tossed the rope.

"I excelled at knots," she boasted as she half squatted in the small confine between their seats and leant forward to tie one end to his door, immediately catching herself instinctively trying to avoid touching his legs. They're not broken, Max, she rebuked herself, a little annoyed that she'd reacted in that way.

"Is there anything you don't excel at?" Logan asked her, trying to ignore how close she was to him as she leant across his knees to attach the rope.

"Zack says I was never good at taking orders," he heard her reply through the curtain of dark, wavy hair that obscured her face.

"Normal'd probably agree to that."

Max let her forearms rest on his knees as she finished tying the knot, a little surprised to find that she wasn't quite as cool with being in such close proximity to him as she'd expected she would have been. After all, she'd landed on a bed with him after their flight from the roof of the Steinlitz.

Yeah, but I was pissed with him at the time for getting himself jammed up in that mess…not to mention kinda shaken up.

The question suddenly rose in her mind that perhaps she'd been shy of touching him because he was Logan, not because his legs were paralysed.

"You done yet?" his voice broke through her confusion. He found it was getting harder to pretend that the fact that her breasts were possibly pressing against his knees didn't bother him in the slightest.

"Sorry, it was a bit hard to stop it slipping on the door handle," Max finally said, pushing herself upright again. "Now, the thing to work out is where to attach the other end," she wondered aloud, her dark eyes quickly probing the van's sparse interior before returning to his face. "Looks like we'll have to use…" she started to say before slightly losing track of her sentence as she noticed the way his eyes were fixated on the hand she still rested on his leg.

"The steering wheel column?" Logan suggested without missing a beat as he coolly brought his eyes back to bear on her face.

"Yeah," she replied in an equally cool manner.

Within seconds she'd pulled the rope taut and had it looped and tied around the basic, black metal pole and wordlessly returned to her seat.

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"Not exactly a thriving metropolis," Logan murmured as they pulled up on the shoulder of the road a hundred yards or so before the solitary building that was apparently Murchison Woods Township.

"You sure don't wanna blink as you drive by," Max agreed as she yanked on the parking brake and put the car in neutral before lifting her foot off the brake and undoing her seatbelt.

"What are you doing?" Logan frowned at her.

"This crate's a bit noisy…thought I should do a little recon before I drive any closer." Her eyes flickered to the fuel gauge. "Not a lot of gas in this thing, but I don't wanna turn off the engine. It was enough of a bitch to start the first time."

"And you trust the parking brake?" Logan queried uneasily as he noted the way the tree-lined road sloped steeply away in front of him.

"I tested it, Logan," Max assured him, trying to ignore the inner voice that protested, not on a hill like this one. "I'll be as fast as I can," she added in a voice intended to imbue him with confidence.

Taking the slight narrowing of his green eyes behind the steel framed glasses as his answer, she gave him the smallest of reassuring smiles before opening her door. She slid from the van, taking care to notice if the decrepit vehicle appeared to shift in any way as she slammed the heavy door. Satisfied that the brake held the van steady, she crossed the road and, keeping to the cover of the trees, made her way with Manticore speed down to the 'town'.

Standing behind the fat trunk of a huge oak tree, Max studied the building virtually grid by grid as though she were studying a map, filing with almost computer-like precision the details of the building some twenty yards in front of her.

From her angle she could see the front of the sheriff's office. It was a large, long, single-storied, rectangular shaped building, built in the style of a log cabin. Adjoining it was what appeared to be a general store. Finding no sign of life around either part of the building, she ran in for a closer inspection, circumventing it with quiet, cat-like stealth.

It took her only minutes to accomplish her recon and she was able to tick off each objective with satisfaction; through the window she could see a relatively modern computer, the building was totally devoid of life and there was a ramp on the left side out front for those who didn't want to, or couldn't, navigate the five steps that led to the front door.

Murchison Woods' only store was also deserted. The door was locked and, when Max peered through the dirty windows, all she could see was evidence of what appeared to be a hasty evacuation. None of the glass-door refrigerators that she could see were lit up, the shelves seemed to be virtually empty and the cash register drawer had been left open. It didn't appear as though anyone had been in there for some time.

"The place is a ghost town," she murmured to herself, wondering what Logan would make of this latest development.

"Everything's sweet," Max announced triumphantly to Logan, her breathing not the least bit laboured from her uphill return run to the van. "We have a computer, solitude and access – there's a ramp out front," she told him as she released the parking brake and drove the van towards the log cabin.

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"So, how d'you wanna play this?" Max asked Logan less than ten minutes later as the heels on her boots clunked over a wooden floor sadly in need of a polish in the sparsely furnished reception area of the sheriff's office.

She had dropped Logan off at the front of the building and had then driven the VW van down a narrow driveway that was almost swallowed up by the encroaching forest. It led to the back of the sheriff's building where the van would be out of sight from the road. It had only taken a few short minutes to enter the building by the backdoor and effortlessly jimmy the lock and disconnect the outdated alarm.

Once satisfied that there were no other possibly more sophisticated security measures inside the building, she walked through the office to where Logan was waiting for her outside the front door, pulling on his leather gloves.

"Doesn't look like Murchison Woods is considered too much of a security risk," she remarked to Logan as she opened the front door to let him in. "The equipment in this place was old even before the Pulse."

A careful scrutiny of the road in both directions before she followed Logan inside satisfied her that, for the time being at least, there was no sign of any unwanted interference.

"Well I doubt if Murchison Woods has many voters," Logan told her cynically. "Computer, phone?" he continued tersely as he pushed himself through the doorway and looked about, his first impression being that the office was rarely used and Sheriff Bowie looked to be anything but a methodical law enforcer.

"Thataway," she answered, motioning to the door she'd just come through from the back of the office.

There were only another two doors leading from the reception area. A quick inspection revealed one to be another small office and an area that looked to be like some sort of holding cell for possible offenders. The other door to her left she supposed was a direct link to Murchison Woods only other business, the drugstore.

She followed Logan through to a rather, cramped, messy office where she'd seen the computer.

"The computer's on, but it's password protected," Max told Logan as she watched him manoeuvre his way past filing cabinets and several desks to the one at the back that housed the computer.

"I can't get in there anyway, and I don't have time to mess with passwords," Logan shrugged, stopping his chair the other side of the desk and pulling out his laptop. "Let's hope the sheriff's Internet line is operational."

"Well, nothing else around here seems to be," Max commented depressingly as she pulled out the internet line from the sheriff's computer and passed it to Logan.

Max watched Logan for a moment while he connected it to his laptop, then did a quick check of the rest of the room. One door led to a bathroom, another to a small kitchen, and the only other door was a large closet filled with shelves and old wooden fruit crates containing who knew what.

An unexpected, unidentifiable noise from somewhere outside had her suddenly looking up, listening intently. In a few strides she was at the back door, cautiously turning the handle and gently pushing it open.

Logan paused only momentarily before coolly continuing to boot up.

"Looks like it was just the wind. It's started to really blow out there now. Last thing we need is some badass storm while we're up here," Max grimaced, screwing up her face at the possibility.

"I'm online," Logan announced without looking up as his fingers tapped quickly at the keys. "Now to contact Sebastian."

"Who?"

"Friend of mine…he's into conspiracy theories. I just hope he's around. This'll probably be my only chance online while we're up here."

"Well, make it count, 'cause I don't plan on comin' back here."

Logan didn't reply. Nor did he reply to several other comments she made while she restlessly poked around the office, hoping to find something that might shed some light on the mess confronting them.

"I'm gonna check out front," she finally announced and left the room without waiting for a reply.

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"Bling, it's me."

"Man, I was starting to get worried about you," Bling's deep voice replied over the line.

"Sorry," Logan replied absently into the phone while his gaze focused on the screen in front of him. "A few things have come up. We had a death up here."

"I'm guessing you mean 'murder'."

Logan's grunt on the other end seemed to signify that his guess was correct.

"So, what're you planning to do about it?" Bling asked, calmly.

"Looks like my guy was right when he said things up here needed some looking into...a lotta things up here don't add up. I've just contacted Sebastian; maybe he can throw some light on things."

"Did Max hook up with Zack?"

"They met."

Bling frowned a little at his end, wishing that Logan could be a little more forthcoming with his answers. "Anything you want me to do?" he finally asked.

"Nooo," drawled Logan distractedly, green eyes still intent on the screen in front of him. "I should be back in a day or two."

"Okay then. I guess you know what you're doing." His tone seemed to query the notion.

"I'll be in touch when I get back," Logan told him before hanging up.

Bling put the phone down with a philosophical shrug as he murmured, "Like squeezing water from a stone."

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"Just where have you been?"

Logan pinned Max with an accusing glare as she re-entered the back office from the reception area, taking note of the bag of potato chips and assorted tins of food that she carried in her arms.

She gave him a satisfied smile. "I found us a detailed map of Murchison Woods and I've managed to brighten up our diet while we're here."

Logan's eyes narrowed. "That's stealing."

"No, it's crime prevention, in fact."

Logan leaned back in his chair, his brows raised at her ironically. "It is?"

"Sure. If I leave this stuff here, I'm only inviting someone else to rip it off."

"And that would be a bad thing," Logan agreed with a straight face.

"Damn straight it would…particularly when I'm getting tired of eggs."

Logan nodded, but Max didn't miss the small smirk at the corner of his mouth.

"You got a problem with the cook?" There was a distinct glitter to his green eyes, his tone was almost teasing.

She smiled back, one eyebrow raised sexily in response. "The cook's fine. It's his menu I got problems with."

Logan grinned then turned back to his laptop.

Max let her gaze linger on him a few moments longer, suddenly struck by his manner, the unusual light in his eyes.

Sometimes I completely space that Logan used to snoop out his own 411 before he had to have me do his legwork. So, Mr. 'Play-by-the-rules' gets the same high outta B & E that I do. Who'd a thunk!

"You intending to make yourself useful while you're here?" Logan's voice cut into her thoughts.

Focussing her eyes on him, she found he was staring up at her enquiringly.

"Sure. Now that my stomach's gonna be satisfied."

Logan looked about the office with distaste. It was worlds away from the pristine order of his apartment.

"You never know what we might find in this mess." His tone suggested she was about to embark on a treasure hunt.

"Guess I can get my hands dirty while I wait. Just wish I had some idea on when we should expect our friendly neighbourhood sheriff back again."

"I emailed a contact of mine in the Coroner's Department, just in case Bowie takes the body there."

"What're the odds of that?" Max asked wryly as she walked around to the front of the desk Logan had his laptop resting on.

"Not high, I'm afraid."

"I don't like the idea of being in here any longer than an hour," Max told him seriously.

"We're hardly geared for a fast getaway, are we?"

Max shrugged. She didn't appear concerned by the prospect. "I just don't want us to push our luck."

The beep of an incoming email made Logan quickly concentrate on his laptop. Max didn't bother to ask him what he was up to. She figured he'd tell her in his own time…I just hope he'll be quick.

The face she had shown Logan a moment ago hadn't been a truthful one. We'll be jammed up if Bowie drops by, had been her immediate thought. Logan appeared less concerned at the prospect than she did, but then again, he was consumed in retrieving information from his laptop

He wouldn't notice a bomb go off, she thought with a touch of exasperation as she yet again checked both front and back doors before attacking the filing cabinets.

As time went by she felt increasingly uneasy with the amount of time they'd been there – it was well over an hour now – but Logan insisted they wait just a few minutes longer. His friend, Sebastian, had promised him some information.

"Max, I can't leave without it." The word she heard was I won't leave without it.

"Well, I've gone through all this crap and haven't found a thing," she told him with disgust, motioning to the mountain of files and papers and letters that she'd pored over with X5 speed.

"I guess it was odds on that he wasn't gonna leave clues lying about for us to trip over," Logan sighed, looking longingly at the sheriff's computer.

"Don't even think about it, Logan," Max said at once.

"I should've tried. It probably wouldn't have taken me long to hack into it."

"Or, it might have taken you all day," she pointed out, "I don't plan on being the mouse caught eating the cheese."

"You did say that you were tired of eggs."

"I don't want to taste…damn."

This time Logan looked up with an expression of alarm. The sound of an approaching car was unmistakable.

"Maybe they're not coming here," he suggested to Max's back as she rushed to the front of the office and stole a quick glance out the window.

At that moment a beep from Logan's laptop announced the arrival of another email. Scarcely bothering to glance at the incoming alert that announced who it was from, Logan retrieved it, quickly shut the laptop then glanced around for anything else he may have left out.

Max's supply of loot was over on one of the other desks, looking glaringly obvious.

"They're stopping here."

Max's words made him freeze for the merest second. How do I hide a damned wheelchair in a place like this? "You sure?"

"You wanna argue?" she snapped back as she returned to the small back office, carefully closing the door to the reception area behind her before scooping up her ill gotten gains.

"Give me your bag."

Logan passed it to her and watched as she shoved the food into it. He desperately hoped that she had a plan. "The back door?" he whispered hopefully.

"Uh uh - too many steps. We don't have the time," she answered shortly, tossing the now bulging backpack onto his lap. "This way."

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To be continued.