A/N: Thank you guys so much for the lovely feedback so far! I'm sorry that this is another short chapter - they should get longer soon, I promise! Hope you enjoy.

When Veronica arranged to question the witness to Lynn Echolls' suicide, she hadn't intended to find herself sitting next to Logan in the sheriff's station, half-wondering if she'd leave the place in handcuffs.

He'd already been there when she showed up, fidgeting and glaring at everyone like he hoped they'd pick a fight.

"Gum?" he'd offered, and then gone silent, clenching his fists and jiggling his leg so hard she could feel it through the floor. She recognized his pre-beat down body language from years of seeing Duncan haul him off of guys who hit on Lilly or dissed Logan's sister, or just plain looked at him the wrong way.

"We should do this more often," she joked, a little snarkily. He didn't even look at her.

He'd been in a weird funk ever since he came by her apartment last night. Well, "weird" wasn't really the right word. "Completely understandable funk" might be more accurate. She remembered that sick, anxious feeling from when her own mom had bailed – like the bottom had dropped out of the world and the only way to keep from getting sucked out after it was to make herself as hard and as small as possible. Logan had tried pulling off "normal" today at school, but the hunted look in his eyes had given him away. That, and the fact that he'd actually been civil to her.

She leaned her head back against the fake wood paneling, wishing she'd taken him up on the gum. She could smell the cinnamon on his breath from here, and it made her mouth water. Back in the day, they'd always shared gum, since they were the only ones who preferred cinnamon to spearmint. Lilly used to call Logan "hot lips" whenever he chewed it – mostly because it totally grossed out Duncan.

The door to the interrogation room opened and their witness stepped out. Logan tensed like a hunting dog on the trail of a fox.

"Down, boy," Veronica muttered as the woman sauntered past.

Irene Denton looked just as cartoonish in real life as she had on the six o'clock news, telling Martina Vasquez how she'd seen Mrs. Echolls leap off the Coronado Bridge. Fake boobs, fake lips, fake tan… So Veronica wasn't too surprised a minute later, when Irene's story turned out to be fake too.

Cliff's voice crackled through Veronica's earpiece, playing the sleazy tabloid journalist to perfection.

"Miss Denton! Did she look intoxicated? Drugged up? Bruised?"

Veronica winced. She really should have told Cliff that Lynn's son would be listening.

"If you'd like," Irene smirked, "sure."

Predictably, Logan blew up. Just as predictably, he played the class card. At least the boy was consistent.

"So, what!" he yelled, launching himself at Irene. "You couldn't get on Springer this week, so you make lies up about my mom?!"

"Logan–" Veronica grabbed his arm before he could take a swing.

"You know, I am sure the trailer payments must be high," he shouted as Irene beat a hasty retreat. "And what with the high price of SPAM these days–"

"Okay, enough!" Veronica got in his face – as much as she could with the ten-inch height difference – and he backed down, shaking her off and turning to pace the hallway.

Veronica kept an eye on Logan as she thanked Cliff. Even with the promise of a hefty IOU, Cliff looked like he regretted getting involved. You and me both, Cliffy.

She took a deep breath and turned to deal with Logan.

Then Deputy Leo walked by – charming, sweet Deputy Leo, with his adorkable pick-up lines and penchant for saving her dad's life. Deputy Leo, who she'd used to break into the evidence room and steal a recording of the anonymous tip that had named Abel Koontz as Lilly's killer. Deputy Leo, who she'd gotten suspended from the force, and who hadn't even told on her.

"I have to take care of something," she told Logan. Her stomach was writhing with something uncomfortably like shame, but she squared her shoulders and followed Leo back into the bullpen.

She apologized as sincerely as she knew how, watching Leo's face change as he forgave her faster than she probably deserved. When she said that she'd used him before falling for him, he broke into a goofy grin.

"You fell for me?"

"It's the tear-away uniform," she said, smiling and – egad – actually blushing. "I've got a thing for male strippers."

Veronica definitely hadn't planned to leave the sheriff's department smiling today. Then she stepped back into the hallway and spotted Logan, and the smile dropped right off her face.

Logan straightened when he saw her, his face a scary mix of rage and excitement.

"That bitch is a liar. She's never even seen my mom."

Veronica held out her hand for his earpiece, putting it away carefully so she didn't have to look at him.

"I think that's a fair assumption."

"We're going to find her," Logan declared. Veronica managed not to cringe.

"We're going to try," she corrected. If he heard her, he didn't let on.

They headed for the exit, walking a few feet apart. Veronica shoved her hands into her pockets so she wouldn't have to figure out what to do with them.

For 9,999th time, she wondered why she'd agreed to help him. Was it out of some soppy loyalty to their long defunct friendship? Or was it because her own mom's vanishing act made it a little too easy for her to relate?

For the 10,000th time, she wasn't sure.

That unnerved her. She needed to pinpoint her motive, if only so she could figure out the rules of engagement for… whatever this was. She'd been at war with Logan for too long to think there wouldn't be rules. You didn't go from letting a guy steal the pineapple off your pizza to having him smash your headlights without learning a hell of a lot about him.

She knew that Logan liked to swim with his shirt on but surf with it off. His favorite food was nachos. His pet peeve was political correctness. He loved any movie starring Clint Eastwood. He hated every movie starring Aaron Echolls. He called his sister Trina "The Cuntessa," but went ballistic if anyone else said a word against her. Smoking made him sick, but he enjoyed the affectation of a cigar clamped between his teeth. He had a pocketknife that could cut through tire rubber. He called her Ronnie when he was about to say something awful. Before she'd planted a bong in his locker, his combination had been 35-24-12. Now it was 16-21-32.

It had been easy being Logan's friend. It had been surprisingly easy being his enemy. Now? Now she didn't know what she was. His acquaintance of convenience? His friend as long as she was useful? His private dick? Was this a truce, or just a temporary ceasefire? If she could prove that Mrs. Echolls was alive, would they go back to being best buds?

Between Lilly's murder, Mom's abandonment and Duncan's wordless dismissal, Veronica's heart had been so broken that losing Logan's friendship hadn't really hurt at the time. It had hurt more since, like when he and Dick Casablancas filled her locker with condoms after Shelly Pomroy's party, or when he told everyone that Mom was an alcoholic – a secret even Lilly hadn't known.

It would be easy to say she hated him. Easy, but untrue. He'd been her friend for too long, and old habits died hard. Besides, could she really hate anyone who loved Lilly as much as she did?

They emerged onto the white steps of the sheriff's station, blinking in the early spring sunlight.

"What are you going to do now?" Logan asked.

So we're exchanging small talk, are we?

"Right now?" She forced her brain to switch over to her other case; the one that didn't involve doing favors for her chief-tormentor-slash-frenemy. "Going to visit Mr. Rooks. I have some questions for him about Carrie Bishop's performance."

Logan smirked.

"Let me guess: you think she's lying."

She frowned. Mr. Rooks, one of the only good teachers at Neptune High, seducing a student? Of course she thought Carrie was lying.

"What makes you stay that?"

Logan's smirk widened, turning into an actual, honest-to-goodness smile.

"Maybe because everyone else thinks she's telling the truth?"

Veronica waited for the words to burn, but the fire wasn't there. For once, Logan wasn't being an ass. After a moment, she let herself smile back.

Logan shook his head, looking down at her with something like… affection? Tolerance? Maybe plain old nostalgia?

Before she could decide, his face iced over and he looked away.

"What I meant was, what are you doing about my mom's case?"

Veronica gritted her teeth, her smile vanishing. Right. No small talk, then.

"At this point, I think the credit cards are our best lead." Logan opened his mouth and Veronica cut him off before he could argue. "She wouldn't have bothered taking the cards if she didn't intend to use them."

He seemed to think about it, then shut his mouth and nodded. After a moment, he took a few steps back, edging away from her like he wanted to leave but couldn't remember how.

"Thanks. You know, for…" He jerked his thumb toward the station.

Veronica offered a sympathetic smile. "Let me know if you hear anything."

Logan's jackass smirk returned full force. She braced herself.

"You mean if she calls?" He snorted, fixing his gaze somewhere above her head. "Sure thing, Ronnie. You'll be the first."