A/N: Thank you for all of your kind reviews. Thanks to Bond, because of all of your insight, these next few chapters are more realistic regarding the setting. I truly appreciate the help and pointers that completes the setting. Hopefully you will agree.
Chapter 11
Hanging up the phone, Veronica stepped over to where Logan and Bunk were silently watching the large flat screen television that was cued to a news program. The volume was turned low, but when Veronica glanced at it, Bunk said to Logan, "So tell me again—what exactly happened with your car?"
It took Veronica no time at all to see why Bunk was asking that.
Together, the three watched to the news cast in horrified silence. The screen flashed to a picture of the front of Mars Investigations where Logan's BMW sat charred and smoking.
"The sheriff's department is asking for your help locating a suspect wanted in connection with a car bomb set off in Neptune, California. Two nights ago, on the 700 block of Rosart Drive, fire fighters arrived on scene to find a BMW, registered to one Logan Echolls, engulfed in flames. Mr. Echolls is also under investigation in the death of a Balboa County Sheriff's Office Deputy, Jerry Sacks." A picture of Deputy Sacks, in a clean and pressed uniform, appeared on the screen over the reporter's shoulder with the words "Dep. Gerald Sex" written beneath it.
Veronica rolled her eyes at the ineptitude. Can't even spell the name right. She felt Logan become tenser with every word the reporter uttered. The muscle at his was jaw worked and she noticed he was grasping tightly the back of the high backed chair he stood behind hard enough to make his knuckles white. He stared at the screen unblinking, seemingly unaware of anything else around him.
"Sources at the sheriff's department state that Mr. Echolls was last seen with an unidentified white female, approximately five feet tall and 120 lbs, with blonde hair. The duo left the bombsite in a dark Buick Le Sabre, which was stolen from a nearby parking lot. According to police, the suspect may be armed. If you have any information of Mr. Echolls whereabouts you are urged to dial 911 immediately." A picture flashed on the screen of Logan, dressed in his wetsuit and holding a surfboard, looking completely unimposing.
The news switched over to the weather report and Veronica clicked the television off. She set the remote down carefully before turning to look at both Logan and Bunk. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek. "Well. This changes things."
Logan stood stock-still, still staring at the blank television screen.
Bunk walked over to a small table and sat down heavily. "Somehow, I don't think this is going to go over very well with your Commander, Echo."
Logan pushed himself from the back of the chair. "Well, fuck." He strode over to the table, scraped back a chair and plunked himself down across from Bunk. "I can't say I'm surprised that Lamb's stooped to this."
Veronica joined the other two and opened her messenger bag. She pulled out the tablet she'd just put away and tapped her way online. She googled Logan's name and the report that just aired popped up with an updated description below it.
Already, comments were piling up at the bottom. Most were not kind:
'That no-good bastard has it coming now. He's guilty just like his murdering dad!'
'A bomb now, Logan? I went to high school with that ass, he's self-destructive and it's about time he gets put off the streets.'
And finally, after about ten similar comments, there was a positive one:
'Logan's being set up. He's still grieving over Bonnie. His friends murdered the love of his life! How can anyone believe he did this?!'
"Well, you have one supporter." Veronica tilted the tablet so Logan could read it, and he scowled when he did. "What? Any public support is better than none."
He pointed at the user name. "BonnieFanGirl23 thinks she's in love with me."
She eyed the name. "Huh. Interesting. Not sure if that's more disturbing than the fact that you know her screen name."
"Trust me; I don't want to know her name. But when someone sends you daily quotes and personal cards, you get to know them whether you want to or not. It's not really a choice."
Dismissing the topic, Veronica pulled the laptop back to herself and scrolled back to the top. She skimmed through the article. "It says here your prints were found on the bomb, Logan. It also says that they didn't release the news of the bomb originally to keep it under wraps, thinking they would catch you at the high school reunion covertly. Now, since you didn't show up there, they need the public's help. Apparently, they haven't been able to locate you. Shame."
"How can they say I planted a bomb in my own car? What the fuck's the motive? What the hell!" Distraught, Logan roughly ran a hand through his hair, making the ends stick up.
"Logan." Veronica placed a hand over his. "We have proof you didn't do this, remember?"
He looked at her dubiously, cocking his eyebrows in obvious disbelief. "We do?"
"Yes, we do!" Veronica clicked open a picture file and waited for it to load. It popped open to reveal a picture of Logan's car with the man that had actually planted the bomb. "Exhibit A: Black Sweatshirt Asshole." She swiped to the next picture, which was an even closer shot of the man leaning over Logan's seat. "The police don't know about these, Logan. If I send this to the evening news, this whole situation goes away."
***Break***
Logan stared at the pictures on the tablet and wanted to kiss Veronica. She was so amazing and smart. He'd forgotten all about the pictures she'd taken when they'd been at Mars, Investigations. In their haste to get out of Neptune and with everything else that had transpired, the pictures had been the last thing on his mind. But it was clear as Veronica scrolled through each picture, that she hadn't forgotten. In fact, it was apparent that she'd been taking time to try and figure out whom the man was that had blown Logan's car to smithereens.
"They aren't releasing my name," Veronica was saying, "I would think by now that they'd have figured out I'm the one with you. 120 pounds! At least no one will ever think that's me! Ha, and them saying I stole the Le Sabre! Trust me; I would have stolen something a bit more exciting than an old Buick! It's obvious they're doing damage control here. They're taking names and asking questions later. Are you positive you never saw anything the night of the accident? Because it seems to me they think you did."
"How many times do you have to ask me that before you believe that there was nothing to see?" Logan snapped, feeling exasperated. She really would not give it up.
Bunk stood abruptly and looked down at both of them. "Maybe we should get out of this hospital."
Nodding in agreement, Veronica gathered up the tablet and slipped it back into her bag.
Logan stood up when she did and put a hand out to stop her. "Veronica. I think you should stay here with your dad."
When she started to argue, he insisted, "No, listen to me. You need to stay with your dad. Even if you can get those pictures to the media, it's gonna take time to clear all of this up. If your name isn't out yet, it might be better to just cut your ties with me now while you still can." He looked quickly over at Bunk, who nodded when he added, "Bunk can help me."
She stared at him for a moment and then seemed to come to a decision; there wasresolve in her eyes when she sharpened her gaze on his face. "I'm coming with you, Logan."
A strange sense of relief washed over him, but he still felt worried. Logan tried one more time. "Veronica…"
She held up her hand. "I'm of less use here than I'll be if we're together. But we need to call Mac and Dick again and rethink following Sean. I don't know if we should meet them at Santa Anita now, not with a warrant out for your arrest. They might have to go without us." She paused. "Just…give me five more minutes with my dad. I'd like to talk with the doctors one more time, and then we can go."
He watched Veronica head purposely out of the waiting room and down the hallway in search of the doctor. Many emotions coursed through him, one of which was a pang of regret that he'd ever gone to Mars Investigations two days prior. If only he'd just gone to San Diego like he'd wanted to. If he had, the bomb would have been planted well away from Veronica and she would be sitting safely at Neptune Memorial, waiting for Keith to wake up. She wouldn't be intertwined in this at all.
"I guess this cowboy hat is a good thing after all. I don't think anyone will be looking for me under it," he told Bunk now, tipping it lightly. "Maybe we ought to hit a rodeo since we can't go to the races."
Bunk had sat down again at the little round table, lost in thought. Logan swiveled on a boot heel and sat back down across from him. "I can see when the wheels are turning, Man, what're you thinking?"
**Break**
"Balboa County Sheriff's Office." Deputy Hanson answered in a bored tone. Shift work plus Sunday equaled boredom. "How can I direct your call?"
"Sheriff Lamb, please," a sultry voice replied.
Deputy Hanson straightened, feeling instantly alert. "May I ask who is calling?"
"Oh, of course," came the sexy giggle, "It's Martina Vasquez, of Channel Nine News. I was hoping," she purred, "that Sheriff Lamb might be able to answer some questions regarding the search for Logan Echolls?"
The erotic way the woman rolled her R's made Dep. Hanson's pulse quicken. He smiled into the phone, "Why, I sure can ask, Ms. Vasquez. But he did state that he doesn't want to give any interviews regarding Mr. Echollls."
The laughter on the other side of the line was erotic as hell. "Well, maybe I can persuade him otherwise."
"Please hold," Dep. Hanson told her, and pressed the hold button before going in search of the sheriff.
**Break**
"Why, Sheriff Lamb," Veronica laughed huskily into the phone, "You are a devil!"
Logan dug his fingers into his knee to keep himself from glaring back at her. He'd forgotten how good she was at pretending to be someone else. Listening to her now, she sounded just like the reporter from the television station. If he were on the other end of that phone call, Logan was sure he wouldn't have known it was an imposter posing as the reporter. So far she'd been talking to Lamb a good ten minutes and didn't show any signs of ending the conversation.
"You say that Mr. Echolls parked his car in front of the Mars, Investigations building and then detonated the bomb…what possible motive would he have had to do that?" She paused and Logan's ears perked up. "Uhm-hum. Really? You think he's upset that Mr. Mars and his affiliates found that out? Really….but according to my research, he and Ms. DeVille were together. Wouldn't it stand to reason that if Mr. Echolls knew that someone had hired Mars Investigations to find the whole truth he would be grateful? No, I didn't know that…have you been keeping his home under surveillance…? Right, his home in San Diego? And the Naval Base?...and no one has seen him?"
Bunk, who was navigating the car, made a sharp turn onto the highway and merged into traffic as Veronica continued to wheedle information out of Sheriff Lamb.
"Ooh, Sheriff Lamb!" Veronica giggled suggestively again, and Logan literally thought he'd start spitting nails. "You know, I have a strict policy of not dating my sources, but for you, I just may make an exception!" She lowered her voice and said, "Is there any way you'd be willing to scan over a copy of the case files? Just…so I could…take a peek…you know, so I can have my questions all ready for when we…," giggle, "get together."
**BREAK**
Dick. Ugh, really? Mac had been forcibly volunteered to spend the day with Dick. And then Veronica had called, telling her that it was probably too dangerous to meet them up at Santa Anita, but that they would all meet up later. Her friend had also suggested she pack a bag, just in case.
That meant even more time alone with Dick.
She now inspected Dick's house as she pulled into his driveway. Though Dick had always had more money than brains, his place was not as grandiose as Mac had always assumed it would be. Sure, he lived in an expensive neighborhood and his property abutted the ocean, but the house wasn't a mansion. She was a little annoyed how impressed she was by his simple refinement.
She grabbed her purse before she opened her car door and climbed out. Slowly, Mac made her way up the walk, taking her time, studying the landscaping and then the front of the house as she went. The front door was made entirely of glass, and through it she saw Dick already heading down the hallway to greet her. Before she had even reached the bell to ring it, Dick swung the door open for her with a wide grin on his face. He popped his brows up and down and said, "Couldn't stay away, eh?"
Not waiting for him to invite her in, Mac stalked right past him. She quickly rounded back to face him, folding her arms as she did so. "What can I say? Your charm drew me back."
"Well," he said, appraising her up and down, "I'm glad my animal magnetism could draw you in so easily. It's like honey, babe."
She blinked. "I see."
His smile grew wider. "You look smokin' in that dress; I like it."
Nervously, Mac looked down at her dress and pulled at the fabric with her fingers. "I wasn't sure how dressed up to be. I brought a hat; it's in the car…"
"That's perfect," Dick said, looking sincere as he said it.
She smiled back at him in appreciation and they stood there silently for a moment. Dick finally bobbed his head and motioned behind her, clearing his throat to say, "Uh…go on down the hall to the living room. I'll be right there. I just have a quick phone call I still need to make."
He turned abruptly and headed in the other direction, leaving Mac staring questioningly after him. She watched as he put his phone up to his ear.
"Yo, T!" he chortled loudly, turning back one last time to give her a grin before continuing down the hallway, "What's the haps, man?"
His animated voice made her smile, and Mac found herself following him down the hallway. Dick was so absorbed in his conservation that he didn't notice her behind him, as he was absorbed on his conversation. He disappeared at the end of the hallway, which led to the kitchen, his voice lowering as he focused on his call. Mac stopped there and stood in the shadows, shamelessly eavesdropping. She heard what sounded like the refrigerator opening and closing, and then the sound of a beer bottle cracking open and the cap clanging on the counter.
"I know! I know! Bam! Out of that gates!" Dick chuckled, emphasizing the last word.
"Now listen," his voice was suddenly serious and his tone quieted, "Seriously, dude, I need the lowdown on the race this afternoon, Man." After a slight pause, Dick reprovingly said, "Come on, T, you can do better than that! After all the loyal business I've brought you, certainly one race…? My hot new girl is coming with me and I need a bet to impress."
Hot new girl? Me? So that's how he's gonna play it, huh? Mac leaned up against the wall and looked around the corner and spied Dick standing against the sink, looking out of the window. Apparently, he didn't even know she was listening.
His laugh became more boisterous. "It's not that kind of thing, T. Well, not yet anyway…"
When she realized Dick was about to turn around, Mac quietly spun and hurried down to the living room where he'd told her to wait. As she went, Mac looked at the few pieces of art that lined the walls of the hallway. If you could call it art, she thought bemusedly, looking at a surfboard that hung parallel to the floor on hooks. The way the board hung there, it looked more like storage than art but when she got to the living room and looked out the window to the beach, there was yet another surfboard propped up outside in the sand.
Well, he does own his own shop, she reasoned. Why wouldn't he have surfboards in every nook and cranny? She set her purse down on the table that sat next to a large picture window and looked out to the beach while she waited for Dick to return. The sky was blue with minimal clouds and there were beach-goers enjoying their Sunday afternoon. Dick saying she was a hot new girl was an interesting tidbit, she thought. Not sure what to make of it, Mac stared out at the scenery, lost in thought.
She jumped with surprise when Dick cleared his throat behind her. Self-conscious, Mac turned on her heels to face him. Dick stood grinning at her obnoxiously with a beer in his hand. Only that moment did she realize that he looked as if he'd just come from the ocean; his hair was semi-plastered to his forehead and though his shirt was dry, his shorts were damp.
He tipped the beer in her direction. "Want one?"
"No, thank you," she answered primly, stepping away from the window to pull a chair out from the table and sit down. She looked pointedly at the way he was dressed. "I thought we were in a hurry to get to Santa Anita."
"Eh," Dick said, making a big show of turning to look at a large clock in the shape of beer bottle, "There are races all day."
"Well, aren't you worried about getting there to help Logan out?"
"Well, yeah, but the big race isn't until four. If Sean's there, he's there to stay. We got a while yet."
"We're not really going to watch the race, Dick," Mac reminded him, trying to contain her irritation, "We need to get out of here before TMZ or whoever starts hounding you for information. Have the cops been here at all yet?"
"They stopped by this morning first thing, sniffing around. I told them to show me a warrant or I wasn't lettin' them in. It's a good thing Logan told me zilch-o about his whereabouts, you were right on the money there!"
"What about the media?" Mac asked, "Have they been around?"
"There was a card stuck in the door after I got back from surfing. Like I'm gonna talk to those cock-suckers." Dick made a face.
"We still need to get out of here, like as soon as possible. I'd feel better about this whole thing if we could just get out of Neptune for a while. If and when the cops come back, I don't want to be here."
Dick held his hands up, one still firmly holding his beer. "Fine. Fine, you win. I'll go change." With that, he took a large swig and set the now empty bottle down on the table. He turned and headed back down the hallway, leaving Mac once again to her own devices.
**Break**
Veronica scrolled through the scanned pages, speed reading as she went. Years of reading legal documents had taught her how to quickly skim and still retain all the important details. There was a lot of missing information, she decided. Most of the report was vague. Nowhere within the report did Lamb mention having even attained a warrant for Logan's arrest.
It was as if Lamb had released a bogus story to the media just to get the public to think that Logan was evading the police.
Well, he is now, she thought.
"What do the reports say?" Logan asked from the back seat.
She threw a hand up in the air to shush him. "Just a minute." Veronica clicked open the report Lamb had sent over concerning Sacks' death. After a few minutes of skimming, she murmured, "Wow. This is so…incomplete. It mentions you, Logan…but…there is a witness...ugh…it's Vinnie Van Lowe!"
"Vinnie Van Lowe, our illustrious former sheriff?"
"The very one. Apparently, he was in the neighborhood, tracking one of dad's neighbors for infidelity. He just 'happened' to be there."
"My ass he just happened to be there."
"I know." Veronica slowed her pace to read the transcript if Vinnie's statement out loud, "'There were no other vehicles on the street except this fancy blue Beamer. When he pulled up, Mr. Echolls looked suspicious to me. He had the look of someone casing a joint. I've done this kind of surveillance for years, ya know. He was there for a reason. He sat in the car, all quiet like, and bam! That little truck came out of nowhere and hit the little Metro or whatever tin can thing that was in the road. And yeah, I was in the house across the street, way up in the attic, I couldn't get down in time to help. But I watched that ass just sit there and watch it all go down, and then the truck came back and bam! Hit the car a second time. All the sudden, I look and there's a guy that's come out of the house Echolls is parked in front of. And suddenly, Echolls gets out lookin' all concerned and then suddenly the guy's like the hero…taking charge and yanking the people out of the car, acting like he's gonna save them. I know a guilty party when I see one. He orchestrated the whole thing.' " She stopped reading and looked back at where Logan sat, open mouthed, gaping at her.
"That whole account is bogus."
She nodded in agreement. "It's from Vinnie; of course it's bogus."
Next to her, Bunk piped up, "Is there a witness account from when the car blew?"
Veronica turned back to the tablet and opened the other report. "Lamb only sent some of this stuff…I think he's holding out on a girl…naughty boy." She swiped through the document and stopped. "There is an anonymous tipster that says they were on Rosart Street and saw you lean into the car and then bolt. Shit. That happened."
"Now what?"
"All of this is circumstantial. None of it is proof of anything. Vinnie's account is all conjecture. He's assuming he knows what you were thinking and why you were there. We know why you were there. Lamb doesn't."
"Lamb—"
"Lamb," Veronica interrupted, "thinks he's got you on a sinking ship. He has no brains; he makes his brother look like Einstein. He just told me on the phone that your motive is that they locked up your friends for Carrie's death. He thinks Carrie's dad hired Dad for the investigation. He told me that 'off the record'. Apparently, he has some scruples and isn't ready to publicly announce that Dad was hired for the investigation of Carrie's murder."
"No. What he has is ego. He doesn't want Keith Mars to get any credit for solving Carrie's murder so easily and so fast," Logan interjected. "So what is the motive for Sacks getting killed then? I can kind of understand his reasoning for Keith, but Sacks?"
"He's pulling stuff out of his ass, Logan. I don't think he thinks that he needs more of a motive than that." She sighed. "He said that they've opened your sealed record and other history…they know about all the other times you've been accused of murder. And…he brought up the fact that you were friends… 'good family friends'" she air-quoted, "with Cassidy Casablancas, a known maker and detonator of car bombs." Logan's face visibly paled. "He's completely off his rocker, Logan. We all know that Lamb will follow and/or make up any lead in order to make himself look important. He's never gone against me, though, and he has no idea what's in store for him." She smiled. "I'm emailing the pictures we took at Dad's office to Martina Vasquez right now. And then…I think we ought to try our luck at the races."
**Break**
Dick folded his large frame into the passenger seat of Mac's little Smart Car. She pushed the start button and then backed out of the driveway while he adjusted the seat and tried to make himself comfortable. Taking great pains to keep her eyes on the road, she ignored Dick as best she could while he fought with the seat belt and the bottom seat bar to push the seat as far back as possible.
"Man, I know you're little, Mack-a-roonie, but this clown car is a bit ridiculous. Did Ronald McDonald give you a good deal?" Still struggling, Dick huffed, "We should have taken my Rubicon."
Mac rolled her eyes and merged into traffic. "Well, if you'd have offered sooner…"
"You can always turn around."
"Don't tempt me; I may just leave you curbside."
**Break**
"So do you know anything about the races?" Dick suddenly asked a while later when Mac was changing lanes.
She glanced at him quickly and then turned her attention back to the road. "Uh, well, no, not especially. Growing up, horse racing wasn't exactly a McKenzie past time; we're more into NASCAR and football."
"When we first get there, we'll want to get an idea of which one to bet on," Dick informed her, "We'll go down and take a look at the all the horses as they're parading them around before they head to the starting gate. Might as well have a little fun on this mission, huh?"
Mac tightened her hands on the wheel. "Whatever's normal, Dick, so no one wonders what you're doing; that's all I really care about."
"Now, Mackster!" he protested, "If I don't take my date down to the walking ring, it wouldn't be legit, you hear what I'm saying?"
"I really don't know derby-etiquette, unless it's demolition style," Mac retorted, ignoring the unexpected thrill the word 'date' gave her, "I guess I'm gonna have to trust you."
"Good." That seemed to satisfy him. "There are a bunch of races today; but the one I usually place my bets on is the last up of the day; it's the biggest and most important race, so I have to stay to see it through."
"Your 'bets', plural?" Mac asked, giving him a quick look.
"Yes, plural." Dick answered, "It's called a trifecta."
"A tri-whatta?"
"Tri-fec-ta," Dick repeated slowly, "It means I'm betting that three specific horses will place first, second, and third."
"That sounds risky," Mac murmured, "Do you always bet that way?"
"It's the best pay out, so yeah," Dick said exuberantly, "Just wait till you get there, you'll see. It doesn't feel as risky when you're in the middle of it. It's more like…" he bobbed his eyebrows, "stimulating."
She bit her lip and did her best to concentrate on the road. "Uh…do you usually win?"
"Eh, ya know when you go as often as Logan and I do, you're bound to win once in a while."
She looked over at his grin. He looked all too pleased with himself. "Once in a while? That sounds like code for a lot."
He gave her a sly wink. "Hmm…maybe."
After returning his grin, Mac focused back on the road.
They continued and Dick started skimming through the radio stations, belting out songs from time to time. Mac found that she almost preferred it when he was being the typical loud mouth Dick. It actually helped to loosen Mac's nerves and relaxed her enough that she was even able to banter with him about his choice of music. It surprised her when she felt a little disappointed that it took less than half the time she'd estimated it would take to get to the Park.
The parking lot was filled to capacity with cars. As Mac and Dick stayed close together as they walked toward the gate, so as not to lose one another in the thickening crowd. She glanced at him covertly as she adjusted the sun hat she'd brought along. It was ironic to Mac how only the night before, she'd run away from Dick and now she was worried about losing sight of him.
It was just after one now. Dick had told her on the way over that different races were held every half hour until the final race at four. Because of this, Mac knew there would be bets made all afternoon and that, according to Dick, Sean would be making them. Apparently, Dick saw Sean at the tracks most every time he was there and Dick claimed Sean was well aware that he and Logan came to the tracks just as often when Logan was in town. As they walked, Mac swiped through her phone's menus to the app with the tracker that was attached to the money band. The little beacon blinked red on the screen and Mac was reassured to see that Sean—or at least the money band—was in fact inside the facility. The beacon that showed where Sean's sports car was, on the other hand, hadn't moved from where it had come to a stop the night before. But Mac wasn't overly concerned yet about that. All that really meant was that Sean wasn't driving the little sports car today. Since it was a known fact that he owned a second vehicle, it stood to reason he'd driven his SUV today.
It was critical to find Sean; they needed to know if he was just squandering the money on some random horse or if he was meeting someone here for a hand-off. Mac really didn't want to end up just tracking the cash back to a bank, but if that were the caes, it would be better to know now rather than waste resources chasing dead end. For Veronica's sake, Mac hoped Sean would drop the money off to someone that they could trace. If they were lucky, he'd pass if off directly to whoever had killed Sacks and hurt both Keith and Logan. A quick case could be made against him, and Lamb would have no choice but to lock him up. Do not pass Go.
"Should we call Logan?" Mac asked quietly. She turned to look up at Dick as they entered Santa Anita Park through the club entrance and headed toward the Kingsbury Fountain. Dick loomed above her and she squinted up at him, glad for the shade that her hat offered her now that the sun was beating down on them.
He pulled the aviators that he wore down and looked at her straight on, his gaze hot. "Logie-boy will call; I'm not worried."
They continued on a few paces before Dick turned back to her. "So I told you before that part of the fun was going to see all the horses up close so you get a feel for which ones ya wanna bet on." He jerked his head toward a crowd of people to their right before opening his Daily Racing Form to show her the list of horse names, "We gotta go over to the walking ring and look at them; do you like horses?"
His blue eyes were sparkling with expectancy, like a little kid waiting to show off a prized possession. She nodded lightly, trying to act nonchalant. "Horses are all right."
Unexpectedly, Dick took hold of her hand and pulled her through the crowd. "Hang on and don't get lost!"
"Not a chance with your Vulcan death grip," Mac grumbled under her breath as she raced after him, praying he wouldn't tear her arm from her socket.
A/N: Thanks again!