Chapter 8: Veronica

Veronica giggled as he half-walked, half-spun them into the room, her laughter subsiding as his mouth caught hers in a searing kiss that made her toes curl. She felt cool leather against the backs of her bare legs moments before he tumbled her onto the couch. In mere seconds he'd shucked both their clothes, and she reveled in the weight of his warm body pressing into hers.

"Bedroom?" she gasped.

"Can't wait – can you?" he asked as his lips grazed the column of her neck, then dipped lower to bite lightly on one tight, pink nipple.

Veronica's urgent "No" came out in a strangled cry, and she shuddered as his low chuckle vibrated against her breast. She tangled her fingers in his short hair, arching her back when he shifted and began tenderly ministering to the other peak.

"Logan…please," she groaned.

"Please, what?" he teased ruthlessly, trailing hot kisses down her torso to her soft belly then lower until … Logan reared up and, in one, long stroke – licked the side of her face.

Veronica woke with a start, her eyes popping open just in time to see Backup moving in for another slobbery swipe. "Hey boy," she said, scratching behind his ear and sighing. "You couldn't have waited just a few more minutes?"

She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, absently petting Backup while her rapid pulse gradually slowed. First nightmares, now disturbingly erotic dreams, Veronica's subconscious seemed stuck on Logan. Even during daylight hours, he was constantly on her mind.

She was worried about him. On the surface, Logan seemed to be taking the latest twist in stride, shrugging indifferently when she raised the possibility of Aaron's guilt. Except, when she drove him to the Sheriff's Department and later the forensics lab, he'd barely said a word, and she doubted the tension in his shoulders had anything to do with a fear of needles.

She intended to ask him how he was doing, if she could get him in the same room with her, or at least get him to answer the phone. Judging from the number of unanswered messages she'd left and Dick's perfunctory "He's not here," every time she called the suite, Veronica figured Logan was avoiding her. But new information about the case had forced her hand, and now it was time to pull out her secret weapon.

Veronica kicked back the covers and dragged herself out of bed. An hour later, she was walking purposefully down the corridor of the Neptune Grande to Logan's suite. She knocked and waited several moments before slipping the key card into the electronic lock. The suite appeared to be empty.

"Logan?" She'd seen his Range Rover in the garage, so she was fairly certain he was home. After a quick glance around the terrace, she turned to the closed bedroom door and pushed it open. She started to call his name again, when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

Veronica turned just in time to see an unsuspecting Logan emerge from the bathroom, fastening a white hotel towel around his waist. She froze, mouth agape at the sight of her nearly naked former boyfriend and his very nude, very tone, tanned chest. Veronica's face burned as images from last night's steamy dream flashed in her head.

"Jesus Christ, Veronica! What the hell are you doing here?" Logan jerked in surprise, hands instinctively moving to ensure the towel was tightly cinched.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry. I-I'll just be outside," she stammered, stumbling through the doorway.

By the time he came out of the bedroom a few minutes later, wearing a t-shirt, jeans and sardonic grin, Veronica had managed to recover her wits. He flopped down on the couch and threw her an expectant look, one eyebrow raised. "Checking out the goods, Veronica?" he said in a low, husky drawl.

She suppressed an involuntary shiver and shakily walked over to him. "You wish," she managed in a steady voice. "Here's your key back." Veronica held out the plastic card, but he didn't move.

"Keep it," Logan said, waving her hand away after a momentary pause. "I'd take it back in a heartbeat, if I thought it would actually keep you out of my room. But I know you, Veronica. You'd just find some other way to break in … Why give Lamb the satisfaction of arresting you? Again."

This time, Veronica couldn't hide her reaction. Grinning, she said, "Wow. Look at you, being all chivalrous."

"Yeah. That's me. Always a gentleman. So, what are you doing here?"

Veronica's smile faded as she remembered the reason for her visit. "I read the autopsy report. There's not much, but additional tests narrowed the boy's age a little more. He was about two or three years old at the time of death."

"And? I know you didn't sneak in here just to tell me that."

"The coroner was also able to determine the cause of death … The boy's neck was broken, most likely from a fall."

"A fall? Then it was an accident?"

"Maybe. But the report also said there must've been considerable force for him to have broken his neck the way he did. Someone probably pushed him, or hit him so hard he fell."

Logan paled and bent his head. "Were there … other injuries?"

She shook her head. "No, but that doesn't necessarily mean …."

"That he wasn't abused? I know. It was years before Aaron broke any of my bones." Logan stood suddenly, and stalked to the terrace, somberly leaning against the glass door. "Why are you here, Veronica? You've never said who hired you to investigate all this? The dean?"

"What? No one. I – I just noticed the resemblance and I had to know."

Logan stared at Veronica. "So you're doing this for kicks? Must be one hell of a boring summer. Look, I've been thinking, whatever happens, this ends when the test results come back, right? I mean, even if he is my brother, Aaron's been dead for a year."

"There's still a lot of unanswered questions, Logan. We don't even know who the mother was."

"Yeah, but does it really matter? Maybe it's better for everyone if you just let it go."

An irrational panic momentarily threw Veronica as she looked helplessly at Logan. At a loss for words, she lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug, her eyes locked with his. "Logan … I …"

"Forget it," he said, holding her gaze. "I don't know what I was thinking. You never let anything go."

I let you go, she thought in despair.

Veronica left the suite moments later, forlorn and disappointed. She'd wanted to find out how Logan was coping, but instead of being a comfort, she managed to make things worse. Alarmed by how easily he could slip out of her life, she'd instinctively grasped at the only available straw – the case – to prevent that from happening. Only now did she realize her folly.

She was still searching for a way to fix things with Logan, when Cliff gave Veronica her chance at a do-over a few days later. She was glumly filing case reports when the unabashed ambulance chaser strolled in. "Just the pint-sized detective I was looking for," he said, dropping onto the sofa just as Keith entered the room. "The DNA test results are in. It's a match. Logan and the dead toddler have the same paternal, genetic profile."

Veronica only vaguely heard Cliff go on to explain that Lamb had already deduced the child was the result of Aaron Echolls' many affairs and in light of the nearly 20 year time lapse, there was little chance of finding the mother.

"He's convinced Aaron killed the boy in a fit of rage. Given what we know about Logan's father, it's not too much of a stretch even for Lamb, and with his prime suspect already six feet under, he's made this case a low priority."

"Does Logan know?" Veronica interrupted.

"I was just there."

Veronica stood, grabbing her bag as she called over her shoulder. "I've gotta go. Don't wait up, Dad."

When Logan answered his door less than an hour later, she pushed past him carrying bags of food, not even bothering with a formal greeting.

"I've got lasagna and Easy Rider. Please tell me there's still some ice cream in that mini fridge of yours, because that's the one thing I forgot." She glanced at Logan, who was still standing at the open door. "Are you going to shut that, or what?"

Logan rolled his eyes, kicking the door closed. "At least you knocked," he muttered.

"I knocked the last time. Can I help it if you didn't hear me?"

"Where's that key again? The thought of you behind bars is suddenly sounding better and better."

"Too late," Veronica chirped smugly. She set the takeout bags on the ottoman, next to a cardboard box filled with photos, drawings and other personal papers. Unable to resist, she reached inside and withdrew one of the pictures, her lips tugging into a smile at the image. Logan and a familiar-looking blond, blue-eyed boy mugged for the camera, their arms flung around one another, sporting grins that were missing several teeth between them.

"You're such a snoop." Logan came up behind Veronica, looking over her shoulder at the photo in her hand. "That was taken at summer camp, the year Duncan and I met. We were like, five, I think."

"You were adorable." When Logan didn't respond, she held up one of his crayon drawings. "Your stick figures, on the other hand, could use a little more depth. What is all this?"

Logan handed Veronica a can of soda and sat down on the couch, grabbing one of the takeout boxes. "Cliff was after me to sell my parents' houses, so I've been going through their stuff. I found some things up at the cabin that my mom had been keeping."

Veronica suddenly remembered the photo Logan had mentioned in Lamb's office and began rummaging through the box, abandoning dinner to pursue the case. "Where's that picture of your dad at Hearst?"

Logan put down his food with a sigh, disappearing into the bedroom for several minutes before returning with a scrapbook. He quickly flipped through the pages until he found the loose photo stuck between press clippings and handed it to Veronica.

A long-haired, twenty-something Aaron Echolls stood among a half dozen other students by the arched entrance to the Hearst Library, unmistakable for its imitation of California's Spanish mission architecture. Veronica ignored the bell bottoms and checkered pants, zeroing in on the two women.

The first woman - a wiry brunette in an oversized blazer – was half-turned from the camera, her face virtually hidden under a large, floppy hat save for a pair of tortoise shell glasses. She stood slightly apart from the group, looking away as if bored. The coed with blond, feathered tresses who was draped over Aaron's shoulder, however, looked anything but bored, and Veronica's curiosity was instantly piqued.

"Gee, where can I get hot pants?" Veronica said, plopping easily onto the couch next to Logan, their bare arms nearly touching. "Your dad seems pretty cozy with this groovy chick. You don't recognize her, do you?"

Logan glanced at the woman Veronica was pointing at and shook his head. "Nope. Don't know her. Kind of a long shot anyway, don't you think? I mean, the … my brother … had to have been born in the late '80s, right? This photo was taken at least a decade before."

"Yeah, I know." Veronica tossed the photo onto the ottoman and resumed eating, stabbing her fork into the lasagna. "The mother could still be someone Aaron met at Hearst. Maybe they had an on-again, off-again thing, or she wasn't exactly a girlfriend, you know, in the strictest sense of the term …"

Logan snorted in derision. "Like how my father wasn't a faithful husband, you know, in the strictest sense of the term? If a wife and two kids couldn't put a damper on Aaron's sex life, I doubt some supposed girlfriend did, either. He cast a wide net. The mother could be any one of his playmates."

He dumped his takeout container into an empty bag and slumped against the smooth, leather cushions. Veronica studied him over her shoulder, noting that despite his relaxed posture, Logan's jaw was clenched. She shifted, sitting sideways to face him, hesitantly placing a hand on his forearm. "Hey," she whispered. "How are you dealing with all this?"

Logan stiffened, so slightly that Veronica thought she'd imagined it, until she saw his forced shrug. "I'm fine. It's nothing I haven't been through before. No, really," he said when she started to interrupt. "It's easier, actually, because at least this time, he's dead."

Veronica was silent as she searched his face, debating whether he was telling her the truth. Head bent, Logan's gaze was fixed on his fingers, which were restlessly plucking at the hem of a sleeve. "Logan, for what it's worth, I'm here if you want to talk, or whatever."

A corner of Logan's mouth quirked up, his eyebrows teasing as he leered. "Talking doesn't interest me so much, but this 'whatever' sounds intriguing. What exactly did you have in mind?"

Veronica felt her cheeks grow warm, even as her lips curved in a smile. She slugged him lightly in the shoulder and their eyes locked, the spark of mischief between them quickly flaring into a different kind of heat. Her breath hitched as they stared at each other, and it struck her that she and Logan were like two magnets, helplessly drawn together despite their similar natures, defying the laws of physics.

Logan broke away first, straightening as he cleared his throat. After an awkward beat, he gestured to his mother's belongings. "Uh, anyway … My mom saved all kinds of photos and letters, so have at it, Nancy Drew. Maybe you'll find a clue in there somewhere."

Veronica blinked and let out the breath she'd been holding. For a single, fleeting instant, she thought he was going to kiss her and her heart had quickened with an unexpected joy. Now, she secretly admitted to herself, she'd been wishing for it all along.

She swallowed, hoping Logan couldn't sense her disappointment, and settled back on the couch, reaching for the scrapbook. After half-heartedly leafing through several pages, Veronica slowly realized the album was a chronicle of Aaron's early career, going as far back as a 1986 magazine photo spread of him with an adoring Lynn Lester by his side. A feminine hand had carefully noted dates and locations next to each clipping.

"Your mom must've started this album when she was dating Aaron," Veronica murmured, her voice trailing off as she turned the page and spotted the familiar masthead of the Hearst Free Press. The story about the up-and-coming Hollywood heartthrob's return to his alma mater had actually made the front page of the college newspaper.

"According to this article, Aaron was a student at Hearst, but dropped out in '79 to pursue acting full-time. After he made it big, he was asked to come back and speak to a bunch of film and dramatic arts students. Look, there's even a photo." Veronica angled the scrapbook so that it rested on both their laps.

Logan huffed, barely glancing at the black and white image, as he pointed a remote at the television and clicked it on. "That's what passed for journalism back then? No wonder my father's crappy movies were hits." He picked up the DVD Veronica brought and started to stand, but hesitated as something in the photo caught his eye.

It was a standard, cheesy, grip-and-grin shot of Aaron surrounded by students as he shook hands with a pretty, dark-haired coed, whose large, expressive eyes made Logan suck in his breath, shocked. "Let me see that," he said, clicking off the TV before grasping the album to take a closer look. "I don't believe it. I mean, I can't be sure, but I'd swear this woman is Dick's new girlfriend."

"Wow. I'm stunned. Dick has a girlfriend?"

"I just met her the other night … She kept going on about how I looked like my dad when he was my age, but I just thought she was some Hollywood brown noser type. It never occurred to me she actually knew him."

"The caption says her name is Heather Sutton. Apparently, she was president of the Drama Club," Veronica said, craning her neck to read the article. "Looks like she was single-handedly responsible for getting Aaron to speak at Hearst."

"Jeez…it's got to be the same woman. Dick just introduced her as Heather, no last name, but he said she was divorced."

"You know, she kind of looks like …"

"Kendall. Yeah, I noticed."

"It's sort of …"

"Creepy? I got that, too, but can we focus on the problem at hand here, Mars? It can't be a coincidence that Heather Sutton hooks up with Dick right when everything starts going down, can it?"

"Did Dick say when they met?"

"No. But it must've been while I was gone. He was seeing some other girl when I left."

"Well, we can't say for sure Heather knew Aaron, just that they met in January of '87, but the timing definitely works. Your brother could've been born as early as October of the same year, and even if he was conceived months later, it still fits." Veronica paused. "Oh my god, Logan. You were both around the same age."

"A little slow on the math, Veronica? It's alright. I already figured it out. It kind of explains things though, doesn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"My parents were the golden couple of the '80s. He was the Hollywood hero, who married his leading lady so they could live happily ever after in their Beverly Hills mansion. The press loved them, and all the ink they got fueled his career. There was no way he was going to leave my mother for some college coed, even if she was pregnant with his kid."

"What are you saying, Logan?"

"That my dad had a pretty strong motive for hiding his affair."

The room fell silent as Veronica considered his words and after several, long moments, Logan spoke again, this time in a quiet, wistful voice.

"You know, my mom was three months pregnant with me when she married my dad. They got hitched in September of '87, and I was born the following March. I've known for years, but all of this has made me wonder – what if they hadn't gotten married? It's not like they had to. She could've had an abortion, or put me up for adoption, raised me on her own…"

"Logan…"

"Aaron was poison. She could've been happy if it weren't for him. If she hadn't married him, she and my brother might still be alive … and so would Lilly."

Veronica sat up, whirling to face him. "Yeah, or maybe it would've been your bones lying under that building for the past 20 years! When are you going to get it through that head of yours, Logan? What happened to your mom and Lilly – it wasn't your fault …"

"I don't …"

"No. Just shut up and listen. What about Cassidy? You had nothing to do with him blowing up the bus. So if you weren't here, if you weren't you, who would've saved me that night on the roof?" Veronica's voice broke as her eyes searched his face. "I miss Lilly and I wish she were here, alive and well. But Logan, I wouldn't change anything else."

He looked up, his gaze challenging her, and Veronica saw from Logan's skeptical expression that he didn't believe her. "I swear, Logan. It's true … My only regret is what happened … with Piz. It was a horrible mistake. I-I don't even know why …"

Logan averted his eyes and bent his head to resume staring at his hands. "Did you and Piz…?"

Veronica frowned, puzzled for a moment, until she realized what he was asking. "God, no, Logan. It was just … the one kiss. Nothing else happened – then or since … I looked for you, afterwards, but you were gone." She paused and took a deep breath. "Logan, I'm so…."

"It's okay," he interrupted, meeting her eyes and offering a small reassuring smile before he ducked his head. "What's done is done. You know, it was probably for the best anyway. I mean, you and I? We were bound to be a disaster."

Logan's words pricked her heart and she winced, blinking back the sudden moisture in her eyes. She didn't know why it bothered her so much. Hadn't she thought the exact same thing not so long ago? But that had been before they'd spent nearly a year together, happy and … in love.

"It wasn't all bad." Veronica's voice was almost a whisper. "I was pretty happy, actually."

She looked up into Logan's surprised eyes and their gazes locked. "Yeah, me too," he said, so low she thought she'd imagined it.

That night, like so many others, they fell asleep curled on the couch with the television screen still flickering in the darkened room. But in the morning, unlike all those other times, Veronica woke up alone, wrapped in an afghan she'd never seen before. Quietly, she slipped out of the suite.

When she got home, Keith was sitting in the kitchen spooning cereal from a big, blue bowl with "My Daddy" painted in bright red on the side. "I'm not going to say anything about you being out all night," he said, between mouthfuls.

"Thanks for not mentioning it, Dad … I was with Logan. I didn't want him to be alone."

Keith put down his spoon and nodded. "How's he taking the news?"

"He feels guilty, I think. He still blames himself for Lilly and his mom. This just stirred all that up again," she said, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"He just needs some time, honey." Keith stood and rinsed his bowl in the sink before grabbing his briefcase to leave. "By the way, I have a new client. Seems some Hollywood agent was found shot to death in his office, and all signs point to a suicide. His widow hired me to prove it was murder so she can collect the $2 million insurance policy."

"Sounds interesting."

"Yeah, well, the funny thing is, the dead guy - Harvey Greenblatt? I knew him. We met when Logan's mom hired me to find that stalker. He was Aaron Echolls' agent."