CHAPTER TWELVE

"Caitlin."

"Wrong girlfriend. This is Veronica, V, E, R, O…"

Logan interrupted, "I meant for our baby. Caitlin."

"Uh, no." The suggestion fully roused her from sleep, "Caitlin Ford - ring any bells?"

"If we're going to take out the names of all the women I've done, we're not going to have that many to choose from."

"You're not funny you know."

"Really? My other girlfriends think I'm a hoot."

"Ha, ha. What if it's a boy?"

"No problem, Wyatt or Billy."

Veronica smiled, "I am not naming our son after characters from Easy Rider."

"Not an issue, since it's a girl. Hmm, a little girl named Wyatt, Wyatt Echolls."

"I love you, but no." She stretched and got out of bed, "don't you have more important things you should be doing like swabbing the deck or KP duty?"

"More important than coming up with a name for our baby?" Gone was the teasing banter, "I think about her all the time." He fell silent. Something was bothering him. She could feel the tension emanating through the phone. "What if I'm a really shitty dad, Veronica?"

"You won't be." The assurance was easy because she knew. It didn't matter that people, even her own father, thought there was a 'darkness' in him, she knew Logan Echolls and she didn't have any doubts. But how did she convince him of that?

"I've been talking to the psychologist on board, you know, to work through my issues and he's grounded me, for a few days at least. The Navy has to protect their multimillion dollar planes." Veronica could hear his frustration. Days with nothing to do, but think were going to drive him crazy. She wanted to hold him and comfort him. She wanted to make him feel as sure about this as she was.

"I love my dad Logan. He's a good, no, he's a great dad. And you? You are more like my dad than you are like Aaron."

"How can you even say that, Veronica? How do you know?"

"Because I know how you love me."

"But I was such a dick to you after Lilly died." Obviously she wasn't the only one with the anniversary on her mind.

"Logan you were a sixteen year old kid and you were hurting. Alcoholic mom, abusive dad, and your girlfriend was just murdered, cut yourself a little slack. You are not that person anymore."

"He's still in here."

"I know and I love him too. Just like you love vengeful, angry Veronica. She's still in here too, but we are better than our past."

"I love you and our baby so much. She's not even here yet, but she is so real to me. I don't want to fuck this up."

"You won't. Come on look at us, having real conversations and sharing our feelings. Communication? Nailed it."

Her attempt to lighten the mood earned her a soft laugh. "How was yesterday?"

"I've had better days."

"I don't think I've said it, but I'm sorry about Piz. He was a good guy."

"Yeah, he was. I'm going to find who killed him Logan."

"I have no doubt. Just be safe okay? If anything happened to you…No lectures, I promise. I know you can take care of yourself and I'm not going into my usual overprotective asshole mode, but it doesn't mean I can't worry."

"No unnecessary risks should be our new family motto."

"Our family…I like the sound of that."

"Me too. Now I hate to break it to you, but your daughter is demanding that I hang up the phone and feed her. We're thinking about waffles."

This time she got an actual laugh. "Go, go feed Wyatt."

"Get it out of your head, because it's not happening."

"I love you."

"I love you too, but not enough to agree to Wyatt."

"We'll see."

Dick's kitchen was huge. She started her search in the cabinet closest to the door and progressed from there. "Watcha doin' Ronnie?"

She jumped, "you scared the shit out of me Dick. I thought you were in Tijuana?"

"Just got back." The kitchen resembled a scene from The Sixth Sense; every cabinet and drawer stood open. "Are you looking for my porn?"

"I don't even want to think about why you would have porn in the kitchen."

"Well, you see…"

Veronica held her hand up, "don't. I'm begging you, don't finish that sentence."

Dick grinned, "Well since you're begging…"

"I'm looking for a waffle iron."

He crossed the kitchen, opened the pantry and took down the waffle iron from the top shelf. "Do you even know how to make waffles?"

Not without burning them. Veronica shrugged, "I was going to Google it."

Dick went back to the pantry and returned with flour, baking powder, salt and sugar. Then he got eggs, butter, and milk from the fridge. From the cabinet next to the stove he took down a small bottle of vanilla. "Why don't you make yourself useful Ronnie and cut up some strawberries."

She did as instructed, but her eyes kept straying to the sight of Dick making waffles. Just when you think you know a person, they go and surprise you, again. He mixed up the batter, glanced at her and went back to the pantry. When he emerged he was carrying a bag of chocolate chips and her knees went weak. "Where did you learn how to cook?"

"I own a restaurant Ronnie. Actually I own five restaurants up and down the coast."

"Get out, no you don't."

"Chicks dig food. You'd be surprised how much play I get when I cook them a hot meal." And they were back.

Dick put a fresh, hot chocolate chip waffle on a plate then doused it in whipped cream and added the fresh strawberries to the top. Veronica practically drooled at the sight of it. In the middle of her third waffle she started to slow down. "You're going to make someone a good wife one day, Dick."

"Marriage." He shuddered. "Thanks for ruining my day Ronnie."

"My pleasure." She rinsed her dish. "Thanks for the waffles, they were really good and don't worry, I'll clean all this up."

"Leave it for Rosa. She likes to take care of me."

"Yeah I'm sure that's it, nothing to do with a paycheck at all." Her phone conversation with Logan and her pressing desire to eat altered her plan of visiting Neptune Taxi this morning. She had just enough time to clean the kitchen and get ready before Dottie came to get her for their afternoon of house hunting.

Veronica dressed for comfort. She had a feeling "comfort" was going to be her default setting for the next six months. When the doorbell rang, she was ready to go.

Dottie was not what she was expecting. Her personality on the phone made her seem so big and vibrant and well, motherly. Veronica was expecting a nice, grey-haired grandmother type. Instead she was a few inches taller than Veronica and just as petite. Reddish-blonde bangs escaped from her ponytail and framed her face. Laugh lines crinkled the corners of her eyes and from the wide grin; it was easy to see how they got there.

"You must be Logan's Veronica. It's good to finally meet you. He talks so much about you I feel like I know you." At her skeptical look, Dottie continued. "He has talked about you for years, long before you came out to help him with that Bonnie nonsense."

Dick sidled up to the door, "hey who's the MIL..." Veronica elbowed him in the stomach to keep him from finishing his sentence, but unfortunately the sound he made completed the 'F.'

Dottie laughed, "you must be Dick."

"I must be Dick."

"Put an 'a' in that sentence and you would be right." Veronica gave him a gentle shove out of her way, joined Dottie on the stairs and shut the door before Dick could say anything else. "Sorry about Logan's pet, we tried to housebreak him, but it didn't take."

"You are exactly like Logan described you." Veronica didn't know if that was a good thing, or a bad one. Dottie was walking toward her Toyota minivan, but when she saw Veronica hesitate, she stopped. "Would you rather take your car?"

"No, this is perfect." She climbed in, "so is it a rule? Do all moms have to drive minivans? Will I be kicked out of the club?"

Dottie laughed again. It was an infectious, easy laugh and Veronica had a feeling she did it often. "This is actually my son's car. I drive a Mustang."

"That's a relief."

"The real estate agent is going to meet us at the first listing. I thought we'd start with the one furthest away and work our way back." She glanced at Veronica, "how are you feeling?"

"Hungry and tired. If I could find a way to eat in my sleep, I might never get out of bed."

"I was like that with my last one. I would be eating one meal and planning the next. It got to the point where I was dreaming about food."

"How old are your kids now?"

"Jake, my oldest, is the one serving with Logan; he's twenty-eight like you. Patrick is twenty-five and my baby," she gave her a wry grin, "Nick, is twenty-two."

"On the phone you said, were a Navy wife, has your husband retired?"

"He passed away three years ago."

Open mouth, insert foot. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"How could you? We were married for thirty great years. High school sweethearts, sort of like you and Logan, but without all the high drama, multiple breakups and lengthy separation."

"So… not like us at all then?"

"Well, Tommy could be a bit of a jackass. Not the smash your headlights with a crowbar kind of jackass, but he had his moments." She laughed again, "why are you surprised? I told you he talked about you a lot. I always thought…never mind what I thought."

"No, please tell me."

Dottie remained silent for so long, Veronica didn't think she would ever find out the end of that sentence. "I thought you were his one. The one. He went to AOCS with Jake and the first time I met him, he was," she shook her head, "forlorn. Lost, like without you a piece of him was missing."

It hurt Veronica to think of Logan suffering like that and it made her think of the way he was suffering now.

"When he took up with that Bonnie…" Veronica smiled at both the phrase, 'took up with' and the, 'that Bonnie.' Carrie would probably not like being called, 'that Bonnie,' especially in that tone. "She was all wrong for him. And that anyone believed he could actually kill that girl? Nonsense. Now, you on the other hand, you, I like."

"Maybe you should reserve judgment until you get to know me."

"Trust me, a mother knows these things." The way she said it made Veronica happy for Logan and for herself. Finally, there was another person with faith in Logan.

By the time they arrived at the first house, she'd ruled it out. It was too far for her to commute to Mars Investigations each day especially once you factored in commuter traffic. The next three houses didn't even warrant getting out of the car. Hello? Curb appeal? Anyone? Anyone?

Dottie told the real estate agent they needed to make a quick stop before house number five and drove Veronica through an In n' Out Burger. "Figured you were hungry. Is this okay?"

"Perfect." She ordered a double-double, animal style, fries well done, and a root beer float. Dottie ordered the same and ate while she drove.

"Do you like being a private investigator?"

Was there anything Logan hadn't told her? "For the most part," she hedged. "Actually Dottie, I love it. I like snooping through other people's trash, and uncovering all their secrets. Eavesdropping and surveillance and a little B&E. I'm kidding about that last part, well, mostly kidding. See I told you to reserve judgment."

"No judgment, I think it's great. Everybody should do what they love."

"I'm glad you feel that way because, you see, the last house we're going to? Is strictly for snooping purposes."

"Does that make me your unofficial partner?"

It was Veronica's turn to laugh, "I suppose it does."

Houses five and six were okay, if you wanted to drive an hour to the beach, which she was sure Logan did not. The rooms were small and their layouts were weird. All of the houses were starting to blend together. She couldn't remember which one had the nice backyard, but the tiny bedrooms and which one had the nice rooms, but the hideous, bright orange bathroom. "I'm beginning to think I'm doomed to live with Dick forever."

Seven was okay, but number eight was the keeper. The second they pulled up front, Veronica was in love. Grey cedar shake shingles with dark blue shutters and a big bay window. It was surrounded by a white picket fence and you could see the beach from the brick front porch. The floors were dark hardwood and there was crown molding throughout. A fire was going in the family room and a set of French doors led directly to a broad deck and a perfectly landscaped yard. Each room was better than the one before it. She used her phone to take pictures for Logan.

"From that reaction, I would think we found our winner?"

It was the winner until she heard the $2.6 million dollar price tag. "And we're moving on."

Dottie took note of her disappointment and called the real estate agent over to them. "I think we're going to skip the next two houses and move right to the last listing in Neptune."

"You know that's an exclusive listing right?" The implied, if you can't afford this house, why even bother wasting my time with that one, was hard to miss.

Dottie's gaze narrowed and her hands went to her hips, "are you saying we should find a better qualified agent to show us around?" She injected the exact right amount of haughtiness to the words to put him in his place and make him second guess his assumptions. Lilly Kane couldn't have done it better.

"No, no, of course not."

When they got back in the car, Veronica laughed. "I think that moved you up from unofficial partner to partner for this expedition."

"Excellent."

"When we get there, just try to keep him distracted and away from me. Also, if you can, ask him how easy it would be for someone else to pay your real estate taxes."

"The intrigue, I love it."

"You might not want to mention that to Logan."

At the house, Veronica made sure she was in close proximity to the agent when he entered the code into the Magnalock security gate, then Dottie took over her duties of keeping him occupied.

According to the paperwork Mac gathered, Sacks died without a Will. The intestacy laws in California roughly followed the same diagram as New York. No spouse, to the children, no children then to the decedent's parents and so on. Unfortunately for Jerry Sacks he had no close family, which meant the Public Administrator's office was in charge of his estate. It was their responsibility to secure all the assets, settle the debts and look for any heirs. This explained why the house was first on the market three months after his death. The wheels of the government turn slowly.

She didn't expect to find anything in the house. The P.A. would've taken all the personal papers into custody to help them research his assets. Ditto the personal property. Anything worth value would've been sold. Normally the house would be sold at auction, but Veronica was guessing its price tag made this route more profitable. A detailed audit and accounting of all their activities would be filed with the Probate Court, but it could be several months before that happened. If it happened at all here in Neptune. A "matter of Public Record" took on an entirely different meaning in these city limits.

She wandered aimlessly through the vast, empty rooms. It was a cold, sterile environment and it just left her feeling sad for Sacks; this big house and no family to share it with. Veronica abandoned the entire idea and went to get Dottie.

They left the agent and Dottie drove her back to Dick's house. "Our less than helpful agent said anyone could pay the real estate taxes. The County didn't much care who wrote the check, just that there was a check."

"That's pretty much what I thought." Give them big houses, fancy cars, and pay all their bills in return for whatever favor you might need. As long as there was no paper trail, who would know? Lamb actually did a pretty good job of it. His deed said he only paid two hundred thousand for his house and he didn't make any claims on his tax return. Sacks on the other hand, committed it to paper. "Thanks for coming with me today, I really appreciated it."

"It was fun. Oh, here, you dropped your phone before when you got out of the car." Dottie passed her the cell. Veronica doubted that, but she slipped it into her purse without comment. At Dick's house, Dottie got out of the car and hugged Veronica goodbye. "Please call me if you need anything, or when you're ready to go out house hunting again."

"I will and thanks again for your help."

Veronica waited until she was gone before checking her phone. It was just as she'd suspected, all the pictures of house number eight were attached to an email addressed to Logan. Hey love, this is Dottie. Look at the house Veronica found. I think she's ready to move tomorrow. Picture number two is the nursery. Hope you're behaving yourself. Give my love to Jake. "Well played, Dot, well played."

She didn't bother going in the house. Veronica stopped at Project Pie for a personal artisan pizza with artichokes, tomato, red onion and mozzarella, then headed to the office to eat and do a little of her own computer magic. Before heading out, she grabbed a black windbreaker and a clipboard from the closet.

Logan's car, while a luxury, could sometimes be a pain in the ass. She had to park it far away from her destination and walk. Poor, public employees did not drive BMW's worth more than their yearly salary. She flashed her "ID" at the one lone driver in the garage, "BC, TAP, where's your dispatcher?"

He stepped aside and pointed toward the back of the garage. It never failed to surprise her how an innocuous clipboard and an officious attitude could convince people to do what you wanted. The "office" was a room in the back corner of the garage. A large interior glass window allowed the dispatcher to see the drivers as they came and went. Veronica walked through the door without knocking.

"Surprise inspection. BC, TAP." She flashed him the same ID she showed the driver. She really had no idea if the Balboa County Taxi Authority conducted surprise inspections, but she was betting on the fact that he didn't either. "I need all your call sheets for the past month."

His 'desk' was a piece of three-quarter inch pine balanced on top of two short filing cabinets. He opened one of the file drawers and pulled two thick files from it. One labeled August and one September. He started to hand them to her, then stopped and pulled them back. "Nobody told me you were coming."

"Did you miss the word surprise in my sentence? No one was supposed to tell you I was coming." She glanced up at his clock, "Traffic was a bitch and I still have three stops to make before I can go home, can we hurry this along?"

Blame traffic and complain about your job, two things every working person could relate to. "You can't take these originals."

Veronica gave him a look that said she could if she wanted to and then relented, "I only need copies."

He handed her the file and gestured toward the machine. She waited. "Fine. Gimme them." She passed the files back. "What do they want these for anyways?"

She shrugged, "beats the shit outta me. I just do what I'm told."

"Don't we all." Veronica turned away so he wouldn't see her smile.

She didn't linger. As soon as she attached the copies to her clipboard, she gave him a wave and rushed out. Two blocks from the garage was an open coffee shop. Veronica ordered a slice of blueberry pie and decaf coffee. The call sheets were in date order, which made it easy to find the day she wanted. She scanned the destination column until she found Wallace's address, drop off time 1:20 a.m. Pickup at 1:00 a.m. from a place called the Sandpiper Bar on Beach Drive. Yahtzee.