DISCLAIMER: I don't own any rights to Veronica Mars. This story is written as a tribute only. No celebrity endorsement is implied by product placements. All real persons' names are used in the sense of "wouldn't it be cool if this person had this gig?"
A/N: Beta-ed by Kazy, Poniesforall, and Aly88. All mistakes that remain are my responsibility.
After the rigorous day-long hike, Veronica is too tired to eat. She looks at the other girls who are eating diligently, even though Veronica sees that they are as exhausted as she is. She picks up her sandwich and tries to force it down, watching as some of the other girls gnaw slowly at the crust, then take miniscule bites, chewing each portion thoroughly. Veronica realizes they are savoring the pathetic meal, languishing over each bite as if it is a religious experience.
For her part, she thinks of her old comfortable water bed in Neptune. She smiles, thinking of her dad finding it for her at the garage sale, and fantasizes about slipping into soft, clean sheets that smell of fabric softener. She imagines drifting off to sleep with her dad right next door, keeping her safe. How did she never see how wonderful that was? In her exhaustion, she closes her eyes and falls asleep momentarily–that dozing sleep where the world exists but you are dreaming.
Seven weeks earlier...
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VERONICA MARS
10:00PM SHO ch: 340 60min 2009 TV-MA
Tunnel Vision
Veronica pursues Logan with Dick's help;
Keith crosses a line.
Veronica: Kristen Bell. Dick: Ryan Hansen
Mac: Tina Majorino. Keith: Enrico
Colantoni. Ming: Welly Yang.
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CHAPTER ELEVEN: "TUNNEL VISION"
Mon. 1/26/09: Neptune, CA
VERONICA
This is my normal. The world is fucked up, yet again. The man who loves me has run away to try to protect me. Reporters dog me at every turn, asking me if Logan has broken up with me. Is this what you thought you would accomplish by running away, Logan? Today I found a tracking device on my car. Oh, and speaking of tracking devices, Logan, did you smash your phone after you sent me that text? You figured I had turned on the tracking signal in your phone again. Maybe you threw it in the ocean. Yeah, that sounds about right.
I can't do any PI work with the reporters following me around. Luckily, the dean has banned all reporters from campus, so at least I can go to class. Of course, the dean can't keep my lovely classmates from gossiping about me. I heard one girl say I'm the Mrs. Lovett to Logan's Sweeney Todd. What can I say, even the slams are better in college.
I'm completely exhausted, but I haven't been able to sleep since I got his text; every time I close my eyes, I imagine Logan teetering on the edge of a bridge somewhere...or rotting in the drunk tank of a Mexican prison.
Tues. 1/27/09 morning: Hearst College, Neptune, CA
Dick is laughing with Chip Diller in his room at the frat house when Veronica and Mac burst into the room. Dick immediately stops laughing when he sees Veronica's face. He says to Chip, "Gotta run, see ya later," and stands up, intending to flee.
Veronica blocks his path, glaring at him.
"Don't hurt me, Ronnie," Dick begs, ostentatiously protecting his man-parts.
"Don't make me hurt you, Dick," she replies. She pretends to lift her knee toward Dick's groin, and he reflexively flinches. "Have you talked to Logan?"
"I swear, I haven't talked to him. I'm worried, too. Leave my ballsack out of this, Ronnie."
Mac says, "Veronica, I can check his phone if you don't believe him."
Dick looks at her, hurt. Mac holds out her hand expectantly, and Dick gives her his phone. She begins to scroll through the call history.
"Chip, I think you should leave us alone," Veronica says. Chip glares at her, but complies, muttering "bitch" under his breath as he pushes past her.
Veronica continues, "Sit down, Dick. Let's discuss the situation," Veronica says, pushing Dick back down into a chair. She pulls another chair over and leans against it with folded arms, doing her best 'bad cop'. "When did you last talk to Logan?"
"Did you ever think that maybe you should just do what Logan wants, and just leave him alone?"
Mac shakes her head at Dick's naïveté. "Dick, answer Veronica's question, or I'm not going to help the frat with your little porn problem."
"You wound me, baby," he replies to Mac. Mac rolls her eyes.
Veronica pokes Dick in the chest to get his attention. "Hello! Do you speak English? Parla usted Inglese? I'll say it again. When did you last talk to Logan?" Veronica repeats.
"Okay, okay! I talked to him on Friday, the day before the memorial service. He was really down; you know how emo the boy can get...especially since he can't go surfing with his bum leg."
"Do you think he's drinking again?" Veronica asks.
"I don't know. He hasn't had a drink around me since the accident."
"Where would Logan go to hide?"
"T.J.? Cancun or Cabo San Lucas, maybe."
"All right. You're coming with me. We're going to L.A. this afternoon after class. We'll check out Logan's house, and then if we don't find any clues there, we'll go down to T.J. and look in all the usual places. I think it's a long shot; Logan's too smart to go there."
"I don't understand why you won't just let Logan–"
"Dick!" Mac and Veronica say together.
"Oh man, I'm in trouble," he moans, shaking his head.
Tues. 1/27/09 morning: Ranchita, CA
In Ranchita, California, near the Anza-Borrego Desert, Keith checks his map again, then rechecks the GPS coordinates on the navigation system of his rental Jeep Wrangler. He pulls out a copy of a title deed. The deed lists this property as belonging to Shamrock Inc., which Keith has discovered through patient research is a shell corporation, owned by yet another shell corporation which lists Liam Fitzpatrick as the sole shareholder. Keith nods to himself that he has located the correct address. He exits his car and surveys the property, which appears to border on state park lands. The title shows that Shamrock Inc. owns twenty-five acres of land, and the property appears completely undeveloped. If I wanted to stash a car somewhere, this is the perfect location.
There is a rough doubletrack road that leads into the desert. Keith gets back in the jeep and follows the road into the property. After about half a mile, he sees a ramshackle house with a nearby shed. Keith parks the jeep and takes out a small device from his briefcase. When Veronica saw the SCI-SH055DV Signal Detector in the SpyGear catalogue, she fussed at him mercilessly until he gave in and purchased it. For the first time, he's glad he made the purchase. He also puts on a pair of latex gloves, deciding to err on the side of caution.
He walks to the house. The front door is unlocked, and Keith walks in cautiously holding the signal detector at eye level, checking the LED display. No video cameras, no listening devices, and no cell phones within 100 feet. Keith pockets the signal detector and begins to search the house methodically.
The house is in disrepair and appears to have been deserted and unused for years. A thick layer of dust covers every surface. When Keith opens the door leading to a set of stairs that descend to a basement, he is assaulted by a foul odor. But, upon investigation, he only finds the putrid remains of an animal that was probably once a fox.
Having found nothing of interest in the house, he walks over to the shed. The door is secured with large padlock of recent vintage that contrasts sharply with the age of the shed. Keith tries to clear the dirt from a small window to look inside, but the interior is too dark to make out any details. He returns to the jeep and finds a boltcutter in his tool bag. He snaps off the padlock and opens the double swinging doors wide to find a car covered by a dusty tarp.
Keith checks the signal detector again to be certain there are no surveillance devices. He removes the tarp from the car and finds a 1973 Ford Torino sedan. He nods to himself in satisfaction. When he opens the rear door, he finds a massive blood stain on the seat. He pops the trunk and finds nothing of interest, other than several empty bottles that once contained premium Irish whiskey.
Returning to the jeep, Keith retrieves a spray bottle of bleach, several rags, a dropper bottle of hydrochloric acid, and several containers of gasoline. Keith is positive that this location is far enough from a fire station that the fire he intends will burn out of control long before firefighters can get there, but he wants to make certain that even if the fire is discovered there will be no fingerprint or vehicle identification evidence to point to Vincent Van Lowe's crime twenty-five years ago. He uses the acid the obliterate the VIN numbers on the engine block and every other location on the car. He removes the license plates, intending to dispose of them elsewhere. He then proceeds to methodically wipe every surface on the car with the bleach. Keith pours the gasoline all over the interior, making sure to soak the bloodstained area in the back. He reserves some of the gasoline to pour over the wood surfaces of the shed itself.
When he is certain that his preparations will turn the shed into a raging inferno, he steps away and lights a disposable lighter, throwing it at the shed. The wood building catches fire tentatively, then with a whoosh, the flames intensify. Keith throws his latex gloves into the fire, and takes the empty gas cans and license plates back to the jeep. He loads the cans into the rear compartment, but doesn't notice when a small item falls out of his pocket into the sandy dirt. Keith takes a last look around the property, and gets the hell out of there.
Tues. 1/27/09: late afternoon Venice Beach, CA
"All right, Dick, just drive past Logan's house slowly; I want to see if there are any reporters."
Dick obeys Veronica's orders. As he drives past the beach house, they see several cars parked. The paparazzi are gathered together, sharing coffee and tales from the trenches of celebrity stalking. Logan's house is completely dark, with all the curtains drawn on the street side. His car is in the driveway. Veronica is certain that several more photographers are stationed on the beach, waiting to take telephoto shots through the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the ocean. From the back seat, Backup looks out the window with interest at all the reporters.
Veronica instructs Dick, "Keep going to the public beach; I want to check something there." She spots the taxi stand that she remembered; she makes a note of the company name, 'Checker Cab', and the phone number, 310-555-5555.
"Okay, go back towards Logan's house." As they near the house again, Veronica says, "Now turn here and go around the block. Make a right up here," she directs Dick. "D'you see the Chinese restaurant up there? 'Woo Too'. Park in front of it."
Dick pulls the car up to the restaurant. "Now what? How are we going to get past the reporters?"
"Just wait in the car with Backup."
"Hey, get me an egg roll," he says.
Veronica slams the car door shut a little harder than necessary.
In the restaurant, Veronica approaches the takeout window. "Hi, Ming. Get any more acting gigs?"
"Chinese gang member #3, CSI, New York." he says proudly. "Typecasting at its finest. I even had a line this time. What's up, Veronica? I saw all the reporters outside Logan's. He hasn't ordered from us since this started."
"How would you like to make a little extra money? A private acting job," Veronica says, sliding a fifty-dollar bill onto the counter.
Ming quickly makes the fifty disappear. "What d'ya have in mind?"
Veronica quickly goes over her plan. Ming suggests a couple refinements, and they set a time for one hour later. Veronica purchases dinner for herself and Dick, and returns to the car. They eat egg rolls and Hunan beef while Veronica explains her idea.
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VERONICA MARS
10:00PM SHO ch: 340 60min 2009 TV-MA
Pick and Roll
Mac researches; Veronica investigates
Logan's house; Wallace has a fan.
Mac: Tina Majorino. Veronica: Kristen
Bell. Dick: Ryan Hansen. Wallace: Percy
Daggs III. Mordroc: Gabriel Tigerman.
Ming: Welly Yang. Candice: Toy Connor.
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CHAPTER TWELVE: "PICK AND ROLL"
Tues. 1/27/09: early evening Neptune, CA
Mac walks into the Neptune Stardust Diner. She looks around the restaurant, trying to guess which patron is secretly a fellow computer hacker. As instructed, she takes a seat in a booth and turns to the retro jukebox mounted under the window sill. She looks at the song selections and, inserting a dollar in coins, selects B12. She smirks as "Undercover Angel" by Alan O'Day begins to play. A young man in his early twenties slides into the booth across from her.
"Mac?" he asks.
"Yes, you must be 'Mordroc'." Mac nervously wonders what the protocol is for shaking hands with a fellow hacker.
Mordroc notes her hesitation and grins, flashing her the Star Trek Vulcan symbol.
Mac laughs and returns the sign, saying, "Right, 'live long and prosper'. That song is totally teh suxor."
Mordroc grins and replies, "Couldn't help myself. I love seventies music. So Max said you're one of the best hackers he's ever worked with, and that's saying a lot. I like your site. What kind of hits were you getting before you had to shut it down?"
"About fifty hits a day, but the average number that signed up for the service was much less, maybe two per day, and not all of them had a valid credit card. We were just thinking about expanding and trying to improve our search engine placement rates when this started. We'd like to port it as a Facebook widget as well; we might include a game module to attract users," Mac explains.
"That's smart. But you have to remember that Facebook is definitely the new frontier for identity theft. Its popularity alone would make it desirable, but the new third-party apps are creating all sorts of security risks that people are just not aware of. If you're running a business there, you have to be prepared to upgrade your security protocols constantly," Mordroc comments.
"What can we do about the flirt-bot program now? Did you find out anything about it?" Mac asks.
Mordroc puts his laptop on the table and points questioningly at the seat next to Mac, and she nods 'okay'. He slides into the booth next to her and turns the laptop around so they can both see the screen. "I traced the program back through several anonymizing servers in remote locations. What I really don't like is that the programmers used the Cult of the Dead Cow's Tor encryption software to cover their tracks, and then they used our logo to try to shift the blame onto us. There's certainly some rogue hackers within the Cult, but our main emphasis has been hacktivism, especially the Goolag project."
He continues, "This is some seriously sophisticated code-writing; very experienced programmers were involved in this. It's not some kid experimenting with coding vulnerabilities. I'm pretty sure that this is the Russian mafia."
At Mac's look of disbelief, Mordroc says, "Russian investors have been investing in a lot of U.S. internet companies, including livejournal. Gravitonus received a grant from the U.S. Civilian Research & Development Foundation to develop a user interface for the disabled. Russian computer scientists developed CuneiForm, the optical character recognition software. Those are all legitimate businesses, but there was also a famous case in 2004 where Russian hackers targeted the bookmaking industry in the United Kingdom. It's only logical to assume that the Russian mafia has moved into identity theft over the internet. The risk is low, and the rewards are great."
"So what do we do?" Mac asks.
"I've alerted some of my fellow cult members, and we'll be working on coming up with a solution. We consider this a direct attack on us. In the meantime, I've found some vulnerabilities in their software you can exploit for now. But I think you can assume that you are going to have to be vigilant to protect your site," Mordroc says solemnly. "Here's what you're going to do." He begins tapping at the keyboard, and Mac looks on intently.
Tues. 1/27/09: early evening Venice Beach, CA
In Venice, Dick drives back to the public beach access point half a mile down the road. Veronica puts on her black wig that she used so successfully at Gameland. Dick reluctantly takes the baseball cap that Veronica hands him.
"This casual look doesn't just happen, you know," he protests. "There's product involved."
"Put. It. ON."
"Okay, okay. You're bitchy when Logan's not around."
"Taking a big chance with your life, Dick," she mutters.
He wisely decides to remain silent and puts on the baseball cap.
"Try to act like my boyfriend, all right? I know it's a stretch," she says as they get out of the car. Holding Backup by his leash, they walk down the beach hand in hand, joining the other couples enjoying the spectacular Venice Beach sunset.
As they approach Logan's house, Veronica checks her watch. "We're a little early. Stop and look out at the sunset. Put your arm around me, Dick." She leans into Dick's embrace, keeping one eye on her watch. Dick's hand drifts down below Veronica's waist, and she stiffens. "Dick!"
"My bad," he replies, returning his arm to Veronica's shoulder. "Can't help myself."
"Okay, pretend to hug me, and keep it strictly PG." She watches as several men with cameras head for the front of Logan's house. "That's our cue." Veronica and Dick, with Backup tagging along, quietly go up the steps to the deck in back of Logan's house.
At the front of Logan's house, Ming rings Logan's doorbell. He speaks using a thick put-on Chinese accent. "Mr. Rogan? It's Ming from Woo Too, with derivery ohr-der. Mr. Rogan??" The reporters stop congregating and swarm the front of Logan's house, hoping for a shot of a distraught Logan Echolls ordering in Chinese food.
In the rear, Veronica uses her key to let them into Logan's house then disables the security system. She tells Backup, "Guard," and Backup obediently sits. "Okay, Dick, we've got ten minutes. You know what to do."
Out front, Ming looks frustrated at the lack of response. He asks the reporters if they've seen 'Rogan'. When they shake their head, Ming begins to tell a long, gossipy story in a thick accent about seeing Logan in his unmentionables.
Dick goes to Logan's bedroom and looks around, trying to determine in the fading sunset light what's missing without turning a light on to alert the reporters outside. Meanwhile, Veronica goes to Logan's desk. She turns on his laptop, surprised that he didn't take his computer with him. Using a small flashlight, she checks in the desk and sees that Logan's passport and his stash of ready cash is missing. Logan's cell phone charger sits empty on the desk. Veronica uses Logan's login to check his email and browser history. His inbox shows a confirmation for a reservation at a hotel in Tijuana. She also finds a receipt for a rental car, a relatively sedate Volvo S80. She forwards both emails to her own account. In his browser history, she finds a search for Tijuana lodging, but as she scrolls down she realizes that Logan cleared his browser history recently. She tries typing the URLs of a few travel sites like Expedia, hoping the autocomplete function on Firefox will give her some clue where he's been surfing, but all personal data, including cookies and the browser cache, have been cleared and she has no success.
Veronica checks the documents file and is surprised to find all of Logan's fiction and schoolwork has been deleted. She opens Norton Utilities and sees to her dismay that Logan defragmented his hard drive on January 25, thus rendering useless any recoverable deleted files. Sighing and cursing that she taught him all her tricks, she decides to try to locate his most recent files, knowing it will probably be futile. She uses the 'find' function, asking the computer to find all documents created after January 22, 2009, and quickly copies all the resulting files to her flash drive. While she waits for the files to finish copying, she takes a quick look around the living room. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but when she looks a little closer, she realizes that one of Logan's photos of her has been replaced by a generic photo of the beach. She checks her watch and calls out, "That's time, Dick; let's go."
Out front, Ming finishes his tale about Logan. He tells the reporters to hold on; he needs to check with his boss. Ming pulls out a cell phone and pretends to talk to his boss at Woo Too in Chinese. After an animated one-sided discussion, complete with hand gestures and dramatic facial expressions, Ming hangs up and tries ringing the doorbell again. "Mr. Rogan? My boss says you there. Don't worry, reporters all gone for sure." He winks at the paparazzi, who prepare their cameras for the money shot.
Veronica, Dick and Backup slip out the back entrance and resume walking on the beach, heading back for Dick's car.
Veronica grabs Dick's hand and looks up at him, pretending to smile. "So what did you find, honey?"
"He took one small bag, that brown backpack he uses for school. I think a couple pair of jeans, t-shirts, maybe one nice shirt, that green one you bought him. His swim trunks, the really ugly ones with the blue fish. Flip-flops and sunscreen, toothbrush, stuff like that," Dick says.
"Anything surprising missing?"
"Just that he didn't take very much. Maybe he was hurrying."
Veronica chances a look back and sees that the paparazzi have resumed their places observing the back entrance of Logan's house. "Mission accomplished. And no one's the wiser."
"You're gonna tell Mac that I did good, right?"
"Not only that, you did well."
"That's what I said," Dick says, a little confused.
Tues. 1/27/09 evening: Hearst College, Neptune, CA
When the Hearst College basketball team enters the gym, Wallace searches the stands for familiar faces. He sees Mac and nods as she waves at him. He sees a petite African-American woman making her way to an empty seat; when she sits and turns to face the court, Wallace sees that Candice has come to the game as she had promised him. All RIGHT! he thinks.
Wallace has an unbelievable game. The opponents, the Colorado State Rams, are a strong team this year, and they put up a worthy fight, but Fennel is on fire. After a particularly stellar lay-up, he sneaks a glance at Candice and sees her smiling and applauding. At the end of the game, Hearst wins, 72 to 69, and Wallace is named player of the game.
When Wallace exits the locker room, he is thrilled to see Candice waiting for him. "Mr. Fennel. I must say I've never seen the appeal of basketball before, but I had a lot of fun tonight. I wondered if you wanted to celebrate your victory," she says shyly.
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VERONICA MARS
10:00PM SHO ch: 340 60min 2009 TV-MA
Go Ahead, Fake My Day
Veronica and Dick go to TJ;
Logan on the run.
Veronica: Kristen Bell. Logan: Jason Dohring.
Dick: Ryan Hansen.
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CHAPTER THIRTEEN: "GO AHEAD, FAKE MY DAY"
Tues. 1/27/09 late evening: Tijuana, Mexico
Later that night, Dick parks his car in a lot on the U.S. side of the border with Tijuana, Mexico. "I don't understand why we can't drive over."
"I'm not taking a chance that we're going to get stuck for hours at Customs on the way back. It's already eleven o'clock. We're going to walk in, take a taxi to the hotel I found on Logan's computer. I'm sure he's not there anyways; he left that reservation for me to find," Veronica says.
"If you're sure, why do we have to do this?"
"The Hertz agent told me that the car reservation was used. The hotel says that Logan Echolls checked in last night. Somebody drove that car here and checked in, and I want to talk to him." She thinks, When I find Logan, I'm going to...I don't know what I'm going to do to him, but I'm never going to tell him another story about how to disappear.
Dick looks at her sympathetically. "Veronica, I'm sure he's okay. He'll come back as soon as the paparazzi calm down."
They exit the car and walk toward the border. The crossing is uneventful, and they hail a taxi, asking it to take them to the Hacienda del Rio. Veronica asks, "Dick, is this a place you guys have stayed?"
"Once, I think. It's not great; the only selling point is it's close to Avenida Révolución. And it's cheap," Dick says.
When they get to the hotel, Veronica goes to the front desk and asks in Spanish for Mr. Echolls' room. The clerk clears his throat and replies, "Creo que Señor Echolls salió por la noche. Él pidió direcciones al 'Adelita Bar'." He raises his eyebrows, looking at Veronica.
Dicks pulls Veronica aside and whispers in her ear, "Um, Veronica? He's saying that Logan asked for directions to a whorehouse in La Coahuila."
"And you know this because..." she says. "Never mind. Would Logan go there?"
"We've been there, more than once." Seeing Veronica's look of disgust, he continues, "I didn't say we used their services, but, c'mon, it's Tijuana, what'dya think we did down here?"
"I don't know, tequila shots, maybe?" she says witheringly.
"Veronica, you can't go in there, you know. A beautiful girl like you–it would be open season," Dick says.
"You'll have to go in for me." She realizes something and asks Dick, "Would Logan need directions to Adelita?"
Dick replies, "Can't imagine, unless that hematoma thing knocked out all his sweet memories of Tijuana hookers."
Veronica turns back to the hotel desk and pulls out her PI license and shows it to the clerk. "Señor, we believe the real Mr. Echolls is the victim of identity theft...alguien ha robado su identidad." The clerk nods that he understands. "I'm sure you want to cooperate with us in this matter, uh, seguro que quieres ayudar. We are working with the FBI, who are very interested in locating this person in a related matter." She returns her PI license to her purse and takes out a picture of Logan. Stumbling a little in the Spanish, she says, "Es una foto de...uh, el verdadero Señor Echolls. Es el hombre que esta aqui en el hotel?"
The clerk studies the photo. "Well, he looks a little like this guy. Short hair, dark blond, good looking, about six feet tall. All the ladies were checking him out."
Veronica sighs, realizing she could have asked her questions in English. "Did he have a cane?"
"Yep. Hey, you guys need a room?"
Veronica shakes her head and says, "I don't think so. Thanks for the help."
"De nada, senorita." The clerk smiles at her. "Your friend is right, don't go in Adelita."
Tues. 1/27/09 late evening: Somewhere in the United States
In a cheap motel off a deserted highway, Logan locks the door behind him and tosses his backpack and laptop onto the bed. He uses the bathroom, splashing some water on his face. He sits on the bed and contemplates the television, finally deciding that he doesn't want to risk seeing his face on the screen. He pulls out the new laptop he purchased for cash on his last day in L.A. Logan opens a small disc case and peruses the DVDs he brought with him. All his favorite films are here. He rejects 'Reservoir Dogs' and 'Pulp Fiction', thinking too bloody, too violent. He considers 'American Beauty' and 'Cold Mountain', but the thought of impossible love that can never be attained hits too close to home. Finally, Logan selects 'Million-Dollar Baby', but stops the film after twenty minutes, realizing that he'll start to weep if he watches the whole movie. He slides the disc back into the case, and looks through some of his other movies: Alfred Hitchcock's 'Vertigo' and 'Rear Window'; the Coen brothers' 'Fargo'; and Polanski's 'Chinatown'. The twists and turns of the great masters feel too similar to his own past and remind him too much of Veronica and her investigations. He finally realizes that all the movies that he loves are too powerful for the way he feels right now.
He undresses and gets in bed, staring up at the watermarked ceiling. Tomorrow's going to be a long day. First up: new ID, then get rid of the car. I bet Veronica's already found the Tijuana reservations.
Tomorrow phase two starts. I hope that schmuck Harvey Greenblatt was right about Jessica Simpson's schedule. Am I doing the right thing? Veronica's probably furious. If she's furious, she can't be sad. And if I stay away, maybe she'll actually be all right. She'll never forgive me, but...at least she'll be all right. The paparazzi will forget about her eventually. God, I miss her; I wish she was here.
Logan's mind wanders to a bittersweet fantasy that sustained and tortured him for many months several years ago. He is lying on the couch in the suite at the Neptune Grand, wearing Duncan's borrowed argyle sweater with a magazine covering his face. Veronica comes in and lays on top of him. He stays perfectly still, hoping she will not realize that it's him and not Duncan. She caresses his chest, then to his delight she moves down, unzips him, and opens his pants. Pulling his shorts down, she puts her mouth on him; he groans involuntarily, but manages to keep his face concealed under the magazine. Veronica licks him teasingly for long minutes as he gives himself over to the rush of the sensations. He is frustrated and overwhelmed as she licks under and over him, and around the sensitive rim and tip; he can't decide if he wants the agony and ecstasy to stop or never to stop. She stops suddenly, and his cock jerks uncontrollably; she circles her hand around him and begins to stroke him as she takes him in her mouth. The exquisite friction of her grasp is unbearably exciting, and he inadvertently thrusts into her with a quiet gasp of pleasure. She moans in response and tightens her lips around him. Guiltily he throws the magazine aside, reaches for her, and pulls her up to him, saying "It's me, Veronica; stop, it's me."
She answers, "I knew it was you. Of course I knew it was you." She kisses him, and he tastes the saltiness of himself on her mouth. She sits up and tugs at the argyle sweater; he lifts his arms and allows her to remove it. She leans down to kiss him again. He battles her tongue with his own and reaches under her short skirt to caress the crotch of her soft underwear. She is damp with arousal and he moans, "Veronica..." He reaches up and slips his hand between her skin and her panties, and drags his middle finger, slowly, teasingly, across her nub. She spreads her legs and presses against his hand, begging him, "Logan, please..." but he keeps stroking her lightly, tormenting her with the gentleness of his caresses. He pulls his hand away, ignoring her cry of disappointment, then suddenly sits up and flips her under him on the couch.
Quickly discarding his jeans and shorts, he pulls off her panties and lays on top of her. He pushes her shirt up, and he grabs her wrists, holding them above her head with one hand. He kisses her breasts as she moans uncontrollably. He begins to gently lick and suck her right nipple as he strokes her left between his thumb and forefinger. She gasps and grinds her pelvis into him, but he rolls away, adjusting the weight of his legs to hold her down to the couch while preventing her from rubbing against his stiff cock. He bends down to her breast and sucks her nipple hard, teasing and nipping, forcing her to cry out. He pulls away and looks at her flushed face.
"Please..." she whispers.
"What do you want from me, Veronica? Why were you sucking me off?" he asks intensely.
"Please..." she repeats, flinching at his coarse words.
"What do you want?" he says angrily. He bends to her neck and bites her, marking her.
"Oh god...Logan, I want you to fuck me!" she finally cries in desperation.
Logan bites her neck again and she arches into him, struggling against his weight. He releases her wrists and forces himself between her legs. He pulls her calf up and over his shoulder, intending to give her the fucking she's asking for. He positions himself at her entrance; she's as wet and ready for him as she's ever been. He pulls back to look at her again as he pushes relentlessly into her tightness, thrusting as hard as he's ever fucked a woman. She gasps and closes her eyes. He stops mid-stroke and demands, "Open your eyes. Look at me, Veronica. Tell me it's me you want, and not Duncan."
Her eyes flutter open, and she whispers, "Don't stop, Logan. Love you..."
He resumes thrusting, and Veronica touches his face, drawing his lips to hers. She moans against his mouth, and he begins to pound into her, trying to punish her for her betrayal with each stroke, but she matches him willfully on each thrust, grabbing his ass, pulling him closer and urging him on. He pulls back for leverage and begins to fuck her with a vengeance, with Veronica saying, "Yes, yes, Logan, god don't stop" as he buries himself in her over and over.
In the cheap motel, Logan groans as he comes. He bitterly thinks about the implications of his mind going to such an angry fantasy about the woman he loves. He staggers to the bathroom to clean himself up. He examines his face in the flickering fluorescent light of the bathroom; he touches the fading bruise on his eye and scratches at his two-day growth of beard. Logan returns to the bed, trying not to think about traveling even farther away from her the next day. Before he lays down to sleep, he turns on the bedside light and pulls a photo of Veronica from his backpack. He runs his fingers over her face and sighs, certain that he's doing the right thing to protect her from his train wreck of a life. Logan doesn't sleep much that night; he adds the guilt of his angry fantasies to his long list of sins and berates himself late into the night.
Tues. 1/27/09 very late: Tijuana, Mexico
Veronica waits in the taxi outside Adelita Bar while Dick goes in to try to find someone using a cane. Several times the taxi is approached by streetwalkers; the taxi driver looks back at Veronica for guidance, and Veronica shakes her head that she's not interested. The taxi driver finally says, "Señorita, que haces aquí? Es un sitio muy peligroso para una mujer como usted."
She thinks for a second and responds, "Estoy buscando a mi amigo...ah, boyfriend?"
"Tu novio? Ah, entiendo," the driver replies nodding.
Holding a cane in one hand, Dick pulls a young man out of the club and pushes him into the taxi. Dick gets in after him and shuts the door.
"Mr. Echolls, I presume?" Veronica asks.
"He wasn't even pretending to use the cane. I saw it laying on the floor, and I waited until someone sat down at that table," Dick explains.
"You must be Veronica," the man says, looking from Veronica to Dick and back to Veronica. "I have a note for you. Logan said you'd probably show up." He hands Veronica a slip of paper.
Veronica,
I asked you not to look for me. This is for the best. My friend Rob agreed to help me out, for a fee of course. He doesn't know anything about where I really am. Please, do as I ask, Veronica. If you ever loved me, you won't look for me.
Logan
Veronica crumples the note in anger. Game on, Logan, she thinks.
Spanish translations:
"Creo que Señor Echolls salió por la noche. Él pidió direcciones al 'Adelita Bar'."
I believe that Mr. Echolls left for the evening. He asked directions to the Adelita Bar.
"Señorita, que haces aquí? Es un sitio muy peligroso para una mujer como usted."
Miss, what are you doing here? This is a dangerous place for a woman like you.
"Estoy buscando a mi amigo...ah, boyfriend?"
I'm looking for my friend...ah, boyfriend?
"Tu novio? Ah, entiendo."
Your boyfriend? Oh, I see.