A/n: Thank you all for the pretty reviews, favorites and follows- you have no idea how happy they made me. I'm glad I'm not the only one in the 'IhateDuncan' corner. I apologize for all the liberties I've taken with the characters and timelines. Feel free to express your opinions- I'm only too glad to read them.

CHAPTER 2:

His heart did not stop hammering until he heard one of the first responders yell, "his legs."

The key word there was "his."

Veronica was still alive. His heartbeat slowed down and his shoulders relaxed. Maybe it was one of the Kanes. His mood significantly altered, he returned to his typical on the job persona. Logan skipped up the stairs, taking two at a time when he was greeted at the door by a surly uniform. "Took you long enough."

Despite talks of brotherhood and being a family, most cops were sensitive to the lines drawn between departments. Uniforms, homicide, narcotics, special units, cyber crimes- they each had their territories marked and it was obvious that somewhere someone had stepped on a few toes.

He just hoped it wasn't him.

The Kane mansion was intimidating by Hollywood standards. It stood like an eyesore on a cul-de-sac of contemporary homes, gigantic pillars erected to form large arches and stone lions guarding the twin banisters that flanked the flight of stairs. Logan snorted, wondering if Veronica even put up the minutest of fights against Celeste's creative undertakings.

What was the word he was looking for?

Gaudy. Obnoxious. Garish. Loud. Brassy. Ostentatious. Tawdry. Kitschy.

Contrary to what was depicted on television, crime scenes were chaotic places- techs filtered in and out along with uniforms designated to delineate borders and keep away media. Thus far, the sirens and lights had been turned off; only hushed murmurs, the pitter patter of loafers and the roar of the after market exhaust on his car gave away any clue as to the happenings in the neighborhood.

He briefly wondered if it were in deference to the privacy of the Senator or his pretentious neighbors. They were sure to file noise violations against his car- another one of those perks of Aaron's gifts.

Logan gingerly stepped away from the yellow tapes marked on the marble flooring and walked towards to the center atrium when he heard a low whistle.

"Knew it was you when I heard that ridiculous car. You know it's not road legal right?"

Logan turned around, "relax Fennel. I don't take it everywhere with me."

"Don't tell me. You're all dolled up and you brought your fancy car for little ol' me? Even I'm not that easy."

He usually made it a point to not flaunt his father's wealth in front of his coworkers. Some of his colleagues lived paycheck to paycheck or had come in from less entitled backgrounds. But panic had prevented him from going home and changing both his car and his clothes. And while they were several who would judge him, Fennel was one of the few who understood Logan's twisted family issues. He winked and blew a kiss, "is it working? If not, I could throw in some donuts to seal the deal."

Wallace Fennel, his partner of nearly three years shook his head in mock admonishment. "A man is dead and you're here feeding me pick up lines. Grow up, Echolls." As people who worked together in the most macabre of situations, it was their thing to do. Somehow awkward jokes and inappropriate laughter were the threads holding them away from insanity.

"So a dead man, you said?" Logan asked keeping his voice neutral. He probably wouldn't throw a party if Duncan was dead, but he could definitely be persuaded to raise his glass in cheer.

Instantly business, Wallace briefed him in, "well looked like a burglary gone wrong at first pass. Surprised the missus when she was home alone, and she blew a hole right through him with a .22. The techs found ID in his pocket. Abel Koontz. Serial rapist, picked up for everything including public indecency and drunkenness, killed a man in a bar brawl…"

God, Veronica.

"Sounds like a real gem."

"Not done. And paroled last week because he was diagnosed of last stage stomach cancer. Maybe had three months tops."

"So we're thinking he wanted one last hit before he passed away? Leave something to his family?"

"That's the thing though. This guy ain't no Danny Ocean, and this house has one of those prototype alarm systems from Kane software. Biometric scanners, infra-red cameras, night vision, thermal imaging, the works, and he just deactivates them all in one swoop and waltzes in?"

Not bloody likely. "Aww, so you're saying no sex tape?"

"Smart ass. And that's not all. The first responders walk in, and Mrs. Kane is still shaking with the gun in her hand. Claims self defense. The man was reaching for something under the counter," Wallace paused for dramatic flair. "Except there was nothing on him. No gun. No knife. No witnesses. Shot dead in the kitchen. Husband arrived within minutes and demanded for you. And by extension, me." A lone eyebrow raised, his partner regarded Logan as though looking for an explanation.

Well that explained the standoffish behavior of the uniform outside. Logan shrugged, knowing full well Wallace would get the rest out of him later. "We used to be friends."

He wasn't sure what it was that he expected but the still woman who sat pale faced on the couch was the last of them. Her petite frame was tucked into Duncan's side, her fingers grappling with the sleeve of his shirt as Logan and Wallace walked in.

"So," Logan ventured, "I'm assuming this wasn't what you meant by 'catching up?'"

The couple blinked and he belatedly realized that the joke had fallen flat. His eyes flickered to Veronica and he noticed that her face had been scrubbed clean of make up, her hair still damp was drying in waves. She had probably just showered when she ran into the perp in the kitchen- hell she was still in her bathrobe, her legs crossed.

With probably nothing under.

He thought back to another life when Veronica had come to his defense. Crying, screaming as she scratched and clung onto Aaron's back. Get off of him. Get off him. Get off!

"This is Detective Wallace Fennel, my partner," he said blinking away remnants of the past.

She nodded curtly, her chin defiant, her jaw clenched in an attempt to convey as little emotion as possible.

Wallace cleared his throat. He was the calmer of the two- he faithfully played good cop to Logan's unpredictable wild side. "We have a few questions and would like to talk to you both. Individually," he said pointedly.

Duncan remained firm. "We have nothing to hide, and I'm not leaving Veronica."

Not defensive at all. Logan rolled his eyes before interrupting, "it's standard procedure. If it'll make you feel any better, we could do this once together and then individually."

"I have a law degree and was in active practice until last year. I want to be here as legal counsel," Duncan declared hotly when Veronica placed a hand on him. "

Somewhere there had to be a conflict of interest. And if Duncan thought calling in on a supposed friend to conduct the interview would cause them to overlook certain things, he had thought wrong. But for now, they'd let it slide. "Ok," Logan stated looking over to Wallace for confirmation.

Temporarily assuaged by Veronica's hand on his knee, Duncan backed off, his palm rubbing circles onto his wife's back. If Logan didn't know any better, he'd say Veronica was almost shrinking away from his touch rather than moving towards it, but given his ambivalent feelings regarding his old friends, he wouldn't bet on it.

Veronica looked lost, as if unsure as to where to begin. It happened quite frequently with witnesses.

"Why don't you start with how your evening began," Wallace prompted helpfully. "Where were you earlier tonight?"

She gulped in a deep breath before focusing on Logan. "Duncan and I were at a memorial gala at the Four Seasons. It was for Lynn Echolls. I was there till about midnight when I came home."

"With your husband." Wallace scribbled in his notebook showing no outward reaction to the name.

"No," Veronica and Logan both spoke simultaneously. Ignoring the curious look from his partner, Logan looked to her to continue. "I left early. I had a headache, and I didn't really know too many people. Duncan, Senator Kane had a friend who could give him a ride and…" she trailed off before snapping back to reality. "I got home. Took an ibuprofen and an ambien. Neither seemed to work so I took a hot shower. I was getting ready for bed when I heard a noise from downstairs."

"You should've called me," Duncan swore.

Her voice stayed as strong as ever; the only sign belying her nervousness were her shaking hands, which she now kept firmly curled under her. "I called out thinking maybe it was Rosa, our housekeeper- she sometimes stays over when she knows her husband is going to come home drunk. When I got no answer, I reached for the handgun Duncan has near the nightstand. Went downstairs to investigate," she shook her head sadly, "when I saw him standing in the kitchen. I told him to stop. Told him I had a gun. But then he reached for something under the counter, and I swear, I swear I thought he was going to kill me. I just closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. It all happened so quickly."

Deathly silence settled over the conversation and Logan spoke up, "you didn't get a good look though?"

"I had turned the lights off before I went upstairs. Bright light. It exacerbates the migraines… if only." She shook her head as though shaking off the memories. "I didn't turn on the lights. It's my home, and I know it better than him- thought I knew it better," she corrected herself. "I called 911 and Duncan almost immediately."

"Would you say the drugs you took earlier this evening might have compromised your recollection of events?" Wallace had to ask and Logan glared at him for doing so.

Veronica shook her head in the negative and Duncan clarified, "Veronica hasn't been sleeping much since her father passed away. It usually takes more than a couple pills to knock her out- and even then."

She winced before correctly blandly, like she had grown tired of repeating the same phrase, "missing. Presumed to be dead."

Keith? Logan cursed under his breath. "I'm terribly sorry," he intoned, vaguely aware of Wallace echoing his regrets. He was a shitty excuse for a human being. He should've kept in touch particularly when he owed his life to the man. Guilt gnawed at the edges of his soul- just how many ridiculous excuses had he come up with to not pick up the goddamn phone. And for what?

Veronica waved her hand and bit her lip, "it was almost three years ago. You have to know. I can't believe I actually shot him. I don't like guns…it's just…"

Logan nodded, and Wallce busied himself studying his notes. "Mr. Kane, you got a ride from your friend?"

"James Franco. He was at the gala."

"The actor? And he can attest to the fact?" This time it was Wallace.

"Yes," Duncan began brusquely. "Came in here as soon as possible. The responding officer was taking Veronica's statement and the paramedics had swarmed the kitchen. I had to request that the patrol cars turn off their lights, and I called some of my friends at LAPD."

To ask for Logan- self entitled bastard.

Duncan however glossed over the little detail choosing instead to stand up, "if we're done here, I'd really like to get this wrapped up before the sun comes up. We would really like to co-operate in every way possible, Detectives. So please let us know how we can help."

"We will need contact information for both James Franco, and the housekeeper. Rosa you said?" Wallace asked.

"Rosa Jimenez."

"And we will be in touch," Logan rose out of his chair. "If either of you remember anything else."

Veronica looked at the men hesitantly as if battling with herself. Taking a deep breath, she finally spoke, "Duncan. I want to tell the detectives."

He looked at her with disbelief. "As your lawyer, and as your husband I would strongly discourage that."

"I was a lawyer too Duncan. I can handle it. Please," she pled as if willing him to see things her way. She needed to get this out now.

Logan allowed himself a tiny smile. Well, that hadn't changed- Duncan was always the petulant child. He turned his attention back to Veronica who seemed to be sitting straighter now that she wasn't re-living the shooting. A lot had to have happened in the time he had left Neptune-she clearly wasn't like anything he remembered. He briefly wondered what she might have to say in confidence. Whatever he had in mind didn't come remotely close to the words she uttered.

Looking straight into his eyes, she stated flatly, "I think someone's trying to kill me."

"So…what do you think?"

"What do I think about what?" It was nearly 8 am when the detectives were ushered into a powder blue booth at the diner closest to the precinct. While the cuisine wasn't anything to write home about, the proximity to work, the ridiculously large portions, and the free coffee meant that almost every cop in a half-mile radius made it their second home.

By the time they had left the Kane household, the sun's rays were starting to unfurl through the city and Logan had rushed home to change. He offered to buy breakfast, partly out of the goodness in his heart and mostly because he was starving. If he wasn't to going to get any sleep, he was going to make damn sure he was filled with caffeine.

"Do you think she's telling the truth?"

The waitress, a pleasant faced slightly overweight brunette greeted them with a smile and two mugs of coffee. "The usual?" she asked and the detectives nodded.

"About someone trying to kill her?" Wallace shook his head "I don't know. It was odd that the Senator didn't want her talking about it. You would think he'd notice if someone were trying to kill her for investigating her dad's disappearance. At best I'd say she believes what she says."

"She was beyond convinced. We should probably look into it. Besides, you did say the entire security system was disabled." Logan sipped his coffee before making a face. Wallace pushed over the container of sugar towards him and Logan inverted a majority of the container into his mug.

"I don't know man. Maybe she invited him in. He happens to be one of the guys she uses for one of her 'investigative' jobs. She said she was a lawyer so maybe she was involved in one of his trials or appeals. Or maybe he's trying to blackmail her- a family like that- there's got to be plenty of secrets. Lady thinks about it, invites him in. It's perfect. Husband comes home, and they call you, their friend who they just happened to meet earlier. A little too convenient, if you ask me."

Logan shot his partner a dirty look and declared resolutely, "you don't know Veronica. Besides, they didn't even know I was in homicide until the gala."

"Ok, hot shot. Anyone who browses the magazine aisles at the supermarket knows that the son of Aaron Echolls is in law enforcement. And don't tell me I don't know Veronica- she's just another blonde in distress playing your heartstrings like a violin. I should've known when you made those sick puppy eyes at her. She kept glancing at you- giving you those longing looks and head tilts. God. I just fucking knew it. You've got to stop thinking with your dick, man. It hasn't helped before."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Logan sounded crabby even to his ears.

Wallace guffawed, "yeah right. Let's see…remember Caitlin? The girl who stole your wallet and maxed out your credit cards after feeding you a sob story about her sick mother? Or maybe we should talk about Hannah…the chick that took one of your cars on a joy ride and never returned. Or maybe Paris? The one who convinced to buy her real diamonds because she would be so embarrassed if her friends saw her with fake ones. And those girls were all this past year."

"Forget I asked," Logan said, annoyed. "Anything in the preliminary report that goes against either of their statements?"

"Not really. Ballistics match, and forensics agrees with the angle of the shot. Her story checks out."

"So she could be telling the truth," Logan insisted.

"Truthfully dude, it's just another scumbag off the streets. So it's three months early- he deserved it, he had it coming but if and it's a big if- IF the Senator and his wife planned this…"

"Someone has to pay."

"Exactly," Wallace nodded over their breakfast that was being slid onto the table. "I say we talk to the maid. Maybe she's the one that let the man in- if so, great your girl is golden, and you can continue batting your eyelashes at her. But first, are you going to start talking or are we going to continue dancing around this?"

Logan looked up, his eyes innocent. "Dancing around what? Oh, you mean my relationship with the Kanes? It's a long story," he warned, over emphasizing the word long.

"I've got time," Wallace declared pouring a sinful amount of syrup over his plate. "These pancakes aren't going to eat themselves."