Veronica Mars (15 page)

“This is Adrian’s freshman year at Hearst,” Lianne explained. She blinked, and Veronica saw tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Adrian’s own eyes were downcast, heavy. “She begged us to let her come out and see him.”

Because she “wanted to” is a strange reason to let your unaccompanied sixteen-year-old stay with a male friend in the combination drug den/orgy that is Neptune’s spring break
scene
. Veronica tried to keep her expression neutral, but Lianne must have seen a flicker of judgment somewhere, because she shook her head.

“I know it sounds … negligent. But you have to understand. Rory doesn’t … doesn’t always make friends easily. She’s been so lonely since Adrian moved to school. We thought it would do her some good.”

Veronica shot a glance at Adrian. He picked at his french fries, his burger sitting untouched in front of him.

“How long have you and Aurora been friends, Adrian?”

His eyes darted up to meet hers. “Two years.” His voice had a light, lilting tenor. “She was this little nothing freshman, no friends, no cachet. But she overheard some muscle-head calling me a faggot the first week of class.” He gave a sad little smile. “Our high school was hell on earth for a gay guy. She spray-painted ‘homophobe’ on the guy’s Camaro in the parking lot—the security cameras caught her doing it, and she ended up in detention for a month afterward.”

Ah. Well that explains the permission to stay with a male friend
.

“That’s our girl.” Tanner patted Adrian roughly on the back. “Doesn’t always know how to pick her battles. But goddamn it, she’s got a good heart.” His voice cracked a little.

Veronica smiled, handing the phone back to Tanner. “She seems like a great kid.”

“Oh, she is.” Tanner looked down at his phone and then set it next to his burger wrapper. “It hasn’t always been easy for her. She’s been through a lot over the years. Her mom left when she was little, and I … well, I was pretty much a useless drunk until I got clean.” He said it matter-of-factly, but
his lips twisted downward as he said it. “That sort of thing takes a toll on a child.”

You don’t say
. Veronica looked at her notebook, just so she could look away from him for a moment. “Has she ever had any real behavior problems?”

There was a moment of silence. Lianne cupped her forehead in the palm of her hand, as if she had a headache.

“You know, she tests boundaries. She’s made some mistakes.” Veronica’s mother smiled sadly. “For a while she was in trouble every week at school. Cheating on tests, talking back to teachers. A few fights. Last year she got busted with a bunch of fake IDs and an ounce of marijuana. She’s been in counseling since then, and it’s helped. We’ve seen a big difference at home.”

“Has she ever done a disappearing act before?”

Lianne shook her head. “She’s never gone missing like this. She’s not always great about checking in, but she’s never just disappeared.”

Veronica nodded slowly. She looked at Adrian.

“You said you were with her the night she disappeared. Did you notice anything out of the ordinary that night?”

He bit the corner of his lip. “If anything, it was business as usual.”

“What do you mean?”

Adrian glanced up at Lianne and Tanner nervously, then back at Veronica, idly picking a french fry apart between two fingers. “She’s done it to me a hundred times. We go to a party together, she meets a guy, and then it’s like I don’t even exist.”

“She’s boy crazy, huh?”

“Girl, you don’t even
know
.” He looked miserable. “So I told her before we even got there—if she ditched me I’d leave her, and she’d have to get her own ride home. She promised we’d stick together. But lo and behold, here comes some Rico Suave with a four-hundred-dollar haircut and she’s on him like glue. So I hung out for a while and entertained myself. Then I left. It wasn’t until this morning, when Tanner called saying he couldn’t get hold of her, that I realized something was wrong. Then he called the police and here we are.”

“You didn’t happen to get any pictures, did you?”

“I did. And so did everyone else in the world.” He tapped into his phone then passed it to Veronica.

He’d pulled up an inbox for the e-mail “find​aurora@​infoblast.​com.” In the past two hours, more than fifty e-mails had come in, some with pictures attached. She scrolled through and read a few.
Just sent fifty bucks via PayPal—I will keep Aurora in my prayers!
read one. She opened another:
Recognized Aurora from the pictures I took last night—hope this helps
. Below was a photo of three white girls in bikinis making gang signs—and behind them, just out of focus but clearly recognizable, was Federico Gutiérrez Ortega, leaning close to whisper something to Aurora Scott.

“Ms. Landros set up the Find Aurora website this morning. I volunteered to sift through tips, so I’m getting some of the messages,” he explained. He jabbed a finger at Rico. “This is the guy she was flirting with when I left last night. I took off just after midnight, and the latest time stamp on any of the pictures we’ve gotten is two twenty-seven a.m.”

Veronica flipped through the photos. They weren’t nearly as R rated as the ones showing Hayley Dewalt in the guy’s
lap, but they definitely showed Aurora looking flirty—and Rico looking interested.

She looked at her mother’s pinched, pale face and Tanner’s heavy frown. She didn’t want to lie to them—but she didn’t want to panic them either. Not yet, when there were still so many unanswered questions. If she told them Hayley Dewalt had been seen with the same boy, they’d be terrified. And if that information got back to the press, her quarry might go to ground.

Better to wait. To say nothing, until she had more information. If there was reason for them to panic, it wouldn’t really matter when they started. She made a mental note to e-mail Petra for the passwords for the website so Mac could be cued in to what came through.

Veronica pulled out a few business cards and passed them around. “Please call me immediately, day or night, if anything changes, or if you think of anything that might be useful. I’ll be in touch if I learn anything new.” She stood up and grabbed her purse.

Lianne gave a startled little gasp. “Oh, I almost forgot. Wait there, Veronica, I’ll be right back.”

She hurried down the hallway. Veronica stood awkwardly next to the table. Tanner kept staring at her with a woeful, earnest expression. Adrian scooped his uneaten burger into one of the white bags, taking it into the kitchen and throwing it in the trash.

“I’m sorry to meet you like this, honey,” Tanner said. He gave a strained little smile. “You know, your mama’s my second chance at life. Well, truth be told, she’s my fourth or fifth—but she’s the one that stuck. We met in AA—I was fifteen months sober when she started. We kind of looked
out for each other. Every day when I thank my creator for another sober day, I thank Him for bringing us together.”

Veronica didn’t know what to say. A pained smile pulled her lips tight. For a moment she was sure she caught Adrian casting a disparaging look over the kitchen island at Tanner. She suspected he’d heard the story before, more than once.

Lianne hurried back, a spiral-bound book clutched in her hand. It was covered with overlapping vinyl stickers—band decals, skateboarding logos, a bumper sticker that read “Cute but psycho: roll the dice if you dare.”

She thrust it at Veronica. “It’s her diary,” she whispered. “I haven’t read it. I don’t … I don’t want to invade her privacy. But it might be helpful.”

Veronica swallowed, sliding the book into her bag. “Thanks. I’ll take a look.” She gave a faltering laugh and mimed zipping her lips. “I’ll keep it confidential. I promise.”

Lianne walked Veronica to the door. For one awful, sluggish second, Veronica was sure her mother was about to pull her into a hug. Then it passed, hugless, and she realized with a stab of irritation that a part of her was disappointed.

I don’t want her hugs. I don’t want her attention, her love. I don’t want her
.

Tears spilled down Lianne’s cheeks.

“Please. Just help us find our little girl, okay?”

Veronica felt her fingers curl into fists. The muscles across her chest felt tight, like a carapace. Like armor.

“I’m going to do my best,” she said. Then she opened the door and let herself out.

You’ll never guess who showed up today
.

Back in her office a few hours later, Veronica stared at her computer screen. The cursor blinked rhythmically, an ancient ode to the blank page. Even though there were hundreds—thousands—of things to say, she couldn’t figure out what to write next.

She had work to do. There were lives at stake, careers on the line … and all she wanted to do was talk to one person. The one person she couldn’t reach.

It was just after 4:00 p.m. in Neptune, California—which meant it was 0430 hours aboard the USS
Harry Truman
. They’d had a date to Skype a half hour ago, but he hadn’t shown up. That happened sometimes; if he was called out on a mission, he didn’t always have a chance to let her know. She tried not to let it bother her, but a part of her always thought, just for a split second:
He could be dead right now
.

It was stupid. But she couldn’t help it.

Maybe you already saw the news—I don’t know, do you get CNN on the
Truman
? Trish Turley’s been making a meal out of it. Another girl went missing, and because the cosmos hates me, she just so happens to be Lianne’s stepdaughter
.

The late-afternoon sun filtered through the slats in her
blinds, sending shadows across her desk. She leaned back in her chair and stared at the plaster on the ceiling, her mind combing over everything that’d happened in the past few hours. It all seemed too complicated to try to describe in an e-mail—the strangeness of seeing her mom again, the confusion of feelings. The discovery that she had a little brother. She sighed.

I’ll tell you all about it when we have a chance to Skype. Are you free Monday morning (my Sunday night?). Let me know and I’ll be online
.

She hit Send and snapped the laptop shut.

It was obvious that the disappearances were connected; Federico Gutiérrez Ortega was seen flirting with both girls the night before they went missing. But what had he
done
with them? What could possibly motivate him to kidnap or hurt two American girls when he had so much at stake? She knew the evidence had to be airtight before she made an accusation; the Milenios weren’t stupid. If they caught a whiff of her poking around, they’d cover their tracks and then some.

Meanwhile, Hayley’s fund had just hit $550,000 that morning; Aurora’s was already up to $300,000 and climbing by the hour. As those figures rose, so did the number of cancellations rolling into Neptune’s motels and hotels up and down the coastline. Trish Turley had rallied her fans, and the sudden drop in the number of spring breakers was becoming noticeable.

A door opened, and Veronica suddenly became aware of raised voices in the reception area.

“I know they came from this office. So unless you want to be charged with obstruction of justice, it’s time to start talking.”

She jumped up and ran to the door to see Sheriff Lamb leaning across Mac’s desk. His stomach had knocked over a jar of pencils, and they rolled slowly toward the edge. He held a blue flyer under Mac’s nose, shaking it back and forth with every word.

Mac sat with her chin propped on her hand, staring at him with flat, bored eyes. She didn’t flinch as he shoved the paper toward her face.

“What’s the problem with my flyers?” Veronica crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the door frame. “Did the color not match Neptune’s City Beautiful initiative?”

“Mars.” Lamb turned away from Mac’s desk, his lips curled in a sneer. Veronica could see Mac visibly relax behind him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

She took the flyer from his hand and examined it. “It looks like I’m trying to find Hayley Dewalt. It’s going to be hard to do if you keep taking my flyers down, though.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to keep me informed about your activities?”

“Last I checked, you were busy ignoring my voice mails. And now that there’s another girl missing—from the exact same house—it seems you might want to be printing up some new flyers right about now.”

He stared at her with burning blue eyes, stepping closer until he was mere inches from her face. She could smell stale coffee on his breath. “There’s no evidence the disappearances are linked,” he said carefully.

“Isn’t there?” She affected surprise. “Oh, I guess you wouldn’t know, since you left the actual investigating for me to do. Well, buckle up, my friend, because I’m about to hand
you actual clues to an actual crime, wrapped in a bow.” She crooked her finger at him and went back into her office. A moment later, he followed.

“I don’t have time for games, Mars.”

“No doubt, what with all that graft and corruption filling your schedule.”

Lamb smirked, one hand on the back of the low chair facing her desk. She grabbed her laptop, pulling up the photos she’d received from Hayley’s friends and Adrian. Then she turned the computer around for him to see.

“Aurora Scott disappeared from the same house Hayley Dewalt did nearly two weeks ago. Both girls were talking to this guy right before their last sighting.” She pointed at the picture of Federico. “He’s who you want to be harassing. Not Mac.”

Lamb’s pupils dilated slightly, but otherwise his face was motionless. The bluster had gone out of him all at once, leaving a quiet, calculating intensity to his movements.

“I take it you know who this guy is?” he asked coolly.

She darted a glance at him. “Do you know something I don’t?”

Lamb straightened up, tucking his thumb through his belt loop. “What I know is that you don’t want to go slinging accusations at people like this. Not unless you’re one hundred percent sure you can back them up.”

And just like that, she was sure. He’d known all along that the house was owned by the Milenios, that the Gutiérrez cousins were laundering money for their family. He was just too lazy—or maybe too corrupt—to investigate. The taste of bile burned her tongue, but she swallowed it down.