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: Yes I know, it's been a hot minute. I have like five minutes of free time these days. Spitting out the long chapters like I like to do is a real challenge right now. So we last left off with Jeremy and Helga finally clearing the air over her cheating on me. So...we're picking up from there! Thanks for sticking with me on this! I don't like going this long with out a chapter but, for the record, I NEVER abandon stories.
You're a wolf boy,
get out of this town.
Jeremy gave himself a look over in the mirror, pawing a hand through his wavy, unruly dark tresses once before unsealing himself from the bathroom, flipping the light off as he walked out. As he made his way back towards the living area, he couldn't help but notice several pictures hanging on the walls. Things his full bladder had made him miss on the way in. Quite a many candids of her dogs as puppies and such, but many of Helga and Arnold. She had looked happy with him. They had a life, they had adventures, they had plans, they had...a child. He looked away. It made his stomach hurt.
Of everything, it made him most sick to watch her running around, carrying that joker's offspring.
That prick had the life that he had once imagined himself having with her. Hell, still imagining having with someone else one day.
All that aside, he wanted to be incredibly judgemental of her still even having things of Arnold around, but he, more than anybody, understood the long process of grieving. In his hasty exit from their apartment he had unwittingly ended up with a few of her things that had taken him quite awhile to finally get rid of. It had hurt to keep them, but his confused state of mind reasoned that it would have hurt worse to throw them away because it would have made it one hundred percent official.
Helga wasn't anywhere to be seen when he finally stepped back into the living area, but he heard some quiet rummaging in the kitchen. When he peaked in, he saw a bag of pita chips on the counter and his ex pulling a container of hummus out of the fridge. Sitting near the chips were the remaining five beers she'd offered for him to take.
She'd either sat them out so as not to forget, or it was her nicely telling him it was time for him to leave. Knowing her, he'd have to say ten percent former, ninety percent latter.
Deciding to heed her subtle hint he announced, "Well, I should be heading out," As he stepped into the kitchen. Helga turned, not appearing all that surprised by his presence as she removed the lid from her hummus. The munchies were hitting hard that night.
"Oh, alright," She replied. There would be no convincing him to stay from her. Not even a polite pretend attempt. She was ready to resume her solitude, "Please take this beer. If you don't, they're going to get dumped. I won't drink it." She gestured to the bottles before scraping a chip through the hummus and popping it into her mouth.
Jeremy smiled, "Still not much of a drinker I see." He assumed. Or maybe she didn't want Doctor Death IPA.
"Come now. Surely you remember my mother."
"A man doesn't forget Miriam Pataki throwing up on him," He chuckled.
Helga quietly snorted, getting shoved down an old memory hole, recalling her overly intoxicated mother puking all over Jeremy before prom. The older woman had managed to give herself alcohol poisoning that night, and the teen had decided then and there that she never wanted much to do with booze. She casually shrugged a shoulder, feeling a little more relaxed, "Can't say I've ever grown to enjoy the flavor of alcohol all that much anyway."
"Well then, I'll dump them down my throat for you," He teased back as he walked to the counter, standing across from her while sliding the bottles towards himself.
Helga offered a tiny smirk in return, devouring another chip, "Thanks."
"Saw your parents not long ago. You're dad was just as thrilled to see me as he was every day in high school," He sarcastically said.
The woman chuckled, "Well I'm sure he was happy to finally see you outside of the house for once. Namely the bathroom," She commented, harkening back to the time Bob had walked in on Jeremy peeing in the upstairs bathroom. Which wouldn't have been a big deal except for the fact that it was 2:00am...on a Saturday...and Jeremy was stone faced drunk...wearing nothing but a beanie.
Jeremy began laughing, remembering exactly what she was referring to. A man could also never forget getting chased by a half-awake Bob Pataki. No matter how drunk he may have been. "Yeah, I don't know why he never liked me much."
"You cant think of a single reason?" Helga smirked. Her ex shook his head, also smiling, "Not one? Well, it is truly an unsolved mystery." To say that her father had never been fond of Jeremy was an understatement. And looking back, Helga, on the cusp of starting her own journey through parenthood, couldn't much blame him. Her ex-boyfriend had been a good guy with dreams but a pretty wild dude for a little while. Dragging her into late backwoods parties, and into general teenage mischief.
"You remember that vein in his neck looking like it was about to pop when we had that wreck," He recalled, "I was worried for him. Real worried."
She hadn't thought about that night in quite sometime, yet, she could still remember it as vividly has a favorite song. Flying down a back road, every window down, warm late summer air whipping everywhere while blasting 'Hush' by Deep Purple through the stereo. One moment she'd felt him reaching over and affectionately running his fingers through her hair, tilting her head to cast him a warm smile that he was already reciprocating. The next moment, a deer and then she was hanging upside down in a ditch while Jeremy tried to orient himself enough on the crushed-in windshield and roof to get to her.
Looking back, they hadn't just been lucky not to have had any serious injuries. They were lucky to have survived period.
Helga quietly chuckled, "Because he never believed it was a deer. He probably still doesn't. Knowing him." Bob had made it known, more than once, that he thought that Jeremy was trying to cover up drunk driving.
"Which is hilarious considering we live in a mountain valley."
"Well what do expect. It's my dad," She smirked at him, "Though if my daughter brought home a boy looking like you did, I'd probably act just like him too." She figured aloud, half joking, half being serious about it.
Jeremy rolled his eyes but his smile persisted, "You sure about that?"
Helga shrugged, "I'm a chip off the ole' Bob block," and popped a pita chip in her mouth.
"I really don't think you have the neck vein for it," Jeremy teased as he reached in his pocket and popped a toothpick in his mouth to play with. "So...girl or boy?" He asked, prying a little. He was more than a little curious about that situation, though he would never come right out and ask such.
"Uh..." Helga slightly frowned, "Girl."
Her guest leaned into the counter a little. He knew he should have been leaving, per her subtle request for him to do so, but he kind of felt like lingering in conversation a little. "Does she have a name yet or..."
"Or...what?" She finally looked back up at him, appearing agitated, because she kind of was. Jeremy could only lamely shrug. "Hunter," She said flatly, "Why do you care?" It was an overreaction, and she knew it the minute it came tumbling out of her mouth, but having to defend, and then justify herself to her nosy sister had made her a little more weary than usual of other people's interest in the complexity of her life at that moment.
Particularly when it came to her child.
Predictably, Jeremy was a little taken aback by her overly bristly response at such an innocent question. Yet, he remembered how brash she could be when she was over something. Obviously in that case, with his continued company in her home. Or better yet, when she didn't want to talk about something. But he found himself sighing, a hand coming up to rest on the back of his neck as he glanced away, "I wish I didn't," He softly said.
Helga stopped mid-chew, her stare becoming reproachful in nature, "Wow." She replied, flicking the chip she'd just grabbed back into the bag. She was so incredibly tired of other people caring so much about her personal matters.
Her ex-boyfriends eyes re-fixed on her, seeing just how irritated she had become over such an vague comment. "Clearly you think that I meant something that I didn't," He tried. She definitely had some shit going on peripherally to everything else. Her hardened look seemed to ease a bit and he took that as an opportunity to continue, "It's just that...this entire case has hit very close to home for Sid and I. There are a lot of nights that I lay awake and wish that this was just a case with strangers and I could turn off my feelings because..." He trailed off, taking a moment to inhale deeply, "It's...very tough for me to watch somebody that...I once loved go through all of this shit."
The blonde had to fight the incredibly rude eye roll that wanted to blurt out of her face. She didn't want sympathy. She didn't want anybody feeling sorry for her. She was better than that and she was working through her upside down life just fine. Nor did she want anybody ever thinking of her as the poor woman who's life had been ruined by Hillwood's most notorious serial killer. No, she wanted people to see a chick who pushed through the steaming pile of horse shit, came out stronger, raised her daughter and had a fucking fantastic rest of her life. Instead she sighed, deciding to try to be as nice as possible because, as she had to keep reminding herself, he meant well. "Jay I—"
"—I know you don't want sympathy," He cut her off. The fact that she thought he didn't remember a single thing about her was borderline insulting to him. Of course he knew she'd balk at such a statement. There just wasn't a better way to say it. "Whether we like it or not, we're going to have to be in each others lives again. At least for a little while. This...this isn't a tiny crime so...personally, that is just...where I'm at in this whole thing." He shrugged, "We know each other, rather intimately but you've treated me like a stranger. Like I said earlier, I don't think we have to be friends necessarily, but I'd like to not feel like I have to walk on eggshells when we do interact."
Helga quietly sighed and tried to expunge some of the tension from her form, "I know," She yielded to his observation. His point was not very well laid out initially, but she understood what he meant. She'd never had any problem talking with Sid, but there had been nothing but animosity between her and Jeremy from the start. Understandably so. And even though they had finally cleared the air with that...she still had no idea where to even begin again with him. Which in itself was incredibly odd because he was right. They weren't strangers. Yet she acted like he didn't know a thing about her, when in reality, he probably still knew more than anybody else involved at that point.
Besides Arnold.
"I was asking just to talk. That's all."
She finally nodded and reached again for a chip, for the sole purpose of occupying herself with something, "Sorry," She apologized, "For what it's worth, my sister said some things to me a few weeks ago that really rubbed me the wrong way...still rubbing me the wrong way if we're being honest," She rolled her eyes at the encounter, "And the way you were asking just...kind of reminded me of that." At that point, she already realized that no matter if she had anymore children, she was always going to be more protective over Hunter than a mother normally would.
"She's still offering her unsolicited advice, huh?" He had met Olga on more than one occasion and had first hand witnessed how bossy she could be when it came to Helga.
"It's the only thing she pedals," Helga sighed, nibbling on a chip. It was mean, but true.
"So..." Jeremy began, deciding to change the subject seeing as clearly there was something of a sore subject intertwined in all of that, "Are you planning on staying in this place?"
Helga looked around at the kitchen, thinking about the amount of money she'd already sunk into the house. A sickening amount really, "Uh...probably."
"Really?" His eyebrows rose high, very surprised to hear that. He had figured that she would do what he'd seen countless others who had had murders or found bodies in the homes had done. Sell and get the fuck out of there.
But she merely shrugged back, "Who is going to want it?" She countered with what she considered to be the most obvious reason for staying, "I've got a lot of money tied up in renovating it. The loss I'd have to take would destroy me financially."
"I understand that," Jeremy nodded, glancing around a bit.
"I fixed the hole out back and I'll probably throw up a giant fence back there to block out those God forsaken woods."
"I would," The detective wanted to suggest maybe removing all the photos of Arnold next, but instead said, "The downstairs looks great."
"Thanks. I wish I could say the same about the upstairs," She commented, once again thinking about how she really needed to get her butt moving on those floors. December was coming fast. "We—I've had nothing but bare sub-flooring up there for months."
"Oh damn. I actually had the floors in my town house re-finished not long ago because of how bad they looked. The guy who did it installs it too, if you want his number." He offered, "He gave me a good price."
"Sure," Helga agreed. Surely it was a sign that the floors needed to be done pronto.
Jeremy reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, "Is your number still the same?"
"Yeah."
"I'll text it then. His name's Dennis."
"Thanks."
"Yeah, no problem."
"I was planning on doing them myself." When Jeremy gave her an odd and slightly concerned look she chuckled, "Obviously that ship has sailed at this point."
"If I'd assumed, you would have bitten my head off," He reasoned with a slight smirk.
"Fair enough."
"Oh..." Jeremy then reached in his back pocket and pulled out the wash cloth and laid it on the counter, "You mind if I take this?"
A single eyebrow lifted over the blonde's eye as she tried to figure out why he would be requesting such a thing to begin with, "Why?" Her eyelids narrowed slightly in elevated suspicion.
The detective sighed, "Don't repeat this to anybody but...when the lab was combing Monica Davenport's car, we found a washcloth that looks..." He trailed off momentarily as his eyes dropped to the square folded fabric, "Pretty damn identical to this one." He tapped it with his index. "I just happened to notice this one while in your bathroom while I was taking a leak."
Helga's demeanor had again become more agitated, and Jeremy noticed how her eyes became darker and stormier than in any moments before. She probably couldn't go a single day without something involving Arnold getting brought up. He didn't want to bring him up either but, when potential evidence was slapping one in the face—or in that case, his freshly rinsed hands—it couldn't very well go ignored.
Or stolen.
"Take it," Helga quipped before dropping her eyes back to her snack, more or less stabbing the chip into the hummus. If it was from her house, she knew how it got there. Well, she didn't totally know, but given she—and the rest of HPD for that matter—were fairly certain that Arnold had been having an affair with Monica before her disappearance, she could take an educated guess as to how it made it into that car.
Jeremy slid the offending fabric back into his pocket, uttering a, "Thanks." As he did.
"Yeah," Helga cleared her throat and re-fixed her eyes on him, "I hope it helps."
Next Day.
As early as he could, Jeremy hurried himself into the lab to deliver Nina his newest trinket. Without even bothering to knock he bolted in announcing, "I've got something for you."
The tech barely glanced up from her computer, already recognizing the voice, "You shouldn't have."
"Oh, but I did." The detective slightly grinned as he pulled the the washcloth, which he had bagged, from his pocket. "Do you remember the fluid stained washcloth retrieved from the Davenport car sweep?"
"Mmhm," She finally looked away from her computer to stare at the evidence bag he was holding in front of her.
"I think it belonged to Shortman. I found this one at his house and it looks pretty identical. Anyway you can test it?"
Nina took the bag and turned it over in her hands once or twice before agreeing, "Yeah I can probably comb for some similar fibers or something."
"You're the best," Jeremy perked up with a wide smile.
Helga heard the doorbell ring from downstairs, along with her mighty mutts going beserk as they clickedy clacked down the stairs and to her front door. She really needed to get some sort of surveillance system, or one of those doorbell camera things since nobody around her seemed to know how to use a damn phone. She peaked out of an upstairs window and saw Gerald's car sitting in her driveway and groaned.
She really hated what Arnold had done to her and Gerald's friendship. On several occasions she'd wanted to smack the living daylights out of him for letting Arnold create a riff in his and Phoebe's marriage too. But he was convinced, without a shadow of doubt, in Arnold's innocents and wouldn't entertain any other ideas.
It was almost cult like the dedication he still had to that guy.
Dragging herself down the stairs and to the door, she wrenched it open and fixed him with an annoyed glance, "Hey Gerald..." She was cordial, but very curt in tone. He had this way of always appearing disappointed in her whenever he saw her those days, and it royally pissed her off.
"Here," He handed her a thickish white letter envelope. "This is from Arnold."
Helga's hand, that was already automatically reaching for the parcel, instantly recoiled as fast as her face darkened at his audacity to once again, be showing up at her house to do any of that asshole's bidding. "Fucking unreal. No, I'm not taking that. And if I recall, I told you not to ever show up at my house for some shit like this again."
"Look," He glowered down at her, still holding the letter out. To be quite honest he was just as done with her bullshit as she was with his, "I don't care what you do with it. Read it, throw it away, set it on fire if you're that petty. I promised him that I would make sure that you got it, so that's what I'm doing." The blonde stared at him through pencil thin eyes, wanting very much to just slam the door in his face and knock him off of the high horse he rode in on. Or better yet, rip him a new one. The only reason—the absolute only reason—she didn't do either was out of shear respect for her bestfriend. So she exhaled and snatched the stupid thing from his hand. "Thank you."
She just rolled her eyes and shut the door on him, knowing at the very least, Phoebe wouldn't hold it against her for being modestly abrasive towards him given the circumstance. Walking to the kitchen, she headed straight to the trashcan, preparing to throw the unholy bundle of parchment in it's rightful place. But as she popped the lid and went to release it into the depth of obscurity, her fingers just couldn't bring themselves to unlatch.
Frustrating to say the least because it meant that subconsciously, she was curious. And she hated that. After standing there, staring at it for a few moments and trying her best to be done with the damn thing, she sighed in defeat and retreated by throwing it onto the counter top.
But curiosity wouldn't get the best of her.
At least not for the moment.
Mid week.
"Here you go Kirk." Nina dropped a very thin folder on his desk, causing he and Sid's heads to pop up like two gophers, "It belonged to Shortman too." She simply said before walking off, leaving Sid confusingly staring at his partner flipping open the file.
"What belonged to him?" His eyebrow raised in question.
"I found a washcloth at the house that looked identical to the one from the car, so I had her test for matching fibers," Jeremy distractedly explained as he began reading the short summary on the evidence piece. "
Sid scowled, "You were at the house?"
"Uh...yeah I stopped in a few days ago to see Helga."
"Really?" His partner's mouth downturned into a curious scowl. That was odd.
Jeremy snapped the folder shut and caught his friend's eyes, shrugging, "Well, yeah I was coming back from my mom's and figured I'd stop in to see how she was doing. We ended up having a long overdue talk."
"Did you now?"
Jeremy nodded, "It was good. Hopefully everything will be more cordial from now on."
At that, Sid leaned back in his desk chair and crossed his arms, studying his friend for a moment, seeing how happy he looked over something he'd claimed the couldn't care less about. "Watch yourself."
"It's not like that," Jeremy rolled his eyes, becoming a little irritated by his friend's warning, "Also, I'm not stupid."
"I didn't say you were," Sid quietly sighed. He didn't think Jeremy was a dumb guy, but he knew that emotions could make even the most logical men do stupid things. Stupid things that could seriously jeopardize the prosecution. Such as trying to get to cozy with a potential witness that he already had history with on an active case.
"Then why are you busting my balls over it?"
"Do what you want, once all of this is over. Until then...watch yourself," Sid warned again, "I don't want you getting removed from this."
One week later.
Helga heard the soft murmur of a vehicle pull up as she sat in her own, jotting some notes down about the job site she was currently sitting on. The door opened and closed and she looked up in time to see Jeremy give her a small wave from in front of his truck. She held up her index finger, signalling for him to give a minute to finish what she was doing.
Once she had gotten everything that she needed written down, she snapped the binder shut and hopped back out of her SUV to see what he needed. "Are you guys following me now?" She asked, attempting to make a joke, but partially being serious. She wouldn't put anything past them anymore.
Jeremy smirked, twirling his toothpick, "Sid's tried to call you a few times."
The blonde crossed her arms, conceding with a tilt of her head. She indeed, had missed a few calls from him that she was yet to return. "I've been a little busy."
"I figured. Anyway, I was just driving by and saw your Tahoe parked here and figured I would tell you that the lab is finished with Arnold's car so, they need you to come get it."
"You mean you guys don't keep it forever?" Helga asked, really rather surprised. She just assumed they'd keep it indefinitely. Which would have been fine with her. She didn't particularly want a vehicle back that had probably been used to abduct, rape and kill girls in.
"Nope."
"So is it just at city impound or something?"
"Bellevue."
Helga's eyes widened, "Bellevue? That's almost an hour away."
Jeremy shrugged, feeling her pain on that one. "That's where processing is." The blonde sighed, running her hand through her hair as she glanced off thinking about how much of a hassle it was going to be for her to have to travel an hour to get a vehicle she didn't even want back.
"What if I just told you guys to just keep it?"
"I think after awhile, you'd start getting billed by the day for it continuing to sit and take up space."
"Fuck..." Helga muttered, her hands dropping to her hips as a bout of aggravation continued to severally mare her expression.
"I could drive you out there if you want," Jeremy offered.
She shook her head, "Nah, I can catch an Uber."
Her ex-boyfriend rolled his eyes, "That's going to cost you a fortune. I really don't mind taking you."
Did she want to accept a lift from him? Absolutely not. She'd much rather go take care of the matter on her own, however, he was right. It would cost a stupid amount to take a cab an hour up the road. The money would be negligible if it were for any other thing, but spending it on dealing with more Arnold bullshit kind of made her ill. "Fine," She begrudgingly agreed.
It took them about thirty minutes to get her vehicle dropped off at her house before they hit the road for the hour track to retrieve the death runner. Neither really said anything for the first ten minutes on the road, Helga choosing to stare out the window at the trees. Normally she was the type that was perfectly happy with silence, usually never feeling the need to mindlessly chatter in order to feel the void that other assigned awkwardness to it.
However, her wandering brain reminded her of his confiscating of one of her washcloths the night he unexpectedly showed up on her door step. Turning away from the window she asked, "Did my washcloth help you?"
Jeremy nodded, eyebrows rising at her surprised inquiry, "Yeah, it matched."
"So it was just hanging out in her car? Or are you not allowed to talk about it?"
"I can talk about some things, but not everything," He explained before glancing briefly at her, "It was in her car, covered in...his fluids," He said with as much tact as possible. Helga knew what he was trying to say and it hadn't been exactly what she had been expecting to hear. For some reason she'd been expecting blood. They had probably a dozen of those little grey washcloths and anytime she went to do a load of clothes for the week, there would always be a few of them already in the washing machine. Arnold had become fond of using them to clean up with after sex, or after he'd taken care of himself. Jeremy could see the cogs turning in her head through the fleeting glances he kept casting her. "What?"
Helga shook her head, "Nothing." She wasn't volunteering that information to him. It was personal and probably not even necessary anyway. "So uh, I think I'm going to call that flooring guy of yours."
"Oh nice," Jeremy turned and smiled at her.
"Eyes on the road bud, I'm not looking to flip this vehicle too," She smirked back at him while gesturing out the windshield with the flick of her finger.
"Are you sure?" Her ex gave her a teasing smirk, but replanted his brown eyes back on the highway as she requested, "I've got some Deep Purple on my phone just in case."
Helga snorted, "Still a hard pass." They both chuckled before another patch of silence sprouted up between them. Again Helga would have normally been fine with it but her brain just wouldn't have it. Maybe she was more starved for human interaction than she realized. "Let me ask you something..."
"Anything."
"You've always been into the true crime thing, obviously," She gestured towards her palm in the air, recalling how morbid she used to find his interest when they were dating, "Do you think Arnold was always demented or do you think he just snapped at some point?"
The detectives eyes widened considerably, not at all expecting her to drop something so heavy on him for travel conversation. Or really wanting to be talking as much as she was. "Honestly?" He trailed off.
Helga rolled her blue eyes, "No, lie to me please..." She sarcastically jibbed, but not in a mean way.
"I think he probably started doing this as a teen. At the very least he was strongly thinking about it, if not actively planning," He began theorizing, drawing from all of his studies, both academic and hobby.
"That far back?" Helga grimaced.
"There's a lot of anger in the way he murders. He hates women. Or at he very least, women who are sex workers," He explained, "I mean, do you hate men and seek to kill them all of a sudden because of him?"
The blonde shook her head, "Major trust issues, yeah, but no, he hasn't ruined me on men."
"You didn't ruin me on other women either," He pointed out, "Some people...they just having something broken with them or...have something happen to them during early development that breaks them."
Helga nodded, before glancing away, "The crazy thing is, he never did anything that ever made me afraid of him," When Jeremy didn't say anything back she looked back up and shrugged, "You would think, that at some point I would have stumbled across or...somebody would have stumbled across that evil side. But he never let that mask show cracks until I told him I didn't believe him anymore."
"He probably figured out very early that if he wanted to survive in this world, he'd have to do everything in his power to fit in. Like Israel Keyes"
"Who?"
Jeremy shrugged, "Israel Keyes. Another serial killer in the northwest. The most text book case of a true narcissistic psychopath I've ever read about. Nobody ever had anything bad to say about the guy. He was even raising his daughter by himself at one point while kidnapping and murdering people."
"Jesus...what the hell is in the water in this state?"
"They say the woods make some people go crazy," Jeremy quietly chortled.
"I'm beginning to believe it," Helga sighed and ran a hand across her stomach. "Makes you kind of want to get the hell out of here."
"Would you really though?" He asked, side-eyeing her. She'd just told him she couldn't sell her house when he'd stopped by.
His passenger shrugged, "I've thought about it yeah. I've thought about scuttling my business and just starting new somewhere else."
"Wouldn't you...I don't know, just sell it?"
"It's only as good as I am," Helga propped her elbow up on the window seal and dropped her head into her hand, glancing at Jeremy, "And as hard as it is to believe, I have a lot of my clients because they like working with me. That has no value to anybody else."
The detective chuckled, "So where would you go then?"
"Never thought that far," She admitted. It was a fruitless effort to do so anyway. She wouldn't be selling that house anytime soon and for the first time in her life she actually wanted to stay as close to her parents and her friends as possible.
"Well, as you heard me say a million times before, Florida was awful," He smirked at her, "So you have forty-nine other states to choose from."
Helga couldn't help but cast him a playful side smile back as she remembered how he used to talk about how they didn't know what heat really was anytime a heatwave would roll through Hillwood. "Yeah, you successfully turned me off from ever wanting to visit that state many moons ago."
"It's been a personal mission of mine to warn everybody I know about Florida," He teased before turning and eyeballing her, much to her chagrin because he had dared take those gorgeous chocolate pools off of the road, "It's none of my business, I know, but I don't think you should move."
"You're correct in it being none of your business," She smirked before thinning her eyes at him, "Why not?"
"It's too defeatist," Jeremy looked back at the road, "It's letting him win. And honestly..." He glanced back at her, "That joker is probably going to be on death row in some prison in bum fuck Egypt so it's not even like he'll even be down the road."
"You aren't wrong," Helga couldn't say she'd ever thought about that. She had never given any thought to the location of prisons and such. Never had a reason to. In some ways she didn't care to know where he ended up, but in more ways she did want to know.
Peace of mind perhaps? Lingering feelings?
It hadn't ever taken her long to fall in the love with him, but it was taking quite a while to fall out of it. Even through her searing hatred of him. She'd opted to blame the elevated pregnancy hormones. It was the only thing that made her feel better in making sense of herself internally.
"That's how it is with my dad," Jeremy continued with a carefree shrug, "Out of sight, out of mind."
"Has he ever tried contacting you again?" She asked, remembering the time he'd got a phone call from when they were sophomores in college. A desperate effort to trying and convince his son to talk his mother into skipping the pilgrimage to Florida that that poor woman made every five years or so to convince the parole board, along with the victim's family, to keep his violent ass behind bars. She'd never seen Jeremy so angry. At least not before Arnold's apartment.
Jeremy's face got noticeably cloudy, and for a moment, she regretted bringing up what she knew wasn't a pleasant subject for him. But hell, her entire life was an unpleasant subject for her but that hadn't stopped anybody from wanting to discuss it. Misery loved company she supposed. "No." He shook his head. "My mom dropped that I was a detective last time she was at the parole board so...I'm sure I'm just as dead to him now as he's always been to me."
"Sorry for bringing it up. I know it's never been a happy subject for you," Helga apologized.
The detective waved her off, "It's not a big deal," He insisted, "I mean, depending on how long Arnold sits in bum fuck Egypt, don't be surprised if you don't get some sort of desperate attempt at correspondence from him. That dirt bag sperm donor of mine, bothered my mom for years after he was put away."
"I doubt he will," She said, knowing it was a complete lie as she currently had an unopened letter from him sitting on her kitchen counter. "So...baseball this year. Disappointing right?" A stark subject change, but she was ready for a different topic.
Jeremy groaned while smiling, "Don't get me started."
"Oh I am," Helga smirked, "Because I've got a laundry list too." That was how the rest of the trip transpired. Discussing baseball, movies, and listening to music that didn't consist of Deep Purple as she viewed it to be a siren for attracting wayward deer.
Thankfully they arrived shortly before the impounds ridiculously early closing hour. Jeremy pulled his truck up to the front and Helga began sliding out the cab, "Thanks for the lift." She shot him a genuine smile once she hit the pavement.
"Yeah, no problem. Do you want me to wait or anything?"
"Uh, no I think I've got it from here."
"Alright," Jeremy nodded, "Well, let me know if you need anything."
"Will do. Thanks again." She shut the door and headed into the tiny front office were she signed all the paperwork in order to receive a vehicle she didn't want. "We'll bring it around Mrs. Pataki." The mustached man at the desk assured her. She nodded and decided to walk back outside to wait. Standing was fine with her, she'd just sat in the car for an hour and was about to have to do it again.
She was approaching that point in her pregnancy where sitting for long periods of time was getting rough. She didn't wait long, barely having a chance to scroll through her emails on her phone before they were pulling that silver nightmare around front. A young man hopped out and relinquished guardianship of it to her by informally leaving the drivers door open for her.
With a sigh of dread she climbed in, thankful that at the very least it was clean. A bag sat on the passenger's seat that contained all of the junk that had been in it that she assumed they deemed returnable. She re-adjusted all the badly out of place mirrors and headed out on the long drive home.
By the time she made it back home she was seriously considering calling up her dad and asking him if he would sell the thing for her. He was good and wheeling and dealing, or rather, he had the time that she didn't to meet with perspective buyers and generally have people waste his time.
She didn't.
Of course she'd also briefly contemplated setting it on fire and just collecting the insurance money. A thought she had consider doing to a lot of her shared items with Arnold.
Pulling it into the garage, she grab the bag out of it and headed inside, dropping it on the kitchen island as she passed by only to watch it tip over in her peripheral before she could catch it. The bulk of the bag was books, shoes, a water bottle and a variety of power bars, but what tumbled out along with all that stuff succeeding it really catching her attention. A deep orange, white capped prescription bottle bounced and rolled almost to the edge before she snapped it up.
Before she threw it back into the bag she glanced at the label and stopped.
Clomid. A fertility enhancer for women. A decently high dosage too.
But the prescription was for Arnold. And it had only about four pills left out of a thirty day supply to boot.
She shook her head, a deep scowl setting firmly into place on her face.
What the hell was he doing?
A Week later.
When Sid walked into the small interrogation room, he was surprised by the fact that only Arnold was sitting across the desk. Pausing before he shut the door he asked, "Is your lawyer not here yet?" Honestly he hadn't known what to expect when Arnold had requested to see him. They had not talked to their prime suspect in quite awhile.
Arnold shook his head. "I don't have a lawyer anymore," Sid noticed that they had one of his arms cuffed to the holding bracket on the table. A practice he considered a bit excessive for somebody like Arnold. The guy was a psychopath, sure, but not the type that Sid feared being stabbed in the neck with his pen by. He'd been in rooms with men that were physically scarier, he'd even been attacked once while still just a police officer, by a guy withdrawing from alcohol so hard that he began suffering from paranoid delusions.
But Shortman didn't scare him for whatever reason, "Since when?"
"Since...since he isn't getting paid anymore."
The detective nodded before shutting the door behind himself, hearing the automatic lock engage as he made to sit across from his former school mate. "You now you have the right to be appointed an attorney." Arnold wasn't looking great those days. Not that he necessarily deserved to, but Sid observed him looking especially worn down. Even for prison. Like something had broken inside. Oddly enough, he looked truly dangerous for the first time ever.
The prisoner sighed, rolling his eyes, "What's the point?"
"I'm just letting you know. Why do you want to talk to me?" Sid asked, already wondering if the guy had plans to tell important things to him. Things that might could speed things along. After all, he was a man backed into a corner. And apparently, refusing legal council too.
Arnold rubbed his free hand down his face before leaning back in his chair as much as he could given his restraints, "Maybe I like talking to you, Sid."
Sid scowled for a moment, abandoning his folder on the table before crossing his arms and staring at the man across from him, "Is there...something you want to talk to me about?"
"Have you talked to Helga lately?"
"Why?"
The blonde man shrugged, green eyes fixated on the corner of the table, "Just wondering how she's doing is all." He said in a mumbling, ramblish sort of way.
"I haven't seen her in person lately," The detective told him, deciding to be as honest as he could. "But Jeremy has and she's as well as can be expected." He watched as Arnold's jaw flexed a few times. Sid felt the air tense up for a moment before his captive inhaled deeply, seemingly breaking out of whatever thoughts had taken him over, "Is that why you wanted to see me?" Sid was a patient man, but even he had his limits.
But Arnold shook his head, "No. I was just wondering," He reached up and scratched his head, "She's just...you know...on her own with our baby due soon so..."
"We're taking care of her. I promise," Sid assured him. Which they were.
Arnold nodded before leaning back onto the table and staring at his former friend, "What has to happen for the death penalty to get taken off the table?"
Sid cleared his throat and leaned forward into the chained man, "I would have to okay it with the prosecution but...I'm willing to stake my badge them agreeing to life if you give us Monica." Arnold appeared to be mulling that over, but as the silence stretched on, Sid was sure that he'd lost him.
"Okay..." Arnold nodded, his stormy eyes flickering up and locking with Sid's for the first time since he'd sat down, "Let's take a ride then."
Sid stepped back out of the interrogation room, heart rate elevated so much that he had a hard time digging his phone out of his slacks because of the shakes. He got the prosecutor Claire's number dialed and plugged it to his ear, praying that she picked up. He almost lost his breath when she did. "Hey its, detective Moretti. Shortman wants to take us to a body."
Saturday Afternoon.
The floors looked great. She ended up going with the Coppertone style. She hated his guts and hoped he died a miserable death, but Arnold had been right about one thing, they did look the best with the style of the house. Goddamn him. She wasn't thrilled about spending the money, but it was money well spent.
Since being on her own, she'd become so much more conscious of the money that went out. Things weren't snug, but she felt more in hoard and save mode than ever before. And she had never been more thankful, to herself, for busting absolute ass in previous years to build her business to the point where she wasn't worrying too much about the fact that she was suddenly a single parent. She probably wouldn't ever get rich doing what she did, but she and Hunter would live comfortably and that was all that mattered to her.
The nursery finally had some furniture. Having just tipped the delivery drivers as they left her house, she headed back up to the room directly across from her own. It was a pretty palm green. The paint she had managed to do herself on a Saturday afternoon. The crib, the dresser, the night stand were all white wood. Modern earthiness that was still girlish. She'd settled on her color combo after finally settling on her daughter's name to-be.
Hunter Eleanor Pataki.
She'd known from the moment that she found out she was having a girl, that she wanted her to be named Hunter, having always loved unisex names, but she had had the hardest time committing to a middle name. Eleanor had come to her in the grocery store, after hearing a woman in her aisle beckon a friend.
Standing there, staring at the finally completed room, a rare happy smile slide across her face. A smile that turned into a look of un-amusment when her mutts came running in, flopping onto the area rug in the middle of the room and doing worm back scratches all over the shag fabric. "Hey!" She snapped her fingers at them and began shooing them from the room, "Not everything that comes into this house is for you two," She said to a pair of wagging tails as she closed the door behind them. As she was preparing to head back downstairs, her eye caught several photos hanging on the walls.
She stopped, peering around at them. Having been so busy she hadn't even noticed that she hadn't bothered to remove any photos of Arnold and her. She supposed that the decor had been hanging up for so long that it just blended in with the house. Then again, she realized that she still had a closet full of his clothes and, of course, his vehicle still parked in her garage.
There were pictures of them in England on their graduation trip, a candid of them kissing on a subway train, their engagement photos, the first Christmas with the dogs as puppies. She'd be lying if she tried to say that they weren't happy memories, because they were, and despite being tainted with such darkness, they'd still always remain happy to her.
She had no choice but to believe that. But, now that she had noticed them again, it was time for the reminders to come down. Walking the hallway, she plucked every single framed picture off of their hooks and hauled them downstairs.
Obviously she could reuse the frames, after all, nothing was more photogenic than a kid, but she wasn't quite sure what she was going to do with the actual photographs. She wasn't exactly fond of permanently deleting physical copies of memories, but holding on to anything presented it's on series of problems. Primarily being that there was a chance of Hunter one day finding them.
There was always a chance of anything she supposed but, she wanted do away with anything that would give the girl any clue as to who her father was.
She sat them on the kitchen counter for the time being. Maybe she would have Phoebe keep everything for her. While she was pulling everything out of the frames, her eyes caught sight of that unholy white envelop that had been sitting atop the counter for entirely too long.
Up until that point, curiosity hadn't gotten the best of her, but it had suddenly gotten to be a bit overwhelming while she was standing there. Perhaps it was her spontaneous purge of Arnold related things finally adding enough fuel to push her over the edge. Of course, she still wanted to throw it away, and maybe if she finally read it, she'd have no problem trashing it.
"Fuck it," She sighed and reached for it, deciding then and there that she had already devoted too much mental energy to its existence than she should have. Opening it up, she pulled out several folded papers, quickly discovering that it was a hand written letter.
Helga,
Honestly, I don't even know if you'll read this in its entirety. If I know you like I think, I'm hoping that your curiosity will force you to. If you choose too, I can promise you this: I'm not going to try to contact you again, nor am I going to spend this time trying to convince you, in any great capacity, to believe in my innocence. Regardless, I realize that I'm never going to see you again, and no matter what happens, I think its important that you walk away knowing everything about me.
To start, I'm incredibly sorry for the things that I said the last time I saw you. I am. I was scared, and angry and, I panicked. I snapped and said anything that I could think of to cause you more pain. Whatever your real reasons for being there were, I realized that you were looking for validation, so I said what I thought you expected to hear. I know it hurt you just as much as every other allegation has. It hurt me just as badly. I hated lying to you that way.
Yet, I've had no problem lying and hiding a lot of things from you over the years.
I wish I had listened to Gerald, and just told you all about me a long time ago. He always said, just in case an old "girlfriend" came out of the wood work causing trouble. I never imagined it would be in this way. I didn't tell you because I was embarrassed of it. Instead, I made sure you always knew that I loved you. Went out of my way a lot of times. But there is this whole grey area between childhood and us that remained just that. A grey area. We never even talked out our affair, we just did our thing together. I guess maybe because it wasn't a story we necessarily wanted the world knowing, so there wasn't much to dwell on and look back on fondly I suppose. I certainly don't look back on myself fondly. I went from being this do-gooder kid who helped save his neighborhood to a dumb playboy who figured out he could use girls for his own selfish needs and get away with it. That was who I was when we met up again. I know you had some awareness of that when you left me at the party. It's why you kept trying to push me away.
You weren't the first girl I'd hooked up with in a random night out. Quite frankly, there were a lot of them. Most of the time I didn't know their names, or even care. It disgusts me now to think about it now. It's not me. I wasn't raised that way. My grandparents would be ashamed if they could have seen that. I figure, at some point in my young adulthood, I developed this emptiness in me that I stupidly tried to fill with the thrill of meaningless flings. It got addicting, even as I felt more hollow. I wasn't depressed by any means, just lonely in a crowded room. I had no real grasp of why either. My grandfather had a once said, "A forest will think an axe is its friend because it's handle is made of wood."
I had my eye on another girl that night, but I forgot about her when we got started on beer pong. Then I got focused in on you. I didn't even care that I knew you already. It wasn't going to stop me. You were gorgeous, and I wanted to use you, just like I had all of the other girls I'd been with. I never planned for anything with you to go beyond that party. Something was different about that entire night. I came after you later because I couldn't figure out what exactly it was, but I knew I wanted more of it.
You were the first girl I'd ever fallen asleep with. It sounds trivial, but that was that day that I figured out exactly what 'it' was. It was because everything felt peaceful when I was with you. I didn't feel empty when I was with you. I was actually happy. You were exactly what I wanted, and what I needed.
That was also when I knew I wanted everybody else out of the picture. I told you I was fine with the arrangement, but I wasn't. I'm not proud to admit this, but I actively started trying to sabotage you and Jeremy any time we ended up at your apartment. Just to get him out of your life. I rubbed a little of my body spray into his pillow once. Even left a pair of my boxers in your room, but I guess you intercepted those. It was no accident that a condom wrapper ended up on your couch. I put it there. He connected the dots way better than I ever imagined. I deliberately blew up your life with him because I hated that you weren't mine. It was a sick thing to do but I hated that I had to share you, yet you didn't have to share me. Taylor and I may have still been a couple, but we were a couple on paper only at that point.
Then you stormed out. I was crushed. Then my pessimistic half had me convinced that you weren't coming back and that somehow, you and Jeremy were going to work it out and perhaps I'd been the one that had gotten used for once. Or maybe I'd gotten a huge dose of my medicine or some badly overdue karma.
Needless to say, when you came back, and we agreed to just see where the pieces fell with us, it was arguably one of the happiest moments of my life. I knew that, since I'd caused this, that I had to get everything right. I had to be and I wanted to be the perfect guy to you. I certainly never wanted you to know how much of a piece of shit I really was. I knew that you wouldn't have wanted me if you knew, and I never wanted you to have doubts about me. Then Taylor disappeared and they were questioning me left and right because I was the last one to see her. The last thing I needed was for you to know that. So I buried it. I buried it all. I made sure none of my roommates or my then friends, said a word to you about anything, and I swore Gerald to secrecy. I don't regret that decision. I don't, because at this point, its given me five and half of the best years of my life being with you and I have enjoyed every single second of our time together.
The only thing I've come to regret is how we drifted apart as we grew up. I've often thought about what would have been different if we'd remained friends through high school. If we'd been together a lot sooner, and without all the drama involved. I'm certain I wouldn't have been that early twenties dirtbag that I was. I've come to realized that I've always been better off with you, whether being together as a couple or in any adventure we ever got into as children. You made every part of me happier, and better and I'm so thankful for that.
This leaves us with only one other loose end. Our daughter. She is arguably the best thing we ever decided to do together, but I have to confess, I manipulated the situation with that too. I know you didn't want to use fertility drugs for reasons, but the reason she's here is because I intervened with them. I had a colleague write me a prescription and I slipped them into your smoothies when we were going through that breakfast kick. It was wrong of me, but you would have done the same if you'd had to be the one to see how disappointed you were month after month. It was breaking my heart and I didn't want it to eventually be something that drove a wedge between us.
I know you're wondering, what does it matter that I'm telling you all this now. I figure, if its the last thing I ever tell you, you need to understand that, even though the things that I did were manipulative and wrong, I did them because of how much you meant to me. Still mean to me. I want you to know that more than anything. Even though I've told you I love you a million times, probably to the point where it felt habitual. I realize that I may not have been the love of your life, but you were, and still are the love of mine. I mean that. I also know that you've had your doubts, and understandably so. I never cheated on you. Never once. Never even thought about it. No matter what anybody says about me, no matter what you think knowing about the old me now. I was always just yours.
So, even if you believed all that, and believed in my innocence, I couldn't honestly expect you to stay with me forever through this. Especially since release seems impossible at this point. You need to live your life no matter what happens to me. Things are hard right now. I know. I know that you are working too much, stressing too much and not sleeping nearly enough. It will all get better with time. Just don't let any of this change you. Don't let this make you untrusting or bitter towards others. Seriously. Behind all that grouchiness, there's a beautiful soul and you're going to have a wonderful rest of your life because of it. This may be the end for me, but it isn't the end for you. You'll find somebody else and be the sun in his sky like you were in mine. You will.
Spoil our daughter, but be tough on her. She's destined to be smart, but probably a little too much for her own good. Buy her a sports car when she gets to college. And, I agree with you. It's best that she never knows about me. I imagine you already were but, leave me off the birth certificate to make everything easier to hide. It rips my heart in two to say that, but I don't want her ever knowing me this way. I want to be whatever she wants to imagine me having been. Just don't let her ever think that I abandoned you and her. That's the one thing I ask of you.
I guess this is it then.
I love you, Helga G. Pataki. Forever, not maybe.
P.S. Never underestimate the importance of a good reputation.
-Arnold
"Hey do you know if we ever ran that DNA profile through codus?" Sid asked Jeremy as they waited, along with the small armada of other police officers to take Arnold on his ride.
Jeremy scowled, twirling his toothpick, "I have no idea. Why?"
"We probably should."
"I'm sure it was probably just a random John."
"Probably, but, just in case."
Jeremy nodded, "I'll text Nina," He pulled out his phone and shot their lab tech a brief message. As he was pushing his cell back into his pocket, he looked up through his aviators to see a pair of guards leading a wrist and ankle bound Arnold out of lock up. "He looks like shit..."
Sid copped his partner a glance, before shaking his head, "He's lost control."
The guards walked Arnold over to the police SUV that Sid and Jeremy were standing beside. What would be their ride an hour up the road to Bob and Miriam Pataki's cabin. An area they had searched with what they thought was a fine toothed comb, but stranger things had happened.
Bodies had a remarkable way of hiding in plane sight. Arnold ducked into the back seat while the two detectives climbed into the passenger and driver's side. Before Sid had even gotten the vehicle in drive, Jeremy twisted in his seat to look back through the cage at a tired looking captive. "Doctor Death..." He referred to him with a snarky little sneer.
Arnold didn't acknowledge him in any capacity, instead sighing before leaning forward to talk directly to Sid, "Shut this guy up, or we aren't gong anywhere," He politely demanded before sitting back in his seat.
Sid shot his partner a stern look, prompting Jeremy to flash his hands in surrender before turning back around in his seat. And that was that, nobody said a single word the entire trip through the mountains, up until they pulled into the parking area for the cabin and began unloading. Arnold led them, and the small armada of armed guards that accompanied them behind the cabin and into the small clearing.
"We've got to hike up that trail quite a ways," He pointed a finger to a stepped opening that lead into the thick tree canopy. Being late summer, visibility was not great in the thicket. "Can we do something about the ankle restraints?" He then asked.
Sid looked back at the guards, "Can we get these off? We're gong to be heading up that trail."
The guards reluctantly agreed, freeing Arnold enough for him to properly walk while still having his hands bound to his waist enough where running in any capacity would be too difficult for escape. With that, the small group headed into the woods, Arnold leading the way up the winding trail that got steep enough that it left both detectives wishing they had worn more better shoes.
They trekked for about forty-five minutes this way until the trail birthed into a small clearing with an overlook of the mountain valley. Arnold walked over and took a seat on a downed log that appeared to have been there for sometime, catching his breath and gazing off into the beautiful view.
"Is this it?" Sid asked after a moment.
"Yeah."
"Where is she?"
Arnold stared straight ahead, eyes not breaking from the majestic valley for a few moments more before he took a deep breath and tilted his head at Sid.
And smiled.
Just smiled.
A/N: So, who's the wolf? I tried to straddle the fence with every bit of this chapter. Give nothing away! Did Arnold really mean everything that he wrote or is he just trying to mess with Helga further? Is Jeremy truly trying to reconnect with her for an easier working relationship or does he have ulterior motives? Why did Arnold take them into the woods? What's going to come back on the mysterious DNA profile?
In other words...I love hearing reader theories.
We're nearing the tipping point guys, but who knows which direction it will tip!