Chapter 9: Logan
The morning after Veronica barged into his suite, Logan lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling, trying to banish a lingering sense of disappointment.
He'd woken shortly after 3 a.m. to find Veronica stretched out on the couch, her head pillowed in his lap. Instantly alert, alarms sounded in his head, even as his cock sprang to attention. He'd summoned all of his will power to ease out from under the slumbering girl and went in search of a blanket, knowing she always got cold in the chilly, air-conditioned suite. Then he'd fallen into his own bed, where he tossed for hours despite his exhaustion.
Veronica was gone by the time the morning sun woke him and for some reason, her absence left Logan feeling … bereft. Just when he thought he had finally grown accustomed to not having her in his life, she weaseled her way back in. But Logan was no fool. He knew she wouldn't be there if it weren't for this damn thing with his father.
Still, when she'd offered a comforting shoulder to lean on, he'd been grateful and couldn't refrain from a little bit of playful teasing. After all, baiting Veronica was second nature. He just hadn't expected the bolt of desire that hit him in the gut, rendering him nearly breathless. When he was drowning in the deep blue of her eyes, he'd been overwhelmed by the craziest compulsion to lean over and kiss her, because despite everything, kissing Veronica Mars was still the most natural thing in the world to him.
But for once, reason won out and he'd resisted the impulse. Deep in his heart, he'd known Veronica would turn away from him and he didn't think he could bear getting rejected by her, yet again. Lying alone on his bed, Logan didn't regret his decision, but wished he didn't still feel her loss so acutely.
Maybe Dick was right, Logan thought mildly horrified. I do need to loosen up - and move on.
Speaking of the devil…Logan realized he hadn't seen Dick since the night of the party. He was reaching for the phone when the door to the suite opened and his wayward friend strolled in.
"Hey man, I was just going to call you. Where've you been?" Logan asked, coming out of his room.
"I've was staying at Heather's. The woman is insatiable. Talk about endurance, I think we must've broken some sort of record," Dick answered, dropping a small duffel bag onto the couch. "So this morning we're eating breakfast in bed, and she's got the newspaper open, when all of a sudden I see your name splashed all over the front page. Dude, what the hell happened?"
"Veronica …"
At the mention of her name, Dick put up a hand to silence Logan. "Never mind. I get the picture. I should've known it had something to do with that crazy ex of yours."
"Uh, yeah. But hey, I need to ask you about Heather."
"Like does she have any divorced, horny friends? Hell yeah! Finally, you've seen the light!"
"I'm not looking for a date. I need some information about Heather. I think she knew my dad. What do you know about her?"
"For reals? She never mentioned it. Then again, we don't exactly do much talking, you know what I'm saying? I think she did mention being a Hearst alum, though."
"When did you meet her?"
"Like a few weeks ago – at the gym. Why? What's the big deal, anyway? So she knew your father. Lots of people did. This is Neptune."
"They met at Hearst, when she was a student - right around the time my half-brother would've been conceived. I need to talk to her."
Dick stared at Logan and shook his head. "Now you're starting to sound just like Ronnie. You can't think Heather had anything to do with all this?"
"I don't know. If anything, she was around Aaron at the right time, so she may know who he hooked up with."
"Okay, let's go," Dick gave in. "I was just at her place. She should still be there."
Heather Sutton lived less than two miles from Logan's old house, in the same prestigious zip code as the Kane and Casablancas families, as well as the rest of Neptune's filthy rich. Like the Echolls mansion, the Sutton place was situated on a lushly landscaped, but perfectly manicured street, ensconced behind a high wall.
Dick pulled his cherry red Porsche up to the wrought iron gate and pushed the intercom button, waving into the security camera. A few minutes later, a sultry voice on the other end cooed, "Back for another go round, stud?"
Logan glanced at Dick, who was giving him a two-handed thumbs-up sign and silently mouthing, "Score!" Stifling a laugh, Logan shook his head and grinned widely. Dick turned back to the intercom. "You know it, babe," he said to Heather, yelping when Logan smacked him in the chest. "Uh, actually, it'll have to wait. I brought a friend with me – you remember Logan. He needs to talk to you about something."
"Come on up."
The gate buzzed and after it slowly opened, Dick steered his car along the long, curved driveway that led to the main house. Logan gave a low whistle. Even by 09er standards, the place was huge. "Pretty swanky, huh?" Dick said. "Heather is a big television producer so she rakes in the dough. On top of that, her ex is some Hollywood studio big wig and she made out like a bandit in the divorce."
A maid answered the door and led them to a sunroom that looked out on an English garden. Heather greeted them as they entered the airy room, walking over to kiss Dick on the cheek. "It's nice to see you again, Logan. Have a seat," she said, gesturing to a nearby sofa. "Would either of you care for something to drink?"
"A beer would be great, babe. Thanks," Dick said, while Logan declined.
Heather turned to the maid and quietly gave her instructions before sitting on an oversized chair closest to Dick. After a few minutes of small talk, the maid returned with a beer and bottled water. "So, Logan, Dick said something about you needing to speak with me?" Heather said, after sipping her drink.
"It's about my father. I think you knew him." Logan explained how he'd found the story of Aaron's visit to Hearst in an album of old press clippings. "I just need to know what he was doing back then."
Heather drew a deep breath and sighed. "Wow. This is awkward, to say the least. Yes, I knew Aaron, but that was a long time ago. God, I must've been around nineteen."
"You were a sophomore."
She was clearly startled, but recovered quickly. "Yes, I believe you're right. Aaron's career was just beginning to take off, which was why he was willing to speak at Hearst. We met a few times to go over the particulars and frankly, I was in awe of him. He was charming and attentive and so handsome. Being nineteen and a little foolish, I had an affair with him."
"He was dating my mother."
Heather hesitated and examined her hands for a moment before nodding. "Yes, I know. I had no illusions, even then. What we had was just – a fling. I'm not proud of what I did." She folded her hands in her lap and looked directly at Logan, apparently finished with her story.
"Aren't you leaving something out? What about the whole dead, love-child thing?" Logan said.
"What?" Heather stared at Logan, incredulously. "Oh my God. Are you talking about those bones they found at Hearst? You think that was me?" She let out a hysterical laugh. "I almost wish it had been … I've never been pregnant. It seems I can't get pregnant. It was the main reason my marriage ended. My husband wanted his own flesh and blood children, and when I couldn't deliver, he bailed."
The ring of truth in her words shamed Logan into silence. "That's … I'm sorry," he finally sputtered.
She smiled grimly. "It's okay. He was a shit. I'm actually glad to be rid of him."
"Do you know of anyone else my father might've … been with, around that same time?"
Heather shook her head slowly. "No, I'm afraid not. We were together very briefly and … Wait … It's probably nothing, but we were at a café once, and he saw a woman he knew – thin, dark brown hair, glasses. He went over to her table and they spoke for a while, and when he came back, he was cagey about the whole thing. But I think he said he went to school with her."
Logan thanked her and stood to leave. Dick reluctantly followed suit, telling Heather he'd give her a call that night. As Logan was getting into the car, she called his name and he turned.
"You know, Neptune is a small town, especially if you're rich," Heather said. "I used to run into your parents at parties all the time. Thankfully, Aaron didn't remember me, but I saw how he treated your mom. He wasn't … a nice man, even when I knew him. I know I've said you look a lot like him and it's true. But you have kinder eyes."
Logan smiled and waved goodbye, sinking into the Porsche's Italian leather seat. He couldn't help thinking that of all Dick's girlfriends, Heather was the only one Logan actually liked.
By the time Dick dropped him off at the Grande, his head was throbbing from a night of restless sleep and caffeine withdrawal. He decided he wasn't going to make it through the day without coffee and headed over to the Hut. He was waiting for his to-go order when he glanced around the room and spotted Christina sitting alone at a table, sipping a frothy, iced concoction and flipping through a fashion magazine.
The barista handed Logan his coffee and he made his way to Christina's table to say hello. "Logan! Oh my God, I was totally thinking about you. Do you have some time? I'd love to catch up," she gushed, her face breaking into a warm smile.
He hesitated, about to decline, but remembered his resolve to move on and sat down across from the brunette. "Thanks. How's your summer been going?" he asked, taking a sip from his steaming beverage.
Christina briefly summarized the past couple of months, explaining she'd taken some classes to catch up on units and spent the rest of the summer working at a temp agency to make a little spending money for the year. After a pause, she added, "I read about what's been going on with your dad. I'm so sorry, Logan. All of this has got to be really hard on you, especially on top of …" Christina's voice trailed off as if she realized she'd said too much.
"On top of what?"
"Oh God. I have such a big mouth. I just meant … Well, I heard you and your girlfriend broke up."
"Oh. That. Yeah, things just didn't work out. But it's good to know Neptune's gossip mills are still in tip-top shape," Logan said, relieved he hadn't missed some other calamity.
"Well, I do try to stay informed about current events. Especially when it comes to tall, dark and handsome college boys," Christina joked. She reached across the table and placed her hand over his. "But seriously, Logan, I know it doesn't seem like it, but I am a pretty good listener if you feel like venting."
Logan stared at Christina, noticing for the first time how pretty she was. Although her friends reminded him of all the saccharine'09er girls he'd mostly spurned in high school, there was a genuineness about Christina that he'd always liked. Even after he'd rejected her advances, she'd seemed sincerely interested in being his friend.
"Look, a friend of mine is having a party tonight on her father's yacht and I'd love for you to be there," she broke into his thoughts. "I'm guessing you could really use a night out. It'll be fun, I promise."
Logan floundered, unsure what to say. "It sounds fun. But, Christina – I don't want to …"
"Lead me on?" She smiled. "That's sweet, but you don't need to worry about me, Logan. I'm a big girl and I know the score. I just happen to think you might be worth the risk. And if nothing else, I could always use a study buddy."
Logan laughed, leaning forward. "Have you seen my grades?" He was about to accept her offer, when he glanced up to see Veronica striding into the coffee house. Their eyes met and she faltered for barely a moment before changing course and walking over to their table.
"Wow, it's like déjà vu all over again," Veronica said a smile fixed on her face. "Hey, Logan. Christina. So, how's the coffee of the day?"
Christina picked up her purse, scooting her chair back. "Here, take my seat, Veronica. I've got to run, anyway. I didn't realize it was so late. About that party, Logan – can you make it?"
"Yeah, it sounds like fun. Where's it at?"
She pulled out a pen, scribbling something on one of the napkins and handed it to him. "The marina. Here's my number. Give me a call and we can go together. It was nice seeing you again, Veronica." She waved goodbye and quickly left the café.
Logan watched Christina leave, turning back just in time to catch Veronica rolling her eyes as she sat down and picked up the napkin.
"At least this one doesn't dot her i's with hearts and flowers," she said, dryly, handing it to him.
"Jealous, Veronica?" he baited her, unable to resist a smug grin. He knew full well that even if she were, she'd never cop to it.
But Veronica surprised him. Looking down at her hands, she flushed and said, "Maybe a little."
Logan's mouth dropped open in surprise, but before he could formulate a response, she rushed on. "I've been trying to reach you. Have you heard the news?"
"Uh, no. I don't think so. Dick came home this morning and we went to talk to his girlfriend. Why? What's going on?"
"You went to see Heather Sutton alone? Logan, what if she was dangerous? She could've had a gun."
"Do you have wax in your ears? I just said Dick was with me. And why would Heather have a gun?"
Veronica sat back and bit her lip. "Logan, your father's old agent Harvey Greenblatt is dead. He was found in his office a few days ago with a bullet in his head. Lamb thinks he killed himself, but his wife is trying to prove he was murdered. She hired my dad to help her."
Logan felt sick with dread as a terrible sense of foreboding came over him. "Do you think there's a connection?" he asked carefully, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.
"I don't know. His wife is a total gold digger. She's made it perfectly clear that she just wants to collect the life insurance money, which hardly makes her a trustworthy judge of whether or not he was suicidal," Veronica answered, watching Logan's face. "But, it does seem like an odd coincidence. This is Neptune."
"I know. Nothing happens accidentally," Logan finished grimly.
They fell silent as Logan drained the last of his coffee. "So, did you learn anything from Heather Sutton?" Veronica finally asked.
"Well, for starters, she couldn't have been the mother." Logan reported what he'd discovered, including Heather's story about the mystery woman in the café. "I guess she could be lying about not being able to have a kid, but there was something in her voice … I believed her, anyway."
Veronica nodded, mulling over what he'd told her. "I suppose we could check out her story. There might be medical records, or there could be something in their divorce settlement. We should talk to my dad and see if he has any ideas."
They left Java the Hut after Veronica ordered a cup of hot chocolate to go. When they arrived at Mars Investigations, Keith was in his office leaning back in his chair and reading a file. "Is that the sheriff's report on Harvey Greenblatt?" Veronica asked, rounding the desk to peer over her father's shoulder.
"Hello to you, too, darling daughter of mine." Keith said, shutting the file and holding it out of her reach. "Hi, Logan. What are you two up to? Please tell me you're doing something normal like going to the mall, or a malt shop."
Logan's lips curled in amusement . "Not unless you have a time machine," he said dryly. I'm pretty sure the last malt shop in America closed 40 years ago, Mr. Mars."
"Don't mind him. His mind is caught in a permanent time warp. He still thinks the Bee Gees are hip," Veronica told Logan. "Come on, Dad. What's in the report? You might as well spill now, because you know I'll find out one way or another."
Keith heaved an exasperated sigh and handed the file to his daughter. "There isn't much. Greenblatt's death was ruled a suicide, but from what little there is in the report, I'd say it was a pretty shoddy investigation. It could go either way, I suppose, but it just doesn't sit right with me."
"What do you mean?" Logan asked.
"Well, Harvey Greenblatt was on top of his game. He represented a slew of A-list stars and he was making money hand over fist. There were no signs of depression, or marital strife per se. Seems they were both sleeping around, so he wasn't suffering from a broken heart. And then there's his vacation plans. He booked a European Cruise just two days before he died."
"So what you're saying is, you don't think Greenblatt's death was a suicide," Veronica said.
"No, honey. I don't. But I have no way of proving it."
Chilled, Logan slowly lowered himself onto one of the office chairs and began rubbing his forehead. "It can't be a coincidence. Harvey was responsible for launching my dad's career. He'd been his agent since before Aaron got his first acting gig. They were pretty tight. If anyone knew about Aaron fathering an illegitimate child, it would've been him. And now he's dead."
"Obviously, Aaron couldn't have killed him," Keith said. "Which means, it's entirely possible he didn't kill your brother, either. The real murderer could still be on the loose. I want you kids to stay away from this, you hear? I mean it, Veronica. Someone might be out there shooting people who get too close to the truth and I won't have you getting in the line of fire. Same goes for you, Logan."
Keith stood and picked up his briefcase. "I have to break the news to Mrs. Greenblatt. She's not going to be happy to hear she won't be getting any insurance money," he said, giving Veronica a quick hug. "I've got a stakeout tonight, so I'll be home late, honey. You two behave."
The front office door had barely clicked shut when Veronica began rummaging through her father's files. Logan watched, shaking his head. "It's good to know I'm not the only man in your life you spy on. Veronica, what the hell are you doing?"
"Looking for an address," she answered, riffling through a stack of papers. "When Harvey first started working with your dad, he was with some big agency in L.A, which is where all his old files are stored. He didn't start his own firm until years later. Maybe if I can get a look at those records, we can figure out who the baby's mother is."
Logan swore. He started to remind Veronica of her father's warning, but stopped knowing he'd be wasting his breath. "Let me guess. You're going to break in." When she didn't answer, he stood and faced her across the desk. "I'll take that as a yes. I'm going with you."
"Please. I can do this kind of thing in my sleep. Besides, don't you have a date tonight?"
"Veronica, didn't you hear a word your father said? Whoever did this is desperate, and will stop at nothing to hide the truth. For God's sakes, two people have already been killed. If you do this, I'm coming with you."
Veronica pursed her lips stubbornly, pointing her finger at him. "No. You're not. I don't need a babysitter, Logan."
"Weren't you just lecturing me about talking to Heather Sutton without you?" he tried reasoning.
"That's different. You have no idea what you're doing."
"And you do? I've lost count of how many times I've had to save your skinny ass after you charged head first into some sketchy situation."
"Logan, I …"
"No. I'm dead serious, Veronica." Logan braced his fists on the desk and leaned forward so his face was inches from hers. "Either I go with you, or … I'll tell your father."
"You wouldn't."
"Try me."
Veronica glared at him, but said nothing, a sure sign he'd won the battle. "Fine," she huffed. "You can be the muscle. Just remember, I'm in charge."
Together they searched for the name and address of Harvey Greenblatt's former agency and, a half-an-hour later Veronica shouted in triumph. "Found it. Looks like its near downtown L.A. on Wilshire. It's going to take us at least a couple of hours to get there. We should leave early to try and beat the traffic."
Logan nodded, moving closer to read the paper in her hand. "Okay. When should we go?"
She shrugged. "You know, we could postpone this another night. That way you can still go on your date, and we won't have to deal with Friday night traffic."
"As touched as I am by your concern for my love life, it's really not necessary. We'll go tonight. You didn't actually think I would fall for that, did you, Veronica?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Right. I've known you since we were twelve. I know how your devious little mind works. While I'm busy getting it on, you're going to be committing a felony B&E."
"'Getting it on?' Really, Logan. You're gonna charm the socks off her."
"I'll pick you up at four. And Veronica? Just in case you're thinking of leaving early, I've got your Dad's number on speed dial."
Logan sensed Veronica was still miffed hours later when they were in bumper-to-bumper traffic on I-5 to L.A., but he didn't give a damn. He hadn't been able to shake his anxiety over Harvey Greenblatt's death, and he couldn't help thinking it was a bad omen, suicide or not. Her father's warning might have bounced off Veronica, but it had scared the shit out of Logan. He wasn't going to let anyone hurt her, especially not over some investigation into yet another one of his asshole father's sins.
He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white and pressed down on the accelerator. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Veronica turn sharply towards him, breaking the silence after a few minutes.
"So what did Christina say when you had to cancel your date?" she said conversationally. "She wasn't mad, was she?"
Her question brought a small smirk to his face. "Boy, you really are a nosy one, aren't you? No, she wasn't mad. I just told her the truth."
"…You what?"
"Relax. I only said something came up with my father's case. I'm about to commit a felony here, Veronica. It's not like I'm planning to make an announcement."
"Oh."
Logan pulled off the freeway and drove down Wilshire Boulevard, passing the Federal Building and Westwood Village as he headed east towards downtown Los Angeles. The talent agency, one of the largest in the country, was located in a gleaming glass building overlooking the famed Miracle Mile.
Veronica directed him to an underground garage, where he parked his SUV in a darkened space furthest away from the security cameras. A few minutes later, she had picked their way into the reception area. She was working the lock into the inner offices when Logan thought he heard a muffled noise in the hallway.
Roughly, he clapped his hand over Veronica's mouth and shoved her into a nearby closet. A bucket and mop took up most of the tiny enclosure's space, forcing Logan to press Veronica against the wall. They could hear footsteps just outside the door, as a security guard made his rounds. Slowly, Logan lowered his hand and peered at Veronica in the darkness. He could feel her heart pounding along with his own, and even in the dim light he caught a flicker of – something – in her eyes.
It wasn't long before the security guard's steps faded away and they heard the door to the reception area banging closed. Logan let out a relieved breath as they spilled out of the broom closet. He flashed Veronica and I-told-you-so look and she rolled her eyes.
"Okay. I'm big enough to admit when I'm wrong. You proved yourself useful. I'm glad you were here," she said, resuming her efforts to pick the inner office lock. "Although, I don't appreciate you dragging my father into this."
"Yeah, well, I'm not above emotional blackmail. Asking nicely and sheer force of will never work with you."
That last comment earned him another Veronica Mars eyeroll, as they began opening and closing doors, looking for the file room. The small, unlocked office at the end of the hall was filled with wall to wall cabinet drawers. Logan groaned. "Please say you bribed someone to tell you which drawer has what we need."
Veronica shook her head. "Let's just hope these are organized in some sort of chronological order, or we'll be here all night. You take that side of the room, and I'll take this one."
They worked in silence, both intent on finding what they needed and getting out of there. An hour later, Logan stretched and rubbed his neck, glancing at Veronica who was engrossed in an open file. "Find something?" he asked.
"Yeah. Do you have any idea how much Tom Cruise got for Mission Impossible III?" she exclaimed. "No wonder Katie Holmes married him."
Logan gave her a dirty look and opened another drawer. After a quick survey, he realized he'd finally stumbled onto the right time period. "Got it," he said in a loud whisper.
In a flash, Veronica shut her drawer and was by his side. Together they combed the cabinet until she found Harvey Greenblatt's files. Reading between the lines and dozens of parking receipts, the records showed that 20 years ago, Harvey was a struggling young talent agent who'd made a practice of scouting out new clients by visiting some of the area colleges. He struck gold when he "discovered" Aaron Echolls in a series of one-act plays put on by the Hearst Drama Department in 1978.
The agent walked away with another client that day – an actress by the name of Glory Pembroke. "Never heard of her," Logan muttered. "Guess she didn't do so well." A few more minutes of searching produced another file that proved him right. For years, Glory Pembroke trekked from audition to audition, only landing a few small parts on some little known television shows. The last page in the file was an 8 by 10 headshot of the Hollywood hopeful, who never managed to score her big break.
Logan and Veronica gaped down at the glamour shot. Glory's golden, feathered hair framed a finely sculptured face they recognized instantly. "Oh my God," Logan blurted. "It's the groovy chick – the one with my dad in the library photo."
Veronica clucked her tongue, shaking her head. "Just goes to show, you can never trust a girl in hot pants."
"As I recall, you wanted a pair just like them," he murmured.
She was grinning as she stuffed the files in her bag. They quietly snuck past the guard and crept through the deserted building until they reached Logan's SUV. By then it was almost midnight, and the freeway was clear. While Logan drove, Veronica squinted at the stolen files in the passing light from the road, until he reached over and grabbed them.
"You'll ruin your eyes," he told her. "There's nothing in there that can't wait until we get back to Neptune." He saw her flop back into the Land Rover's plush, leather seat and added, "No pouting."
A few minutes later, Veronica spoke in a soft, tentative voice. "So, is it serious?"
Confused, Logan frowned. "Is what serious?"
"You and … Christina."
Logan hesitated, considering his words carefully. "We're just friends, Veronica. Tonight wasn't even really supposed to be a date."
They drove in comfortable silence until Veronica fell asleep. She was snoring lightly when Logan pulled into her apartment complex and he gave her a gentle nudge. "Wake up Sleeping Beauty. We're home."
Except for a droopy-eyed Backup, the apartment was empty when she unlocked the door and threw it open to let Logan in. "Guess Dad is still on his stakeout," she said, crossing into her room where she promptly dumped the files on the desk. "You might as well make yourself comfortable. We could be here a while."
Logan grabbed a couple of the folders, including Glory Pembroke's, and sat down on the bed, where Backup quickly joined him. Scratching the dog's neck, he lounged on the bed, leaning on his elbow as he skimmed the pages. "Here's something," he said, sitting up. "Apparently, Harvey pulled some strings and got Glory a small part in 'The Pursuit of Happiness.'"
"The movie he made with your mom? Isn't that how your parents met?"
"Yeah. I guess it didn't work out so great for Glory, though. She only had a few scenes and they all ended up on the cutting room floor. There's nothing after that. Looks like she decided to quit acting."
"…To have a kid," Veronica supplied, studying a paper in her hand. "There's a receipt here for a sterling silver baby rattle from Tiffany. Harvey bought it for Glory in January of 1988. He claimed it as a tax write-off."
"So they had an affair while they were both at Hearst, and just picked up again when she was working on his movie," Logan surmised. "Glory was probably so besotted with Aaron, she thought he'd actually marry her when she got pregnant … But do you think she could kill her own son?"
"Unless she confesses, we may never know who killed him, or what really happened."
Logan nodded, his face troubled. "What I don't get is how she managed to explain why she suddenly didn't have a kid anymore. There was no body. Wouldn't her family wonder where he was?"
"Maybe she didn't have any family," Veronica answered. "And even if she did, Glory could've told them she put him for adoption, or gave the father custody. She probably never told anyone it was Aaron's baby."
"And give up millions in child support? It doesn't track. And how did Harvey get involved?"
"Glory was probably afraid Harvey would put two and two together once it came out that you and the dead boy were a genetic match. As far as we know, he's the only one who can ID her as the mother."
Logan sighed. "So I guess the case is solved then?"
"Yeah, pretty much," she answered, a little vaguely. "I'll probably give these to my dad and let him track down Glory Pembroke."
Logan got up from the bed, where Backup was snoring loudly, and dropped his folders on top of the stack already sitting on Veronica's desk. "It's late. I should get out of here before your dad comes home." His eyes fell on the Hearst fall schedule of classes and he picked it up, flipping through the pages.
"Have you registered for classes yet?" Veronica asked.
"Uh, no. I'm actually thinking of taking a semester off, maybe doing some traveling or something," he answered after a pause.
"What? Why?"
"Things are really crazy. The press is hounding me about this whole thing with my father, and it's just going to get worse," he shrugged. "Besides, it seems like a waste of money for me right now. It's not like I even know what I want to do."
"Since when have you cared about not wasting money?" Veronica said heatedly, her voice rising. "Don't you think that maybe you should stay in school and find something you enjoy doing, so you can be, I dunno, a productive, contributing member of society?"
Hurt mingled with Logan's flaring temper and he glared at her, his voice low and furious. "Because, otherwise, I'm what? Just another 'millionaire playboy'? Or, wait. I know. A 'Neanderthal jackass' who nails everything in a skirt, just like his old man." Seeing something flicker in her eyes, he realized he'd hit a nerve. "That's it, huh? You figured I was cheating on you. Like father, like son, right? So you decided to even the score by kissing Piz."
"Logan, no …"
But he didn't hear her. He stalked to the door and yanked it open before turning back to face her. "Why the hell did you even go out with me in the first place, Veronica? Was it just gratitude?"
When she could only stare at him in mute shock, Logan shook his head, the anger evaporating as quickly as it had sparked. "Never mind. It's not like it matters anymore." He left, and moments later the apartment door shut with a soft bang.
Logan ended the long, exhausting day the same way it began, laying on his bed staring up at the ceiling, thoughts of Veronica torturing his tired brain. Before finally drifting off to sleep, he vowed to break out of her orbit once and for all.
The first thing Logan did when he woke the next morning was call Christina. She'd left a message on the hotel phone inviting him to a bonfire at Dog Beach later in the week. After apologizing again for having to bail on her at the last minute, Logan arranged to pick her up before the beachside bash. By the time they hung up, his dark mood had lifted a little and he decided it was time to mount Phase II in his "moving on" plan.
A few hours later, he was sweating in a cement and aluminum enclosure smaller than the bathroom in his old house, as he tried to sort through boxes of his father's movie memorabilia, awards and personal papers. In the end, Logan decided to take most of the stuff back to the suite where he could go through everything more carefully. He hauled several boxes to his truck as well as most of his mother's paintings, then locked up and headed back to the Grande.
After a quick shower and burger from room service, he settled onto the couch and began riffling through the boxes. His first impulse was to trash all of the ridiculous mementos glorying Aaron's Hollywood career, but he knew they'd fetch a pretty penny in an auction and decided to donate everything to a worthy charity instead. At least this way, his father's pitiful excuse for a life would amount to one good thing, Logan thought.
The next box contained personal papers, everything from Trina's adoption records to contractors' agreements for work on the house. He set aside the adoption file to send to Trina and discarded the rest. He was about to dump the empty box, when a loose scrap of paper wedged under a flap, slipped out.
It was a cancelled check from December of '87 for $2,000. When he saw who Aaron had written the check to, a chill pierced his heart. "Oh, God," Logan breathed, the room beginning to spin.
Morgan Kennedy.
Frantic, Logan tossed apart the living room hunting for his mother's scrapbook album, until he found the photo taken in front of the Hearst library. The tall, thin coed had been almost hidden in the picture, but her hair and glasses were clearly visible. She fit the description of the woman Heather Sutton had seen in the café with Aaron. The passage of time had transformed the wiry college girl into a formidable, statuesque woman – one who was about to become the next president of Hearst College.
Suddenly, everything made sense. She'd barely blinked when Logan had approached her about getting a late acceptance to Hearst, not even when he'd sheepishly handed over his high school transcripts. He'd waited expectantly for a donation request that never came. Just before he left for Tahoe, he'd seen her standing nervously over the construction site where the bones were discovered weeks later.
And just like that, Logan knew Morgan Kennedy had buried that poor, dead little boy – her own child – in an unmarked grave on the college campus. She'd probably killed him, and then shot Harvey Greenblatt nearly 20 years later, just to hide her shameful secret.
He was still reeling from the shock as he reached for the phone to dial Veronica's number. After several rings, her voice mail picked up and Logan left a message. "Veronica I need to talk to you," he said urgently. "Please. It's important. It's about the case." He hung up and rushed out the door to search for her.
The other night, when Veronica said she would let Keith take over, she'd been noncommittal and he'd foolishly believed her. But now, Logan realized, she was probably off somewhere trying to locate Glory Pembroke – by herself. He tried to think of where she'd go, and the answer made him sick with desperation.
He jumped in the Range Rover and sped towards Hearst, using one hand to call Keith. He almost wept with relief when Veronica's father answered the phone. "Mr. Mars. I don't have time to explain, but I think Veronica could be in danger. She's probably at the Hearst administration building. I'm headed there now."
"I'm on my way. Wait for me outside. That's an order, Logan," Keith commanded, but Logan had already hung up.
Minutes later, he screeched to a halt in front of the admin building. It was late on a Saturday afternoon and the parking lot was empty, except for two cars – Veronica's silver Saturn and a black, BMW sedan. With dread in his heart, Logan ran to the heavy, wooden double doors and grasped one of the handles. He gave it a tug and the unlocked door opened without protest. This was not a good sign.
Quietly, he crept along the halls towards the assistant dean's office, stopping just outside the reception area when he heard voices. "Oh my God, what are you doing?" He could hear Veronica's fear.
"That asshole, Aaron Echolls, nearly ruined my life and I've been working my ass off ever since to get to where I am," a woman's deep, throaty voice spat out. "I'm not going to let anyone destroy what I've built, least of all Aaron's son and his snoopy twit of a girlfriend.
"Did you know we were lovers? It was off and on for years. I loved him, but he just couldn't keep it in his pants. I kept thinking someday he'd give up the bimbos, until he went and married one of them. But by then, I was already six months pregnant with his bastard and it was too late for me to have an abortion.
"Even after he'd married Lynn, he promised he'd leave her as soon as their child was born. Said he wanted to give Logan the Echolls name, and like a fool, I believed him. Andrew, that was my son's name, was two-and-half before Aaron finally admitted that he had no intention of leaving Lynn. I was enraged a - and, Andrew wouldn't stop screaming. I – I didn't mean to hit him so hard," she said, her voice breaking.
Logan risked a quick peek around the corner, terror stabbing him at the sight: About twelve feet away from him, Veronica stood next to a desk, fear and surprise written clearly on her face. From across the room, Morgan Kennedy aimed a gun directly at her.
"NO!" Without thinking, he rushed into the room, knocking Veronica to the ground and shielding her body with his own, a split second after the assistant dean pulled the trigger. The deafening shot ricocheted off the office walls, and the sound mingled with Veronica's scream.
Suddenly winded by a searing pain in his shoulder, Logan was surprised to find his arm slick with a wet, sticky substance – his blood. He was already feeling dizzy, but managed to roll off Veronica, who crawled into a nearby office, half pulling him with her. She slammed the door shut, locking it and jamming a chair up against the knob before kneeling beside him.
Using a large, metal desk as a barricade, Veronica hastily removed her jacket and pressed it to the back of his shoulder trying to staunch the flow of blood. "What the hell were you thinking?" she muttered, blinking back tears.
Logan pushed her hands away, and rasped, "Run."
"Logan, you've been shot! I can't just leave you here. I won't."
"I called your dad. He's on his way. Go out the window … get help."
"Shut up and be still. I'm not leaving you, Logan. Now just hold this. I've got to find some kind of weapon." She frantically searched the room until she found a heavy glass trophy with sharp edges, roughly the size of a softball. "Stay behind the desk," she whispered.
Logan struggled to stay conscious, even as the pain became unbearable. He watched helplessly as Veronica disappeared through another door into an adjoining office. Heels clacked on the hardwood floor, stopping just outside. The knob jiggled and another shot sounded as Morgan Kennedy fired into the door, blasting away the lock.
Heavy footsteps pounded swiftly nearby and dimly, Logan heard Keith shouting their names. There was a sickening crack, then a series of thuds followed by Veronica's clear voice. "Dad! We're over here! I'm okay, but Logan needs an ambulance. Hurry!"
Veronica was safe.
Relieved, his eyelids began to slide shut and suddenly, she was by his side, grasping his hand and calling his name as he slipped into darkness.