'The what?' Lila asked, wide eyed.
'The Cherry Picker' Laura repeated, 'I've been following him for about six years now. Gotten close the last three times, sneaky bast-'
'- And what the HELL is a Cherry Picker' Bob demanded, his face getting red now, frustrated with the apparent lack of information.
'Well if you calm down I will tell you'.
She lent into another of her cases, taking out a marker pen and a notebook. Flipping through the notebook she began to write underneath each picture in no particular order.
Clare Bebbington, 16, taken on the way to cheerleading practice. Never found.
Amanda Carr, 16, taken as she walked to the movies. Never found.
Nicola Watkins, 15, taken as she walked home from school. Never found.
She carried on with the task, they all stood or sat in silence watching her as she made notes below each image. She finally came to Helga's picture.
Helga Pataki, 16, taken on the way to meet friends at the theatre. Missing.
Arnold felt sick. When would Helga's status become 'Never found'? No, he couldn't think like that. He had to stay positive, he had to hope. That's all he had….hope.
Rummaging around her case again, Laura pulled out and other marker pen, a red one. Then, next to each image she drew a symbol. Square, triangle, circle, circle, square, circle, square, square, triangle…..
'OK', Laura clicked the lid back on the marker pen and stepped back. Pondering for a moment before turning to face the group, her chestnut hair falling about her face in an untamed way. 'This is our man, all of these images paint the face of our man. The man who has taken Helga. The man who took all of these girls.'
No one said a word, they just absorbed the images, their ears were hungry to know more.
'Over the past 15 years girls have been taken from all across the country. The places where they have been taken from seem to have no real connection, not one I can see anyway. But the way they were taken has, and the reasons why they were taken do'.
She pulled a laser pointer from her pocket, aimed the red dot at the first girl, then to the next, describing each one briefly as if reciting a shopping list.
'Clare Bebbington, 16, popular girl but wasn't allowed to date, she didn't want to date, she was more interested in school, wanted to become a solicitor, virgin. Katherine Hawkins, 14, very beautiful girl, was actually selected by Vague magazine to promote their pre-teen collection one year, she turned it down, virgin. Miranda Lawson, 17, from my research it was revealed she was actually a closet lesbian, he probably didn't know which is why he must have thought she was so pure and perfect, technically a virgin'.
Each comment sent a chill down Arnold's spine. He glanced across the room, taking in everyone's expressions. It seemed they all felt as bewildered as him. Bob and Miriam held each other close, Olga clinging onto her father tighter and tighter as Laura continued to describe each girl.
'And finally we have Helga. 16, suffering from the traditional ugly duckling syndrome she was uncomfortable and modest with flouting her beauty, though she was aware of it. Highly intelligent, wanted to become a writer. Not interested in any boys at school, just you'.
She pointed at Arnold. The room stared at him, he felt awkward, but also elated. She only liked him, was only interested in him. But was that WAS or IS? He cursed himself, he shouldn't be concerning himself with that now, he would deal with that if they found her….when they found her.
'How the hell do you know all of this stuff about her?' Gerald eyed laura suspiciously.
Phoebe stepped in, 'Yeah, I mean, Arnold's been gone for what…four years? How the hell did you know about him?'
'I know about Arnold because he will know about Arnold. Like Helga's kidnapper I make it my business to find out things, you can only know where to look when you know exactly what you're looking for, and why '. She began flicking through her notebook again.
'OK, so why does this sick freak only want pretty girls, who apparently don't sleep around, who are always off socialising?' Gerald's tone was aggravated.
She stared at him calmly before she spoke, authority in her words.
'Because they're perfect. Girls these days are so quick to grow up and taste what it means to be a woman, so concerned with being pretty, wanted, desired. Girls like theses, girls like Helga, for various reasons, don't want to be noticed, don't want to be desired, not outright anyway. Not unless they desire someone themselves.'
She glanced at Arnold, his face burned.
'Girls like Helga, are actually really uncommon. I assume she is actually a virgin?'
She looked at Arnold again, everybody looked at Arnold.
'I HONESTLY wouldn't know, I haven't seen or spoken to her since we were…12…I think'. He was sweating; he was being truthful but felt as guilty as hell.
'You better be telling the truth boy' Bobs fists were raised.
'No she is, I know she is.' Phoebe chimed in, 'we were talking about it the other day actually. Helga was saying she didn't understand why everyone was in such a rush about the whole thing, said it was stupid the way some of the girls carried on'.
'My point more than proven', Laura smiled at her confirmation.
'So, he likes pretty girls, he likes pretty girls who are virgins, he likes pretty girls who are virgins and like being virgins. That's like, most guys' wet dream. How does that tell us where Helga is?' Gerald demanded.
'It doesn't, it tells us about the Cherry Picker.'
Gerald rolled his eyes, 'Oh that real useful'.
Laura frowned and looked back towards the board, shaking off Gerald's comment. Arnold could tell that she was serious, she, like the Cherry Picker, knew her stuff. He knew that she could maybe get them closer to Helga. Arnold wanted her to know he was on her side.
'OK, so what else is important, what else can help us find him and then find Helga?'
Laura smiled at him, thankful for his faith.
'We know he likes to take the girls when they are on their way somewhere, probably because it means no one will think too much about them being out of the house. One thing he didn't count on was how concerned Helga's friends would be about her not showing up. Some of the other girls' friends just assumed they were no longer meeting them, or had changed their minds. Sometimes it was a good 48 or even 72 hours until anyone really noticed they were gone.' Laura looked to Gerald, then to Phoebe, Patty, Sid and the others, 'You have all bought Helga some time. Nothing can be more important than that.'
Turning back to the whiteboard, she sighed heavily. No one spoke, she entranced them all now, they waited for more information, some guidance as to what they were going to do.
'But I've not got him yet, I've come close. I could have stopped this sooner, caught him before he took another girl. I wont deny he's good.' Her shoulders became slumped.
Arnold stood. He felt as though he needed to inject Laura with some hope, she was obviously tired, worn. He was so grateful she was here, without her he was sure they would all just be sat around the kitchen table, fighting, getting nowhere.
'Laura, all of this, all of this is amazing information.' He looked to Helga's picture, her big blue eyes staring back at him. Her eyes filled him with determination.
'This will be the last time you have to do this, this will be the last time you have to come and tell this guy's story, their story.' Arnold paused, taking in all the young faces staring back at him. 'If I've ever been more sure of anything, its that this will all end with Helga.'
Laura glanced to him, trying to read his face. 'You might not like what that means Arnold'.
He shook his head. 'I'm sure I won't. But it stops here. It stops with Helga'.
The room was silent.