A/N: I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this story so far! Thank you so much for your awesome support. And now, back to Logan's POV...

As if school didn't suck enough already.

After Lilly died, everyone had walked on eggshells around him, shooting him puppy-dog looks and telling him how sorry they were. That had been bad enough. But it turned out there was a difference between your girlfriend getting murdered by some psycho and your mom killing herself because your dad couldn't keep it in his pants. Now he was getting sneers instead of sympathy; stage whispers instead of condolences.

He didn't actually need to be at school. Dad had offered to write him an excuse for the rest of the week – part of his sudden bid for Father of the Year. Logan had been planning to take him up on it. Then Dad made an appointment for him to see Mom's shrink – "so he can prescribe something for your anger issues" – and Logan had suddenly remembered why he didn't take Dad up on anything.

When in doubt, throw pills at the problem. They should put that on the Echolls family crest.

So he'd come back to school, half-expecting to find his locker plastered with articles about Mom's supposed suicide and Dad's mistresses. It had taken him a couple days to realize that his locker was only clean because Duncan beat him to it every morning. But not even the great President Kane could stop the gossip.

It was like he'd suddenly turned into Veronica Mars. The irony wasn't lost on him. Neither was the karma.

Then Carrie Bishop announced that she'd been nailing Mr. Rooks, and everyone got swept up in the newest Neptune drama. At least the rabble were a predictable bunch. When people started singing "Don't Stand So Close To Me" at Carrie in the halls, he figured his fifteen minutes were over. Until he went to his locker one afternoon and caught Dick ripping something off of it.

"Give me that," he snapped.

"Dude…"

Logan snatched the paper out of Dick's hand and smoothed it out.

LYNN ECHOLLS ALIVE!?

His heart lodged in his throat.

It was the cover of The National Instigator – some tabloid rag – but that headline… And underneath: Exclusive interview gives proof!

"People suck, right?" Dick said, bumping Logan's shoulder with his fist.

"Yeah," Logan muttered. He flipped the page over, but there was just an ad for a small claims lawyer on the back. He needed to find the whole issue. "Yeah, man. Thanks."

He stuffed the paper into his bag and headed for the parking lot, leaving his books in his locker.

"You okay, bro?" Dick called after him. Logan waved over his shoulder and broke into a jog.

He drove straight to the Sac n' Pac. He kept his sunglasses on out of habit, but the kid behind the counter recognized him anyway. It was that black guy Veronica hung out with – Wilbur or Wallace or something.

Logan slapped a copy of The Instigator onto the counter and smiled, daring the kid to comment. Wilbur didn't say a word. Not even, "sorry about your mom." Nice friends Ronnie had these days.

Logan barely made it to his car before tearing into the paper.

LYNN ECHOLLS IS ALIVE! the headline screamed across two pages. Underneath was a photo of Logan and his parents at the Oscars last year. Dad's latest ego stroke had been up for Best Director, but Logan figured the three of them deserved a nomination for the show they'd put on that night. They'd played the Happy Family to perfection. No one would have guessed that Logan had come home drunk and stoned in the back of a patrol car two nights earlier, or that Dad had woken him up the following morning with a belt across the back.

The photographer had caught Logan grinning at Mom. He couldn't remember what he'd been smiling about, but the media had been going nuts for this photo ever since she disappeared.

When Lynn Echolls' car was found abandoned on a bridge on the afternoon of February 5, investigators concluded that she had leapt to her death following heartbreaking revelations about husband Aaron's infidelity (reported in our January 20 issue). Now shocking new evidence suggests that Lynn is actually alive!

In an exclusive interview, eyewitness Saundra Bolin of Sunset Springs told us that she was driving on that same bridge when she saw the actress get out of her sleek red convertible and into a blue van with a "mysterious stranger."

"She was laughing," Bolin recalls. "She looked so happy, like she was having fun."

Instigator readers will remember that Lynn and Aaron's marriage has been on the rocks since last Christmas, when…

Logan skimmed the rest of the article, but it was just the same old crap about Dad's cheating getting him shish kebabed at his own Christmas party. On the opposite page, there was a blank outline of a man's head and shoulders, apparently to show the idiot mob what a "mysterious stranger" looked like. It didn't matter. He'd read enough.

He probably broke a few speed limits on his way to Mars Investigations. The brick building was in a crappy part of town, somewhere between the strip malls and skid row. Veronica's cereal box prize of a car was parked on the curb outside. Logan had never been so glad to see it.

He felt like he was in a noir flick as he climbed the old, wooden stairs past a flickering wall sconce. Veronica's voice floated out of an open door.

"Hi, this is Veronica Mars. I was wondering if I could get in to see the doctor this week?"

Logan poked his head into the office. Veronica had her back to him, and he wondered if he should wait in the hall. It felt weird, being near her without her knowing he was there. But there was nowhere to sit in the hall, and he was technically a client. He took a few steps into the room.

The office was dark and cluttered, with stained walls and a fish tank glowing in one corner. Afternoon light cast red and yellow patterns on the linoleum floor. They could have bought the place wholesale off the set of an old PI movie.

"End of the day would be best," Veronica was saying. "I have… band practice after school."

Logan smirked. Band practice. Yeah, right. She'd quit the clarinet after three weeks in junior high because she couldn't take the way the reed felt slimy in her mouth. He and Lilly had cracked raunchy jokes about it to make Veronica blush.

He gritted his teeth, shoving the memory away.

"Five would be great," Veronica said. "Thanks." She hung up.

There was another room to his left. Logan glanced in to make sure Mr. Mars wasn't around before saying, "I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure penicillin will clear that problem right up."

Veronica turned, surprising him with a smile. He thought of how shitty life at school had been for the past few days, and let himself smile back. Veronica might have betrayed them, but he'd made sure the damage went both ways.

"Can't say I was expecting you," Veronica said. Warmly, like she was glad he was here.

He looked away, pretending to check out the red and yellow windows. "Yeah. Yeah, I usually avoid buildings with stained glass."

"So that's why you haven't come to visit."

He wasn't even going to touch that one.

Instead, he stepped forward and dropped The National Instigator on her desk with a flourish.

"There's a woman who saw my mom get out of her car and get in a van with a 'mysterious stranger,'" he announced, air quotes and all.

He didn't realize he was grinning until Veronica stopped. The vomit feeling he'd had since Mom disappeared started up again, and he clung to the little thread of hope he'd found between the lines of the article.

"There's also a jungle tribe that worships Donald Trump's hair." Veronica's voice dripped with patronizing pity. "It's a tabloid."

He snorted, wrapping his resentment in a wisecrack. "So the girl with the pig arm can't really bowl?"

Veronica bit her lip. "I just don't want you to get your hopes up."

Of course. Saint Veronica, patron of duped husbands and trust fund suckers. Why couldn't she just shut up and do her job like everyone else? Why make it personal?

"I am not paying you to worry about my hopes," he snapped. "I'm paying you to follow leads."

Veronica looked back at the tabloid, her face softening in surprise.

"I wasn't aware you were paying me."

Wait. What the hell did she think was going on here? He might need her services, but that didn't mean all was forgiven.

"This isn't a favor," Logan reminded her, confused and annoyed. "It's a job, you know? I mean, we're not exchanging friendship bracelets."

Veronica's jaw tightened. "I'll stop braiding."

Logan watched her for a moment as she skimmed the article. If she didn't think she was getting paid, why the hell was she doing this?

"The woman said my mom was laughing and having fun," he said before he could think about it too much. "So do whatever it is you do and track her down."

"Saundra Bolin of Sunset Springs," Veronica read, her voice recovering the hard edge Logan knew and loathed. "How am I gonna find her?"

She picked up the phone. Logan wandered toward a cabinet and leaned against it, watching her. In a few minutes, he might know for sure that Mom was alive. Why did that thought make him nauseous?

Veronica said a few words to the operator, then put her hand over the receiver.

"I'll put it on your bill," she whispered to him, fully a bitch again. Logan managed a sarcastic smile before she turned back to the phone.

"Hi, Saundra!" Logan's pulse picked up. "This is Veronica of The National Instigator. I had a few follow-up questions on your Lynn Echolls story?" She paused. "Actually, in person is a lot better. …No, Tuesday night's no good – newspaper work night."

If Logan's heart started beating any harder, he was pretty sure he was going to puke it up.

"What are you doing?" he hissed.

Veronica looked up at him, and he couldn't figure out how he'd ever thought her face was soft.

"Any chance you're available right now?"

He paced around the office while Veronica arranged to meet Saundra Bolin in half an hour. Finally, she hung up.

"I'm–"

"Coming with me?" Veronica interrupted. She arched an eyebrow. "What a surprise."

They drove to the café in separate cars. By the time they got there, Veronica was all business, any talk of friendship bracelets and pro bono work thankfully forgotten. She made him buy her a latte and then stuck him at a table facing the wall.

"I'm playing the intrepid girl reporter, remember?" she said when he tried to argue. "Doesn't really work if you're with me. I'll make sure she sits where you can hear."

He watched her set up on a couch nearby, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen. She clicked the pen a few times and made a note. He guessed she might be believable as a journalist – if it was Bring Your Daughter to Work Day.

Well, she was the best he was going to get. He turned back to his coffee, stomach churning.

He wondered if Saundra Bolin had got a good look at Mom's "mysterious stranger." As far as Logan knew, his mother had always been faithful. Still, he was betting there were more than few guys in her life who wouldn't mind taking her away from all this.

What would he say when he found her? Part of him wanted to scream at her until she apologized for scaring the crap out of him. Another part wanted to play it cool – just show up wherever she was staying, like it was no big deal. Oh hey, Mom. Didn't know you were here. Just to prove that he could keep her secret; that she didn't have to disappear from him. It was his turn to protect her now, and he swore he'd be better at it than she was.

It had always been him and Mom versus Dad and Trina, even before Logan understood that there were sides to take. When he was a kid, he told himself that was why Dad was so hard on him – because he hated that Logan and Mom shared something he couldn't touch. Logan had been a jackass even then, and he'd gone out of his way to rub it in the old man's face. The deep, twisted truth was that sometimes, he hated Mom for being weak even more than he hated Dad for hitting him.

So maybe he'd let his resentment show through sometimes. Maybe he'd brushed off her hugs and snapped at her when he shouldn't have. And now she was gone.

"Saundra?"

He jerked at the sound of Veronica's voice, shooting a quick look toward the door.

Saundra Bolin was tall, around Mom's age, with chin-length red hair. Logan grinned. She looked a hell of a lot more reliable than that Denton bitch.

"You must be Veronica," Saundra said.

"Thanks so much for agreeing to meet. Can I get you a drink?"

Saundra ordered another latte and they chitchatted while waiting for it to show up.

Logan peeked over his shoulder. Saundra had her back to him, and he risked a "hurry up" gesture at Veronica. Of course, she ignored him.

"So," Veronica said, once they'd covered the weather, the traffic and the tourists, "I'm not sure how much you were paid for the last interview…"

"Oh, I wasn't paid! I thought people should know the truth. With that… woman… lying on every talk show…"

Logan grinned, pressing his fist against his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. This was it. Saundra Bolin was for real. Hope swelled in his chest like a balloon, getting bigger with every word.

"Is there anything else you remember?" Veronica asked. "Model of the van… maybe a piece of the license plate?"

"Honestly, I was just so excited to see Lynn! I thought they were filming a movie or something."

"Have you ever seen Lynn Echolls before?"

"Once. At the premiere of Delta Blue Bombers. She was on the red carpet with Aaron." Logan recognized her gushing tone from the groupies that mobbed those events, screaming his parents' names like they owned them. "I must've seen that movie a hundred times!"

"A hundred times!" Veronica exclaimed.

Saundra's voice was breathless with excitement. "I can check if you want!"

Logan's hope balloon started to deflate. Quickly.

"So the van," Veronica reminded her. "In the interview, you said the van was blue?"

"It was the van from The Pursuit of Happiness," Saundra squealed. "The exact van."

It felt like his chest was actually imploding, like his ribs were crushing his heart. He tried to suck in a breath, but his lungs wouldn't blow up all the way.

"You mean the exact model?" Veronica tried.

"No. The actual van. From the movie!"

Logan turned, not caring anymore if Saundra recognized him. Then he noticed Veronica staring at him, and realized he cared about that a lot more.

He shot her what he hoped was a sarcastic, "don't give a shit" smile and headed for the door. Behind him, Saundra was yammering about how young and in love his parents used to be.

"I don't know why anyone could ever think she'd kill herself! She is the luckiest woman in the world!"

He rounded the corner and slumped against the glass block wall, staring through it at Saundra Bolin. The thick glass warped her into a smear of colors, like a photo under water. He wished he'd let her stay like that: a vague, unfocused idea. He should never have tried to get a closer look.

"I would've done the same thing."

He turned to find Veronica behind him.

"Done what?" he muttered.

"If it was my mother? I would've let myself believe that story."

Her voice wasn't gentle or pitying. It was hard. Honest.

A memory snuck up and hit him in the gut: Veronica, alone at her locker last year. Her hair was long and she still dressed like a girl. He'd been with a bunch of guys and it was so damn easy he hadn't been able to resist.

"Hey, Ronnie! I hear your mom's living at the Camelot these days." She'd whirled around, eyes brimming with hope and tears, and he'd been so pissed at her that he'd landed the joke anyway. "Apparently Wednesdays are two-for-one BJs. Think she'll give me an extra discount, since we're such good friends?"

Suddenly, he couldn't stand the sight of her. He couldn't stand that she'd gone through this and survived, when he was barely coping. He couldn't stand being himself: this relentless asshole who got drunk and high, who blew off classes and pissed off Dad and never even noticed that he was killing his own mother until it was too late.

No wonder she left. He'd made it easy.

He crashed out of the café, his shoulders banging off a couple of people standing in the doorway. Someone shouted after him and he didn't bother turning around.

Mom might still be alive. But either way, he was never, ever going to find her.