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: Trying to get back in the saddle for 2022. Thank you for all of you that have stuck with me on this one. I am so close to being finished with this that its almost agonizing. To be perfectly honest though, this thing gets very dark towards the end and it's been hard to write. You know what they say though. The night is always darkest before the dawn...and the dawn is coming.

That's when it turned on me,

A motorcade of 'meant to be's'

The older sounding man gave a hearty chuckle, "Well...here's the thing. This DNA came off of a secretary that was found murdered in the woodshed of her boss, along with four other girls who's bones were found littering his property. Now, I'm not a man that subscribes to wild conspiracies. I'm a firm believer in Occam's razor, however, it seems a little more than just coincidence that this DNA profile has shown up on two different crimes involving serial killings."

Sid held silent for a moment longer, continuing to run that bit of information through the cogs of his mind, shaking out no fewer than a dozen questions. None in which he wanted to begin talking about over the phone, "When can you meet me?" He finally asked, snapping from his trance.

"How about this weekend?"

"Yeah," Sid blurted out with a nod before even considering prior plans. As far as he was concerned, no prior plans he could have had were nearly as important as what this guy had just dumped in his lap, "Just tell me where."

"There's a good little diner called Rish about halfway between us. How about there around 5:00pm this Saturday?"

"I'll be there."

"Thanks Sid. See you soon."

"You too," He nodded before pulling the phone away and ending the call, immediately thumbing over to his contacts and to summon Jeremy with a call. As he rejoined the device to his ear, he momentarily forgot about his wife hanging out in the doorway of their bathroom, his mind now more interested in work. Voicemail. "Seriously?" He held the phone away, staring dejectedly at it.

"What's going on?" Rhonda finally asked, realizing that her husband had indeed suddenly forgotten about their shower. And seeing as he was decently good at turning off work once he got home, she figured it had to be pretty important.

Sid's grey eyes darted up from his phone and locked with Rhonda's before he slid off of their bed, "An interesting phone call at the very least." He vaguely explained before once again, trying to call his partner to fold him into the loop. "And of course he isn't answering his phone." Sid once again sighed, pulling it away from his ear.

One of Rhonda's perfectly manicured brows lifted, "What made it so interesting?" She inquired, reaching back into the bathroom and grabbing one of her silk robes off a hook to hug around her damp body, shower now completely forgotten about by both parties it seemed.

She watched as her husband tossed the phone onto the bed before making towards his dresser for clothes, which consisted of boxers, pajamas pants and a tee shirt. "The mystery DNA from one of the girls matched another murder in Kipsom county. Could be something, could be nothing," He pulled the shirt over his head, still choosing to remain a little vague about the conversation he'd had with the other detective. Again it wasn't that he didn't trust her, he pinged theories off of her on often. It was just that. It could be absolutely nothing and he didn't even begin to want to start speculating until he had all the facts in hand, "We don't have any plans this Saturday do we?"

Rhonda scowled, "Not that I know of. Though I'm sure you'd be cancelling anyway," She crossed her arms and offered him a knowing little smirk. She was used to it by then, "And I'm assuming you are cancelling our shower now too."

Sid paused after shoving his phone into his pajama pants, casting her an apologetic look, "Considering that Jeremy wont pick up his phone, and this can't wait until the morning. I need to go over to his house and discuss a game plan..." He trailed off, biting his lip as his bodily wants began colliding with work brain, "I'll be right back, I promise."

His wife snorted and lovingly waved him off as she turned to walk back to the bathroom, remembering that they still had water running away, "Sure you will, darling."

Jeremy found his front door being pounded on at an entirely inappropriate hour of the evening and for what he couldn't even begin to fathom. Though, to his trained ear, the authority of the knock sounded like law enforcement. Which proved correct when he yanked it open and found a thrown together Sid standing on his door step, complete with questionably damp hair and expensive silk sleeping pants. As weird as it was, and possibly urgent, he couldn't help but be annoyed at the intrusiveness of the drop in. Even if it was his best friend, "What the hell man? You can't call first?"

Sid just stared at him in disbelief before rolling his eyes as he propped his forearm on the door jamb, "I did. Five times to be exact. Any reason you're ignoring me?" He was already annoyed that he'd left his hot naked wife to finish their shower alone so that he could drive over there to share his newest bombshell. Now it was suddenly his fault too? His partner asking dumb questions was adding insult to injury at that point.

But Jeremy sighed, appearing more apologetic while dropping the annoyed posture as he looked off towards his room, presumably towards his phone, "Sorry man, I must have left it on silent or something," He then looked back at his friend with fresh curiosity and concern, "What's going on? Everything alright?"

"I just got a call from a detective over in Kipsom county. That DNA profile I had you run through CODIS matched a series of serial murders." Which was a summary that didn't begin to do the full story justice but it was the best he could do. Better than the one Rhonda got, he supposed.

The dark headed guy's brows raised as a scowl simultaneously lowered his lips and his arms crossed in a bit of a defensive posture, "Really?" He asked, his voice peppered with the mildest amounts of disbelief.

"Yeah!" Sid nodded, his voice probably still sounding a little shell shocked, "Completely out of the blue. Matched to a girl who was murdered by her boss. Guy had other girls buried on his property too. Anyway, I told him we would meet him this Saturday so they could show us what they've got. So, clear your schedule."

Jeremy blinked, seemingly shaking himself back into the present. Sid could relate. It could potentially be one of the biggest breaks in the case, "I've got that wedding this weekend."

"That's this weekend?"

"Yeah."

"Shit..." Sid hissed a swear, "You can't cancel?"

"Considering it's my sister's and I'm in it? No," Jeremy replied in a little bit of an annoyed tone. Mostly because he had mentioned it more than a few times by that point. Apparently onto deaf ears.

It led Sid to exhale, nodding as he finally remembered that, "I guess...I'll just have to go without you."

Jeremy shrugged, another wave of aggravation falling back over his demeanor, "Yeah I guess so. Fuck. So is there any way we could meet them during the week?"

Sid shook his head, "I think this is strictly off the books at this point. It sounded like he had a good bit to tell me."

Jeremy ran a hand over his mouth, glancing back inside once more before sighing again, "Yeah just take good notes I guess. Or maybe record it if they aren't weird about it."

"Yeah I'll try."

12:30am

Her house was spotless. Not that it should have been much of a priority at that hour of night but she couldn't sleep. She was restless. Her mind wouldn't turn off. Reading hadn't worked, watching TV hadn't worked. It felt like her soul was trying to escape her body she was so wound up. So she started cleaning, tidying, moving things around. She'd heard tale about the nesting phenomenon in the third trimester and supposed it could have been some of that.

She finally found herself standing at the back sliding glass door, chamomile tea clutched in hand in a desperate attempt to dump some desired drowsiness down her throat. Her eyes scanned the woods, as they'd done on many nights while she tried to rack her brain for answers to everything. Though on that night she searched for an exit from her internal agitation. It did very much worry her that she felt so much on pins and needles all of a sudden.

As if something were about to explode. The energy in the air was weird to her.

6:00am

It was 6:00am, and after extracting himself from the tangles of Rhonda, Sid had shrugged on his work clothes and slipped out the house for a very early start to the day. He felt like he'd hardly slept a wink, too much new information spinning around in his mind to effectively turn into any quality of rest. He thought he might have gotten a touch of surface sleep, but it was also very likely that he was running on pure adrenaline at that point and imagining it. Either way, by 4:45 that morning he was tired of laying in bed and watching his wife sleep like an angel. Not a single worry line to be found on her blissful face as she slumbered. Once dressed he gave her a light kiss on the lips goodbye and tiptoed out of their apartment.

Commandeering his vehicle from the parking garage below, he set off into the brisk fall morning, intending to grab a cup of half decent coffee before he got to the precinct.

As he drove, he intended to swing by a drive-thru for his morning Joe, having a place in mind that just so happened to be right near the Davenport house. He took a left onto the street, slowly creeping down the row of houses on the left, still seeing hers warded off with crime scene tape and particle board nailed to all the windows and door.

Much like many other streets in the city, it was a collision of residential and commercial enterprise that had exploded into a zoning and parking nightmare. The left side being lined with town style homes that were built in the 1950's, the right side being occupied with small retail shops. As he came up on the stop sign, his eyes followed a small flicker of red out the passengers side window and up the worn red brick wall of one of the shops. In between two shops to be more exact. He eased on the brakes to get a better look as he passed by, his eye lids pulling open a lot wider when he realized that it was a security camera.

A camera mounted on the edge of the narrow alley between two of the brick and mortar businesses, pointing across the street. Or...more importantly, pointed across the street to where the Davenport house was. "Has that always been there?" The detective murmured aloud in his empty vehicle.

So...he had to add another item to his ever growing list of things to investigate, and also a change to his morning plans.

8:00am

She was sure she couldn't have looked anymore grouchy if she'd tried. But she was, and with good reason. Sleep was a fucking rare delicacy at that point. All of that restlessness from the night before had translated into her hips and legs killing her that morning, and to add a cherry to that, her phone was already ringing off the hook. Had it not been for being out of coffee she wouldn't even be in there. But she was, and while she was waiting ever impatiently for the people in front of her to order the shit they called coffee—that was not—she felt a finger poke her square in the middle of her back. Turning in agitation, she saw Jeremy standing right behind her, dressed in his normal work slacks and sporting a sleepy little side grin himself. "Good morning," He tiredly greeted.

Helga only agreed with about half of that observation, "It's a morning," And she said so, "Still following me I see," She quipped in a low tone.

Her counterpart shrugged, "Closest coffee spot to the precinct and my stomach is not in a mood for the sludge they call coffee there," His lame attempt at a joke at least succeeded in getting a quiet snort out of her, no matter how un-amused by it she was.

"I was out of coffee this morning," She explained, crossing her arms, once again eyeing the people in front of her in complete annoyance, "Now I have to wait behind three hundred of these chuckle-fucks getting sugar latte's just to get a plain ass coffee."

Jeremy quietly chuckled, "Still not a morning person I see."

"Not at the moment," She sighed, it finally becoming her turn to order as she stepped to the register, "Hi, yeah can I get a medium black coffee, no room for cream or sugar and a breakfast sandwich."

"Will that be all?"

"Ye—"

"—Actually, could you throw another medium coffee on that?" Jeremy stepped forward, pulling his wallet from his pocket, "Light cream, one sugar. I'll pay for it all," He told the visibly confused cashier as he pulled out his debit card.

Helga rolled her eyes, "I'll pay you back later." Great. One more Goddamn thing to remember to do.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's coffee." He smiled at her as he swiped his card, "I just wanted mine faster."

And the tired blonde was in no mood to argue with that logic. She even respected it. The pair then walked down the counter to move out of the way until their items were brought out, "Well, thank you then." She said with a yawn.

Jeremy nodded, "How uh...how's everything been?" With her, that was always a very loaded question, but he felt it was necessary to ask out of politeness and...well, genuine concern. The silence with her was deafening at times.

Thankfully it didn't trigger an explosion. She merely offered him an exhausted shrug, "Kind of shitty, but that's my entire life right now so..."

Her ex-boyfriend bit his lip a little as he looked her up and down, "Yeah I uh...kind of debated whether to text you or not the other day about what happened. I just figured you might want to know I guess."

Helga nodded as she inhaled, running her hand tiredly through her blonde hair, "I'll be honest...I wasn't surprised," She nonchalantly replied, receiving the weirdest of looks from him. Enough that she felt an explanation was probably due, though she could have probably just told him it had been a gut feeling. Which was about the size of it. "He wrote me a...goodbye letter of sorts that had some pretty dark implications. Anyway..." She waved it off, letting him know she didn't desire to discuss any of it further, "Doesn't matter. He's back where he needs to be."

Jeremy reached up and scratched his head while nodding, "That's pretty nuts."

"Here you go," The barista came up behind the counter and slid two coffees and the sandwich over to them, "Have a great day." Helga popped the top on the coffee closest to her, noticing it had cream in it and slid it to him before grabbing the other and her breakfast.

"Well...thanks again. I've got a busy day ahead of me so...I've got to get going."

"Yeah, no problem." Jeremy smiled and waved as she began walking away, "See you later Sunshine."

A mere ten minutes away, Sid pulled into a parallel parking space beside the brick building with the camera that he'd noticed earlier that morning. It was a florist shop he noticed. With the street being so heavily canvassed, he was sure that this was a big nothing, however he couldn't recall any mention of a camera being mentioned much less sequestered. His gut started getting that feeling that he was on to something. He made a point to temper that expectation though. He knew how it was. Everybody had a camera, none of them ever seemed to work though. It was one of the most curious things in homicide.

He stepped out into the cold morning air and briskly walked the few feet down the sidewalk to the front door of, Michelis Floral Shop. He pushed the store front glass door open, a tin bell alerting the owner's to the arrival of a potential customer. The place was old. Worn tile floors and glass displays, and a little on the cluttered side. The flowers were beautiful though. Sid strolled up to one of the display counters right as an older woman peeked her head from around back, "What can I help you with?" She said, stepping out while putting on her glasses on her nose.

Sid smiled, coolly pulling out his cop badge for her to see, "Well, I have a couple questions but, I would also like to get some flowers. Non-related of course."

The older woman chuckled, "I can't say anybody has ever asked that but okay."

"The camera on your building outside. Does it work?" Might as well figure that out first he supposed.

The shop keepers eyes widened, much as if she knew where he was headed with his line of questioning, "It does. We installed it because our delivery van kept getting broken into. But if it has anything to do with that missing girl across the street, the footage is only stored for 24 hours."

"Right," Sid nodded, inwardly a little disappointed even though he knew better than to get his hopes up. But no stone was left un-turned at that point.

"The police asked about it at the very beginning."

"Yeah I was just following up on that as it wasn't quite clear if we had. A lot of cooks in the kitchen for this one," He offered a small chuckle.

"Hey grandma!" The voice of a twenty something year old guy called out from the back before he emerged, carrying a couple big boxes, "Where do you want these?"

"Oh, just leave them there. I'll take care of them."

The slender guy sat the boxes down out of the way before perching his hands on his hips, and licking his lips as he glanced back towards his grandmother, "Anything I can help with before I start loading the van?"

"Oh no, he was just asking about our camera, you know because of that girl across the street. I told him the footage erases after a day."

Sid watched as the grandson frowned and momentarily looked confused by his grandmother reply before shifting his eyes back to him, "Actually it does save longer."

The older woman turned around and gave him a funny look, "You told me it erased after twenty-four hours."

Her grandson sighed but smiled warmly at her, "It does grandma. From the hard drive. But all of the footage for like...a year is backed-up in the cloud."

The shop keeper turned and looked back at Sid, sighing with a warm smile and a shrug, "I have no idea what a cloud is but maybe you need to talk to him," She then gestured the two together, "I told them it erased. Now I feel bad."

Sid smiled and shook his head while waving her off, "Don't be. You told them the truth. Could I get that bouquet of roses and pick it up before closing? My wife will love them." He pointed back to a particular arrangement of deep red ones.

"Absolutely."

The detective then turned his attention back to the grandson standing behind the display counter in her place and asked, "How hard would it be for you to get me the footage for a certain time frame?"

"I've never actually messed with dates but I imagine it wouldn't be that hard. Just bring me a decent sized hard drive and it shouldn't take long. Worst case I can give you the whole year I guess."

"Whatever is easiest for you. Are you be here this afternoon?"

"I'll be out on deliveries in about an hour for...probably the rest of the day, but if you drop it off I could probably have it back to you by Friday?"

"Yeah, perfect. I'll do that. Thanks man. I'm glad I ran into you."

The younger guy shrugged, "No worries. I hope there is something on there that can help."

Sid began shrugging off his jacket as he walked though the precinct and into office area where he and Jeremy's desks were butted against each other. As tired as he was he felt like he was a ball of energy. His partner was hunched over his own desk, fervently filling out paperwork he'd been avoiding like the plague for who knew how long at that point. He never seemed to ever be on top of it, for as long as he had known him professionally. "I feel like I should go buy a lottery ticket." Sid excitedly said, as he shouldered his jacket on the back of his chair before sliding down into it.

"Give your winnings to me then. You're already rich," Jeremy said in a monotone voice, never looking up from his scribbling.

"False," Sid corrected with a smirk, and his partner finally peeked up from his work with an inquiring look, "My sugar mama wife is rich."

"You're right about that," He chuckled, "And any day now she's going to leave your pencil dicked ass for me." He pointed his pen at him before pushing up and sitting back in his chair, "Why are you feeling lucky all of a sudden?"

"This morning I was headed to McDonald's to get a coffee and I cut down Michigan street or...you know Davenport's street"

"Yeah?"

"As I'm getting to the end of the street, I see this little red flicker from a camera mounted to the florist shop."

Jeremy chuckled, and shook his head, "Dead end man. We already asked about that."

"Well...apparently you didn't ask the right person," Sid replied, crossing his arms rather smugly, "The lady that owns it didn't realize that her grandson had the footage backed up on a cloud. She thought once it erased on the hard drive it was gone forever."

His partner's brow furrowed slightly as he scowled with intrigue, "Did you...get anything?"

"I don't know. He's getting me all the footage by the end of the week."

Jeremy's scowl deepened for a moment before he nodded and smirked at his ever inquiring partner, "If there is anything on those tapes, I'll personally buy you a lottery ticket."

Sid snorted, "Why? So I'm forced to split my winnings?"

"Hell yeah."

"I hope there is something good on there. I mean...it practically points to her house."

"Yeah," Jeremy nodded, "Hopefully it's a decent camera they're using too."

"No kidding."

"You know I've never gotten the purpose of having a security camera if the quality of footage is so grainy it can't identify anything."

"You and me both."

Friday

Sid hurriedly ran up to the florist, hoping that the hadn't missed them before closing. Right before he could try the door, the grandson he'd come to know as David pushed it open, smiling while waving a hard drive at him.

"Sorry, I hope you weren't waiting around."

"Nah," David waved him off, "We just closed," He said while handing the pocket drive and cords off to Sid. The detective took them and shoved it in his jacket pocket, "There's two files. One is everything for the year. One is like…three months and up until she disappeared."

Sid smiled, "Thanks man."

"Yep. I hope it helps," David nodded before giving him a curt wave goodbye, shutting the door and locking it behind him, leaving Sid to be on his way.

Sid couldn't get home fast enough, and he was sure he alarmed Rhonda and their house keeper with how fast he ran into their apartment, gathering up his computer in his office, and ramming the USB cord for the pocket drive into his laptops port. Predictably Rhonda poked her head in, right as he had clicked on the first file that had the broken up footage on it. "Dinner is almost done. Do you want to eat or should I save you a plate?"

"I'll eat later, babe," Sid distractedly responded, "Jeremy is coming over."

Rhonda quietly slipped back into the living room, leaving her husband to his newest item of interest.

Barely five minutes had passed before he heard the door bell ring, knowing it to be his partner coming up to comb through footage with him. Sid was about to push out of his chair when he heard his wife get the door, exchanging pleasantries with Jeremy before the brown eyed man strolled into the study.

"What's for dinner?"

"This footage, now sit down," Sid looked over his shoulder with a grin.

Jeremy cast the back of Sid's head a fatigued look before shrugging out of his jacket, "Pretty sure I smelt steak."

"Prime rib actually, I think," He narrowed his eyes at the computer screen, speeding through the footage. "Don't worry, we have plenty," He assured as he kept winding. His friend pulled up a nearby chair and seated himself beside his host, leaning in to see what the fuss was about. "Lots of cars, not much foot traffic surprisingly."

"Decent camera too."

"Yeah, not bad." Was it award winning footage, no, but it wasn't so grainy as to not already be a complete waste of their time. Which was a problem that they encountered far too often from people looking to scare and prevent versus actually solve a crime. Apparently Michelis Floral Shop had taken the vandalism of their delivery van seriously and probably because of the semi tech savvy grandson in their employment.

"What time frame is this?"

"Uh…I'm starting at a month before she was reported missing." Jeremy leaned forward, tapping his fingers on his lips as he watched the sped up footage, "Something interesting you?" Sid side-eyed his partner.

"Vehicles. I would think we would be able to see Arnold's at some point."

"So there she is leaving…" Sid pointed to Monica's car pulling down the side driveway that each town house had, and turning into the street. She had a routine and it didn't vary much, and she didn't appear to have guests for most of the month leading up to her disappearance. Which lit a new flame of intrigue in Sid's mind. They had run through about a week and a half of footage at high speed when he finally made the observation, "You know…for there to have been so much physical evidence of Arnold's at her house, you would think the would have seen him on here."

"Especially if they were having an affair…" Jeremy trailed off in agreement as he furrowed his brow at the computer, "Unless he had already broken it off by this point," He speculated, tilting his head at Sid and shrugging one shoulder. They sped through another week's worth, mindlessly watching random cars drive by, neighbors walking dogs, joggers and Monica leave and return to her home with an almost pristine routine.

Until...

"Whoa, whoa…" Sid hit pause, "What was that?" He began rewinding a few frames before thumbing the space bar, "Check out that guy…" Jeremy followed his index to a man in a grey hoodie and jeans crossing the street, probably having emerged from another nearby alley and walk up Monica's side driveway. What interested Sid was that he had his hood thrown over his head, and the fact that he wandered up her driveway with such authority.

"She doesn't have a cut through does she?" Jeremy turned and looked at his partner, "Because I thought I remembered there being a brick wall behind her parking area." He re-planted his eyes on the computer and the pair quietly continued watching. "Maybe there was…" Sid began to speed it up, lapsing an hour and a half on the footage before… "Wait."

The pair saw the mysterious hooded stranger slink back out of Monica's side drive and hurriedly jog back across the street, seemingly into the alley he'd probably originally come from. "How weird."

"Maybe there is some sort of cut through back there, and I just don't remember." Jeremy shook his head.

"You want to go check it out?"

"Right now?"

"Why not?" Sid started to stand.

"It's cold, it's dark and you've got prime rib," Jeremy leaned back in his chair and smirked.

"I doubt it'll take long," Sid tapped his shoulder, urging him out of the chair, "It'll probably be ready by the time we get back anyway."

With a sigh, Jeremy finally pulled himself from the chair.

The ride was short, but just long enough to get the interior of Sid's truck nice and toasty, which was going to make tromping around in the chilly night air feel even colder. Admittedly, Jeremy was a summer guy and he supposed that would forever be the Florida in him. No matter how long he lived in the northwest. Snow would be arriving sooner than later, blanketing Hillwood in its unnecessariness and making life generally miserable.

Sid pulled the truck to the curb in front of the warded off house and the two slipped out into the lamp lit sidewalk, mag lights in tow as they began walking up the driveway beside Monica's house. Once around back, they began shining their lights along the back wall, careful not to disrupt neighbors, "So…yeah there's a wall," Sid agreed aloud. An eight foot masonry wall ran down the back of Monica's back property and one house next to hers. Old and probably put in jointly by former owners. Between her house and that house was an equally tall privacy fence connected to decorative stone pillars.

Jeremy wandered past Sid to one of the corners, scanning his flashlight along looking for holes or even a gate, "I don't think there is anyway somebody could cut through here to get to the other street behind."

"Well, what the hell was he doing for over an hour back here then?"

His partner turned and shrugged, "Casing the place perhaps?"

Sid shined his light up at the house, examining the boarded up doors and windows being bathed in the yellow glow, "No, I think he was doing something in her house."

"Alright so…it's two weeks before she goes missing, mysterious dude in a hood lurks around her house…maybe Arnold was just…trying to be smart and not let himself be seen. I mean…" Jeremy looked around, "She has neighbors. He had to have seen the florist shop camera too."

Sid nodded and began walking back down the driveway, "I didn't notice the camera right away."

"You and I both know that a strange guy slinking around with his head covered by a hood usually means he's up to no good and doesn't want to be identified," Jeremy pointed out as he followed his friend.

The tattooed detective came to a halt on the sidewalk, peering down the street to try to see the entry and exit point at which their stranger had utilized. "He used one of those two alleys," He pointed across the street.

Saturday.

Sid walked into the kitchen, riding boot and jacket clad, intending to kiss Rhonda goodbye before he left for his meeting that night. She was trying her hand at a pie...or cake or...some sort of baked pastry and their kitchen was once again, wrecked with all matter of ingredients. "I'm leaving. Love you." He wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed the side of her head. As she brought her own hands up he felt her freeze up before she spun around in his arms and gave his leather jacket a disapproving scowl.

"Darling why are you wearing your riding jacket?" She questioned, eyes narrowing as she looked up at him.

Sid felt his eyebrows creep towards his hairline, wondering why she suddenly cared. "I was planning to take my motorcycle."

"No you aren't," She matter-of-factly told him, "The sun is setting soon and you know how I don't like you driving it at night. Besides..." She sighed, "You're going to freeze."

He husband looked off and inhaled as he considered her point before re-focusing his eyes on her face, "You're right." He hadn't really been thinking about the unrelenting night chill. And since he would be driving on a few mountain roads, deer could be a problem as well. And a deer meeting a motorcycle would be a death sentence. He leaned in a gave her a smiling peck on the lips, "I'll take my truck."

Rish

By the time Sid stepped into the small diner to meet with the fellow detectives, it had already started to flurry a bit of snow outside. The first of the season he supposed and, he was even more grateful that he had listened to his wife about the motorcycle. The diner was quaint but at a low volume roar with chatter considering it was relatively busy on a Saturday night. It reminded him more of a lodge than anything, devoid of most of the classic 50s stylings that came with the imaginings of a classic diner.

He looked around, not really sure what he was looking for, other than perhaps a man who was older by way his voice sounded and who looked like a Don. The only promising thing he saw was a booth with two men on one side, as if they were expecting somebody to occupy the other. One tall, his sandy hair thinning on top and the other of medium build with a white goatee and wearing a shoulder holster. Both looked like they had about twenty years on him.

Age and experience.

He decided to walk over and see if it was indeed the Don in question, giving a courtesy wave to a waitress approaching him. "Don?" He asked, giving both men a polite glance.

"That's me," The goatee guy flicked his index up, "Sid?"

"Yeah," He smiled, noticing for the first time the stack of papers against the wall of the booth as he shrugged out of his jacket.

"Nice to meet you," He extended his hand and Sid pawed him with a very firm handshake, "This is Lance Dungee," Don gestured to his friend, whom also extended his hand in greeting.

"Sid Moretti," The Hillwood detective introduced himself before finally sliding down into the seat across from them, folding his jacket beside him, "Interesting little place," He admired as he looked around, feeling the need to make some small talk out of courtesy, though he would prefer to just dive right in.

"The chopped steak is good," Don offered with a shrug before bringing his coffee cup to his lips.

"Good to know," Sid said, briefly glancing at the menu, though he quickly realized he hadn't brought much of an appetite with him.

"Can I start you off with a water or coffee or something?" The same waitress he'd waved at a few minutes prior glided up to the table and asked him.

Sid nodded and cast her a nice smile, "Both."

"You got it," She recuperated with her own warm smile as she filtered back into the bustling restaurant.

"So Don said you've been working the Doctor Death case over in Hillwood," Lance inquired once the girl had disappeared.

Sid closed the menu, figuring he'd just go with Don's suggestion and get the chopped steak, "Since the very beginning, yeah," He nodded, "My partner would be here had he not had his sister's wedding to attend tonight."

"Well, what do you say we get to it then?"

"Hey," Sid graciously smiled, "It's why I'm here."

Don took another sip of coffee before moving it aside and grabbing one of the folders off of the top of the small stack he'd brought with him. Opening it, he slipped it across the table for his guest to see. Sid's grey eyes fell onto a perp file, first seeing the mug shot of a middle aged man, "That's Mike Harding," Don said, grabbing another folder and flipping through it, "He was convicted of murdering five girls, one of them being his secretary."

"When?" Sid asked, beginning to thumb through the file catching the waitress returning to the table with his beverages. He momentarily closed the file, parting it with his index, "Thank you."

"You guys ready to order or do you still need a minute?"

"I'm ready if you guys are," Sid shrugged.

"Yep," Don held his coffee cup out for her to top off, "Chopped steak with mashed potatoes, please."

"Same," Lance smiled, offering his menu to her.

Sid reached for his menu and handed it off to her as well, "I'll also have that."

"Three chopped steaks with mashed potatoes. Easy enough," She chuckled as she took his menu and wandered away.

Once gone, Sid flipped his folder back open, finding where he'd left off in his rapid scanning of text.

"I arrested him in 2010," Don replied to his earlier question. Sid's eyebrows rose. This was going on before he was even on the force. He was just graduating from college in 2010.

"I was his lawyer," Lance chimed in, and that was enough information to make Sid pause his exploratory reading and glance up once more at the two men.

"We don't normally find ourselves on the same side of things." He had never been shy about admitting that defense attorneys were not his favorite people. For good reason. They hindered and often tried to discredit his hard work simply because they were being paid to do so. They served their purpose and were necessary at maintaining order and balance in the justice system, but that didn't mean he had feel good about them, "So now I'm even more intrigued."

"So were we. Which is why when Arnold Shortman popped up in Hillwood, the similarities between yours and mine were so striking I reached out to Don and said…maybe it was him all along?" Lance explained as Don sat another folder down, "There were a lot of things that didn't make sense in our case. Chiefly the mystery DNA we got off of Charlotte Brown."

Don sighed, taking a swig of coffee, "Look, I've been doing this for a long time. Mike Harding never struck me as the type of guy that was capable of doing any of this. But…I could never prove that DNA had any relevance to the case, and it wasn't a deal breaker for the prosecution."

"Why would it be?" Sid agreed, flipping through the crime scene photos, "He had bodies buried on his property and someone close to him had gone missing. You can't get more open and shut than that." All of the girls in the photos, including the secretary, were about around the age of the ones in his case. Early to mid twenties. Two of them were known prostitutes and the other two…had simply just gone missing.

"Occam's razor."

"So Charlotte was found in his wood shed."

"Wood shed is a broad term. It was actually a small little structure at the edge of his property that he didn't use often." Sid scowled, feeling an icy chill run up his back, skating along on a wave of goosebumps as it glided up into his brain. Oh how familiar did that sound.

"Shortman maybe frequented his storage unit twice a year," Sid shut the folder, his mouth feeling absolutely dry as he reached for his coffee, taking a mouthful.

"You want to know how our girls were killed?" Don slipped him another folder with a raised eyebrow.

Tabling his mug, Sid opened the file, but already knew what he'd find in it, "Strangulation," He confirmed as his eyes fell to the coroner's report. "All of my girls were strangled, most all of them left in semi-shallow graves on Shortman's property. Except for the ones found under his concrete patio and the one in the storage unit. We got the mystery DNA from the one in the storage unit…" Sid trailed off in realization, "It's the exact same pattern."

"Truthfully I was about to give you guys a ring anyway thinking Shortman might be our guy too. Then we saw that our mystery DNA submission had matched with yours and that's when things started feeling weird."

Sid snapped the folder shut and slid the coffee in front of him, leaning his elbows on the table, "I'll be honest, not a lot about what's going on in Hillwood has felt normal. Shortman…he's got a sorted past with women, but none of ever violent. He just doesn't…fit."

"But all of the evidence says otherwise," Don remarked before fixing the young detective with a serious look, "The way I'm beginning to see it is we've got three scenarios to consider at this point. One being we have two identical serial killers, with identical methods," The older guy theorized, waving both of his hands around, "Ridiculous right? We all know that none of those guys operate just alike. Two, being that Shortman was the killer in both, but then why would he be so methodical in putting Harding on the hook and then so sloppy in Hillwood?"

"But then there is the unknown DNA," Lance pointed out, bringing his coffee to his lips.

"Right," Don gave him a sideways nod, "Maybe he has an unknown accomplice in it all."

"Which sounds as equally ridiculous. Shortman wouldn't sit in jail and take the wrap all by himself. We're looking at the death penalty here," Sid shook his head.

"Now, with both of those theories sounding unlikely, let's consider a third scenario…we do have an active serial killer, but it is neither Shortman or Harding, but the person who left the unknown DNA profile in both cases."

"Probable at this point," The young detective admitted.

"Let's take it one step further. What if…this is part of a larger game?"

"A serial killer who's game has gone beyond murder." Sid interjected, sounding as mystified as he actually was at that point, as he watched Don nod. This guy had effectively blown his mind. Inhaling, Sid lowered his head a little more, staring at the two men in front of him, "If you're right. If this is right…we have two men sitting in jail because they got picked to be fall guys." Don nodded slowly.

"It feels off," Lance said.

Sid was in no position to argue with anything of that anymore. Something had felt off the entire time everything had been going on. Now that he was thinking about it, it felt sort of like a well planned series of dominoes, each one falling at just the right time. Was it possible that there was a puppet master behind all of the madness? It was certainly starting to seem highly plausible as…implausible as it was. "I've still got a missing girl in my case. One that the killer would have no incentive to resurface as long as it kept the microscope on Shortman," Sid began thinking aloud.

He then reached up and ran a hand over his short brown hair, debating the professional ethics of what he was about to ask, but finding it at war with his personal morals. He prided himself in always doing the right thing even if it weren't the popular thing, not to mention, he could very easily see himself sitting in Don's shoes twenty years from then, wishing he'd followed up with his gut more, "Lance do you mind talking to somebody for me?"

One Week Later.

Arnold almost didn't take the meeting. Quite frankly, he had grown weary and fatigued with talking to anybody at that point, and he had every right to be. But he'd been assured that it would be worth his time if he'd just give this mystery guest ten minutes of his time. Fine. He could spare ten minutes. All he had was time at that point. Part of him assumed it was a reporter, wanting some juicy first hand scoop for a Doctor Death expo they were writing. In which case, he'd be happy to waste their time as much as they were going to waste his.

But the man that walked through the guard doors, carrying a briefcase looked less like a journalist and more like an attorney. Perhaps he shouldn't judge a book considering he wasn't looking his best those days. Nobody would suspect he were a residency doctor. Still, the guy seated himself in front of him, casting him a warm smile. Something Arnold hadn't been a recipient of in a long while. It saddened him that he had become so accustomed to looks of disgust so quickly, but that was his life at that point, "Lance Dungee, nice to meet you."

Arnold offered him a dim flicker of a smile, "Yeah, you too. Are you a lawyer or something?" Prison had made him much less patient.

"I am," Lance nodded, "And you are my new client."

He didn't want to be rude, he really didn't, but prison had also made him so cynical by that point that he sat back in his chair and gave a humorless chuckle, shaking his head as he looked off, "Great," Arnold replied, wondering how much of a crackpot that guy was wanting to represent him. Perhaps he was just desperate for the exposure. His bottle green eyes finally re-fixed themselves on his newly appointed attorney and shrugged, "Well…are you going to ask me if I did it?" Bitterly reciting what his first attorney had asked him.

A lot of good that guy had done.

To Arnold's surprise, all Lance Dungee did was furrow his brow into a slight crease before popping said brows high once, as if unbothered and reaching to unlatch the briefcase he'd toted in with him, "No, because I know you didn't."

And the shackled blonde could only blink at that, finding the response had effectively knocked a little wind right out of him. This guy had to be up to something. Had to be, "You hope I didn't right?" He tested him again.

This time, Lance didn't even bother looking at him, he just continued to pull a few files out, "No. I know you didn't."

It was Arnold's turn to furrow his brow in complete confusion, "How?" Helga didn't even believe him, and Gerald, for better or worse was just living on pure hope that flew in the face of logical facts at that point.

The attorney finally paused his paper pulling and crossed his arms on the table, giving his new client square if not mildly exacerbated look, "Well, there is this little thing called DNA and well, we found some of it on that poor soul that was in your storage unit and we know it wasn't yours, because well…science, and said DNA just happened to match another series of murders a county over that put another innocent man in jail…who just so happened to also be my client," Lance took a quick breath, "Or to summarize, you and him…got set up."

Arnold's mouth bobbed opened and closed a few times, as he began trying to process that information dump. "By who?" He'd always believed what was happening to him was no accident, he had just never been able to prove it.

"That I don't know."

"So…" The blonde frowned, still trying to make sense of everything, "There is another guy…just like me, sitting in jail for the same thing?"

"Yes."

"Well…if you know it was somebody else, why the hell are we both sitting in jail then?!" Arnold's voice elevated, though he didn't mean to be so loud. Or rude. He was mad. And he had every right to be considering his life was a fucking nightmare.

"Well, that's the part we're going to start working on. The mystery DNA from your unit just recently matched in the system to ours in Kipsom county. The methods are the same, victim pattern is identical and then this DNA."

Arnold sat back, inhaling deeply as he ran his hands over his face and into his hair while continuing to think. There was a light at the end of the tunnel. It was a pin light as far as he was concerned, but a small glimmer of hope none-the-less. And as rejuvenating as it was to his spirit, it also opened up the door for the other complicated shit in his life. Namely…

Helga.

She had to know about this. Somebody had to inform her. He knew that he—nor probably Gerald either—would be able to lure her into a conversation much less one about his innocence. She was done and she'd made agonizingly clear to him. She needed to hear it from somebody else.

"Can I ask you a favor?" He suddenly found himself asking as he dropped his arms and looked back up at Lance.

"Yeah sure," Lance smirked, "I seem to be getting asked that a lot."

"Can you talk to my wife?"

Lance slowly pulled his car down the long winding driveway of the Pataki residence, intending to follow through with his agreement to speak with her. He'd been given a few tips on dealing with her, which ranged from normal to head scratching with his client using the phrase, 'She's hardheaded with a temper.'

Great.

He'd also been advised not to tell her that he'd been sent by Arnold, and not to bother with trying to call her. She wouldn't return a call unless it was business related anymore.

He stopped his car where the gravel driveway became concrete in front of her garage. He saw an SUV parked outside, figuring she was home. It was a Saturday afternoon, after all. He had come casually dressed, choosing to leave his trusty briefcase in the car until he knew she was going to be receptive to talking to him. It was no guarantee, but he'd promised Arnold he would try.

Slipping out of his car, he quietly shut the door before striding his way along the walkway and up the porch stairs to ring the door bell. His ears were immediately greeted by the roaring howls of dogs before their scratches behind the door echoed through the wood.

He waited, and waited, and just before he was about to consider that she either wasn't home, or worse, refusing to answer, she finally opened the heavy wooden door, giving him a furrowed look as she cracked open the storm door. He offered her a warm smile, but her blue eyes remained as icy as ever. "Can I help you with something?" She asked and he could hear the subtle disdain coating her voice.

For Helga's part, he was lucky she had no interest in firearm ownership, or she'd probably already have lit his ass up. And not because he had personally done anything to her, but solely because she was beyond fed up with people just showing up at her house. It was never about anything she wanted to hear, so she could only imagine what this asshole wanted. "Well, yeah, but…I might be able to help you too." Lance finally responded, sounding as diplomatic as possible considering the hostility rolling off of her was so thick, "I…came here to talk to you about Arnold."

He'd never seen somebody's eyes darken as fast as hers did. While not warm and inviting of him to begin with, they had become downright black at the mention of his client, and he could already feel their conversation going south. She pushed out of the house so quickly that he nearly stumbled over himself backing towards the steps. "Look I don't know what type of story you're after, but I'm not going to be the one to give it to you. Get the hell off my property before I call the police and report you for trespassing." She pointed a stern finger at his chest, having to remind herself through her over boiling anger that the stress was going to buy her a one way ticket to the labor ward.

But Goddammit, could people just not fuck off and leave her alone?

Lance held his hands up, "No, no, no I'm not here for a story. I'm an attorney for Arnold."

Helga paused but somehow became even more angry against her own internal advice, "Oh, well good for you," She sneered sarcastically at him, "If you think I'm going to be paying you for it, you're out of your fucking mind. Now, get the hell out of here!"

"No," The attorney shook his head, "I'm here because everything is probably about to turn weird and…he'd rather you hear it from me than…everywhere else."

Helga's brow furrowed even harder as she gave the stranger a confused look, not able to make heads or tails of any of what had just come out of his mouth. She cursed her sense of curiosity, because it continued to pull her into its web of pain. She didn't care about anything to do with her former flame, but…that guy's choice of words prompted her tongue to begin moving before her brain could put a stop to it, effectively pacifying her intrigue, "Turn weird? What the hell does that even mean?"

Lance sighed, "Whoever did this to him...it isn't their first time. I know because they did it to my client too." At that, Helga felt the air evaporate from her body, the hard crease lines that had been marring her features smoothed as her hand slowly fell to her stomach, "In 2010. They did it to my client in 2010. Can we talk?"

A/N: Start of the new years with a bright shiny cliff hanger. So it looks a little like Arnold might have gotten set-up all along. Was he picked on purpose or was it he picked at random? Be interesting to see how Helga deals with everything going forward. Remember...everything has purpose. Tell me your theories and thoughts, cause I love hearing them.