It was after 3:00 when Veronica finally slipped under the covers and snuggled up to her warm, sleeping husband. Her mind was roiling with the information they'd been given on the case. 5 women, between the ages of 17 and 40 had been found dead over the course of the last two years. The authorities had failed to link the cases because although the bodies had been found within a two mile radius of each other, they crossed the borders of three different municipalities and therefore jurisdictions. It wasn't until the last victim's body had turned up in late July, that someone in St. Paul had thought to contact the Minneapolis Police Department about the manner of her death. There were certain similarities that had caused those in charge to ask about missing persons and unsolved cases in the first ring suburbs.

As Veronica had told Logan, the bodies of sex workers turned up with depressing regularity in every city in America. It was a dangerous line of business. Battery, abuse and addiction were more common dangers of the life but death by accident, overdose or mischief was not unusual.

Mischief was such a mild word to describe violent death. It was the unusual circumstances of these five bodies that finally caused some alarm among the law enforcement agencies of the northeast metro, linked the deaths and convinced three chiefs of police that they had a serial killer on their hands which eventually lead to the FBI being called in to help.

All the women had died of blood loss but despite their massive internal trauma, there was no indication of how their injuries were inflicted.

No trace evidence. No evidence of a struggle. Possible sexual violation but no DNA left behind. No defensive wounds and considering the extent of their injuries very little blood. No indication that the women had been killed where they'd been found but likewise no evidence that the bodies had been moved post mortem, either. It's as though they'd simply materialized, dead, in the places where they were discovered. The forensic units of Minneapolis, St. Paul and Roseville were stymied. Well, thought Veronica, the Feds have the best forensic units in the world and experts who can develop a profile of the killer. First things first: we'll have to figure out exactly how the women were killed.

With those thoughts and images swirling through her head, Veronica didn't expect her sleep to be peaceful and sure enough, she jerked awake after a particularly violent dream. It was 4:08 a.m. She sighed and snuggled up against Logan's warmth. Without waking, he threw an arm over her. The dream picked up right where it left off.

A few hours later, she stumbled downstairs and joined Logan and JR in the kitchen.

"I didn't expect to see you up so early, Sugarpuss." Logan said as she poured herself some coffee and faced the two young men.

"Sleep wasn't so great." She muttered.

"Nightmares?" JR asked. All those psychology classes together had resulted in hours spent discussing the meaning (if any) of dreams, nightmares, cause and effect, the games the subconscious mind played while sleeping. There was a legend at the FBI of a young agent finding the last victim of a serial killer based on his dreams. Considering all that she'd been through, it wasn't surprising that Veronica had nightmares.

"Yep." She sipped her coffee.

"Really?" Logan was usually aware when his wife's sleep was disturbed.

"Same old, same old." she shrugged.

"How did I get blown up this time?" Logan asked. "Bus? Plane?"

"Car."

"Damn." Logan sighed and picked up a pumpkin muffin.

"And I was a total bitch to you before it happened." she winced as she walked around the island and took the seat next to her husband. "I mocked you for being in therapy."

"Niiice." Logan nodded. He broke off a piece of muffin and offered it to her. "I probably should be in therapy."

"Probably." JR said, "but most likely you'd end up convincing the therapist to close the practice, move to Tahiti and take up oil painting."

"Don Juan DeMarco." Logan noted. "Good one."

"I'm sorry." Veronica rubbed Logan's arm. "I'm glad I didn't wake you. Barney Rubble was delivering pizzas and bombs all over Neptune and he left one in my car. It seemed like a cartoon until the part where you blew up. It was too stupid to be scary; you were moving my car to avoid a parking ticket!"

"What's a parking ticket?" Logan asked.

"I know!" she laughed. "An anvil falling out of the sky and squishing you would have made more sense."

"You've never actually seen anyone get hit with an anvil," JR piped up. "so your psyche always goes to bombs when it wants to freak you out."

"Yep." Veronica shrugged. "The part I really don't get is why Barney? Why not Fred?"

"The end is always the same," Logan sighed. "Me; gone with the wind."

"She is either really afraid of losing you or she secretly wants to blow you to bits." JR told Logan. He regretted his choice of words the moment he saw the look on both the Mars' faces.

"That's not a secret." Veronica said, bumping Logan's fist.

"I love you so much." Logan said.

"Do you really have to swing at every lob I toss your way?" JR asked, wearily.

"I do if I want to live with myself." she explained.

"So, does this big, important federal case that got you called away on Halloween have anything to do with bombs?" JR asked.

"No." she shook her head. "No terrorists, rogue cartoons or pyromaniac pizza boys."

"Just...dead...hookers." Logan said, carefully watching her face. She lowered her coffee cup and looked at him, impressed. He shrugged. "That would be enough to set off your bad dreams."

"Uh oh." JR said. "Serial killers do fall under the bureau's purview. How many are we talking about?"

Veronica shook her head.

"Pizza boy' is just another iteration of the man in uniform; ubiquitous, invisible, always has a reason to be anywhere..." JR nodded at Logan, "Yeah, I'll bet we've got some serial killer activity going on in town!"

"I didn't say a word." Veronica muttered into her coffee.

"'Serial killer activity' sounds like a job for Ghostbusters." Logan said.

"I'm just saying, maybe there was more to this dream than you realize." JR said. "Barney and his exploding pizzas may have meant something else, like...watch your six, be careful...check your back seat."

"Oh, okay." Veronica said sarcastically.

"Yeah, I know;" JR rolled his eyes. "You're totally paranoid when it comes to checking your backseat."

"After you've been locked in a freezer and set on fire by the homicidal maniac who hid in the backseat of your car, it's not paranoia; it's just good sense." Logan pointed out.

"I'm vigilant, not paranoid." she defended herself.

"Right. And you're 'discerning', not suspicious." JR grinned.

"Yes!"

"It's okay, Babe." Logan put his arm around her and gave her a squeeze. "Suspicion and paranoia are two of your most charming qualities."

"Thank you." she smiled and leaned in for a kiss.

"They really are." JR said, dryly.

"It sounds like a compliment when he says it." Veronica told JR.

"It is a compliment." JR said. "When he says it."

Veronica got to the office at about 10:30. She was one of the first of the agents who had been included in the late night briefing to arrive. They'd all been told to get a good night rest; there would be plenty to do when they came in. She never could sleep when a new case showed up on her radar. She was going over the file at her cubby when Tuski came in.

"Oh, I should have known you'd get here first." She said, dropping her bag on the floor by her desk. "I could hardly sleep: visions of eviscerated ladies kept swimming through my head."

"Lucky you." Veronica laughed. "With me, it's always my loved ones, blown to smithereens."

"Damn."

"That's what Logan said. When I've got a new case, sleep is actually detrimental to my mental health." Veronica shrugged. "It's been like this since high school."

"I suppose it would be." Tuski sighed, sympathetically. "Well, the game is afoot!"

"Why is it always women who get gutted?" Veronica shook her head, looking at the photos spread across her desk.

"Serial killers aren't interested in a fight. They're mostly cowards who pick victims they'll have an easy time with. That's why so many of them target kids." Tuski said. "The statistically small percentage of female serial killers most often used poison or firearms to dispatch their victims."

"Yeah. Male killers may show more violence in the actual murders but females have been more imaginative in how they mistreat the bodies afterwards. Like making soap out of them."

"Leonarda Cianciulli! She's my favorite!" Tuski exclaimed.

"You have a favorite serial killer?"

"Favorite female serial killer." Tuski clarified. "She was something else! The vics were all friends of hers, she tricked them into giving her alibis and in addition to making soap out of their bodies, she used their blood in baked goods, which she not only served to other friends but ate as well. Can you imagine?"

"I'll bet her Etsy page is popular in Hell."

"Yep." Tuski nodded. "There are exceptions, of course. Clementine Barnabet killed whole families with an axe. She killed a lot of kids; her youngest victim was 11 months old. It doesn't get much more horrific than that but at least she didn't make soap out of them."

"What do you think the chances are that our perp is a female?"

"Not good." Tuski looked thoughtful. "These crimes speak of rage and hatred of women."

"That doesn't exclude women."

"The manner of death seems particularly pointed at females. Removing the reproductive systems...it doesn't get much more specific than that."

"Were they actually removed?" Veronica looked through the brief. "It doesn't say how. Just that the organs were...gone."

"And the vics all died of blood loss." Tuski shook her head. "I mean, it's possible the unsub is a woman but it doesn't seem likely."

"Well," Veronica said cheerfully, "We have profilers to figure out that end of things. Grunts like you and me are just here to gather intel and we're not going to do that sitting at our desks. Ready to hit the ground?"

"Let's roll."

The next several hours were incredibly unproductive. Veronica and Tuski revisited the several of the sites where bodies had been found and attempted to question anyone who may have heard anything but too much time had elapsed; witnesses had given their statements and moved on. None of the bodies had been left in residential districts. All the victims had been found in alleys, driveways or delivery ways behind warehouses, supply depots or garages. There were apartments in the upper floors at all the scenes but the residents of such places were mostly transient. They were able to find and question exactly one of the witnesses named in the brief.

"And he wasn't very helpful at all." Tuski sighed, getting back in the car.

"He seemed a lot more concerned about the stray cat problem than the fact that a woman was found dead out by his dumpster two years ago."

"Well, whoever killed her didn't wake him up and the fucking cats do that every night." Tuski said. "He was not happy to be told that animal control, not the FBI, had jurisdiction over that particular problem."

"No! 'My tax dollars at work!' " Veronica mimicked the irate citizen. "Like that guy pays taxes."

"You want to keep going?" Tuski asked.

"I want to look in that alley again."

They walked the alley from end to end, checking their info to mark the spot where the body had been found. Standing on that spot, whatever had happened that night so many months ago, no one would have seen a thing from either end of the alley. A handful of windows in the building on the far side of the alley might have seen something, had anyone happened to look at the right moment but according to the police who did the initial canvas of the buildings, no one had.

"Estimates put time of death between 3:00 and 4:00 a.m." Tuski said, consulting her notes. "Good time to commit muder; no one's awake."

"Yeah." Veronica looked up at the brick buildings rising up around them. "Like the unsub knew what he was doing."

"But what was she doing?" Tuski asked.

"And where did they run into each other and did she actually even die here?" Veronica added. The MPD had asked all those same questions twenty two months ago and come up with no answers. The two young agents looked at each other.

"Well, I don't suppose the bureau ever gets any easy ones." Tuski shrugged. "Although we found the Oklahoma City bombers in under a week, so we're not too shabby."

"The Oklahoma City bombers left evidence that could be traced. Leads that could be followed. This..." Veronica shook her head. "This is sad."

"We'll get him." Tuski said, confidently.

Back at the office for lunch, they went over their files again.

"We need to talk to some of the girls who worked with the victims." Veronica said.

"The cops interviews dozens of working girls." Tuski said, looking through the logs. "We've got transcripts from all three jurisdictions. Have you read them all?"

"Yes but..." Veronica looked through the logs again. "...none of them knew the fourth or fifth victim. If we can't find a single hooker who knew either of those girls, the working theory that the unsub is targeting whores goes out the window."

"Not necessarily; those girls were found in the same general part of town as the first three and left in similar deserted alleys. If the unsub thinks they were working girls, the theory still holds."

"Still, that seems like info we should have."

"Okay." Tuski looked up from the pile of papers in front of her. "Let's go get it."

That turned out to be easier said than done. Not surprisingly, the working girls of the warehouse district weren't enthusiastic about talking to obvious federal agents, not even young, female agents who could sympathize with the circumstances that had lead them to the street.

"This is a waste of time." Tuski said, as they got back in the car. "None of them are going to talk to us."

"Can you blame them?" Veronica asked. "If the perp is someone they know, it's someone who can hurt them."

"Exactly. If it's someone who can hurt them, we need to get that information out of them. So how do we do it?"

"I have an idea..." Veronica said. "You're not going to like it."

They spent the afternoon hitting thrift stores and by the time the sun set, Veronica and Tuski were ready to move among the working women of the warehouse district without drawing attention to themselves.

Hooker Barbie lives again. Veronica thought, catching a glimpse of herself in a window. I should have worn this for Halloween.

"Damn." Tuski said, stopping beside Veronica and studying her own reflection. " I look hot."

"We certainly look affordable." Veronica said, wondering for an instant what Logan would think. He'd love it if I were in our bedroom but out here on the street? He'd shit a brick. "Special Agents Easy and Sleazy, on the job!"

Several hours later, their tactic worked but Tuski wasn't sure it paid off.

"We learned nothing new. No one knows anything, no one has an idea who the unsub is, no one knows a john with a thing for knives, or a pimp who likes to cut girls who get out of line...and my feet are killing me."

"Sure we do," Veronica insisted as they drove back over the river. "We now know that the last two vics weren't working the streets. That's not to say they weren't on the job, they just had a different venue, which means if our perp is targeting working girls, we need to think bigger than street walkers. We also need to find out what they were doing in this neighborhood. And Minneapolis has a definite stray cat problem."

"Great. All we learned is that the net needs to be wider." Tuski sighed. "The rest of that sounds like background noise."

"Sometimes, background noise is where the answers are." Veronica said, cryptically.

They raised a few eyebrows of the skeleton crew who staffed the night shift when they arrived back at headquarters but went straight to their computers and began transcribing their notes.

For the second night in a row, Veronica slipped into bed long after Logan had fallen asleep.

"Coats? Boots? Mittens, hats, scarves, choppers?" Bryn asked. "Wool socks?"

"uh, yeah, I guess." JR said, looking at his list. It simply said 'winter supplies'.

"No, you can't guess." Bryn said. "You're all going to need those things and soon. And I'm not talking nice little jean jackets or leather jackets, I'm talking parkas, shearlings, down jackets; negative zero stuff."

"Come on." JR looked skeptical. "It's November and you're wearing shorts!"

"It's early November and I'm also wearing a sweatshirt. Believe me, the weather can turn fast. This time of year, every day without snow is a gift."

"Okay. Let's go shopping."

"Really?" Bryn brightened. "Do you have their sizes?"

"What kind of an Aide de camp would I be if I didn't?"

"And we should get to Menards. You need a snow thrower."

"I thought they were called 'snow blowers'?"

"They are. Some people have two; one for light snow and a big one for the heavy, wet, deep stuff. You'll need snow melt or salt and grit. Have you got shovels? An ice chopper? Picks? Sno rake?"

"Snow rake? That's not a thing."

"Oh, you poor innocent." Byrn shook her head. "Your chances of survival are currently not good at all."

At work, all the agents involved were back in the conference room dedicated to the multiple murders. SAC Olsen was bringing everyone up to date on the status of the investigation.

"I hope everyone has had a chance to thoroughly study the briefs you all got the other night..." Olsen said. "Due to the nature of the crimes, we have detectives from both the homicide and vice departments of the Minneapolis and St. Paul police departments..."

As SAC Olsen outlined the state of the investigation so far, Veronica looked around the room. She and Tuski were the only rookie agents involved in the investigation. The rest were veterans of this kind of case, including a small cadre of profilers who had been introduced the first night. The large white board that covered one wall of the room was sadly bare. Photos of each of the five victims were surrounded by notes on what was known of each and information gathered so far regarding their deaths. In the following weeks, that board would be covered with snippets of information that, with any luck, would draw a picture of exactly what happened to these women and who was responsible for their murders.

Veronica allowed herself an inner smile when she noted that the words 'working girl?' had been added and circled on the board next to the photos of the last two victims.

"In addition to a working profile on the unsub, we're bringing in a weapons expert to determine exactly how the victims were killed. So far, the wounds haven't matched up with any weaponry we're familiar with. That's potentially good news; an exotic weapon or tools will, in theory, be easier to trace than your run of the mill carving knife. Any questions?"

After a few questions and answers from the agents, the meeting was adjourned. As they filed out of the room, Olsen asked the two rookies to stay for a moment.

"I see that you two were in the field yesterday," He said, glancing at copies of the paperwork they'd filed. " You found reason to doubt the idea that the last two victims were sex workers?"

"Yes, sir." Tuski said. "We visited several of the crime scenes and reinterviewed a few witnesses."

"We also talked to several of the women who work those neighborhoods," Veronica said. "To try to get an understanding of the unsub's targets and...hunting grounds."

"Yes, I heard you went on an undercover fishing expedition the other night ." Olsen nodded, still looking through the papers.

"We had much more success getting women to talk to us when we didn't stand out." Veronica explained. "That's how we were able to determine that the last two victims, if they were in fact sex workers, were not working the streets. Not those streets, anyway. No one remembers seeing those two women before."

"No one admitted seeing those two before." Olsen looked Veronica in the eye as he corrected her. "Hands on investigation is usually better than relying on the reports of the initial officers on the scene. Very good work, but...who authorized it?"

"Excuse me?" Veronica asked. "You did. Isn't that why we were included in this investigation?"

Olsen looked at her through narrowed eyes. "I'm talking about documented authorization. You are supposed to get that from your immediate superior, which in this case is me, before you go into the field. It's my job to know where my agents are and what they're doing in regards to this case at all times. You can't just dress up like hookers and take to the streets. No one knew where you were or what you were doing and no one had your backs. It was a good idea that could have gone horribly wrong. It would have been much better if you'd gone with local vice cops who know the area, have their sources and know the people in the neighborhood. Right now, the police departments of three cities are resources at our disposal. Use them." He sighed. "There's a serial killer stalking the streets of the Twin Cities, targeting hookers. You two just dressed up like bait and entered the field. What were you planning to do if you'd found who you're looking for? Look, we're the Feds. We can't operate with the freedom of a municipal police force, much less a private investigator. We have to be able to answer to the US Congress in case of a shit storm, so every T gets crossed and every I gets dotted. Every time, every day. Understand?"

"Understood." Tuski said.

"Yes sir." Veronica stared determinedly at Olsen, feeling a strong sense of deja vu.

"Good." Olsen smiled. "Very good work and I applaud the initiative but from now on; proper channels and documentation. In triplicate." He nodded and they were clearly dismissed.

"Did we just get chewed out?" Tuski asked as the door closed behind them. "I feel like that was the principal's office."

"First time? That was nothing." Veronica said, unconcerned. "Don't worry, Olsen clearly thinks I'm the bad influence here. He knows I'm the one used to operating with the freedom of a PI."

"You are a bad influence." Tuski agreed. "So bad we may solve this thing while the Big Boys are still zipping up their pants. Looks like we'd better get used to filling out paperwork before we make a move. You gotta love the bureaucracy!"

"That's the part of the quote Spiderman never mentions: With great initiative comes great piles of paperwork." Veronica sighed.

A half an hour later, she and Tuski were in their cubicles, poring over the reports of the murders, committing to memory all the details of each of the horrific crimes.

"These autopsy reports are curious." Tuski said. "No indication of what killed these women until they opened them up and found a mass of torn tissue and gore in their abdominal cavities. Death by exsanguination but no idea how it was done."

"How in the world does one do a complete hysterectomy in an alley with no equipment, no sonogram, no drugs and no one hears a thing?" Veronica mused. "I mean, the tox screens suggest the victims weren't drugged before they bled out but none of them screamed."

"How do you know they didn't scream?" Tuski asked.

"Cats." Veronica said. "Witnesses at two different crime scene mentioned alley cats howling or fighting. If they heard cats, they'd have heard screams."

"Therefore, it stands to reason that there were no screams. Sort of like the dog that didn't bark. Huh." Tuski mused. The two women stared at the array of crime scene photos spread across Tuski's desk.

"I'm hungry." Veronica announced. "You want to go get a bagel?"

"I'm kind of craving a jelly roll." Tuski said. "Does that make me demented?"

"Jelly rolls rock."

A few steps off the elevator on the ground floor, they came face to face with a young man who had just cleared security.

"Veronica Mars!" Norris Clayton exclaimed. "Will wonders never cease?"

"Norris!" Veronica gasped, speechless, as her former Neptune high class mate caught her up in a hug.

"Although..." Norris let her go and looked around. "FBI. That does make sense. But Minnesota? St. Paul? What are the odds we'd see each other here?"

"Astronomical." she sputtered.

"You two clearly know each other." Tuski said with a smile.

"Agent Stephanie Tuski, this is Norris Clayton, class of '06." Veronica introduced them.

"Veronica was far and away the coolest girl in school." Norris told Tuski. "Top of the class, total loner, fearless and obviously, hottest girl in school. I once saw a cartoon that showed a girl standing alone by a table full of food with a caption that read 'there once was a girl so cool she threw a party and she was the only one cool enough to be invited. And it was the best party ever.' and I immediately thought of Veronica!"

"If I had every thrown a party in high school, that's who would have shown up." Veronica said, embarrassed.

"Not if you'd invited me." Norris looked at her. "You were scary but scary's cool."

"This is awesome." Tuski said, looking at each of them.

"No it's not." Veronica demurred.

"What brings you to beautiful, downtown St. Paul?" Tuski asked Norris. His 'visitor' badge indicated he was not with the bureau, himself.

"You need my help and expertise." Norris said. "I'm a weapon's consultant."

"You're the expert we're waiting on to help with the serial killer case!" Veronica realized. "I had no idea!"

"Yeah, this will be my third case consulting with the bureau. First time off the west coast, though. Not much Yakuza activity in the Midwest, yet."

"I don't like that 'yet'." Tuski frowned.

"You've got sex workers being gutted with an unidentified weapon; this is why my phone rings." Norris shrugged. "It may not be Yakuza but it sounds like 'em."

"How..." Veronica started to ask but Norris looked at his watch.

"Veronica, the ASAC is expecting me," He started walking toward the elevator but nodded for the two agents to come along. "But I'd love to catch up. How about I find you after my meeting? Take you to lunch? Both of you, of course."

"Uh... Yes!" Veronica said.

"Second floor, bull pen." Tuski said. "Can't wait!"

The two women watched as the Top Expert in Eastern Weaponry in the US waved at them as the elevator doors closed on his grinning face.

Tuski turned and fixed her stare on Veronica.

"Hey, I had no idea!" Veronica said. "I just knew a kid who liked Bruce Lee movies. And...Braveheart."

"Don't care." Tuski said. "Were all the guys at Neptune high that hot?"

"Hot? Norris?" Veronica started to laugh.

"Girl, you were totally blinded by Logan." Tuski said. "Understandable but damn."

"I've been interested in Eastern weaponry for as long as I can remember." Norris told Tuski. "I had a huge collection by the time I was in high school. Veronica knows. Remember that afternoon we spent, throwing stars in my garage?"

"You did what, now?" Tuski laughed.

"I had such a crush on her." Norris admitted to Tuski. "I even unlocked my bedroom for her."

"Whaat?" Tuski looked at Veronica, who was staring into the distance.

"I only unlocked that door for really special people. And girls." Norris said. "Or, I would have, if any other girls had ever asked."

"I was investigating what turned out to be a hoax." Veronica said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"I got arrested on terrorism charges." Norris clarified for Tuski. "She's the only reason I didn't wind up getting my GED out of Gitmo."

"You were never going to wind up in Gitmo." Veronica scoffed. "Even though you worked overtime to cultivate an aura of menace."

"Unlike you, for whom it was effortless." He laughed. He turned to Tuski "Look at us; me, big mean, frowny, working hard to be scary and her; teensy little blond who made even the teachers wet themselves with a look!"

"Pfff." Veronica shook her head.

"What happened that was gonna put you in Gitmo?" Tuski asked.

"Nothing." Veronica said, downplaying the event. "It was a hoax."

"A convincing enough hoax for the ATF to insert a covert agent into our school as a student!" Norris pointed out. "He tried to nail me on weapons violations. I came this close to being arrested on federal charges!"

"They had nothing on you." Veronica felt compelled to admit. "That agent set you up to bolster his own conviction record. He should have been brought up on charges."

"He never would have been there in the first place if it hadn't been for Pete Comiscki." Norris's voice dripped with contempt. "God, I hated that kid."

"The feeling was mutual." Veronica remembered.

"Was he the ATF agent?" Tuski asked.

"No. He was my next door neighbor." Norris told her. "And a worse little piece of shit I hope to never run across."

"How was Pete supposed to know the ATF would send a corrupt agent?" Veronica asked.

"At least Ben thought I was actually guilty." Norris said. "Comiscki knew I was innocent."

"He lied about you blowing up cats. And the school but he certainly didn't think you were innocent." Veronica said.

"Hey, I got in my share of trouble but he tried to frame me for terrorism. Who does that?" Norris protested.

"Come on, Norris; bullying can push kids to pretty desperate measures." Veronica said dryly. To her surprise, Norris looked at her for a long moment.

"I wasn't a bully." He finally said. "I hated bullies."

That statement squared with Veronica's personal experience with the young man sitting in front of them but she remembered Pete's confession like it was yesterday.

"He said you took his lunch money every day for years." Veronica stated. "Did you?"

"Hell yes, I took his lunch money!" Norris said. "That little shit stain owed me."

"That doesn't sound at all like bullying." Tuski said, sarcastically shaking her head.

"Right. I'm the psycho." Norris rolled his eyes. "Let me tell you about me and Pete Comiscki. You know he lived next door, right? Oh, yeah; that's how you figured out about the url thing. He moved in right before sixth grade. It's summer time, he's my age, so we hang out. Our parents are happy as shit cause they figure we'll keep each other out of their hair. Trouble is, Pete's no fun. He's the kind of kid who makes it impossible for anyone to have any fun; he's afraid of the ocean, thinks the beach is just hot and boring, sucks at all sports and cries at the drop of a hat. You two probably don't know this but when you're a twelve year old boy, if you're knees aren't a mass of scars, there's something wrong with you. If me and my buddies weren't swimming or playing football on the beach, we were at the skate park. We let Comiscky tag along all summer even though he was useless and whined nonstop. He could barely ride a bike and wouldn't even try to skate. He was scared to try anything fun and cried if we tried to make him. Fine. Whatever. No skin off my nose. Till the block party. You know, the national night out thing, in August? That's when poor little Pete rats me out to the whole block. Everything we did, all summer long, he tells our parents, like it's a funny story. Every night I snuck out of the house; every cigarette I smoked; every tomato I stole out of old lady Benson's vegetable garden, every time I skipped swimming lessons to hang at the skate park; every girlie magazine I lifted from the Pack n' Sack; he tells them everything. I'm grounded till school starts.

"Now, you probably don't remember this, Veronica but I was not a good student. I thought school was stupid and boring. My Mom was convinced I had ADHD or dyslexia but the truth is that I just didn't like it and didn't care about grades. One day, Comiscki shows up at my house after school and says my Mom asked him to help me with my math homework. I'm pissed, cus I hate him but figure, what the hell; I'll let him do my homework. I sure wasn't gonna do it. Goes on like that for a couple of weeks and everything's great. My homework's getting done, my Mom's not getting calls from school and it's not like I have to talk to him or anything. Then I fail my first math quiz. I get grounded again. Comiscki says don't worry, next quiz, he'll let me copy off his paper. Sure enough, next quiz, he sits down right next to me and it's working like a charm till he raises his hand and rats me out to the teacher!

"I get grounded for the rest of the school year!"

"So he…owes you for that?" Tuski asked, unconvinced.

"I'm getting to it." Norris said, shaking his head. "It's when seventh grade is about to start that I find out my Mom had been paying him to tutor me. She paid him twenty bucks a week to come over and help me understand the work but he figured it was easier to just copy his and let me turn it in. He knew I was too dumb to care but he also knew damn well he was cheating my Mom. So yeah, when I found out about the money, I made him pay it back. A dollar a day till that toxic little turd paid back every cent he cheated out of my Mom. I may have added interest; I don't remember."

Veronica and Tuski looked at each other.

"He also told me that when he finally tried to stand up to you, you put him in intensive care." Veronica said.

"Intensive care my ass." Norris snorted. "Intensive care is where they stick you when your life is in danger; like Echolls, after Weevil's boys tried to stomp him to death. Comiscky spent three hours in the emergency room getting stitches in the back of his head after I knocked him into the dumpster. Leave it to that whiny little bitch not to know the difference."

"You had me till you knocked him into the dumpster." Tuski said.

"You want to know what Comiscki's version of 'standing up' to me was?" Norris asked. "He waited till I had detention, cuz he knew no one else would be around when I came out of the building. He ambushed me with a baseball bat. He'd have killed me if not for the fact that he was so clumsy I heard him coming and turned to face him before he could crack my skull. He was such a slow dork it was easy to duck his swing." Norris shook his head, disgusted by the memory of such a badly executed attack. "I yanked the bat out of his hands and shoved him. He was so off balance, he spun around and flew right into the dumpster, which took a chunk out of his scalp. When I was done laughing, I'm the one who called his Dad and told him Pete needed stitches and I sat there and waited with the little prick till his Dad showed up. I probably should have told him what his psycho kid had been trying to do when he got hurt."

"I think…he may have suspected." Veronica murmured, remembering the finale of Pete Comiscki's version of events.

"He paid back the rest of the money a week or so later and I never bothered him again." Norris shrugged. "The Berlin Wall might as well have been built between our houses."

"Until your Dad got wireless internet access." Veronica said.

"Yep. Then the little shit took another shot at me." Norris lip curled in disgust. "His folks moved across town after that. I know I should let it go but I swear, if I ever see him again, it'll take everything I've got not to pound the snot out of him."

"Man, there were a lot of dangerously crazy kids at Neptune High!" Tuski noticed.

"That's why I got out." Norris and Veronica said together.

Norris and Tuski laughed. Veronica smiled and wondered why she'd never checked out Pete's story. What he'd told her was technically true, she realized. But the Devil was in the details, wasn't he?

"You know," Norris said, studiously nonchalant, "You owe me a movie date."

"Oh ho ho!" Tuski looked at Veronica gleefully.

"I do not." Veronica protested. "I never agreed to that."

"I kinda thought it was implied." Norris said, determined to go down swinging.

"It wasn't." Veronica assured him. "And anyway, there's got to be a statute of limitations on that kind of thing."

"No, I don't think there is." Tuski shook her head, earning a grin from Norris and a glare from Veronica.

"Come on, what's the harm in dinner?" Norris asked. "You got a boyfriend?"

"No boyfriend." Tuski shook her head. "Right, Mars?"

Norris looked at Veronica who knew Tuski wouldn't let her off the hook.

"No boyfriend," she admitted, raising her left hand. "Husband. I'm married, Norris."

"Married!" Norris blurted, looking at her ring. "Wow. Somehow, you never struck me as the marrying kind."

"Not with my reputation in high school." Veronica said, dryly.

"I never put any stock in that." He smiled. "It was so cool that you didn't, either. I mean, congrats but I'm still surprised."

"A lot happened after graduation." She said. "A lot."

"That's for sure." Norris said. "I went back to Japan, spent a couple of years in the Far East. I love it there."

"Wow, that was so fun!" Bryn said, as they unloaded the back of the Range Rover. They'd gotten a snow blower, shovels, ice picks, an ice chopper, 50lb bags of snow-melt, grit, tubs to keep it in and one snow rake, which JR was surprised to discover was a thing. A handle that came in four 5' sections with a wide thin blade at the end, used for raking the snow off one's roof to prevent ice dams.

"What's an ice dam?" he asked, at Menards.

"You know icicles? Hanging from the eaves, looking all homey and picturesque? They destroy your house. Snow melts on the roof, freezes in the gutters, builds up, backs up under the shingles and melts into your walls and ceilings. The last thing you want is your bedroom ceiling raining sleet on your head in January."

"Cheese and crackers!" He looked horrified.

"Yeah; that's why God gave us the snow rake." She put the box on their rolling pallet. From Menards they'd gone to REI and gotten JR fitted out with long underwear, wool socks, stocking caps, water proof mittens, scarves and at least two face masks.

"Sometimes, the wind will be worse than the snow." Bryn explained. "If your job is to clear the drive and walk, you'll have to do it under the worst conditions. A face mask and a cap with a built in light will be the best things you own."

"So these are called 'choppers', huh? Why?" JR clapped together the leather mittens with thick wool linings.

"I don't know, they just are." Bryn shrugged. "I know the hats with ear flaps look dorky now but..."

"Throw it in the cart." JR was determined to be ready for anything.

They bought two pairs of Sorel boots for JR, so if one pair happened to get wet inside, he'd have an extra.

"I don't know if I need two." JR looked doubtful. "I mean, they're waterproof. If they're well made, I should be fine."

"What if the snow is deeper than the top of your boot? Snow gets inside that way most often."

"These are pretty tall." JR held up the boot. "How often is the snow going to be deeper than that?"

"You know best!" Bryn smiled.

"Now you're just scaring me." He muttered, putting the second pair of boots on the cart.

Veronica was home early enough to have dinner with her husband for the first time since Halloween. The carved pumpkins had been cleared off the front stoop and despite the still mild weather, the outdoor furniture had all been put away. She didn't notice.

"You're not going to believe what happened today at work," she told Logan as they ate.

"If it's the reason you're home before midnight, I hope it happens more often." Logan said.

"I got called on the carpet by the ASAC for neglecting my paperwork and Norris Clayton has been brought in as a weapon's expert!"

"Who?"

"Norris. Clayton. He went to school with us."

"He did?"

"Neptune High, class of '06?" Veronica couldn't believe Logan was serious.

"Sugarpuss, I spent most of high school..."

"In a self medicated fog?" she finished.

"I was going to say 'drunk off my ass' but your version sounds more respectable. I don't remember much, just a few clear moments of horror...and you."

"I was investigating a case that proved Norris wasn't trying to blow the school up when the ATF agent who tried to frame him carjacked me, abducted me and took me against my will to the Camelot motel..."

"While we were on the phone and I hightailed it to the Camelot to rescue you and you rewarded me by turning my life upside down and my mind inside out and my heart grew three sizes that day. That I remember. That was him?"

"Sort of. He's the one the ATF was after."

"So, if not for this Clayton Norris, our stars never would have collided at the fleabag motel? I love this guy!"

"Norris Clayton."

"And he's a what, now?"

"Weapon's expert. He was always interested, which is one of the reason the ATF thought he was behind the bomb threats at school..."

"There were bomb threats at school?!" Logan shook his head. "Man, I missed alot by being skunked."

"You really did. Telling the truth about it is why Miss Stafford got canned."

"Who?"

"Our journalism teacher. You were in the class!"

"Oh." Logan shrugged. "Bygones."

"You can't just shrug everything off as 'bygones'. Sometimes the past comes back to smack you in the face. In the course of that investigation, I had to feign interest in Norris and he took me seriously. He asked me out."

"So your life would have been completely different if you hadn't kissed me at the Camelot?" Logan grinned. "You had Norris waiting in the wings! Is he cute?"

"He asked me out today." Veronica explained. "Tuski thinks he's hot."

"He asked you out today?" Logan was still amused. "I wonder how many other poor schmucks have been carrying a torch for you lo, these many years? I told you we needed a bigger ring."

"We don't need a bigger ring. You blind me to all others."

"Good." Logan said. "Now tell me again about how this Clayton guy changed our lives forever..."

...to be continued...