Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold, or anything else that I've mentioned.

Summary: Helga, never imagined that one rash decision at a party, would turn her life completely on its head six years later, and leave her in a twisted web of secrets, lies and deceit. The skeletons are coming out. For Hillwood, it's the crime of the century. A love/crime/triangle drama! R&R!

A/N: Guys, I promise you I am working on WATO too. Comedy can be very draining, and tricky, and I like to get it just right! I can spit out angsty stuff in my sleep though, which is why I've been speeding through the chapters on this. Love the speculations! I don't think it could be Helga, if she was the one killing girls, she wouldn't have called in the bone her dogs brought her. She would have kept that on the down low.

I Never Let On,

That I was on a Sinking Ship.

Brian sat on the bar stool, staring at Sid as if he'd just told him the most unbelievable thing ever. Face in a blank awe, the knuckles of one of his hands having made it up to his lips, his elbow resting in the palm of the other. And, well...he had pretty much done just that. Sid scratched his forehead and looked off, not knowing what else to say other than, "Yeah..."

His friend dropped his hands, shaking his head in confusion, "No that doesn't make any sense, Sid." He finally agreed.

Sid's grey orbs cut to the corners of his eyes, "It does if you want to consider..."

"Not possible," Brian dismissively replied.

The detective darkly laughed and looked back at his friend, "You and I both know that anything is possible. People like this...they don't necessarily stick out."

"Dude, I get that, but what you're implying...it's just out there."

"Yeah, and you don't think I'm struggling with it too?" Brian only fixed him with a stare, and Sid felt the need to continue to defend his position, "I'm saying that it's incredibly coincidental. He was the last person to see her alive."

"What about the past homeowners?"

"A ninety year old woman, in a assisted living home, with one daughter who lives in Tampa, and a husband whose been deceased since 1992? I don't think so. "

"What does Jay think?"

"He thinks it's too coincidental to be accident."

Brian shook his head once more, reaching out and downing what was left of his pint. "The time frame of it doesn't add up though."

"We're having that looked into."

Helga closed her laptop and gave Arnold a 'be serious' look. "A couple days? Babe, that's a lot of stuff to get in order for us to go country hopping for a solid what...three weeks?"

"You know most of it is already taken care of. We already have our passports. I mean...hell we've been living out of a hotel for almost three weeks. What else would we need to get in order to just...go tomorrow if we wanted?"

"Um...our dogs," She reminded him, setting her computer on the nightstand.

Arnold closed his eyes for a moment, having indeed completely forgotten about them. He was undeterred though, "We'll just leave them with your parents. They wont mind."

"Yeah, I guess."

He reached over and ran his hand across her barely there little bump, affectionately curling his fingers a few times before just letting them rest and saying, "You know what they call a vacation pre-parenthood? A babymoon."

Helga snorted, nudging her hand up to his and zipping their fingers together, "Arnold, what's this really all about?" She looked at him. "I get the house thing has been a source of stress for us both, but...you've just seemed...very distracted and distant lately."

"Yeah..." He admitted, but didn't spare any details.

"I know it's not cold feet."

"Not at all. I just...like I said, I think it would be good for us to...go clear our heads. Mine these days just...feels like it's about the split in two trying to reconcile everything."

Her eyes fell to their hands, subtly nodding, "I understand."

"Besides, we really should go have one last hoo-raw before this sweet little girl starts calling all of the shots," He smiled and she did too.

"Or before I'm too grouchy and huge to be allowed on a flight," She figured with a light chortle.

His smile widened, "You're probably always too grouchy to be allowed on a flight. And huge? I think you meant too sexy?"

She playfully rolled her eyes at him, "No, I meant huge."

Gesturing away her absurdity, he countered with, "Please. You're already looking hot as hell with my little baby bump here," He leaned in and nuzzled her neck, tickling her with his breath, smirking, "I probably wont be able to keep my hands off of you."

Helga gently batted him, casting him one of her famous little looks that was trying not to be unseated by the smile creeping on her face, "So business as usual then huh?" She called him out.

But his only reply initially was his own famous ear-to-ear smile, following up with, "Now is the time. Now is the perfect time. We can have a nice babymoon, go get married in Belize, then head straight into our honeymoon" He tried again, still needing her to officially agree with his plans. "It'll be so much fun, we probably wont want to come back."

Lucky for him, she finally relented with huff and a, "Okay, okay," Giving into him, "I can't take anymore of your passive aggressive begging. Sheesh," She whined, but with a loving smirk as she leaned over and kissed him.

Arnold's face lit up as he kissed her back, "I'll book us two tickets tomorrow then."

Across town, having bid goodbye to Brian, Sid was headed up the elevator to his and Rhonda's corner condo. An apartment well out of his pay grade, on the side of town he seldom received calls from, and afforded entirely by his wife's sizable and seemingly ever growing trust fund. Such was their entire life, and he could do without every bit of it. Not to be misunderstood, he loved her dearly. Would jump into a pit, sloshing with peroxide, rusted bob wire, and razor blades if it meant she'd be okay. But he was a simple guy, happy with a simplistic life and she wanted the finest of everything.

Yet, she loved that bad boy thing, and he had it for days, with his dark hair, grey eyes, body littered with tattoos, and penchant for leather jackets, and old muscle cars. Never mind the fact that, past the looks, he was the exact opposite, but still, they were certainly a spectacle at the country club that she insisted on maintaining a membership at...or every where they went, really.

Opposites did attract at times. Total opposites was a rarity, entirely.

Still, nothing was quite as funny as seeing a chick in a $1500 dress, a $600 pair of heels, and a guy in jeans that realistically, he'd probably grabbed at Target...on sale, along with a tee shirt, a fifteen year old worn-to-hell green hat, out to brunch on a Saturday...together. And married for six years to boot.

Love was weird that way, though. And they certainly weren't ones to question it anymore.

When he opened the front door, he found her still awake, sitting on their white designer couch, hair up, wearing some black crop leggings, a red tee-shirt, and watching some chick show. She was a night owl, and she could be, considering she didn't have a normal day job. Her job was being an old money Lloyd. Though technically she was a Moretti now. In fact, if it were up to her, he wouldn't have a day job either, and they would spend their time traveling, and living in one infinite vacation.

After all, they hadn't any big responsibilities. They hadn't any children, neither really desiring any, much to the contempt of her parents, her being an only child and their only source for grandchildren and all. At least he had a brother whose wife was steadily spitting them out for his parents, so his own lack of offspring went relatively unnoticed in his family. None-the-less, they were young and figured they still had plenty of time to maybe change their minds.

"Hey," She greeted from the couch.

He hung his keys up on the hook and made towards her, "Evening, my princess," He said with a small grin and sat down beside her on the couch, loosening his tie before undoing the top buttons on his shirt.

"Long day I guess," She observed more so than asked, scooting closer to him, while curling her legs up on the couch. "I had Maddie save you some Lobster bisque." She said, referring to their housekeeper who had practically become part time personal chef because of their obsession with her amazing cooking.

"Thanks," He draped his arm around her and gave her a sweet kiss, "And yeah, it's getting longer every day. Things are getting weird." He sighed and leaned his head backwards, and over the edge of the couch.

"With murder house?"

Sid snorted and lifted his head, giving his wife a funny look, "Murder house? Is that what everybody is calling it now?" She was the socialite after all. She of all people would know what the chatter was.

But, surprisingly she only shrugged, instead specifying with, "It's what I'm calling it. Entirely appropriate I think."

"Yeah," He nodded, "With murder house." using her term, and secretly admitting that it was a good one. Definitely headline worthy.

"Now when you say weird..." She began again, appearing as if something suddenly interested her about it all, "What are we talking about here? Weird in that, one of your girls is actually a man, making your killer an ambiguous hunter whose quite possibly self loathing of his bi-sexuality."

A very tiny laugh escaped from Sid's throat and he shook his head, "At this point, I really wish it were that. As odd as that may sound."

Rhonda's face dimmed a tad, mildly disappointed about her theory being solidly debunked so quickly. "Hmmm..." Her lips pursed momentarily as she was toiling on something else.

"On top of that, we can't even prove that sex was part of the motive. He may just like killing women."

Rhonda's dark and impeccably manicured brow lifted with interest, "But a few of them we're prostitutes, were they not?" Her husband nodded, finding it a little peculiar that she would ask, "Not to speculate completely, but those type of...ladies tend to often be on the receiving end of the violent sexual fantasies or...frustrations, of many serial killers."

"Yes they often are," He again agreed, and then began giving her a adoring little look, "Since when are you so knowledgeable about crime psychology?"
Rhonda looked a little taken-a-back, but she confidently popped her chin in the air, giving him a knowing smile and said, "I do have an interest in what you spend your days doing."

Her remark had Sid flat out grinning at her, "You would like nothing more if I quit, so you could have me twenty four seven."

To which she sighed, "Well darling, it's only because the idea of spending the winter on a yacht in Greece, drinking champagne is far more appealing to me than enduring the snow here, and you'd be crazy to suggest otherwise," Her husband began chuckling a little. She did hate their brutal Northwestern winters, "But I do find some...oh, lets be honest, a lot of interest in what you do."

He beamed at her, "Well thank you. And actually, your theories were better than what's been suggested by others at work."

She waved him off, "I tried and now I'm all out. So," She nudged him, "Do dish about what's so freaky-deeky, dear."

Sid sighed and scratched his eyebrow, "At least eight of the girls we've found have...no connection to each other, or the property or...but one of the girls..." He trailed off, bracing himself to be told that it was crazy. "One of the girls has a direct connection to Arnold."

Rhonda's mouth fell slack.

Next Day

Arnold had gotten their tickets. And their flight was departing mid-afternoon. Which meant he and Helga had had a busy morning. He got himself scheduled off with personal leave for the next month and picked up some last minute items they'd need on their flights, plural. Hillwood surprisingly didn't have an international airport and so they would be catching their final flight at LAX in California. It wasn't ideal for him. He'd prefer to be able to make a straight shot into Mexico but, it was what it was. Helga was out tying up her own work related loose ends, and dropping their dogs off at her parents, which left him a good opportunity to head to the bank and make a sizable withdraw out of their savings account without her necessarily being aware of it.

She'd kill him if she knew he was doing it, getting out as much money as he was, but he thought it would be the better option for them. He and his wife—fuck formalities at this point— were about to be running around two foreign countries. He really couldn't afford to get into a situation where they couldn't use their cards anymore. American dollars, however, spent anywhere in the world.

It would be fine. He kept telling himself that.

Great in fact.

Nobody would be able to bother them. The only things they would have to worry about would be what amazing thing they wanted to do or see next.

He bid the teller at their bank a goodbye after an incredibly uncomfortable money exchange, which he quickly shoved into his backpack, not wanting to wave around that kind of cash, or draw anymore attention to it and left.

When he arrived back at their hotel, she was already back too, and had packed up all of their things, the room actually looking like a hotel room again and not a dorm that was at over capacity. He was relieved that she finally seemed just as enthusiastic about this spur of the moment trip has he was. Her face was already beaming the second she saw him walk in. That glow everybody talked about was really starting to radiate through every inch of her. And he loved it. It was beautiful.

"Hey!" She chirped happily.

He smiled, "Hey. That was quick. You got the dogs dropped off and all?"

She planted her hands on her hips after zipping the final duffle bag of theirs, "Yeah. My dad wasn't thrilled, but when is he ever."

"I figured."

"He literally, is the grouchiest man on the planet in his old age."

"And you wonder where you get it from?" He chuckled, watching her fix him with a very unamused glare, accompanied with a sarcastic, 'Ha ha'.

"So what all did you pick up?" She inquired, looking at the little black back-pack slung over his right shoulder.

Giving it a quick glance himself, he coolly shrugged, "Bath stuff we always forget. My first aid kit from the hospital." It wasn't a lie, but not the total truth of his bags contents.

"You expecting to be performing some surgeries in the Mexican desert there, Football head?" She teased and he gave her a halfway 'be serious' look.

"Well, I hope not. You know me though. Better safe than sorry."

"Yeah, yeah." She turned and grabbed one last bag and tossed it onto the bed with the rest of their stuff, completing her inventory count, "So we're ready then?"

Arnold nodded, "Yeah. Mexico here we come." He replied, grinning widely.

"Alright, show me what was so important..." The station lieutenant walked into their conference room where Sid and Jeremy and many of their fellow officers and detective had gathered, it being the case at that moment. On their big white board, the photos of the nine woman identified were pinned, the remaining two being represented with giant question marks. Sid felt absolutely sick thinking about what he was about to suggest, having slept very little the night before knowing that he had to.

Jeremy appeared much more relaxed about the entire thing, though admitted to him over morning coffee, that it didn't feel good knowing that he might potentially throw somebody that he once cared about's life—Helga's—into a tailspin. It made Sid feel slightly better that he wasn't the only one struggling with the personal connection of this investigation.

"We have a subject of interest in the murder house case." Sid began, slipping up and using Rhonda's term.

"Murder house?" The old lieutenant grumbled, "That's what they're calling it now?"

Sid sighed, Jeremy giving him a curious expression of his own, "I've been calling it that," He lied, wishing to move on and get this shit over with.

"Hmm. Fits I guess. Continue," The lieutenant ordered.

"So, uh...so far we have Britney Ross, Amy Fredrick, Morgan Harris, Marie Styles and Sarah Copland, prostitutes. Jessica Tolberson and Kelly Dennis, runaways. Stephanie Peterson, and Taylor Mendez. Students. Now none of these girls have any connection to one another, but one of them does have a connection to one of the home owners." Sid was feeling his mouth starting dry out.

That's when Jeremy stepped up, helping his partner out, "Taylor Mendez is the former girlfriend of Arnold Shortman. He's also the last person to ever see her alive."

"I remember that," One of the older officers in the back spoke up, "Before you boys were here." Jeremy wanted to smart back with a No shit. We're the same age as her. But he didn't. "We questioned him. Had nothing to go on though. She just...vanished."

"But in the report, it was stated that he was the last person that had seen her before she went missing," The dark brunette imparted on the group.

The officer nodded, "If I remember, he had gone to her apartment to break things off."

Jeremy cleared his throat, "So maybe she didn't go quietly or maybe she threa—"

"—Christ on a fucking cracker..." The Lieutenant presupposed with a groan, "We've got a guy whose got eleven goddamn bodies around his property, one of them his ex-girlfriend and now you're telling me he has been questioned about her disappearance prior to this?"

Sid crossed his arms and limply nodded, "Yeah."

"If she was killed five and half years ago, how'd she get to the property he's only owned for two years?" Somebody asked.

The lieutenant scoffed. Obviously thinking the question was stupid as hell, "Who the fuck gives a shit! Go pick his ass up." He gave Jeremy and Sid a sharp look and left out of the room, presumably onto something 'more important.'

Jeremy glanced at Sid and said, "You want me to file the arrest warrant or you?"

"I'll do it."

Meanwhile, across town at the airport, Arnold had just finished dropping their last bag onto check-in, shrugging his back pack completely onto his back, Helga having her own back pack carry on as well. She was mostly quiet as the walked through the terminal, heading in the direction of their plane. Arnold looked down at her as they walked, reaching out and taking her hand in hers. They weren't typically a publicly affectionate couple, never had been, so it caught her off guard when he did that, warranting a curious look from her. One that she quickly shelved for a tender smile. And not feeling the need to say anything at all, she just kept on walking with him.

When they finally reached their gate, Arnold dug out their pair of tickets and handed them over to the attendant. "Alright. You're good to go," The jovial woman gave them a cherub faced smile and gestured them towards the boarding door. "Enjoy your flight."

"Thanks," Arnold said shooting her one of his handsome doctor smirks and he and Helga walked down the shoot towards the plane.

"Do you want the window?" He asked her when that stopped at their row. She nodded and handed her back pack to him, scooting in first, past two other people, and settled into the chair, Arnold shoved their bags in the overhead storage bin and then inched his tall self past the two other passengers, sitting down next to her.

They were among some of the last on the plane. Once he'd gotten himself comfortable he placed his left hand atop the one she had on her arm rest and asked, "Excited yet?"

Having been staring at the runway from the window, she turned at looked at him with a smile, "Oh yeah." That was when something dark caught her ever observant eye and she looked down, seeing a charcoal colored tungsten carbine ring on his third finger, realizing that it was his wedding ring, "You decided to start wearing it early huh?"

"Easiest way to keep up with while traveling," He smiled and she quietly chucked.

Helga snorted, giving him a faux weary look, "I hate to think where mine is."

"In a safe place. Don't you worry."

By the late afternoon, they had their warrant in pocket, expedited to them by their favorite judge and they were marching across the parking lot towards their cruiser like two men on a mission. "They should still be at the hotel. I know they haven't been back to their house. We've kept a cruiser out there to deter spectators." Jeremy said as he hopped in the drivers side. Sid curled his body into the passengers.

As he put the car in gear, he looked over at his partner who was looking a little worse for wear, "You need to put your big boy pants on," He jeered. It wasn't the time for sentiment.

Sid cut his eyes at him and shook his head, "Man, just chill, okay? You didn't know this guy like I did." He was beyond irritated with his best friend by that point. No matter the circumstances, it was still a hard thing he was having to go do, and come to terms with.

Jeremy side eyed him and then rolled his eyes, "I knew him long enough," He ascertained.

His partner scoffed, wanting to reach over and knock him up side the head for being such a dick about it. But he didn't, instead laying into him with, "No, you didn't. I grew up with him. You didn't. You showed up in eighth grade from Florida," Sid heatedly asserted, "He was always like...the gold standard for a decent human being to me, man. You just have no idea."

Jeremy exhaled, seeming to understand that he'd perhaps been a little too dismissive of the internal struggle his best friend was battling. Sure, maybe he didn't fully understand, because, no he hadn't known Arnold since he was five. "Sorry, I shouldn't have been so harsh. To be perfectly honest though, I'm less concerned about him being a secret psychopath at the moment and more concerned about Helga running around with him, in real danger."

Sid to his own astonishment, hadn't even considered that other aspect of the situation. Yes, he was having to come to terms with his childhood good guy potentially being a monster, but he'd completely forgotten about the other victim of this situation. Helga. He'd known her longer than Jeremy had and they hadn't any bad blood. And he'd still forgotten about her! "Fuck!" He swore under his breath as he straightened from his slumped posture, "He could go after her next."

"If she isn't a complete cover for him, her days are likely numbered."

"That's true, man. A lot of serial killers have wives and kids and...and..."

"Are often times are pillars of their community," Jeremy finished for him, turning and giving him an apologetic glance.

"Fuck!" Sid swore again, "I hate this. I fucking hate this."

They pulled up front of the hotel that had been the last place they knew that Arnold and Helga had been staying. Both blowing into the lobby like a storm, churning towards the counter where they quickly flashed their badges and asked the manager, "Arnold Shortman or Helga Pataki. Room number please."

"Yes sir," The wide eyed young man said, scooting over and nervously typing on their desks computer. "Looks like they checked out."

The two detectives blinked at the guy before Sid asked, "When?"

"Noon. Today."

Sid turned and looked at Jeremy, "Her parents." The pushed off the counter and began walking back out of the lobby, leaving the desk manager wondering what the hell was going one. "If they aren't there, there's only one other place I can think they would be."

"Where?"

"With Gerald and Phoebe Johanssen."

They slid back into their black cruiser and flipped around in the street, Jeremy not needing any direction what-so-ever to the Pataki's town house. He'd spent enough time there to never forget it

Jeremy and Sid arrived at Miriam and Bob's town house not more than twenty minutes later, pulling up to the curb all haphazardly and hurriedly exiting the car, jogging up their stoop, and anxiously ringing the door bell. The wait seemed like an eternity, but the door finally swung open, relieving a greying Miriam, who couldn't hide her surprise about who was at her door step. "Jeremy?" She asked, squinting through her glasses. Surely it couldn't be him at her door. Oh, but it was. And she'd never forget the boy with the chipped eyebrow who they'd caught, on more than one occasion, trying to sneak into their youngest's room in high school.

He tightly smiled at her, "Hey Miriam, how are you?"

"Well, I'm good..." She answered awkwardly, "Can I help you with something?" She naturally cut to the chase. Why would her daughters ex-boyfriend and some other guy, who looked vaguely familiar to her, be standing on her porch on a weekday afternoon?

Jeremy nodded, "Are Helga and Arnold here?"

Miriam gave him the oddest look before they heard: "Miriam who is it?!"

She leaned back in the house, "It's Jeremy!"

"Who?" They heard, and then some shuffling with Big Bob coming into view from the foyer area and then him bumbling up behind her at the door, surprise enveloping his aged face, "Jeremy! Well, what do you want?"

The detective exhaled an impatient sigh, "Are Helga and Arnold here?" He tried once again.

Bob grumbled, "No. They dropped their damn mutts off so they could catch a plane."

Sid's face fell, "A plane?"

Bob gave him an annoyed expression. A look that was no secret were Helga got it from and remarked, "Yeah a plane. You've heard of one?" Yeah, classic Helga right there.

"A plane to where?" Jeremy urgently asked.

The couple glanced at him, "Mexico."

Sid watched his partners eyes flash with a darkness he'd never seen before. A dark frustration that, maybe, he could sympathize with too. Jeremy kept it together though, he was always very professional, telling Bob and Miriam 'thank you' and that they'd be in touch, but the minute the door had closed and he had turned to descend the steps to the sidewalk he bellowed, "Motherfucker!" into the air with such aggression one would have thought he might have been crazy. "Fuck!" He shouted again.

His frustration wasn't exactly misplaced. Sid understood. Even with extradition laws in place, Mexico was a great place to disappear into. And if somebody were truly running, it wouldn't be an out-of-the-ordinary spot to head towards.

He just couldn't believe it.

Arnold Shortman. Fugitive.

Nothing had made him more of a begrudged believer than this. Why would an innocent person be fleeing the country? Why? What sense did any of that make?

And Helga going with him? It made him sick. If they didn't find them, she would likely disappear forever. Maybe not right away, but he felt that she would. If he were out of the country, and in no need for the cover that they thought she were for him, he'd get rid of her once he grew tired of her. She and her baby. Yeah, he remembered what Jeremy had told him. There were three people in this equation.

Sid felt even more ill by it all. The whole world was shifting around him, in a weird surrealistic way, and he didn't like the dark direction it had veered off towards. He almost felt drugged by it all. He didn't even remember getting back into the car. The next thing he knew he was looking over at his best friend who had just slammed his palm into the top of the steering wheel as hard as he could. That was when Sid, in a moment of clarity remembered that they still had a way to catch them. There was still a a chance.

"LAX..." He said, and Jeremy shot him look. Sid licked his lips, "You can't fly from Hillwood into Mexico without having a layover at LAX. Trust me, I know." And he did know. As much traveling as Rhonda liked to do, he was an expert on flight patterns from their home town. "We need to put a call into LAPD to keep an eye out for them there. Consider him dangerous."

Jeremy nodded. "Hopefully, that is where he is going."

7:05pm - Los Angeles

Arnold and Helga walked through the LAX airport, having to march all the way across the giant complex to get to their next flight, and in less that 45 minutes. As they were walking, she reached out and grabbed his arm in a gesture for him to stop. He did, giving her a concerned glance, to which she replied with, "I need a second. I'm feeling...sick." She told him, feeling a hard wave a nausea come hurdling up her throat.

"Do you need to go the bathroom?" His hand came to rest on the small of her back. She stopped, resting her hand on her mouth, looking up, before swallowing hard and looking back down at the floor, trying to shake it with sheer will power. It wasn't the time for a bout of morning sickness. "Sweetheart..." He tried again, only receiving a half head shake from her. She wanted to be okay but she wasn't entirely okay.

"It's just...sorry," She swallowed, "The nausea is just...overwhelming at times," She said, bracing her self against him.

"I know," He pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head, "I'm sure it wont be much longer until it's gone for good." Helga nodded into his chest. "If you think you're okay, we've got to be on our next flight in 30 minutes."

Helga finally pulled back, pushing up on her toes to kiss him, "Alright," She nodded, "I can make it down there." She said, still feeling the nausea hammer at her core, but knowing she'd feel loads better if they could get to the plane and sit down. He nodded at her and pulled her away, down the giant lobby way and across the massive expanse of airport that LAX was.

Arnold kept her close, choosing to throw his arm over her shoulder as they strolled. He hoped that that made her feel a little better in her state of discomfort. They just had to get to that plane. She'd feel better, and he'd feel better, once they were on it.

They continued to walk, him trying his best to comfort her on the way to their second plane. Making their way, more slowly than usual, across the airport they got in the longer, but quickly moving line to board their final flight. It was there and everything hit the fan. Arnold, who had been resting his cheek on the top of her head, happened to look back and see the whole thing coming.

They hadn't been aware of any of it. The call put in as the flight landed. The alert to keep out a eye for a tall blonde man carrying a black Adidas back pack, a detail courtesy of one of the flight attendants. He was traveling with blonde woman and should be considered potentially dangerous.

A swarm of police officers had crept up on them, guns drawn sending everybody into a ducking panic around them. "Arnold Phillip Shortman!" Helga heard a man yell. She turned too, to see L.A's finest descending upon them in a blue furry. That's when they hurled into him, ripping him away from her side and nearly plowing her over in the process, before yanking her away a little too aggressively.

And he didn't like that one bit, yelling, "Don't touch her!" at them as he was being wrestled into hand cuffs and recited his Miranda rights.

"Arnold!" Helga screamed as she was being pushed away by the officers.

"Arnold Shortman, you are under arrest for the murders of, Britney Ross, Amy Fredrick, Morgan Harris, Marie Styles, Sarah Copland, Jessica Tolberson, Kelly Dennis, Stephanie Peterson, and Taylor Mendez..."

He wasn't paying any attention to them, looking past the sea of blue at her and calling, "Helga!" As they started hauling him away. She hadn't heard anything of what they'd said either, only hearing 'arrest.'

"Where are you taking him? Why are you arresting him?!" She shouted at the first officer that approached her.

"Are you Helga Pataki?" He asked, seemingly not hearing anything that she'd asked him. She habitually nodded, as one did when they heard their name, "You need to come with us."

"Am I under arrest?!"

The officer didn't skip a beat, "You aren't. But it's in your best interest to come with us."

She didn't know what to say, or know what to think. What was this all about? Why was he being arrested? What had they done wrong? What had he done wrong? It had to be some type of mistake. Some kind of misunderstanding. Something warm forcefully wrapped around her upper arm. Looking down she saw that it was the large hand of one of the officers, pulling her with him. Blinking, she realized that she no longer saw Arnold. "Where is he?" She asked aloud. Not knowing where they had taken him, or where they were taking her. "Why are you arresting him?" She then asked.

Her throat was feeling so tight. She couldn't cry right now. Goddammit, she was so tired of being a slave to these hormones. She had never been a crier. A fighter, is what she was. But she didn't know what was going on! Nobody would talk to her!

Swallowing hard, she bucked up her set of brass ones and yanked her arm away from the burly man escorting her, and spat, "Why the fuck are you arresting him?!" And she could tell, by the way the guy slightly jumped, that she'd startled him.

The officer sighed, "We have an arrest warrant from Hillwood, Washington. That's all I can say," He finally explained, though Helga didn't know anymore than she already did. He then reached back for her, gently taking her arm again and continuing his escort.

They had gotten Arnold out of there quick. LAPD could make a scene, but they certainly knew how to clear out quick. He hadn't asked a lot of questions other than wanting to know where they were taking Helga, a question, along with all of any others had gone effectively, unanswered. But it was when he finally sighed, dropping his head to his chest and said, "There's been some kind of mistake here." That he got his response.

"Shut your fucking mouth, sicko," One of them from somewhere behind him snapped.

Arnold had nothing to say back, and remained silent for the duration of his walk, it ending with him being loaded into the back of one of their patrol Suburbans. As soon as the door slammed shut, the lead officer who had been apart of the escort, pulled out his work cell, scrolling to the number with the out of state area code and pressed it, bringing it to his ear.

A moment went by before a hint of a smirk brushed his lips and he said, "Got him."

Two days later - Hillwood

It had taken two days for LAPD to transport Arnold back to Hillwood. An agonizingly long ride it was, and he still hadn't a clue where Helga was. He didn't know if she were already back in Hillwood or if she were still in Los Angeles somewhere. Nobody had told him anything while he sat in a cell for a solid twenty four hours.

What he didn't know was that she hadn't been far from him the entire time. She hadn't been under arrest, but police had been instructed by Hillwood PD to make it seem as if she had to return to Hillwood at the same time as Arnold. They had some questions for her as well.

She hadn't let anybody know anything that was going on. She didn't know what was going on, or what she would even say. She couldn't worry her friends or her parents until she knew something.

Needless to say, by the time he arrived at the precinct and was let loose in an interrogation room, Arnold was exhausted. His wrist were so sore from a long as drive in the handcuffs, he'd had about three hours worth of sleep, he hadn't showered, and he was flat out angry. But he sat in the chair, propping his arms up on the table and waited, like a good boy.

His day got worst when he looked up and saw Jeremy walk into the room, carrying a few folders with him, that fucking annoying, arrogant tight smile on his face with his fucking toothpick.

The detective sat down across from him and carefully laid out his folders before asking, "You know why you're here right?"

Arnold snorted, and pushed off of the table, choosing to lean back in this chair in an attempt to be as far away from the guy as possible, "No, Jeremy. I don't." He defensively crossed his arms.

Jeremy quietly snorted himself and looked down at his folders, "Okay. We can play that game." He pulled his toothpick out of his mouth and used the tip of it to flip open the folder directly in front of him and then spun it to face Arnold. "You recognize her, don't you?" The blondes curious bottle green orbs scanned the folders contents, "Of course you do. You used to date her," He casually stuck his toothpick back in his mouth and twirled it a few times with his tongue, "Oh and we found her underneath your patio." The blonde's eyes flipped back up to Jeremy's, "You know...the patio you didn't want me to tear up."

Arnold shook his head, "Bullshit..."

The dark brunette laughed, "Come on man. You don't think that's just...a little bit coincidental?"'

"I don't know what to think."

"You were questioned about her going missing, weren't you? Back in college."

Arnold rolled his eyes but fisted a hand through his ever unruly hair, "And I'll tell you, what I told them then. I left her apartment, she was upset but said she was going to bed, I never saw her again!"

Jeremy ran his tongue over the fronts of his upper teeth and shifted in his seat, "So you never saw her again, but she's under your patio...along with ten other girls, and...coincidentally enough, you decide that right now is an appropriate time to head to Mexico."

"I was trying to take my wife on a nice vacation."

The detective grinned, "Don't bullshit yourself, you aren't married to her yet. Probably wont ever be." Jeremy knew that he shouldn't have taunted him like that, mentally kicking himself for doing so. It was incredibly unprofessional, and he knew it.

"Fuck you," Arnold seethed through his teeth.

"Vacation huh?" Jeremy leaned forward again and flipped open another folder and flipped around, "Who withdraws $20,000 in cash to go on a vacation?" He asked.

Arnold sighed, "We were about to spend almost a month traveling. I wanted us to have the time of our lives. The last thing I wanted is our bank shutting our cards down because of massive withdrawals in several foreign countries, thinking it was fraud," He sneered back at him.

"Or, one could live, under the radar, for a very long time with that type of cash," Jeremy counter suggested. "Helga know about all this?" Arnold fixed him with a burning stare, but refused to answer, but Jeremy heard him loud and clear, "Oh she doesn't huh? Hmm...I'm willing to bet she doesn't know about Taylor either does she?"

"I didn't do anything to Taylor and I...I don't know how she ended up on my property."

"You two are a house built on lies aren't you now?" Jeremy shot him a flash of a fake smile, then reached over and flipped open another folder, "You know, I was doing a little digging while I was waiting for you to get here, and I realized there is another person potentially in this all that nobody is talking about." He turned the folder towards his captive and raised his chipped brow, asking, "Where's Monica Davenport, Arnold?"

Arnold's face drained completely of color.

Jeremy smirked, "Yeah you know her. Head nurse on your floor at Hillwood Medical. She's been missing for a little while now. So where is she Arnold? Where'd you put her?"

A/N: Lord, the cliffhangers! Things aren't looking so hot for Arnold. Jeremy's a smooth dude though, and Sid? I really wanted to flesh out Sid more. I never have so it was...a little fun going a bit into him a Rhonda's life. I wanted to really fill out his eternal struggle with all this too. Anyway, R&R and happy 4th everybody!

Stay with me now! Lots more twists and turns to come!