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: I got this one put together kind of quickly. Even for me. I love it when chapter just come together nicely. Anyway: onward we go!

I never thought this could happen,

I never thought I could feel this way.

"Detective Moretti, how are you?" Sid reached out and shook the hand of the security guard employee at the storage compound. A burly man who looked to be a little past middle aged with a beard that would make most men jealous, and seeming calmer than a the eye of a hurricane too. Notable to Sid, because everybody else working at that place going about with an observable rattledness to them.

"Rob Thompson," The guy replied, "Could be better, if we're being honest," He then withdrew his hand and proceeded to perch both of them on his utility belt at his hips.

Sid subtly smiled, nodding his head in full agreement. Things could be better. Things could always be better, but he had that awful feeling bubbling in the pit of his gut, that things were about to get much worse. As if they hadn't already. "So, tell me what all happened this morning." He requested with a deep inhale as he reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve a small notepad and pen that he carried with him.

"Well, I only make a round or two or the golf cart per shift at night. Other than that, everything is mostly monitored by security cameras," Rob began explaining, "I'd been catching a vague death smell over on this half of the property for a little while now, but it was so…faint that…"

"It's kind of non-directional when it's like that…" Sid filled in. He got it.

"Yeah, exactly. Anyway," He guard shrugged, "I figured it was probably a dead possum somewhere. But…we've had that warm snap the last few days and…I caught it heavy this morning. Strong enough for me to pinpoint it to that unit and…" Rob's eyes wandered off at the freezer before shaking his head, "That didn't smell like any dead animal I've ever smelt."

Sid glanced up from his notepad, "You a hunter?" He asked. The guy was referencing something that generally, and if one were lucky, only law enforcement ever had the non-privilege of knowing about. Decomposing human smelt differently than the rest of the animal kingdom.

Rob nodded, "Avid woodsman in general, and I told them up front," He pointed towards the main office, "Because they wanted to call the renter and a pest control company, that, what was coming out of there, was no animal."

"Well, Mr. Thompson, you were right about that," Sid confirmed, "Unfortunately so. One more question, you mentioned security camera's. Are they posted at the ends of the rows around there or…?"

Rob shook his head and turned and pointed to the very back of the complex, "No, just for privacy we only keep them posted at the very back and one at the front entrance. And I don't know that we've actually ever had anybody break in," He turned back around, "Between you and me I think they're pretty pointless and solely so they can market this place as being security monitored."

Sid let out a sigh of disappointment, though he supposed it would be too convenient for cameras to actually capture important things. "What's the point of them when nobody wants to use them, right?" He replied in a slightly joking tone.

"I'm saying," Rob agreed with a nod.

"You ever see anything strange going on around here? Besides this?"

"Not really…but I've only been here for a little over a month."

At that, Sid's eyebrow and interest peeked, "So, was there somebody that you replaced?"

"Yeah," Rob reached up and scratched his forehead, "There was another fella that was here for awhile I think, and ended up moving out of state to be closer to family or something. Leon would know."

While Sid had agreed to go get the scoop from the security guard, Jeremy had slipped off a few feet to make a call to the coroner, and the most available forensics crew that could be there the quickest. Oh yes, and a flat bed truck…cause they were going to need it for that God forsaken deep freezer of putrid hell.

Speaking of which, while he was at it, he was going to go get that vick's rub out of the car while he had the opportunity. And it was at that point, while dabbing on a little bit of eucalyptus scented salve at the base of his nostrils that his phone began ringing. He screwed the lid back on the plastic jar and pocketed it, figuring others might would like some relief as well, before digging his cell out of the other. "This is Kirk," He answered, taking a deep breath through his nose and then furrowing his brows, "Really now?" He started walking back towards his partner, "Alright, well, process it, and don't let anybody be getting in an out of it like a num-skull. I don't want anything contaminated. Thanks," He hung up.

As he approached Sid, he held the jar out in offering, and it was gratefully accepted, "I just got a call that they found Monica's abandoned car," He eagerly informed him.

His partner paused his removal of the vick's lid, eyes widening greatly, "Where was it?"

"The hospital security finally ran the plates of a car that had been parked in the visitors section for awhile and alerted us."

Sid closed the jar and crossed his arms, taking in a deep breath before looking back into the unit, "That's got to be her then."

Jeremy eyes joined, "I can't fathom why it wouldn't be."

"Why leave her car at the very place she works though? That he works at too?"

"Familiar place," Jeremy eyes cut back to his partner, "I'd imagine."

Sid looked back at him, "Or maybe he just never got around to properly dumping it…or dumping her."

"Hopefully he didn't get around to cleaning her car out either…if he was using it for something," As Jeremy was replying, he caught something large and white out of his peripheral while he was glancing off and down the row of storage units. Turning he caught sight of a local news van rolling to the curb. He huffed, "What the fuck are they doing here?"

Sid looked too, immediately rolling his eyes, "Dammit…"

"Hey!" Jeremy turned back to the police officers standing around, shooting the shit while they waited, "Which one of you idiots has been chatting over your radio about this shit!?" He bellowed as he walked towards them.

Sid and Jeremy stood by as they watched the deep freezer get loaded onto the flatbed that had been requested. The female body had been extracted and carted off for autopsy with the coroner, and the outside of freezer had been thoroughly dusted down for fingerprints, none of which turned up, disappointingly. Now it was off to the lab.

The dark headed detective popped a fresh toothpick in his mouth and walked back inside of the unit once the truck began to pull away, turning on the flash light from his phone to take a look at the boxes lining the very back wall. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a single black glove and slipped it on before removing the lid to one of the boxes.

"What you got in there?" Sid asked, walking to the edge or unit, looking up the side and around, choosing to crouch down and really take a look at the car batteries left behind.

Jeremy pulled out a few papers and held them up, shining his light on them as he squinted to read the fine text, "Looks like…invoices…for HGP Inspections," He sighed and shoved them back into the box they came from. "Helga's stuff."

"This is pretty clever, you know," Sid trailed off. Jeremy glanced back to see him holding up the newly cut wire that had connected the power cord into the batteries. "Putting together something like this."

"Clever in all the wrong ways."

"Hey, so uh…you want to be the one to…call Helga and…tell her about this or do you want me to do it?"

"I'd rather not drop this on her in a phone call, if you want me to be honest."

"The vultures have been here. Either she'll see it tonight on local news, or somebody she knows will. Either way, she's going to find out."

"How about you pay her a visit tonight. I would but she isn't going to want to talk to me. Trust me."

"Yep," Sid agreed as he dropped the wire back onto the floor. Before he stood, his eyes wandered towards the doorway where he saw the glinting of a steel block in the sun rays. He immediately recognized it as a padlock. Rising to his feet, he quickly walked over and scooped it from the ground.

"What you got?"

His partner turned the padlock around to look at it from all sides, noting that bolt cutters had been used to remove from the latch the secured the vertical sliding door. "The lock for the door," Sid pushed up and resumed standing, while reaching into his pocket for the small key belonging to Arnold that he'd been carrying around, looking for an answer to. Glancing at Jeremy for a moment, he stuck it into the pad, easily twisting it and watching as one side of the snapped rod fell to the floor below with a muted ting.

"Well…I guess that answers the question…"

"So this is it huh?" Sid asked, crossing his arms as he watched a single tech leaning over into the trunk of a white sedan in the impound warehouse, "Did it look like it had been cleaned up or anything?"

The tech straightened, breaking off his swabbing Q-tip into the the plastic vile he had in his opposite hand before snapping it closed, "No, it appears as if it were just…left for work."

The detective nodded, "That's good."

"I've found some hair, gotten a good sample of a discoloration right back here," He pointed into the left side of the trunk, "Fingerprints, all that," He went to walk back towards his cart to drop the vile into a manila envelop, "Oh, I also found a small little grey towel wadded up shoved on the side of the passenger's seat between the center console."

"Yeah?"

"We're going to send that off for some testing as well. There is some sort of substance in it."

Jeremy strolled up beside him, looking into the car and then between his partner and the tech, "Finding anything good."

"Finding all sorts of things. Don't know if they're good yet or not," The tech chuckled.

Jeremy shrugged and walked around the car until the came to the drivers side. Looking in at the steering wheel and seat his eyebrow raised slightly, "Hey did anybody move anything?" He asked.

Both the tech and Sid looked over the hood at him, "No, and they took pictures of the interior before we transported it anyway if you want confirmation."

"Why?" Sid asked, himself strolling around he end of the car to re-join his partner.

Jeremy pointed at the driver's seat, "How tall is Monica? Like…five two or something?"

"Yep," Sid nodded, "And I'm seeing what you are too," He affirmed.

"Look how far back that seat is. There is no way she was the last one in this car," Jeremy said looking back at his partner, "But I know one tall fucker that probably was," He said, eluding to Arnold's 6'2" stature.

That Night.

Helga was perched on the edge of her living room couch, hunched as best as she could—considering things were starting to get shorter on space in her midsection—over her coffee table busily typing her field notes into a full report to submit to the county about how she would not be signing off the foundation packing and leveling,—amongst other things—for a new gym under construction in the city.

It was a wonder that her eyes hadn't rolled out of her head by that point from all the shit she'd seen contractors try to pass off as 'quality' work. Whatever though. She enjoyed the hunt. And angry, belligerent men insisting that there was nothing wrong didn't phase her.

One bit.

In the midst of all her typing, and as she was reaching for the glass of water beside her laptop, she felt the tiniest little fluttering punch from within. Prominent and long enough for her to quickly realize what was finally happening as said hand instinctively flew to her midsection. "Well hi there," She mumbled in amazement as the edge of her mouth upturned into a warm smirk. "Think you could do that again?" She jokingly asked, but nothing more was to be had no matter how still she sat. "Not feeling it, huh?" She wished it had lasted a bit longer, but she couldn't even bring herself to be disappointed. There would be more to come. "Your daddy is going to be excited."

With her smile still in place, she took a deep breath, found her spot on her report and started typing again. She was more than ready at that point to finish everything up for the night. It wasn't even close to late, but she was well aware that she needed to do a much better job of relaxing at night and cut work off at a certain hour. It really was running her ragged, but in a weird way also keeping her sane at the same time. But if she were being completely honest, she knew she could more than use a few extra hours of sleep at night. Which meant if she could manage to crawl into bed at a halfway respectable hour that night, she might actually get a full eight.

Her cell phone began vibrating, causing her to quickly glance over and see 'Parents' written on the caller ID. She had no idea what either of them could possibly be wanting but…she'd have to call them back. She was busy. With the ignore button pressed, she resumed her work, knowing they wouldn't take it personally because she always returned calls when she was free.

Yet, no sooner had she started typing, her house phone began ringing, again it being her parents. Now they had her attention. Now her eyebrows were effectively raised, and rather high. It wasn't like them to be that persistent, nor did they ever call the house phone. They weren't bothersome people. Unless something was wrong. She quickly grabbed the device off the side table and brought it to her ear, "Hey. What's going on?" She just went ahead and asked, assuming there was some sort of emergency taking place.

"Helga, are you near a TV?" Her mother's voice asked, sounding extremely shaky and very out of character for her.

Helga frowned, starting to feel a little panic stricken as the hairs on the back of her next perked, "What? Yeah, why?" She looked up at her main TV, which she currently had on the HGTV network for some background noise while she worked. Without any ushering she already felt compelled to reach for the remote.

"Turn it to channel 10."

She felt a pang of adrenaline shoot through her and the worst feeling of dread ever rip through her core, before it pooled in the bottom of her chest as she flipped the channel, "Mom, what is going o—" She stopped mid-sentence when she saw a reporter standing in front of the storage business that she rented a unit from, and then a couple bits of footage of a cautioned off unit that she recognized before the quick shot of the unit number.

Her unit number.

"Authorities say the identity of the young woman found in a Hillwood storage unit is still unknown, but that it is connected with the disappearance of Monica Davenport, and the eleven other women discovered on the Redwood Road property."

There was a body in her storage unit.

A body.

In her unit.

What?

The blood flooded to her feet, leaving her lightheaded to the point of mild vertigo.

She couldn't even formulate a reply.

Couldn't.

She wasn't even sure what she had just heard. That was a lie. She was absolutely sure what she'd just heard, and seen but it couldn't be right. It had to be a mistake. Arnold wasn't a killer.

Her Arnold wasn't a killer.

He was a decent, kind human being that had his mortal flaws as everybody did.

But not that kind.

Anything but that kind.

The journalist just kept yapping, and she had completely forgotten her mother on the other end of her phone that was still clutched within her palm as her arm fell to her lap.

There was a dead woman.

In her storage unit.

How could she have gotten there?

How else could she have gotten there?

There was only one way she could have gotten there.

"No…" She said in the most meek voice that had ever exited her throat. In her swirling cocktail of emotions she couldn't quite reconcile whether it were out of denial, heartbrokenness or some blend of both.

She opted for denial because none of what she was hearing…or had heard could possibly, in any capacity in the most profound imagination, be true.

She knew him.

She did.

She knew him as a child, and she knew him now. He was a good man.

But it was the exact same conversation she had reassured herself with in the upmost certainty when she'd been detained in the holding room. How could she be needing it again?

They were wrong.

Everything was wrong.

Arnold was a good man.

But it didn't matter what she thought though. All the desperate denial, all the hollow doubt, all the the future plans, the going-to-be's and the meant-to-be's. It all shattered at her feet the moment she heard her doorbell ring.

She looked over her shoulder, through a blur, and down the foyer that led to the front door, realizing just how glassy her eyes had suddenly become. She knew who it was. Every bone, every hair, every sense, every fiber in her collective existence knew who was at that God forsaken front door of hers.

She wanted to ignore it. She did. Just like everything else. But there was no ignoring it. No ignoring them.

It just couldn't be right.

The doorbell briskly rang again, sounding more like the haunting chime of a grand clock, ushering in dark times like the plague. She pulled herself from the couch, finding it harder to fight the tears piling up behind her eyes, and the emotion constricting her throat to the point of pain the closer she inched towards the front door.

It all felt so surreal to her. That foyer might as well have been ten miles, because the walk felt that excruciatingly long. With a trembling hand, she reached for the handle and pulled the door open.

Sid was standing on the other side, his hands shoved stiffly into his pants pockets and a posture expressive of the fact that he wasn't enjoying having to be there. Down in the driveway, she saw Jeremy reclusively leaning against the car, turning away when he caught her eyes.

Her gaze cut back to the detective standing on her porch, eyes probably looking terribly bloodshot already. This wasn't how she wanted to be seen. "Sid," She sniffed in a petite voice that she absolutely loathed.

This was not how she wanted to be seen.

This was not how she wanted to have this conversation.

Jesus. She was having to have that conversation.

Nothing on earth was right anymore.

"Hey Helga," He replied as equally quiet, realizing immediately that an explanation wasn't necessary on his part. Her appearance wordlessly told him that she already knew why he was there. And so he left it at that. "If you want to talk to me about it tomorrow, that's fine. Do you need anything right now?"

Helga slowly blinked, two rogue tears quickly sneaking out of each end corner of her eyes. She heard him, but her mind was ablaze with a thousand other thoughts and questions that were splitting her apart. But of everything, she found herself asking, "Was it her?" In practically a whisper.

Almost as if a yes or no would somehow tell her everything she needed to know.

Sid was a little caught off guard by the question, even considering that he'd come there to break the truth to her. But things had changed in the last few minutes. He peered at her through a pair of agonized grey eyes, "I don't know right now," He answered in his own fragile whisper.

The distraught blonde nodded, looking away as she placed her palm against the door frame for support. "I'll uh…" She swallowed painfully, "I'll…talk to you tomorrow."

"Are you sure you're fine?" He tried again, more than a little concerned about just leaving her that way. He hated having to use the word 'fine.' Nothing was fine. She wasn't fine. She probably wouldn't be fine for a long while. But it was the only thing he could say. So, whatever she needed, he'd get or do. It didn't matter what. Because in his mind, if Rhonda were ever left in a predicament where a detective was turning up a their house—probably because he were dead—dropping devastating, life altering news like that, he'd want somebody to go beyond just a courtesy visit and have some compassion.

Yet, with offer in hand she still declined his gesture with the shake her head, "I'll call you," She repeated as she turned to walk back into the house.

"Okay," Sid nodded, making no motion to move until she had closed the door behind her.

Once she had flipped the deadbolt, she leaned backwards against the door before sliding down to the floor. Dropping her head back against the oak wood, she finally stopped fighting her emotion. And she wept. She wept until she felt too tired and empty to do so anymore.

Sid glumly walked into his condo that night, mind so filled with sadness and dread that he barely noticed that his wife wasn't in the living room waiting for him as she typically was on his later evenings. Nights that seemed to be overly common these days.

His arrival wasn't unnoticed though. As he was heading towards their bedroom, she emerged from the kitchen, hands dusted in flour. "Hey."

"Hey, hun," He tiredly replied, "What are you doing?"

Rhonda wiped her hands on her leggings with a slight smirk, "Making a pie," She replied, "Attempting to."

Sid nodded. He figured she'd gotten a spark of inspiration from the baking class they were taking. More like she were taking. Seeing as he'd missed the last four classes.

"You hungry? Maddie made a balsamic pork loin," Rhonda offered. He was a little surprised and taken back by her complete casualness. She knew what was going on, he'd texted her about it after they had made their discovery at the storage unit, as he did a lot of the time, telling her some scoop. Probably not the most professional of him but, he knew she wouldn't ever utter a word about what he had going on at work.

And knowing all that, she was making a pie? At that hour? He wasn't in the mood for that crap.

"Maybe later. I'm going to go take a shower," He declined, continuing to walk towards their bedroom. Once he'd walked into the room, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and folded it over a desk chair that he trudged by, proceeding to loosen his tie as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Propping his elbows onto the edge of his knees, he clasped his hands together and sat in silence, decompressing everything.

He didn't really know how long he sat like that, his mind in a clouded whirl, but he was pulled out of all his thoughts by the sense that Rhonda had quietly slipped into the room.

Sid looked over his shoulder, seeing her standing in the open doorway, "You feeling alright?" She asked.

"No," He shook his head, and Rhonda crossed the room and came to sit beside him.

"I'm sorry if I seemed…out of touch just now," She began, "I know you've had a tough day and I…didn't know what time you would be home and I was just trying to…keep my mind busy."

Sid nodded, reaching out and placing a hand on her leg and giving it a gentle squeeze, "I know," He assured, feeling bad about being mildly aggravated with her.

"Want to talk about it?"

Her husband sighed, "I had to go talk to Helga tonight."

"Oh."

"I might as well have just told her he was dead," He admitted, feeling his eyes get embarrassingly watery. He'd always been a bit of a crier as a child, and still was a little overly in touch with his emotions in spite of his tough guy persona. He wasn't even sure why he was still self-conscious about it either. Rhonda knew him. "I wanted, so badly, for it not to be true about him."

"We all did," His wife agreed.

"Somebody like him…being a complete fraud. An evil fraud," Sid went on, reaching up and wiping his eyes, "How are you suppose to feel like you really know anybody after this?"

Rhonda exhaled, reaching out and running her hand over his back, and shoulders, "You can't ever know…truly. You just have to continue to have faith in people no matter what."

Sid nodded, reaching up with his opposite hand and placing it over the one she'd left on his shoulder as he leaned in and rested his head on hers.

Helga had fallen asleep out of pure exhaustion sometime in the early morning hours, well after having vehemently assured her parents, Phoebe and about three other people who knew her personally that she absolutely did not want to talk. Had she never been more thankful in her entire life that she had such a small group of associates.

Yet, as much as sleep should have been a relief for her, it seemed that no sooner than her head had hit the pillow, she was being thrust awake by her morning alarm.

She knew she probably shouldn't have, but she went about her normal work morning like a complete zombie tittering on the edge of a breakdown that was absolute torture to push down. To the point of exhaustion, but a test to sheer determination. Luckily, nobody around her professionally, had any idea what was going on in her life. Not even her two employees. She worked out of her SUV and had a business P.O. box that she'd never been more thankful for the decision to get versus advertising her home address all across her invoices.

Yet, she was still amazed at herself. Her ability to work in the face of emotional devastation. Her life was in ruins, yet she had stood on a job site, that very morning, and carried on with a couple guys as if it were any other day. She supposed she got it from Bob. She didn't necessarily believe it were a good trait, just…highly useful.

Especially since she was on her on from that point forward.

However, by afternoon, even she couldn't take anymore and promptly either rescheduled any appointments she had or informed the client's that didn't have to see her that one of her employee's would be going to take a look instead.

At home she found herself standing at her sliding glass door, staring at the barren pit that remained her patio, trying to figure out what her next moves needed to be. There had been two girls in that hole not long ago. Her eyes fluttered upwards and onto the woods. There had been girls back there. Somehow, there had been a girl in her storage unit.

He'd put them there. Each one, each place. A man that she thought were decent. A man that she still loved dearly.

How had she missed it though? It had been right in front of her. Right beneath her. How had she been so blinded? How could she have bed down with a monster and never noticed.

How?

She'd racked her brain to the point of mental fatigue trying to figure it out, only to continue to circle back around on the culprit. Because she was in love with him. And now, because of that, she was feeling like she had gotten blasted out of the sky by a giant piece of shrapnel in a fire fight. Shrapnel that might be her scar to bear forever. She sniffed as more than a few tears spilled over her eyelids. Her gut was churning, and she was so tired of feeling sick that it sparked a fleeting pang of outrage in her veins.

Maybe she just wasn't as good at reading people as she assumed. A thought that made her shudder. And a reason she wouldn't be making any contact with Sid that day, despite her telling him she would. She knew she wasn't ready to know the full details. If that made her cowardly, then so be it.

She didn't care.

That Night.

Hearing the whine of her dogs at the back door, Helga walked from her kitchen, carrying a bowl of cereal in her hands that was her dinner, to let the hooligans out one last time for the night. "Have at it," She said as she slid the door open, watching them happily pour out into the dirt, running around the hole and straight towards the woods.

It still gave her the heebie jeebies that they liked going back there so much. Wildlife aside, she had to assume it was the lingering smell of death that continued to attract them. Like she could fault them though. They were animals after all. As she was spooning another scoop of cheerios into her mouth, her phone began ringing from where she'd left it on the counter.

She hurriedly skipped back into kitchen, reaching across and spinning the phone so she could see the number and...that hot, cold sweat sliced through her.

Outbound from the detention center.

Arnold.

She pressed the side button to silence the ringing, but she didn't have the guts to actually hit the big red ignore circle. To be honest, she wasn't even sure why either. Maybe because he would know that she had ignored him instead of just...missed his call. An idea that was entirely stupid, because the last she should have been afraid of was causing him distress. As ridiculous as it was, she still just stood there and waited for the call to flip over to voicemail, feeling even more hotness rise up at the prospect of him actually leaving her one.

And bing.

He had.

Now her heart was really pounding as she sat her forgotten cereal down on the counter top, staring at the little red alert of doom pinned to her green phone icon. She clicked on it and then into her voicemail section, again, not entirely wanting, or having the guts to listen to his voice, and thus, relying on the transcription feature instead. She waited a moment before it finally loaded: "Hey. Can you please come see me tomorrow? I love you. Bye."

Helga sighed and ran a hand up over and through her hair before just dimming her phone out and trying to salvage her soggy dinner.

One week later.

Sid walked into the bar, surprisingly not seeing Brian already waiting, as he usually was. It was a seat yourself kind of joint and so he took it upon himself to grab their favorite booth, seeing as he didn't much feel like sitting at the bar amongst all the other regular flies hovering there.

No offense. He had no problem with bar regulars. But sometimes he preferred the privacy of a secluded booth. And he hated eating at the bar. Plus, Jeremy had said he was joining that night. He had barely taken his seat when Brian came strolling through the heavy wooden door, catching sight of his friend before heading that way.

"Sorry, I lost track of time," He apologized and he slide into the opposite side of the booth.

Sid waved off his attempted apology, "I just sat down. Haven't even ordered anything," He assured as he plucked one of the flimsy plastic tri-fold menus from the wire condiment holder.

"Eating tonight, huh?"

"Yeah…Rhonda flew out yesterday to New York for the week for some fashion show thing or something so…I'm baching it until Sunday."

Brian chuckled, "You do remember that you have somebody that makes your food right?"

"I know, but I feel bad asking her to cook for just me. Besides…sometimes I just want to eat shitty bar food."

"Whatever floats your boat man."

"What's floating his boat?" Jeremy walked up to the booth wearing a smirk as he motioned Brian to scoot down.

"Choosing to eat sketchy bar food instead of having his cook feed him."

"Some men just want to see the world burn." Jeremy chuckled as he sat down, catching an unamused, but friendly gander from his partner.

At that moment, one of the waitresses scampered up to her pair of regulars, "What can I get you two started off with tonight?"

"A Stella, and a water," Brian replied with a tight smile.

"Miller, in a glass please and the loaded nachos, add jalapeños, and banana peppers," Sid snapped the flimsy menu shut and tucked it back into the holder.

"And how about you?"

"Guinness, please." Jeremy requested.

"You got it."

"So, wild week huh?" Brian chirped, leaning back in the booth while folding his arms across his chest. The precinct had been nothing short of a buzz since storage unit had been cracked open with a treasure of fresh hell inside.

Jeremy snorted, "You think?"

"Well I mean, it hitting the news cycle didn't help."

Sid rolled his eyes in aggravation. None of it directed towards Brian though, and luckily, his friend got that, "Yeah, that went to hell fast."

The waitress was super speedy with their drink orders, having beers down in front of them before they could barely get into any meaningful conversation.

"Have you guys found anything good out of what's-her-name's car?" Brian inquired, taking a frothy sip of his settling beer, "I'm assuming no blood, because I didn't get a call."

"There were a few things, but we won't know anything until the lab gets back to us, and despite us being priority, they're talking about it being several weeks before we know anything."

"What?" Brian's face crumpled up in a disbelieving expression, "That's kind of ridiculous."

"We're having to send some of it to a third party lab and they're backed up I guess," Sid took a big gulp of his beer. "You know what I don't get though?"

Brian chortled, a single brow of his lifting high above his blue eyes, "I was waiting for that."

"Me too. He never shuts off."

Sid in return chuckled himself, "What?" He smirked.

"Every time we agree to hang out after work to shoot the shit anymore, you want to get deep into work."

"You were the one that started asking all the questions."

"As a common courtesy as most people would ask after their day at work." Brian defended with a subtle smirk.

Yet, his friend held his hands up defensively, but looking a little bummed, "Sorry. I know it's a bother. We can just decompress and talk sports tonight."

Brian then glanced at Jeremy, who gave him a non-committal shrug, "I doesn't matter to me what we talk about."

"Well, as long as we're talking about the crime of the century for Hillwood. I don't really care to discuss anything else we're working on," Brain laughed, and threw him a pair of shooter hands.

"Really? You sure you aren't interested in the gang shooting from last night?" Sid smirked, visually perking up but still giving his eyes a toss. All he wanted to do what talk about murder house. To anybody that would listen. It was his way of working through his theories and trying to find a reason or pattern to the madness.

"I'll pass," Brian rolled his eyes in return.

"Suit yourself. Jay can only listen to so much of my crap," He chortled.

"And there's a lot of it," Jeremy teased in reply.

Brian lifted his shoulder once in a 'what-the-heck' manner, "I hear that."

"Okay, so…you know what's going on. We find who is probably Monica in the deep freezer, and we finally locate her missing car which is great and all but…her being missing without a trace always left the possibility that she just…walked away, even if that's super far fetched."

"Uh huh…"

"But now we've got… probably her in Helga's storage unit. We all know she didn't put her there, or move her car."

"…yeah?"

"I've just begun to find myself thinking almost every day: Why her?"

Brian blinked for a moment, before stating what he considered to be the fairly obvious answer, "Cause he's a…predator?"

"Which is what I said," Jeremy chimed in as he took a sip of his stout.

Sid was quick to throw his friends a be serious type of furrowed glare, "I get that but, why pick somebody so close to him? He had to have known that it would raise a ton of eyebrows that two women, whom he was close to, went missing around him. That it would look more than a little coincidental."

"And I told him that this is a game to Arnold."

Brian glanced between his two friends momentarily, "Or maybe he just lost control."

"The logic is just flawed though."

"How?"

"Okay lets lay it out. So, let's assume the affair was taking place, Monica gets all…clingy, or maybe he tries to end it and she threatens to out him to Helga."

Before Sid could go on, Brian immediately got where he was going with his framework of a theory. "He's looking at…what? A nasty divorce?" He asked in assumption.

Jeremy shook his head, "They aren't married."

"But…" Sid held his index finger up, "Still probably looking at a break-up. Helga owns the house so he'd be out…and then…" His eyebrows rose up his forehead, "And then I guess he'd be looking at some…probably pretty pricey child support payments for many years to come."

"They have kids now?" Brian asked.

"They're having one," Jeremy replied, covering but unable to completely hide the disdain coating his tone.

"Shit," Brian took a big gulp of drink, a single eyebrow raised in curiosity, "As if she weren't already scarred enough from dating Doctor Death. Talk about salt in the wound."

Jeremy shot his blonde headed co-worker a slanted look before rolling his eyes and turning back to his beer, "We get it. It's a shit show," He muttered.

"Doctor Death?" Sid remarked, "You been talking to my wife?" He chuckled.

Brian shrugged, proudly grinning, "That's what we've nicknamed him down in spat."

"Doctor Death and the old Murder House. Hmm…" Jeremy said before taking another quiet sip form his drink. "Has a ring to it I suppose."

Before Sid could form a reply to either of them, their waitress scooted up to the booth with a platter of nachos, "Here you go!" She slid them down in front of Sid.

"That was fast," He remarked in relief. He was actually pretty hungry, and the beer he was halfway through had done absolutely nothing to curb his appetite either. It's what he got for having sushi for lunch, though.

"Yep," She cheerily replied, "Everything look okay? Need anything?"

"Uh, looks great, thanks!" And with that, she skipped away, leaving the three men to carry on with their conversation, "Well anyway," Sid continued, deciding to get them back into a conversation of substance after shoving a few pipping hot nachos into his mouth, "As I was saying: He'd lose a relationship, a place to live and it would cost him some money. However, none of that is any where near as remotely severe as his darkest secret being outed because he killed somebody close to him. Again."

Brian tilted his head at Sid, casting him a very serious look, "You're having doubts is what you're saying."

"That's exactly what he's saying," Jeremy replied first.

Sid sighed, feeling the growing fatigue of his continued skepticism rolling off of his partner in thick bands. So much so that part of him wished the dude would have just bowed out of drinks that night so he could have chit-chatted with Brian alone but, it was what it was. "I'm saying…I just want to understand his thought process. And as of right now, the Monica bit just doesn't make any sense to me."

Brian sat forward and propped his elbows onto the table, "I suppose it really doesn't have to make sense at this point. There was a dead girl in a chest freezer in a storage unit he had access to."

"Thank you," Jeremy too sat back in his seat, crossing his arms in a triumphant huff.

And feeling very outnumbered at that point, Sid lamely shrugged one shoulder, "There is a reason to everything," He tried.

Jeremy smirked and shook his head, "Sometimes, there just isn't."

"Not true," Sid countered with a little smirk of his own. All joking aside, no matter what either of his friends had to say, he was believer in all actions having reason. Nothing was random in the world in his eyes.

"It's very true."

"Nope."

Brian quietly sighed and polished off his first beer, "Alright. Well, if either you care, here's my take then. I think Monica was a crime of passion," He suggested as a sort of…challenge. He figured that's what Sid wanted. Something to ponder.

A challenge that Sid nodded understandingly to before inhaling, "But the evidence doesn't suggest any of the others being passion killings. Outside of Taylor, they are all randoms with no personal connection to him or Helga."

"He lost control. He lost control with Taylor. Five years later he loses control with Monica. You just said the biggest reason that he had to take her out," Brian countered.

"What?" Sid queried as he shoved a few more nachos into his hungry mouth.

"Helga owns the property. Chances are, Monica was going to out him."

"I don't think that's his only killing field either," Jeremy chimed in. "He's been doing this longer than they've lived on that property."

"It's probably not," Brian agreed, "But it would still be something he wouldn't have eyes on every day."

"Ironically, he lost control of that one anyway," Sid reckoned as an after thought while he was mid-chew.

"Thank God for those dogs, right?" Brian tried, "Hey, all serial killers make miscalculations, but I couldn't see him willingly giving up access to his 'trophy room' so to speak. If Helga booted him out because of infidelity, losing control of his killing field was one hundred percent. He probably had a sixty percent chance of slipping under the radar by taking Monica out." He rocked his empty glass in a circular motion on the table. "The odds seem to point at his reasoning to me."

"Yeah…" Sid stopped eating, running his clean hand through his hair, "Perhaps that was his reasoning. Not good reasoning, but reasoning none the less."

"Thank you," Jeremy replied with a nod.

"So you agree with me?" Brain looked over at his friend.

"I think he's nothing more than a psychopathy that's been hiding among the general pop for a long time. Personally, I think that sometimes, he likes to get involved with his victims as a game, and I think that's what we see with Taylor and Monica."

"Makes you wonder…" Brian trailed off, glancing over to the bar, hoping to catch the eye of their waitress for a second round, "How long before the cross hairs landed on Helga?" Sid's eyebrow lifted in dark wonder as he watched his friend's eyes shift back onto him while Jeremy's subtly darkened, "What? You just said that you think him getting involved with some of his victims was probably a game. Just saying. If that is the case. I don't think her odds were good."

Sid watched his partner lick his lips in discomfort before he took a large gulp of beer. He could tell that what Brian had proposed was bothering him. Casually taking a another bite of nachos, he replied, "Nothing would have ever happened to her."

A statement that had Brian snorting while shooting him an generally absurd look, "That's awfully generous of you."

Sid stopped, "I'm serious. Having gotten caught, I do strongly believe he would have ditched her, dead or alive once they made it across the border. However, had he never gotten outed, no…I don't think he would have ever done anything to her."

"Really?" Brian frowned in surprise, "You truly believe that?"

Sid nodded, "Yeah."

"I think he would have eventually taken her out."

"Nah. Those guys thrive on being invisible. They have families, careers, are pillars of the community. All that stuff."

"Well, you know what? Thankfully, we'll never have to know," Jeremy killed the conversation with that.

The three men stepped out into the night, letting the door to the bar swing closed behind them as they walked a few steps down the sidewalk.

"Damn," Sid remarked as he noticed Jeremy's truck parked right out in front of the restaurant, "How'd you get such a good spot?"

"It was open," His partner shrugged, shooting him a snarky little grin.

"Alright well, I'm parked in the back lot so, see you bright and early tomorrow morning," Sid gestured towards the building as he began to head towards the side alley.

Brian made to follow him, "Me too."

"See you tomorrow," Jeremy gave a flick of the fingers style of wave before moving to his truck and getting in.

Once he was effectively backed out into the street and his two friends about halfway down the short alley leading to the back parking lot, Brian remarked, "You're right. This crap is definitely eating away at him."

Sid halfway looked over his shoulder, "I told you."

"I actually kind of feel bad for him now. I'm thinking he might still be in love with her."

His friend stopped and gave him an very unconvinced look, "Okay, I used the word love as in...caring. Like caring too much to the point of irrational decision making," Sid began walking, "Same with me saying he might still be spiteful," Exiting the alley before making to veer right towards his vehicle.

Brian half rolled his eyes at his friends back, not convinced at all of his analysis, "Well, he isn't spiteful. I can tell that much."

"Agreed."

"I think if he arrived home tonight, and she was standing on his doorstep, begging him to take her back, he would...baggage and all," He said, pulling his keys from his pocket.

"That's even more farfetched."

"Whatever man. Just keep an eye on him."

Sid halted again and looked back towards his friend, who'd himself, stopped a few feet away from him, "Why do you say that?"

The dirty blonde man shrugged, "I don't know. He might embarrass himself. Just keep an eye on him. See you later," He popped his head in a goodbye gesture before continuing straight, towards the back of the lot.

Two days later.

"Hey losers," Both Sid and Jeremy looked up from their desks, both knowing that it was Haley from the morgue. Which meant…possible news.

"Haley, don't pretend like you weren't dying to come see me," Jeremy leaned back in his chair, giving her a cheesy little grin while popping his eyebrows. "What you got for us?"

Haley rolled her eyes, "Anybody ever told you, you look like a lion king character with that eyebrow," She teased in the most dead panned way possible.

Sid snorted, "Ouch."

Jeremy inhaled and puffed his chest out a little, refusing to let her have the last laugh at him, "I was actually going for that Khal Drogo look."

"Please," Haley brushed off his fantasy.

"Double ouch."

"Anyway, your presence is requested below," She told them, referring to the department realm in which she worked.

The two detective jumped out of their seats, eagerly following her to the elevator to descend into the basement. While waiting on the two floor drop, Haley looked over at Jeremy for a moment before finally asking, "How did you get that scar anyway, Kirk?"

Jeremy snorted, "Why would I tell you?"

"Fine. Be an asshole."

The detective sighed, removing his toothpick, "When I was seventeen. Me and my then girlfriend were driving back from a bonfire one night when a deer jumped in front of my jeep. And…instead of just hitting the thing, I swerved, over corrected and flipped the vehicle twice down an embankment. The scar is from glass."

"Jesus," Haley grimaced, "Was then girlfriend okay?"

"Yeah," He nodded, hazily remembering laying on the broken window, eyes flooded with blood, hearing Helga cry out for him, "We were both just bruised up pretty bad. Sounds a lot worse than it actually was."

The elevator doors parted and the three stepped off and into a hallway, which they then followed Haley down and into the main autopsy area. The coroner was waiting, flipping through some papers he had pulled from a holder, "You finally got something for us, Bill?" Sid said, as they walked up on the chubby older man.

Bill looked over his wire rimmed glasses at the two boys strutting up with his assistant. "Finally," He echoed them before placing a piece of paper down on one of the stainless counters, "Your Jane Doe is now Meredith Tomlin," The two men's faces dropped, "Arrested on three different occasions for prostitution and reported missing by her sister in January. Did I do enough homework for you two?"

"I'm sorry, who?" Jeremy asked…for the both of them.

Bill shot them both a bizarre look, "Is she suppose to be somebody else?" He asked a little on the sarcastic side.

"Well, yeah," Jeremy replied, coming off as a little ungrateful.

At that, Sid decided to intervene, shaking his head, still feeling shell-shocked by the revelation, "No, Bill. Sorry, we were just…one hundred percent sure it was going to be a different girl is what he's saying."

"Ah," Bill nodded once, "Well, I can't help you with that problem. Cause of death was strangulation, with a broken hyoid bone, just like the other eleven girls."

"Anything else? You said she was reported missing in January?"

"Mmhmm. And I believe that she was held for awhile. She's got bruising around her wrists and ankles, newer and old tissue bruising."

"You're saying that he held her and..."

"Tortured her," Jeremy finished.

Bill sighed and scratched his forehead, "She's wasn't in good shape at the time of her death, let's put it that way. She also had heavy signs of repeated sexual assault."

Sid and Jeremy's eyebrow's perked, "That was one thing you couldn't determine on the others."

Bill nodded, before pulling his glasses from his head, appearing to become very uncomfortable with what he was about to say, "I've been doing autopsies for twenty-five years and I've seen just about everything. But what he did to this girl made me ill," He said in a very hollowed tone, "The good news is: I caught a trace bit of semen under the UV that was left on the shirt she was wearing, so as soon as the lab gets back to me with that, we can figure out if it belongs to your guy or not."

"Well, let's hope they are speedy about it," Jeremy sighed, giving side a quick glance before turning back to Bill, "They're dragging their feet with some other stuff of ours."

Bill nodded, completely understanding their annoyance. "Outsourcing was one of the worst decisions this department ever made. But I digress," He held his hands up before shooting them one last knowing look.

On the way back up to their floor, Jeremy looked over at Sid who seemed to be in some pretty deep thought judging by the creased nature of his brow. "You know how I keep saying he's got a second killing field?"

"He tortured them," Sid almost mumbled.

Jeremy's eyebrow quirked, "Yeah…that's what I was about to get at. He has a spot. Maybe a cabin or something. I think we should request a full wooded search up around Helga's parent's place in the mountains."

"He wasn't just…abducting and strangling them. He was…holding them…torturing them…raping them before killing them," How could this guy get any more evil? It didn't seem possible. The elevator doors parted and the pair stepped off. Sid finally shook his head free of the thought in favor of giving his partner an attentive look, "Yeah, I uh…I agree with you. We still have a missing girl."

Yet his partner looked rather annoyed by his response. "Look man, he held that girl for four months," Jeremy pointed away, other hand on his hip in a aggravated stance of a pose. "Four months."

Sid shook his head and ran one of his hands through his hair. He got what his friend was trying to say, but the odds just weren't in their favor, "Jay, there is no way that girl could possibly still be alive. Even if he didn't kill her," He grimly replied, feeling a nasty churn roll in his gut, "If he's got her...tied up in some dinky cabin somewhere, she's probably dead from exposure or...starvation," He sighed, "We need to try to force it out of him. Somehow..."

Jeremy scoffed, reluctantly nodding as he looked away, "We still should try to hunt for her," He turned back to Sid, "Something like a cabin or...old basement will be easier to find than a shallow grave."

Three Days Later.

Helga walked into a local cafe', predictably late while Phoebe had been predictably early. She was honestly surprised her friend still bothered being early for their lunches anymore...and she honestly wondered how she could never seem to be on time to eat, despite being punctual in every other facet of her life. To be fair, she for once would have actually been on time had it not been for a phone call from Bob about the fact that HWPD was re-searching his cabin in the mountains. He was angry about it, but not with her. As if there were anything she could have done about it anyway. The blonde walked up, tossing her tote bag into the booth as Phoebe looked up from whatever she was reading on her phone. And predictably there was already a glass of water waiting on her.

"Hey," Helga greeted as she slid in, offering her a tired smile a best. To Phoebe she looked terrible. Not like she were disheveled in appearance or anything, but she could tell that her friend was exhausted and emotional and her eyes were a looking glass into her ruptured soul like never before. She could only offer back a pursed lip kind of smile. "I'd say sorry I'm late but...it is what it is anymore I suppose."

"It's okay," Her friend nodded, flipping the menu open to see what she could find. She was actually rather hungry that afternoon. A few moments went by before Phoebe sighed, "I...don't even want to ask how you're doing because...I can only imagine."

"Yeah. Feels like a nightmare, you know?" Helga looked back up and out of the window they were sitting next to, "How do you wake up next to a serial killer every morning and not ever realize it?" She asked, glancing back at her raven haired companion. "How does this happen?"

"I don't know that you could have known...unless you were looking for it."

"My head gets it, you know? He's an animal. But the rest of me is waiting for this to be a misunderstanding," Helga tiredly sighed and reached over for her water, taking a few big gulps. "He's called me almost every other night for over a week now. And I haven't had the nerve to answer any of them."

Phoebe wanted to be surprised but, given the things going on at her house, she wasn't at all shocked to hear that. "Gerald is still talking to him."

"How?"

"Because he still believes him," Phoebe sat back in the booth, crossing her arms in a very uncharacteristic form of aggravation for her, "It's causing a lot of strain on our household right now, if we're being honest."

It was hard for Helga to imagine the two of them even bickering about something, much less dealing with a strain being placed on their relationship by a third party. She would be a liar if she said it didn't upset her to hear that. Ultimately it was none of her business what Gerald did, but it clearly bothered Phoebe. "I'm sorry Pheebs."

"I can't even talk to him about it anymore. He just wont even hear it, and then we just argue about it," Phoebe went on, "And he thinks I'm the one not being reasonable about it all. A lifetime of friendship somehow overrides hard facts or him."

"He's in denial. I'm even still a little in denial," Helga tried, "Give him some time."

Two Days Later.

Jeremy peeked into the break room, bright and early, catching Sid making his high octane cup of morning sludge. "Hey, Nina wants to see us."

His partner practically snapped his neck turning from the coffee maker, "Hallelujah," He brought his mug to his slip for a quick sip before following Jeremy down the hallway. They both practically power walked, attempting to look professional about it, but dying to know what had come back analysis. The two coolly walked into the lab, seeing Nina hovered over something on a table in her little white coat, as usual.

"We're here," Jeremy announced happily.

"What took you so long?" Nina looked up with a slight smirk.

"I can only walk so fast with coffee," Sid remarked, taking another sip of his brew. "Wouldn't want to spill any of this black gold."

Nina snorted, "I'm pretty sure that stuff is too thick to spill," She walked over, grabbed a folder from the edge of her work top and approached them. "Firstly, no finger prints or hair in the freezer. And if you are curious about evidence collected by Bill, we're still waiting on that."

"Fair enough," Sid agreed.

Nina opened up the first folder and pulled the flap all the way around to the back, "Car dust down, we did find one print. A palm print of his across the top door frame and roof," She handed the folder off to Jeremy. "Strands of hair present all through the car. Stain in the trunk came back as red wine, however..." She leaned in a flipped them two pages down, "That crusty wadded up washcloth they recovered, was covered in semen, which came back as a DNA match to your guy."

Jeremy's eyebrow crept upward and he looked over at Sid, "I guess that answers the question on whether or not there was an affair."

That Night.

"Boy howdy, this is fantastic," Sid beamed as she forked another bite of pan fried chicken into his mouth. Across the short table, Rhonda chuckled before taking a sip of red wine.

"Things taste better when not re-heated all the time huh?" She teased, subtly chiding him about his numerous late nights, but with no real annoyance. He would admit that she was right. He doubted the french chicken, and roasted vegetables in...whatever sauce was covering it could have ever tasted better than it did pipping hot out of the pan. Maddie was amazing.

"Maddie!" Sid leaned back in his chair, looking off to the doorway of the kitchen. The middle-aged woman peaked out, eyebrows high on her forehead, "You're too good to us," He smiled.

Maddie snorted, and waved him off, "Eat your food."

Sid chuckled, leaning back forward and forking more of those roasted vegetable into his mouth. After a long day, it was really nice to go home at a reasonable hour and have a nice dinner with his wife. The two of the chatted about anything but work. Vacation plans for whenever he got a free moment to actually take some much earned time off. He had finished his plate...and a second and had just downed his the last of his beer when his phone started going off. He expected it to be work...dispatch alerting him to something, but it was a un-familiar number, but it being a work phone, he was required to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hey Sid, it's Helga."

"Hey," He sat back, glancing over at Rhonda who was mouthing 'who is it?' at him, "Everything okay?" He asked before mouthing 'Helga' back at her. She nodded before standing up and gathering their two plates to take to the kitchen.

"Yeah I uh...I had a free moment and...look I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time I just kind of...want to know...you know?"

"No, you are fine," He assured, getting up from the table and heading across the apartment to his office for some privacy, "I've been...expecting you to call me for a little while now anyway so..."

"I know..." He heard her sigh, "Sorry."

"Don't be. Look," He ran his hand over the back of his neck, "I'll be honest. I don't really have any delicate way of telling you everything that we know at this point. I'm almost tempted to tell you to just come see me bu—"

"—I don't necessarily want to see it."

"Right," Sid nodded, "I understand. So...the girl in the freezer wasn't Monica. It was a working girl," He termed it as nicely as possible. He hated the word prostitute, "We're...very sure that he...kept her alive for...months. There was signs of abuse and...sexual assault."

"Jesus Christ..." He heard her mumble, "You're still trying to find her."

"We are. We have...physical evidence all over Monica's apartment and vehicle that strongly points to a...sexual relationship between the two. We think that...quite possibly it's the reason why...she's missing to begin with," Sid replied as evenly as he could, trying to have zero inflection in any part of his voice or tone. When she didn't say anything or...make any immediate attempt to ask in questions he shut his eyes in complete dread, "I'm sorry, Helga. I didn't want this to be true anymore than you do."

"I know," She replied, and he could hear the tears in her voice. It broke his heart. Absolutely cracked it. "Hey, thanks for talking to me." He heard her sniff, "I'll uh...call me if something turns up."

"Helga...if you need anything from us, don't hesitate to call me, okay? I mean that."

"I know, Sid. I appreciate it. Have a good night."

Sid nodded, "You take care of yourself," Was the only thing he could think to reply with before hanging up after he knew she had disconnected the call.

A/N: I don't know. I'm kind of just...twisting the knife deeper into Arnold. Either he's a scum bag in hiding or...nothing is what it seems. Happy reading!