Title: "Cry Wolf"
Author: monimala
Fandom: VM
Rating/Classification: SAC for language. Episode filler. Lamb, Veronica.
Disclaimer: Not my characters.
Summary: He never bothered writing anything down the first time. 700 words. Filler for 3.2, "My Big Fat Greek Rush Week."
He keeps a copy of her statement locked in his desk drawer. Her second statement. He never bothered writing anything down the first time. There's a tape, too. Sacks is nothing if not thorough. He's angling for a raise and he thinks he has some kind of civic duty to the truth or something. Asskisser, Lamb thinks, with a derisive snort before brushing his fingers over the drawer handle and propelling out of his chair.
So. Yes.
He knows Cassidy Casablancas raped Veronica Mars. It's one of many on the long list of the little creep's crimes. But it doesn't really matter now, does it? Like the saying goes...it was in another country and, besides, the guy is dead. What is he supposed to do, walk up to the girl and say, "Sorry I didn't believe you"? Don Lamb has never apologized to anyone in his life and he's not about to start now. Especially for something that happened two years ago. Instead, he does what does best: deny, deny, deny.
He drives down to Hearst, parks crooked in one of the rent-a-cop spots, and goes up to the dorm. He's spent more time on campus this year than he did when he actually went to college. He tries not to think about her voice. About the tears -- "she cries" -- and how she repeated the Casablancas kid's last words when Sacks asked her if there was anything else she remembered. He tries to forget that drawer. And he does a damn good job actually.
Until he sees her sitting there in the same room as the latest victim.
Of course. Where else would she be? What do they do, raise up the fucking Bat Signal when evil is afoot somewhere in Balboa County?
"Tell me I'm here because of you," he pleads, eyes wide, hoping she appreciates his impression of her.
He follows that up with something she'd expect, something *he'd* expect, about whether or not this is "wolf cry #2." But of course it's not. Not this year. Not at Hearst. None of the girls are crying wolf. They're just crying. Pale faces and paler skulls. He can feel Veronica staring at him with disgust as he walks over to Parker Lee's bedside and maybe that's why he uses his "inside voice" while he questions her. The Re-Election Voice that's nice and gentlemanly and concerned. Always concerned. Sheriff Don Lamb, the compassionate law enforcement officer. Yeah, that's him. Unless you're 5 foot nothing and blonde and you don't wear waterproof mascara.
*"Tell me I'm here because of you."*
She doesn't have to.
That's a given.
In a roundabout way, everything he does is because of her, isn't it? He wakes up because of her. He goes to sleep -- eight hours a night, just fine, no bad dreams -- because of her. He fixes the pointy little star to his chest because of her. This spoiled, nosy little bitch. Veronica Mars. Because of her and her dad, who fingered the richest man in town for a murderer.
She turns to him when Parker has run out of the room, her unaccepted apology still hanging in the air. There's your mistake, Mars, he thinks to himself. Don't bother apologizing. There's no point. "You're an asshole, you know that?"
It's a rhetorical question, so he doesn't do anything but smile and hook his thumbs through his belt. "And you screwed up, Veronica. Are they going to repossess your secret decoder ring and your magnifying glass now?"
"Oh yeah." Right on cue. The wide eyes. The cavity-inducing tone she seems to reserve just for him. "There goes the centerfold in Junior P.I. Monthly."
"Well, damn. Looks like I wasted my subscription fee."
She looks totally revolted. Not surprising.
But he's never apologized and he's not about to start now.
He gives her a long, lewd full body once-over before he heads for the door. He holds her gaze until she looks away and curls her fists and calls him a couple of not-so-nice names.
And he does what does best: deny, deny, deny.
He keeps a copy of her statement locked in his desk drawer. Right next to whatever's left of his soul.
October 11, 2006.