CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
“Honey, could you take the nachos? I need to get these stuffed mushrooms into the oven.”
Veronica took the tray from Keith’s outstretched hand. “You got it.”
It was a week after Veronica’s return from Vegas, and they were in her dad’s kitchen, putting the finishing touches on an array of party snacks that could’ve fed the Union Army at Gettysburg. Plates of veggies, mini quiches, and chips and dip sprawled haphazardly across every surface. It was election day, and Keith had put out an open invite to anyone who needed a little emotional support while the votes came in. Now he crouched over the stove in an apron that said “Kiss the Cop,” fumbling with a pan of breadcrumb-and-Asiago-filled cremini mushrooms.
Veronica pushed through the kitchen door. The living room and dining room were full to bursting with friends and neighbors. There were plenty of familiar old faces—retired deputies, friends Keith still had in the fire and EMT departments. A few of their neighbors from their old apartment. Inga waved at her from where she sat in her father’s armchair. Lisa stood in the doorway, sharing a plate of strawberries and Gouda with her wife, Lindsay. Mac and Wallace sat on the sofa, eyes glued to the election reports, Mac absently stroking Pony’s ears as she watched.
The dining room table was already brimming with cheese platters, wine bottles, veggie dip, and a tower of chocolate cupcakes Veronica had baked that afternoon. She made room for the nachos and had just set them down when Cliff sidled up to her.
“How’s it looking?” she asked, moving aside as he picked up a paper plate. He shrugged.
“Still too close. It could be a long night.”
The polls had closed three hours earlier, and while a lot of the ballots had already been called, the sheriff’s race was far too tight to project a winner. She sighed.
“Well, at least we’ve got enough food to survive tonight’s scheduled apocalypse.”
“That’s cheerful. Any word from our friend, Judas?”
Veronica gave him an admonishing look. “Dad invited him to stop by tonight, no hard feelings, but I doubt he’ll show. He seemed pretty ashamed when I talked to him.”
“I tell you what. If Lamb loses tonight, I will forgive and forget. No harm, no foul.” Cliff popped a cherry tomato in his mouth.
She smiled. “And if he wins?”
“Four more years of Lamb would be plenty punishment for all of us,” Cliff said. “And I won’t invite Eli to my birthday party.”
Veronica watched Cliff lope back into the living room, his plate laden down with food. She hadn’t forgiven Weevil, per se. But earlier that week he’d texted her a simple photo, no accompanying words. It showed Jade and Valentina burying him to his neck in the sand on the beach, all of them laughing.
His voice came back to her suddenly. You know what it’s like to have people counting on you and to let them down? What would she do to take care of the people who counted on her? How far would she compromise? She thought about Bellamy, handcuffed to his bed at the hospital. She thought about Grace’s expression at the diner when she told her he’d be charged for his crimes. She was less able to answer the question than ever.
A knock came at the front door. Veronica shook off her reverie, and went to get it. Leo stood on the porch, wearing a black leather jacket over his shirt and tie. He held a bottle of wine. They hadn’t seen each other since Sunday, on the long drive back to Neptune. Then, they’d both been keyed up from their discovery, jittery and sad and excited all at once. They hadn’t talked much, but at a rest stop just outside Joshua Tree State Park they’d sat at a picnic table and eaten burgers and greasy french fries. The sky was a stark, steely blue over the desert, the landscape as dry and saturated as autumn leaves. The east coast can keep its fall colors, she thought. We’ve got landscape of our own.
“You know, Veronica, we’re really good together.” Leo spoke suddenly in the midst of the silence. Veronica felt her cheeks burn, remembering the shared kisses of a decade before. She’d be lying if she denied feeling Leo’s affection for her as they’d worked on the case. She’d be telling herself a worse lie if she refused to admit that she enjoyed it. But the dirty little secret, the one that pained her in the wee hours when she couldn’t sleep, was that she felt something similar for Leo.
Until this moment, she’d buried it deep. It was not unlike the way she’d turned off the camera when Sweet Pea went to work on Bellamy. She was anxious to maintain plausible deniability. Leo was here. He hadn’t chosen to leave her. Her dad adored him. Keith didn’t have to figure out a way to “develop a healthy relationship” with him. Veronica’s feelings became jumbled, and she was just trying to figure out how to articulate them. I’m with Logan, and I love him more than I thought I could love a man, and we have an opportunity to be happy in spite of everything and I can’t throw all that away for something more convenient. But then she realized that Leo was still talking. “You ever think about going legit? You’d have to start on a beat, but you’d make detective in no time. The academy’s testing in December.”
She smiled then. Her confused thoughts went still. She was certain she was blushing, something her dad often compared to a Halley’s Comet sighting. There were already so many complications to her life; why did her brain seem so eager to invent more?
“Me? On the force?” She laughed. “Can you imagine me reporting to a CO? Come on, D’Amato. I’m a loose cannon. A cowboy cop. A maverick. Besides, just because I’m not legit doesn’t mean we can’t work together. I think this arrangement worked out pretty well for both of us. And I’m not sure Detective Veronica Mars, SDPD, would’ve been quite so willing to play fast and loose with the criminal element.”
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure Detective Veronica Mars would be plenty willing. And that might be a problem.” He grinned. “But fair enough.” He grabbed one of her fries and dipped it in the ketchup. “Let me know if you ever start dreaming of a pension and actual benefits. It’s not all bad, playing by the rules.”
Now she opened her dad’s front door wider to let him in.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said to the group. “We win yet?”
“Not yet. But we haven’t lost yet either. Thanks for coming.”
“Hey, thanks for having me. Nice spread.” He waved at Mac and Wallace as he entered, setting the wine bottle on the table just as Keith burst out of the kitchen with his mushrooms.
“Detective!” he said, spying Leo. “Welcome, welcome. Hope you brought your appetite.”
“I never leave home without it, sir,” Leo said, grinning.
Keith slapped Leo on the shoulder and went into the living room to offer the hors d’oeuvres around. Leo turned back to Veronica, looking suddenly more serious. “How you doing?”
“I’m doing all right. Apart from the fact that we’re about to get four more years of Lamb, I mean.”
“Yeah, well. That just means you’ll have four more years to give him hell.” His eyes sparkled.
A hubbub rose up in the living room, overridden by Lisa’s authoritative “Shhhhh!” Veronica hurried to the doorway to see what was happening.
On the screen, a stiff-haired Martina Vasquez stood on the steps outside of the courthouse, microphone in hand. “It seems we’re only a few moments away from hearing the results from the Balboa County sheriff’s race. And if you’re wondering why we haven’t projected a winner it’s because, so far, no clear leader had emerged when the last precinct results came in. But the head of elections just informed us that they’ve finished counting the ballots and are preparing their announcement.”
Inga had her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide. On the sofa, Mac pulled her knees to her chest in a protective hug.
“No whammy, no whammy, no whammy,” said Keith. Nobody laughed as they stared at the screen.
The newscaster seemed to be listening to something for a moment. Veronica’s knuckles were white as she clutched the doorjamb, braced for the news.
“These numbers are subject to final certification, of course, but it appears that political newcomer Marcia Langdon has edged ahead—largely on the strength of votes from precincts in the predominantly minority Eastside. We’re projecting she will win the race by fewer than two hundred votes.”
The room erupted. Wallace leapt from the sofa, doing a modified touchdown dance in the middle of the living room. Lisa threw her arms around Cliff, then turned and kissed her wife. Drinks were exultantly chugged, pots and pans were pounded with ladles, and Pony bolted maniacally around the room on an interspecies contact high.
Veronica stared at the TV. Marcia Langdon was coming out to the podium to deliver her acceptance speech, surrounded by falling balloons and cheering supporters. Even her victory smile was grim; she waved at the crowd with a satisfied, no-nonsense set to her chin. For a moment Veronica let herself imagine what it could be like, this world without Lamb. Would Langdon be able to whip a long-corrupt department into shape? Would the wealthy of Neptune tolerate a sheriff who didn’t pander to their every need? Or would they just find another way to get what they wanted anyway?
She took a flute of champagne from the platter Keith was passing around, lifted her glass, and toasted the new order. Surely things couldn’t get worse.
—
Veronica drove home a few hours later, after helping Keith make a dent in the mess. Pony was asleep in the back of the car, one enormous paw dangling over the side of the seat.
The celebration had gone on far later than anyone had planned. They’d opened a bottle of champagne that Cliff had brought, just in case. Inga got giggly after her third glass. Keith proposed a toast. “To Marcia,” he’d said, holding up his red plastic cup. “To our new sheriff.”
Cliff raised his cup in assent and hoarsely added, “And to the citizens of Neptune, for voting her riveted-on, steel-plated ass in!” The group had shared a final Hear, hear! and clapped their PVC chalices together.
So Lamb was out. Veronica entertained the thought that perhaps she’d been wrong; maybe things could change in Neptune, slowly and against the tide. She wasn’t sure what kind of sheriff Langdon would be, but at least she’d be different. That was a start.
Other than that, things were set to get back to normal—or what passed for it in her life. In a few weeks she planned to drive to Tucson to spend her first Thanksgiving with her little brother. She wouldn’t see him for Christmas. That she reserved for Keith, forever and always. But Lianne had found a used guitar, and Veronica had arranged for him to take weekly lessons with a local teacher.
She’d have to start finding more paid gigs. Some would be with people she didn’t respect or like. Some would be seedy, dirty, and as crooked as Neptune’s black heart. But some of them? Some would matter.
First things first, though. Tonight she had a date.
She pulled into the parking lot of her complex. Pony was on her feet the moment they parked, wagging wildly. Upstairs, she turned on the lamps and checked her reflection. Then she opened her computer.
She didn’t have to think about all the time she and Logan spent apart, all the distance their lives might put between them. Not tonight, anyway. Right now, all she had to think of was him. The fact that he was alive. The fact that he was doing something that made him proud and strong. The fact that she loved him. In this moment, that was enough.
The computer chimed. She clicked Accept, and Logan’s face appeared on-screen. His eyes lit up at the sight of her.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d make it,” he said.
She smiled.
“I’m here,” she said.