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: Long chapter, lots going on. We are winding down to the end here.
You were the one I needed the most,
Why did you run?
Jeremy wrapped the yellow crime scene tape around the young tree trunk a few times, viewing it as snug enough to withstand the moderate tugging as he began to unroll while heading to the next tree, some feet away, to anchor on.
Still, Steve went behind him and slapped a generously sized piece of black duck tape across the wraps to ensure they stayed put. "I'm absolutely shocked that you didn't want to go with your partner," The older detective mused at his younger counterpart, ripping another piece of tape to secure his new anchor point as the two continued to rope off the container area.
"Why?" Jeremy looked over his shoulder at him, eyebrow quirked, but a friendly smirk ushering the corner of his mouth upwards.
"Haven't you been with this since the start? This is a marquee case." In Steve's mind, it was the type of case that either catapulted a career or ruined it.
But Jeremy didn't really see it that way, and perhaps because of the closeness of the case to him. Shrugging, he walked a bit further before doing a wrap on another anchor tree, "Trust me, I'm itching to know what she's saying as well, but…Sid's a lot better with delicate interviews." He explained, continuing to drag the tape along before stopping and looking back at Steve with a somewhat proud smile, "Now… find me the guy that's doing all this and I'll crack him. But Sid? No. He's way too nice when dealing with creeps."
The elder detective chuckled, finding his counterparts explanation rather amusing but genuine, "So, he's sensitive to violence, and you're sensitive to the aftermath of violence," Steve summarized before shrugging, "Nothing wrong with that."
A small scowl tugged Jeremy's lips downward for a moment in thought before shrugging the comment off entirely, "I guess so," He replied before following up with, "I just have a better ability to think like a criminal. Which is a little scary," He chuckled in an attempt to keep the conversation light.
"There's a lot of us that were probably only one or two decisions away from being criminals ourselves," Steve replied with a chuckle, "Instead we're here, and the world's better for it."
Jeremy snorted quietly, "In theory."
Sid slipped his phone back into his pocket as he diverted his eyes back to the sullen girl wrapped in bandages, wiping her glossy reddened eyes of salty tears, almost looking as if she felt personally responsible for Arnold's situation. It broke his heart, "None of this is your fault, I hope you know that," He quipped in a gentle voice. Monica nodded but didn't say anything back, and Sid wasn't really expecting a response anyhow.
"How can I help him?" She finally asked, as he was just about to call it.
He didn't really know how to appropriately answer that, because he really didn't know what the right answer was other than, her just telling them what happened. The facts would eventually exonerate an innocent man. Or at least that's the way it was suppose work. "You being alive is already helping him."
Monica nodded, and that statement seemed to provide her with some level of comfort, though not as much as he'd hoped.
A quick glance over to Bedford confirmed that they wordlessly on the same page about drawing it to a close, "Alright well, we're going to let you get some rest and some food and…you just let us know when you're ready to talk more, alright?" He cast her a warm, reassuring smile.
"Thank you," She finally replied in a quiet, tear stained voice.
Sid nodded one last time before he stood and he and Bedford ushered themselves from the room to leave her in peace. The door had barely clicked shut behind them before the older detective turned to him and said, "What the fuck is going on in Hillwood?" He questioned, "You've had Shortman sitting and you've known it wasn't him?"
A fatigued sigh left Sid's lips, though he knew the questions were going to start pouring the minute they left the room, "Not very long." Bedford blanched but the young detective was quick to cut it off, already feeling exhausted and exasperated with the lodged accusations, "Look, I've got a prosecutor who has started foaming at the mouth over Shortman because she's got political aspirations and quite frankly, has probably watched one too many Ted Bundy documentaries," Sid sternly replied, his voice raising a little while he gave the older man a pointed look, "Before last night, I," He thrusted his index finger towards himself in a rare display of self importance, "Was the only one following the threads to Kitsap. I was the only one raising serious doubts about the legitimacy of evidence against him. All of which I was told, wasn't enough. I respect your bewilderment about the situation Larry, I do, but don't start barking at me for the injustice being perpetuated in my department."
Bedford blinked at the flustered young guy, tightly nodding as he briefly looked off and crossed his arms, appearing to toss that whole monologue about in his head a few times, "And the fucker doing all this was smart enough to play into her ego."
Sid's eyes widened a little in surprise. Bedford was obviously an abstract thinker like him, "We're not dealing with a Ted Bundy here," He shook his head, running a hand over his head and through his limp hat hair, "I don't know what we're dealing with." More, and more, in his gut and in his bones, he felt that they were dealing with an individual who at least had some understanding of how law enforcement operated. Maybe not much, but at least some.
Perhaps they were an enthusiast, or an ex-cop or…he quickly sealed off that portion of thought for the time being. He didn't have the mental clarity to sift through those thoughts at that point in time.
He needed some sleep to refresh and rethink the whole prospect.
"Hillwood has a grenade in their hands," Larry warned.
"No shit," Sid sighed, dropping his hand to his side.
"Imagine what the media would do if they got wind that a sitting prosecutor has been actively ignoring evidence…" Larry said, trailing off as he gave his new friend a very careful look, "They'd probably have a field day…" He reckoned.
And Sid was smart enough to know that detective Bedford wasn't merely talking out loud to himself. He knew exactly what he was getting out and yet he was in too sticky of a position to take him up on his heavily veiled suggestion. "I'm not trying to ostracize myself from the ranks. I still have too much work to do…but…I know somebody." If the circumstances unfolding didn't ultimately convince a judge that Arnold had no business sitting in jail, then perhaps the media would. "If…it gets to that. I've got other cards in play at the moment."
Larry grinned at him, his eyes almost sparkling, "I like you Sid. I didn't think I would, but you're alright."
Sid tiredly blinked, that statement stirring predictable curiosity, "Did I offend you in some way before?" Normally it was Jeremy offending people's delicate sensibilities, not himself.
"Rich boy in the upper Westside of Hillwood," Larry chuckled, "I figured you'd probably donated yourself into a spot on the force to make you feel like somebody."
"What my files doesn't say is that my wife is very wealthy," He gave Larry a small smirk, "I on the other hand grew up very working class."
Hillwood
"What's the timeline on something like that if granted? Days, weeks?" Helga didn't even want to vocalize months. She stood in her kitchen, phone to her ear where it had been glued on and off for a few hours. A motion to dismiss the charges against Arnold had been submitted, now it was up to the judge to decided if the circumstance warranted approval, "I mean…is she talking yet?" The tired blonde sighed in frustration. As fast as everything was unfolding, it felt like it couldn't go fast enough, "Regardless, it's pretty damn obvious at this point that he didn't do anything." And though it was a simple sentence, those words twisted and poked at her tattered heart enough to cause a spurt of raw emotion that she had to quickly swallow down to finish her conversation. It made her throat ache. She took a deep breath, replying, "Yeah, just let me know when you hear something…Thanks Lance…Bye."
Dropping the phone to the granite counter, she then leaned heavily onto its cold surface with her elbows, dropping her face into her awaiting palms. He was an innocent man. By the time the morning news hit, it would be obvious to the world that he didn't do anything, but it should have been obvious to her all along.
And she hated herself for that.
She really did.
For all his faults—and there were a lot—and no matter what happened between them, she didn't think she would ever forgive herself for completely abandoning him.
It was a stain on her judgment, her character and a garish display of how easily the hard hitting, and fiercely independent Helga Pataki could be manipulated along with the masses.
She'd always fancied herself as being smarter than that, but there she was, everything she knew to be true, imploded around her and still not a single idea on how to navigate the wreckage.
The anger was still ever present. Like a cancer it devoured her mind and suffocated the little bits of joy in her life. She'd thought that bits of it would have dissipated with the changing of tide but it hadn't.
Tacoma
Sometimes twilight sleep could be just as refreshing as unconsciousness, and for Sid anything was better than nothing and he would take whatever he could get. After Bedford had left him, he'd found himself a quiet little chair by the elevators and nodded off against his loose knuckles, elbow propped on the armrest. In his floaty ethereal bliss he began hearing murmuring. Distant, echoey and then suddenly…pressure. His eyes snapped awake as he flinched away from whatever it was. He looked up to see Jeremy nudging his shoulder and sporting his own pair of tired brown eyes, heavy with black circles. "What's up man?" His friend asked in a quiet, tired voice.
Sid yawned, feeling a little better, yet still like a drained battery, reclining back in the chair while stretching his arms completely over his head, "Trying to catnap…I'm exhausted."
"I hear you…" Jeremy mumbled a reply, appearing to be somewhere else entirely as he stared down the empty hallway, save for the quiet hum from the nurses station. Something Sid chalked up to him being exhausted by the long night just like he was. He finally turned around and sat down in the chair next to his friend, uttering a sigh as he unzipped his jacket, "Is she talking?" He asked and began peeling himself out of its stifling hug.
Sid wanted to lay into him for leaving him high and dry on the most important interview of his life, but he didn't. Partially because he was too tired and partially because he just didn't see what it would accomplish at that point other than a possible spat between them. Instead he sat forward, continuing to stretch his stiff muscles, suddenly realizing his mouth was incredibly dry, "Yeah she's talking."
"Yeah?" Jeremy's eyebrows perked in interest.
"Not as much as we'd hoped," Sid ran his hands over his face, another inescapable yawn taking him captive. He could already feel the pool of dread beginning to churn in his gut. So much to do, so many directions, so utterly exhausted, "He kept her in the dark. Literally and figuratively."
He watched the corners of his friends mouth downturn as he appeared to turn that bit over in his head, "So…nothing at all?" He reiterated, his voice carrying more than a sliver of disbelief, though he seemed very on edge about it all.
"Not yet, I guess," Sid said, offering a glimmer of hope, "You know how that is." He then willed himself out of the chair, again yawning deeply, "I'm gong to go grab a coffee and a water. Want anything?"
"Hm? No," Jeremy shook his head, still looking very much conflicted about something and it was beginning to worry Sid, "I'm good. More caffeine is just going to give me anxiety."
"You okay man?"
Jeremy blinked rapidly a few times, appearing to snap out of whatever black hole of thoughts he had been sifting through, giving his friend a nod and a small smile, "Yeah. Just starting to hit a wall is all," He assured, sounding more like himself, which was relieving for Sid to hear, if only just a little.
"I've hit," Sid replied in a scratchy tired voice.
Hillwood
"Monica Davenport has been found alive in Tacoma County after she ran out of the woods last night, and flagged down a passing motorist. The twenty-nine year old woman has been missing since April of last year and was thought to have been abducted by Arnold Shortman in connection with the missing King County girls."
"That's right Andrea, at about eight-fifteen last night she ran out onto Leaphart road from where she was being held captive in what is being described as a bunker in the surrounding woods. I did get a chance to speak to her parents a moment ago. They say she's recovering well after a surgery, and she is hoping to bring some relief to the Shortman family for what they say is an unjust imprisonment."
Helga ran her hand through her messy hair, feeling the light sting of tears in the bottoms of her eyes.
Tacoma
Sid stood with Jeremy and Larry in the room that they had fashioned into their makeshift command center, also staring at the same breaking morning news rolling across the TV, "Boy howdy…I guess she refused to wait for us," Sid remarked, a ghost of a smile fluttering to his lips as he felt the first jolt of energy he'd had in some hours. That was the absolute best breaking news setup he could have ever hoped for.
The department was either going to dig their heels in or begin to face the facts. Sid had no crystal ball to know which, but he doubted they'd let go so easily if a judge didn't immediately approve the dismissal that he knew that Lance had filed or was filing that morning.
Larry smirked from where he had his leg propped up on the edge of the bed, half sitting, half standing, "Girl opened two locks with a bobby pin to escape and then ran a mile, burning up with fever. Of course she wasn't going to wait of us."
In his pocket, Sid's phone began to vibrate, prompting him to dig it out to see that Don was the one ringing. He pulled the device to his ear and walked away from the TV to hear better, "Hey Don, what's up?"
"Saw the news just now. You guys already talk to her?" He could hear the smile in the older man's voice.
"We did. No perp ID but he was very braggy about doing this to others, " Sid replied in a low voice, "I'm also having to fold Tacoma in now."
"I figured as much."
"Did you get a chance to check out that list I texted you?"
"Uh, yeah. It's an abandoned orchard about thirty minutes up the mountain from me," Don explained, "I didn't see any disturbances but we flagged each spot. Dogs are coming back this afternoon."
"I should probably come up then." The idea of going anywhere but straight home for some proper rest was agonizing, but he'd hate himself if he missed anything.
"Yeah if you can break away," Don agreed but didn't seem overly worried, fully understanding how depleting things like that could be, "Oh hey, in light of everything, you don't mind if I tighten the screws a little bit on your department do you?"
Sid blinked, trying to think of what he could possibly mean by that, other than, "Why? Do you have a media connection wanting an interview or something?"
"No. But this is probably going to spread like wildfire. A journalist would love to talk to anybody with some scoop."
Sid took a breath, "I don't care what you do." He wasn't sure if it was an authentic feeling, or just exhaustion, but he supposed it didn't really matter in the end.
An hour ticked by. Then another. Then another and so forth. Jeremy had managed to cat nap sporadically before he and Sid chose to take their leave in order to be in Tacoma for a cadaver search. Sid had hoped to be able to nap on the hour and a half long trip since he got to be a passenger on the journey, but he just couldn't make it happen.
It was a quiet drive though, which was a blessing after sitting in a hospital that's constant bustling was the very definition of sensory overload for him. Especially while tired. "You going to nap or what?" Jeremy asked, a small smirk pulling to the corner of his lips, "You look like a kid just fighting that shit."
"I plan to get in my bed tonight and sleep for fourteen hours. Minimum," Sid tiredly explained, "After chugging some Z-quil because my brain will still be…" He made the talking gesture with his hand as a brief grin passed by his face.
"Ditto."
Sid nodded before finally deciding to ask something that had continued to bother him throughout the day. Since he had his audience captive and all, "So…are you going to tell me why you left me to go do that interview by myself or are we just not going to talk about it?"
Jeremy didn't have much reaction, other than his eyes sliding from the road to Sid for a split moment before he shrugged, "I don't know man, I guess I just didn't want to."
His partner frowned at the comment. Mostly because it sounded like a giant cop out, "You just didn't want to? " It wasn't exactly a secret that Jeremy was better at dealing with offenders and Sid was better at dealing with victims. It's why they worked well together, however, neither had ever flat out shied away from their weakness if the situation called for it.
Again, the dark, wavy haired man shrugged, not having anything at all to say for quite a long while as he chewed on the bottom of his lip. "I just felt like…" He finally began, pausing as quickly as he started, "I would have probably been overbearing because I'm so desperate for answers is all. This guy is making fools of everybody. He's already handed me my ass with Shortman. I'm angry and impatient. Not a combination you want when dealing with a delicate interviewee."
"You don't think I'm upset about getting tricked too?"
Jeremy nodded his head to the side in concession, "You were the last one on board, and the first one off. You aren't sitting around questioning your instincts. Yours were tingling the entire time because something wasn't right."
Sid sighed, suddenly feeling bad that he'd been so irritated with him, and though it wasn't ideal, decided to offer up some uncomfortable truths of his own, "Look I'm not some super problem solver over here. Yeah I kind of put the pieces together once I got a thread but…the only reason—the only reason—I fought getting on board with Arnold being the killer was because I grew up with the guy. I didn't have superior instincts, just good memories with him that made it hard for me to view the situation independently. That makes me the negligent investigator if anything," He tapped his fingers to his chest.
"Well…I hated him. And when all these perfect little pieces of evidence began to drop, I'll be honest, it kind of made me happy. It confirmed that he really was the piece of shit I'd brewed him up to be in my mind. I didn't care to see if it really made sense."
"Nobody is perfect here," Sid quipped, suddenly reminded of the few times he'd debated having Jeremy be removed from the case because of bias. "On more than one occasion I seriously contemplated requesting that you be taken off of this. To be honest, I should have requested us both be removed. But I didn't, and here we are and as weird as it sounds we might be the two best people to manage the situation going forward."
Jeremy's eyebrows inched up as he considered Sid's assessment, "I hope so."
"Just…don't leave me hanging like that again. Please."
Sometime later Jeremy pulled his truck off onto a much narrower gravel road the forked away from the main road, continuing its slithering through the barren trees lining the mountain side. It was a ruddy thing, scarred with deep pock marks caused by wash out and years of neglect. The pair winced a few times as the truck hit a few of the deeper gashes in the dirt.
They assumed it would be somewhat obvious where they needed to meet Don at. He said it was an orchard of some type. The dogs might have already been there. They crept along, as fast as they could go without jarring themselves to death on all the crater like pot holes, and after what felt like a never ending road into nowhere, it rather quickly opened up into a less dense clearing with trees that looked purposefully planted verses there by nature. They also saw a couple other marked vehicles, including a K-9 SUV unloading a couple hounds.
Jeremy parked quickly, barely getting the truck turned off before Sid's was practically falling out of the door to get across the clearing. He saw Don standing over by a tree, his back turned towards him, appearing to look on at something.
"Don," Sid called as he closed the distance between them with hurried strides.
The older man turned around and offered him a brief smile, "You made it."
"Took a little longer than I was anticipating," Sid shook his head, looking back as Jeremy skipped up behind him, "Don this is my partner Jeremy Kirk," He introduced the two men.
"Don Jacobs," The older detective shook the younger man's extended hand.
Jeremy gave him a polite smile, "Nice to finally meet."
"You said you marked all the spots with flags?" Sid interjected, sounding rather impatient because he was. An impatient that had him propping his hands on his hips as he squinted around hoping to answer the question himself.
"Yep. They are pretty much all together," He motioned for them to follow him past the trees. They walked not quite to the other side of the clearing when Don stopped and began pointing out the five red flag markers he had stuck in the ground. "Each coordinate is exactly five feet apart from the next." Both Sid and Jeremy stared at the perfectly laid out flags poking out of the grassy soil. "If I'd had a shovel with me I probably would have tried to see what was down there already."
Jeremy nodded, looking back as he heard one of the dog handlers calling the animal by name, "I guess the dogs might answer that question in a minute."
Don turned and looked back as well, thrusting his hand into the air to wave at the guy bringing one of the dogs towards them, "Hey Jimmy."
"Hey Don. How's it going?"
"Another day in paradise," Don replied with a smirk and Jimmy barked a single guffaw of laughter.
"Ain't it."
"This is Detective Sid and Detective Jeremy. They're from Hillwood."
Jimmy stopped in front of them three of them and gave the two unfamiliar men a knowing look, accompanied by a slight smirk, "Oh…you boys have your hands full over there right now, don't you?"
Sid could only sigh and nod, "And this is probably only going to add to it."
"So the flags then?" Jimmy pointed to them on the ground while glancing at Don.
"Yep."
Jimmy pulled his dog over to the area before showing the animal one of the flags, "Here you go boy. What's there? What's there?" The dog got excited, sniffing around the area his handler was pointing before laying down. The dog did this five more times before Jimmy pulled out a squeaky toy and threw it up for the dog to catch as reward for a good job.
"I mean, we'll bring the other dog over in a few minutes just to double check but, I'd say there's definitely human decay here," Jimmy turned back to his peers.
"Goddammit…" Jeremy muttered.
8:00pm
On the dot. Helga's phone began to vibrate in her pocket as she sat at the kitchen table. Outbound from detention. She didn't even have to look at the call ID to know who it would be. She hurriedly finished chewing the bite of bacon, egg, and cheese burrito that was her dinner for the night to accept the call and flip it to speaker.
"Hey," She said after swallowing, reaching for her water to cleanse her throat.
"Jesus Christ there is so much fucking going on right now," Arnold responded, sounding very uncharacteristic to his normal linguistics right out of the gates, but she supposed he found no need for formal greeting.
Helga sat her water back down, "Tell me about it. I'm assuming Lance talked to you today?"
"Yeah, for quite a bit," He went silent for a moment before asking, "Have you heard any more info about Monica?"
"I haven't," Helga frowned, taking another bite of burrito, chewing and swallowing, "Other than she's recovering from a surgery and is doing well I suppose."
Arnold sighed, coming off as very agitated that night in general, "How can one person do so much damage to so many people?"
Helga reached for the sriracha by her plate, squirting a little more on the chewed end of her burrito, "Sheer will," She speculated.
"It's not right. Other people shouldn't suffer just because I'm unlucky."
"Arnold, I don't know that there is anything you could have done differently to have escaped this." She'd started coming to terms with the idea that there was nothing that could have prevented the events that had taken place. What dwelled like a lead weight in her heart was how she'd handled everything. "Did Lance talk to you about what all he filed?"
"Yeah he said he's filed a motion to dismiss, or well…handed it off to a judge he knew. We'll see I guess."
Truthfully she hadn't any faith in any law enforcement system at this point. Everybody had gotten fooled by one lone asshole and that didn't leave her with any confidence in their abilities to correct the mistake. However she was a little surprised at Arnold's gloomy tone. Helga bit her lip for a second before, "You don't think they'll focus their attention on Tacoma and quietly let you go?" She asked, being the more optimistic one for a change.
"I mean, I hope they do, obviously," His voice shifted into a more hopeful tone, but only momentarily before the pessimism regained the wheel, "But…as with a lot of things, they might double down because they don't want to get sued," Arnold explained before exhaling, "And honestly, even though I'm not that type of person, I probably should sue them."
"I would," Helga agreed, but she was no stranger to having to have her lawyer draft and send a nice letter here and there to a client who refused to pay. This was different. Entirely. This whole thing had ruined his life. Perhaps 'sorry' wasn't going to be good enough. "Your life will never be the same."
"No. It won't." His voice got even more sad, which was a stark change from the eternal optimism he had tried to have all along. Or at least before she abandoned him, and he tore into her with a ferocity she'd never seen in him before. He'd been reasonably optimistic even as she'd continued to push him away. She had to assume it was because he was so close to being free that it was annoyingly agitating to him. She imagined herself being very restless in his shoes. "Everything I've worked for it gone," Arnold exhaled once more, knowing he'd eventually have to deal with that, but not truly wanting to focus on it any longer that night, "But anyway…how's Hunter today?"
"Eat, sleep, poop, repeat," Helga listed as she polished off the last of her meal, "She had a bath tonight. She's still not a fan of them."
Arnold chuckled, "Still?"
"I don't think she enjoys being naked, honestly," Helga chuckled, not really knowing what else it could be.
"Ironic."
January 1st
Fourteen hours of sleep might have been desired, but it hadn't been received. Sid found himself up and out the house again less than nine hours after closing his eyes on his pillow. The excavation crew were arriving at the orchard early to mid morning and he didn't want to miss a thing.
Of course they were late. Not getting on site until closer to lunch time, but work began pretty quickly, and a mere four feet into the earth they hit pay dirt. Once they got most of the soil removed from the roughly five foot length rectangles they could see the tarps poking up out of the thin veneer of the wayward roots and rocks.
"Well…don't those look familiar," Sid dully remarked, "He's staging again…"
"Or this is cold storage," Don replied with a grim expression, catching the young man's gaze shifting to him, "This land is held in a family trust. Has been since 1998 when the grandfather died. Nearest member lives in Northern California."
Tacoma.
6:30pm
By the time he left the excavation, Sid felt like he had the world sitting on his shoulders. It wasn't fair of him to assume he was the only one feeling the pressure, because he knew Don, Jeremy and Tacoma county were also sharing in the panic that they were literally racing the clock. Would this guy get away? Would he get somebody else before they could stop him?
For there to be so many moving pieces that he now understood, he still felt utterly lost in the web and very much still flying by the seat of his pants. He didn't feel like going home. Going home meant that he'd be tempted to watch that security footage over and over again, letting his mind wander down a rabbit hole that he was positive was being made up by stress and an observation from his wife. He could't afford to waste precious energy on such a ridiculous notion while so many things were going on.
Instead he went to Tacoma. To the hospital specifically to check in on Monica. He tapped his knuckles on the door a few times before pushing it open to peak his head through the crack, hoping she wasn't sleeping. She wasn't. She appeared to be flipping through the crappy tv channels, appearing to have just had dinner, if the empty tray pushed to the side was any clue.
"Hi," Sid greeted her with a warm smile, "I hope I'm not bothering you."
Thankfully Monica shook her head, dropping the remote to the sheets as she returned his smile with a small one of her own, "No. No more than all this noise is."
"Yeah," Sid quietly chuckled as he slipped inside the room and eased the door closed, "It's surprisingly hard to get any rest in these places. Too much energy I think." He moved to sit down in the nearby chair.
"Trust me, I know. I work in these places," Monica's eyebrows popped once as she exhaled and Sid cast a considering stare, "Unfortunately, I don't really have much else to tell you since we last talked. If that's why you're here," She told him, her tone sounding sad and disappointed.
Sid shook his head, "No. I was uh…just checking in on you, to see how you are doing."
Monica's mouth down-turned in a brief moment, almost appearing surprised to hear that, "Oh…well…better I guess. Still in a lot of pain," A ghost of smile whispered across her face as she looked back down at her lap, fidgeting with the sheets, "Hospital food as never tasted so good. I never thought I'd say that. I'm happy that I can say that."
"I…I can't imagine," Sid exhaled, "I'm not even going to try and pretend that I can either."
"Nobody can," Monica shrugged, but once again put on a tiny smile, "These aren't normal things Detective Morreti."
"They are about a mile past abnormal as well," Sid agreed, "Into the realm of monsters."
"Diabolical," Monica offered, "The devil came to Washington and got busy turning it into hell. At least he might as well be the devil. No human being can do what he did," She then let go of a breath of air, catching his eyes once more, "Monster isn't a strong enough word."
Sid nodded, agreeing with her on that as his lips pursed for a second, "Has anybody talked to you yet about…what happens when you're okay to leave?"
"Like where I'm going?"
"Yeah,"
"You're referring to a safe house?"
"Yeah."
"No."
"Well, I'll be honest with you, even the best safe houses leave a lot to be desired. Especially when recuperating health," Sid explained, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, "My wife and I…we have deep pockets, so if you're interested, we could certainly put you someplace safe, that will be a lot more comfortable to recuperate in."
"Do you think I need to stay some place like that?"
Sid shrugged, "I don't think this guy is resurfacing anytime soon for anything. But you're the only one that might know better. Do you think he'd come find you if you went home?"
"No," Monica shook her head, "He knows I don't know anything. Besides, his trophies sit in jail. I held no importance to him other than being a pawn and for whatever perverse thing his mind could conjure up."
Sid nodded, straightening in his chair once more, "Well, just think about it. The invitation will stay open."
"I'll probably go to my parent's home," Monica explained, but smiled none-the-less, still appearing to really appreciate the kind gesture, "Thank you though."
January 3rd
It had been a minute since he'd grabbed brewskis with the guys, and he really wouldn't have said yes had it not been for the fact that he knew it would be good for him to blow off some steam. The pressure was getting to be more crushing by the day. When he walked through the bar doors, Brian and Jeremy were already seated. A first seeing as he was usually never the last one to arrive.
He quietly slid into the booth next to Brian, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it behind him. "How's it going?" Brian asked.
"It's going."
"We went ahead and ordered you a beer," Jeremy pointed to a still frosty Miller Lite sitting in front of his friend's spot.
"Thanks," Sid responded, grabbing it and taking down nearly half the bottle in a few gulps because that's how he felt. To his side, Brian ran his hand through his curly, dirty blonde hair and Sid realized it was the first time in awhile he'd seen him with anything other than a fade cut.
Had it really been that long since they'd seen each other?
"So…this shit has gotten bananas, huh?" Brian pipped up, his brown eyes widening as he looked between his two friends.
"You think?" Sid gave him a dead-panned look, "Sorry," He apologized for being such a smart ass, "Seriously though. Have you ever heard of anything like this?"
"I mean…nearest thing I can think of is—"
"Israel Keys," Jeremy finished, leading Brian to do a snapping point at him for correctly finishing his sentence. "Not quite the same but, methodically genius none-the-less."
"Methodically intelligent, but I wouldn't say genius," Brian quipped, rolling his eyes, "Using a victims ATM cards? Stupid."
"Can we talk about anything else other than this?" Sid finally interrupted, silently kicking himself for even entertaining the sly way of getting the conversation on the topic to begin with. The point was to come out and blow off steam, not continue to work.
His two friends blinked at him before Brian shrugged, "Yeah I guess. I just figured you'd want a sounding board for your theories like usual," He explained, sounding pretty disappointed and flat out dumbfounded in Sid's unwillingness to participate that night.
And Sid knew he had nobody to blame but himself for his friend's assumption of the nights conversational topics. Brian was his sounding board when he and Jeremy had exhausted themselves with theories. His expression softened a bit as he sighed and waved his friend off, "I'm just overwhelmed right now. I need to decompress. Nothing personal."
"Yeah, no I get it man."
Sid trudged into his dark apartment not long after leaving the bar. Rhonda appeared to already be in bed, which was highly unusual, though she had been feeling a little under the weather the last few days. He wondered if his stress and anxiety were starting to wear on her because she hadn't any particular alignment causing her to feel that way. She wasn't accustomed to much stress in her life and he usually did a pretty good job of not bringing work home with him. But this was different. This had taken over his life, the city, half the state at that point if he were honest. He couldn't not tote that weight home with him as much as he would have liked to have left it on his desk at work.
He peeked into their room, seeing her curled up under the covers with the TV murmured. Wandering in, he sat down on the edge of the bed next to her and laid his hand on her hip, stirring her light slumber, "Hey…" He whispered.
"Hey…" Came her sleepy reply, "You just get home?"
"Yeah," He nodded, unbuttoning his shirt, pulling his tie completely off, "How are you feeling?"
Rhonda shrugged, "Alright I guess."
"Need anything? Water, Advil…?"
His wife craned her neck over to see the time on the wall clock before shaking her head, "No, I took some a little over an hour ago," She then snuggled back into her pillow, "There's some spaghetti in the fridge for you."
Sid nodded, leaning forward and planting a kiss on her temple, "Love you."
"Love you."
He finished peeling off his dress shirt and slacks, throwing them in the laundry basket before sliding into some sweats and a t-shirt for the night. The mention of spaghetti had sent his stomach into a roar of grumbles that the beer in his belly was no longer able to ward off.
Once changed, he headed to the kitchen, pulling all of the spaghetti makings out of the fridge, dumping the noodles, sauce and meatballs into a large plate before sticking it into the microwave to heat up. In a few minutes, it was warmed sufficiently enough for him, and he grabbed a fork and a cup of water and headed off to his office to eat at his desk while fiddling on his laptop.
His intention was to browse the web, maybe look at some motorcycles he wanted, anything to help wind his mind down for the night. As it was, the last time he was actually on his computer he'd left that surveillance footage pulled up. And of course, his twitchy fingers wanted to entertain his defiant brain and get sucked into that rabbit hole once more. He wouldn't do it though.
He couldn't.
"No," He shut the whole damn laptop, ceasing the temptation, finishing his meal in silence before opting to just go get in bed.
In spite of the fact that he didn't want to entertain the rabbit hole, the rabbit hole certainly was more than willing to entertain him. And after a few hours of restless sleep, he'd found himself right smack dab back in his office chair, replaying the same two ten second clips of their mysterious guy walking across the road to and from Monica's home.
He had a certain gate about him. A certain way he tucked his hands into the front of his jean pockets as he hurried across the road. A certain posture when he stopped. He knew why it all reminded Rhonda of who it did. It was hard not to think of him when he saw it. The gate was similar because of a leg injury. The mannerism was similar. The posture was similar.
But like she said. There had to be millions of men who all all had that same gate, posture, mannerism, height, and weight.
Had to be. Because the rabbit hole was preposterous.
Absolutely preposterous.
January 8th
"Hey Shortman," One of the guards knocked on his cell door, causing the young man to jump from where he lay in a light doze on his bed, "There's someone here to see you."
With a heart nearly out of his chest, he flung his legs over and hopped up, shaking the bits of grog from his head, attempting to perk up for his unknown guest.
As he'd become accustomed to, he put his hands through the door openings to be cuffed before stepping back so that they could open the door and lead him down the short hallway into the private visitor area. He knew it had to be Lance if that was the room he was going to. Only attorneys received the privilege of a glass-less face to face.
Not that he could have seen Helga vying for that option those days anyway.
And he'd be correct. Lance was already waiting, leaning against the desk and smiling brightly when the guard ushered his young client into the room. Predictably this caused a brow to arch suspiciously—yet hopefully—on Arnold's worn face, "I take that you have some good news for me today?" He asked, his voice still airing caution, even if there were no markers warranting it.
Lance slapped a folder down on the table and watched as Arnold's eyes jumped to it, "Granted."
The blonde's eyes jumped wide, his mouth bobbing open and closed a few times before, "You're serious?" He said in almost a stutter.
"The judge had been watching this thing play out for quite some time. Of course having a living victim and more bodies helps too," Lance said with a shrug, dropping a hand on one of Arnold's shoulders, "You're free to go on January 15th, but don't be surprised if they don't lighten up on you."
Arnold looked at the older guy for a moment, feeling his eyes getting heavy at the thought that his nightmare was slowly ending. Finally. "Thank you," He said with a watery smile, "I would hug you but…" He held up his cuffed hands.
"Hug me after," Lance chuckled.
"Sweet dreams you cute little girl," Helga cooed at her four week old in a feather soft voice. The infant didn't crack and lid, predictably, even opening her mouth for a yawn, "Oh…big yawn," Her mother chuckled as she laid her back down in the pack n' play after her first meal of the night.
Night two of sleeping in something other than her swing for any length of time. Helga kept her fingers crossed that it was the start of crib sleep. Once she was re-swaddled and drifted off, Helga walked off to the bathroom, kind of wanting to grab a relaxing bath. Something she hadn't done in a little while.
She saw no reason to deny herself the pleasure, and she did just that, drew herself a bath and slipped into the warm blanket of suds, feeling every tension melt away as soon as she laid back into the frothy abyss. She remembered why she had made a point to do that at least once a week. A good soak was rejuvenating.
She soaked in silence, hands clasped atop her head, eyes closed for quite awhile, enjoying the silence though slowly beginning to wish she'd grabbed a book to read in order keep her mind from eventually wandering into more stressful topics, which it eventually did.
Mainly the worry that had begun to permeate her demeanor. Arnold had been granted his dismissal. Very good news and she was certainly relieved. But then there was this whole other side of her that didn't know how to start going about existing with him again. There was so much she was so angry with him about. The constant toggle between being supportive and happy about his release and vindication, and anger that border-lined on straight hatred was taxing to say the least.
More and more as of lately.
They talked. They talked often enough. But the conversations were so sterile no one would hear them and ever think that they had ever been together.
She really needing some reading to distract her chatty brain.
And purely by chance, her phone began vibrating on the bathroom vanity at the exact moment she'd decided to go grab the novel sitting on her nightstand.
Reaching for the phone, she saw that it was outbound detention, a little surprised to see it was already 8:00pm. Being beholding to a newborn had made time rather elusive to her and she seemed to never really know what hour it was anymore. Never-the-less, she inhaled some chipper spirit and answered his call, "Congratulations."
"You have no idea how much of a weight is off of my shoulders tonight," Arnold replied, his voice not sounding so worn for the first time in months.
Helga smiled, shifting and scooting herself up more in the tub, "Lance is a good attorney."
"He's a fantastic attorney," Arnold gushed, still not believing it was really happening, "I'm just…wow. I can't believe this is happening," He then laughed and sighed contently. Things had seem so bleak not that long ago that his mind was still sparkling in wonder that such a light had opened up.
"He seems to think they might try to pop you for something else to put you back in there," Helga wearily said, disgruntled that she was even having to consider such a shitty prospect.
"I'm bracing myself for it," He acknowledged, his demeanor dimming a touch, "I shouldn't have to, but I am."
"I know," She agreed, letting an inaudible breath escape her lips before, "So…I suppose you should…plan to come back here." Might as well just go ahead and rip that band-aid off.
Arnold's response wasn't immediate, almost as if he had to think about it, or decide if he'd heard her correctly in the first place, "If that's what you want?"
It was Helga's turn to leave him hanging in silence for a moment as she decided how to answer that, ultimately deciding not to mince words with him, "Not really…but…we agreed to co-parent and I can't in good conscious leave you fending for yourself."
"I mean…I'm sure I could go to Gerald's if it's a prob—"
"No, it's not a problem," She assured, bringing her free hand up to run through her hair that was piled atop her head. She'd gotten past the feeling of never wanting to see him again, but she still didn't want much of anything that didn't strictly involve Hunter, to do with him, "I just need you to understand that…me letting you come back here," She refrained from using the word home, "Doesn't mean anything. We have a child to take care of. That's all." Also she wasn't a completely soulless individual.
She heard him quietly sigh, maybe in disappointment, maybe in aggravation, she didn't know. "I know that," He finally acknowledged.
January 11th
One thing Sid had learned about Don, was he had a way of under-promising and over-delivering. Take for example him giving Sid a heads up that he was going to definitely be talking to the local media.
Fine.
In the midst of everything, Sid had almost forgotten all about it. Sure there were still stories of Monica's escape and all the questions still percolating daily. And that's what Sid expected to see that morning when he pulled up his local news feed on his phone as he did most days.
His heart hiccuped a few times when the first thing he read was a headline that said, "Did Hillwood Police Department drop the ball?"
Then another that said, "DNA linked two famous crimes. Police department looked the other way."
A third… "How Long did the Prosecutors Office Know?"
And a more sensational piece entitled, "The King County Gulag: Guilty by Association."
Don obviously had tricks up his sleeve just as Sid did, because he certainly knew how to deliver. Though he did speculate that this guy had probably just been sitting around for several years, being driven mad by a hunch, a hunch that was now proven correct and now that he felt vindicated, was out for blood.
The precinct was going to be a joy.
January 15th
"Here you go Shortman," The guard announced, handing Arnold a paper bag through the opening. The blonde peaked inside to see it to be the clothes he'd been wearing the day he'd been picked up at the airport, among other things. He wasted little time pouring the contents out onto his bed, pulling off his jumpsuit before sliding into his jeans—a little looser—and the t-shirt.
His watch was there, but in need of winding.
He rolled on the socks and slipped his feet back into his old sneakers.
The last items from the bag were the set of wedding rings. His and hers. He'd almost forgotten about them. He scooped them into his palm, staring at them while he filled with a mixture of sadness, and anger before he stuffed them into his jean pocket, not really wanting to dwell on that tragedy for the time being.
It was for another day perhaps.
2:15pm.
The most random of hour to have to pick up somebody. But that was the time that Helga had been given for when Arnold was schedule to walkout the gates with all the belongings he had on him the day they picked him up. Which couldn't have been much if she recalled. They had been in the airport.
It worked out though. Hunter had eaten right before she left the house and conked out in her carseat before Helga had even gotten down the driveway. As long as she didn't get caught waiting around forever, she was good.
She pulled her black sedan to the curb of the backside of the prison, eyeballing the guard gate and wondering if she needed to go check-in or something. There had been no directions to do so, so she was going to wait until further notice.
Luckily the wait wasn't long. At a minute past 2:15pm, she saw a single chain link fence door open and Arnold's tall form stride out, looking back once before catching sight of he car. He briskly walked to her car, pulling the passenger door open and hurriedly slinking into the seat, almost as if he were afraid they were going to change their mind, or possibly because it was thirty degrees out and all he had was a t-shirt.
"Hey," Helga smiled, suddenly finding it weird to be seeing him out of orange and not behind plexiglass. Somehow he seemed different, and probably because he was in a lot of ways.
Arnold smiled, looking relieved, "Hey. How's it going?" He thrust his hands up to the vents, desperate for the heat they were providing.
"It's going," She said, putting the car in drive and pulling away. The ride home was quiet, a notable tension just at the surface as neither one of them really knew what to make conversation over. Helga did ask, "Do you want to stop for anything to eat?"
"Um…no that's fine," He assured before they went back to silence. Arnold figured that the silence was maybe for the best. He passed the time leaning his arm on the door, listening to the low hum of her car and looking out the window as she sped past the city limits and down the quiet back roads towards their house. It felt like no time at all before they were turning down their winding driveway. As much as he was glad to finally be home, he could already feel the subtle tinge of dread beginning to creep up his core, making him feel a tad queasy.
It was kind of unexpected for him. He thought perhaps it were many emotions synthesizing out at once. He also had no idea what to expect inside or even how to go about co-existing with Helga.
Helga parked in the garage, silently getting out and unsnapping Hunter's car seat from the back seat before hauling her into the house. Admittedly he was a little hurt that she hadn't asked for any help, or even asked if he wanted to help, but he shelved the feeling knowing that she probably didn't mean anything by it. It was just her being her. With a hushed exhale, he slid out of the sport sedan, closing the door behind him before he wandered into his home.
Everything looked the same. Everything smelled the same. The return to familiarity brought relief and comfort but it also amplified that smoldering ember of dread in his belly. Aside from the worry that whoever had targeted him would attack again—and he certainly was having more and more thoughts about it lately. More than he should—he hadn't really any idea where to even start in getting back to normal. Normal really didn't exist anymore.
His jade eyes wandered to the living room where they caught sight of Hunter's carseat sitting on the floor, her little blanket covered legs poking out the front. He supposed normal started with meeting one of the most important people in his life for the first time.
Helga didn't seem to be anywhere around, but he heard walking around and talking upstairs and before he could think about that further, he heard muffled galloping from above, followed by the rowdy descent down the stairs by the dogs who'd obviously been let out of their crates.
They practically fell over each other to get off the landing when they noticed Arnold standing at the threshold of the kitchen and the living room. Their tails couldn't whip any faster as they bolted to him, jumping at his legs and rolling over on his feet in pure joy. "Hey boys," Arnold greeted them as he squatted down, letting them jump into his chest and lick his face, "Did you miss me? I missed you," He hugged them, "You've gotten fat," He then marveled at the pair, "Momma doesn't play in the yard with you like I did, does she?" He speculated over their weight gain, giving them both belly scratches to pacify their whines.
As much as he had missed his boys, his mind snapped his attention back to the newborn in the carrier some feet away from him, prompting him to resume standing.
He walked over, kneeling down to peer at her, realizing that that was the very first time he'd seen his baby since the last ultrasound appointment he'd attended. Which hardly counted in his opinion, "My goodness…" He breathlessly said, reaching out and rubbing her little hand with his finger, feeling himself start to melt as he pulled began unbuckling her from the harness. Once out, he brought her into his chest, cradling her so delicately while murmuring, "Oh...sweet girl. You were almost gone forever," He closed his eyes for a long moment, barely registering that Helga had quietly skipped back downstairs, having wrapped up a phone call that had grabbed her right after walking in.
Arnold stepped back and took a seat on the couch, moving Hunter onto his forearms, head in his open palms as he leaned his elbows on his knees and just marveled at her. Predictably, Jack and Rory hopped onto the couch to offer their expert assistance.
Hunter was so little, but so beautiful.
So perfect.
Very alert for an almost one and a half month old, and with the biggest, bluest eyes.
He smiled down at her, "You have very pretty eyes. You do," He cooed in a quiet, but playful little voice, that made Helga's heart hurt. He had to agree with the popular opinion, she did look just like Helga. So much so, that he could even see her little lips beginning to learn the art of scowling. It made a smile spread across his face. Arguably the happiest smile he had had in months. And she smiled back—though involuntarily—as he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, breathing deeply and relishing in that new baby smell.
He wasn't entirely sure how it was possible to love somebody that he had just met so much, but he did. It left him with the sweetest feeling of blooming warmth pushing up through his chest and it sent his mind reeling through snapshots of all the things he'd get to teach her, and all the milestones he'd get to see her grow through, and all the memories they would have. And as wonderful as it was to finally be able to think about those things, it couldn't prevent the clouds from marching over the horizon. Clouds that overshadowed his happy glimpse of the future with all the 'almosts' that nearly derailed it entirely. His mind was suddenly flushed with flashbacks of LAX…Helga yelling at him through plexiglass…the view at the outlook…all the nights he'd sat alone in his cell.
His throat tightened. The warmth he'd been basking in receding like the tide into the pit of his gut, leaving him internally gasping and a very frightening feeling crashing down over him. It made his eyes begin to sting and his throat too painful to swallow the feeling away. "I love you…" He whispered to Hunter in a strained voice, "I love you so much," He repeated as big salty tears breached his pitifully equipped bottom lids.
It seemed like within seconds, his face was soaked. Leaning forward, he sat Hunter back down in her car seat, attempting to deal with his sudden emotional state, but ultimately just letting his face rest in his palms while the tears continued to ooze.
"Arnold…?" Helga tried softly, not really sure what to do or how to offer support. Everything was just so awkward.
Her voice, which had always been so soothing to him, felt abrasive and just irritated him in that moment. He hated that he felt that way but he was angry. He didn't want to be, and he hadn't really even realized he was until then. Yet he wasn't going to scold himself for feeling the way he did.
He had every right to feel the way he felt.
A floorboard creaked as Helga inched closer to him. Hearing her, he slid his hands down his face, resting them in a prayer position with his lips resting against his index fingers. He was desperately trying to figure out how to put into words everything he was feeling. "I don't blame you for what happened to me," He said after a long moment, turning his head to glare at her with bloodshot eyes that were hardened with indignation, "But I deserved to be believed if by nobody else but you, no matter what," He sniffed. Even he was surprised at just how much resentment towards her had been boiling under the surface, "That's love."
Helga was in no mood to fight with him, yet she couldn't prevent her defensive nature from taking the wheel. He had a lot of nerve scolding her about shitty actions, but she still had no business in feeding into his hurt. "Don't scold me about love," She warned through her teeth, fixing him with her own well practiced glower, "You don't think I regret how I handled everything? You don't think it haunts me?"
"No…" Arnold barked and abruptly sprung from his seat, "Haunting is realizing you came this close…" He marched up on her, backing her away a few steps while holding his thumb and index finger an inch apart in her face,"…to never knowing your own child," As the words left his mouth a fresh sprouting of tears slid out of each eye, feeling more and more anger towards her with each passing word, "Haunting is realizing that you came this close to ending it all because of abandonment." He kept his furious glare on her for a moment more before the boy's barking and growling broke his trance. Glancing down he saw them in the gap between he and Helga, threatening him to back away from her. They had never done that. No matter how bad of arguments the two of them had ever gotten into, the boys had never done that. He suddenly realized how scary he probably appeared and just how much of a stranger he really was to his own family. It sent him into recoiling his menacing posture away, stepping back from her much smaller figure, though his boiling anger at her quelling very little. "That's fucking terrifying for me to think about right now, you know that?" He shook his head, wiping his eyes that seemed to have a never ending supply of water to leak, "You put me in a bad place by stealing what little joy I had left."
Gerald had said something similar to her not all that long ago with the ominous warning that she would be sorry if something did happen. It hadn't entirely panned out, and thank God, but she was still feeling about as small as a person could get over the whole thing. She wished she could have blamed it on a knee jerk reaction to finding out about his shady behavior. Not that it would have made it any better she supposed, but she'd bought, hook, line and sinker, that he was a serial killer even though many things didn't make sense. Her defensiveness finally began to melt away as she chose to look off while running her hand through her hair in thought. "I'm sorry…" She looked back at him, her eyes thawed from their earlier intense blues, "I know that's not anywhere near good enough, but I don't really know what else to say right now…"
His intense stare held a moment more before he sighed and looked away, his burning anger being chased away by an awash of pure sadness. He wiped his leaky red eyes with the edge of his palm, sniffing, "Yeah…"
"We've…" She began in a slow, softer voice, testing the waters, very much afraid of another flair up, "We've clearly got more things to work out than we thought…" Her problems were well documented, but she had had no clue of the type of distress he was bringing to the table.
And that was a failure on her part. She knew that. How could he not be bringing some type of resentment to the table? It was very foolish of her to think that she was the only victim in the situation.
A sardonic little laugh escaped his lips as he shook his head, "I wanted to come home and work on fixing us. Work on earning your trust back in me. Despite all the shit going on, it was my top priority, but…I don't know…I'm suddenly having a hard time tolerating you at the moment," He wiped his raw eyes once more before crossing his arms over his chest a little defensively and shrugged, "It feels foreign to me but…I think I tried to convince myself that I understood why you did it, but that was just me refusing to acknowledge the damage." Sitting in prison, amongst men who were actually dangerous took up the majority of his energy and since that was no more, he had time to start synthesizing everything out. It all made sense to him.
Helga sighed, nodding at his confession before expressing her own after debating on whether it was worth repeating or if it was going to spiral them into another blow up. Her feelings were just as important as his, "And what you did…damaged my my trust in anybody around me," She conceded in a tone void of any anger, or accusation.
Arnold unwound his tightly crossed arms and ran a hand through his hair, scratching the back of his head, looking away as he thought about everything. He probably had a dozen things he wanted to say, and not a one of them would do anything positive for the situation. Cooler thoughts were prevailing thankfully, because he knew that anything else he wanted to say would just make the gap between them even wider. He licked his lips, shifting his gaze back onto her, "I appreciate you letting me come home….but…I think it's probably best if we stay out of each others way for a little while."
The smaller blonde nodded slowly, "Okay," was all she could say as she watched him lean back over and foist Hunter back up into his arms before walking past her and towards the stairs. But before he could climb them she turned and asked, "You really didn't mean a lot of what you wrote did you?" She knew full and well that the confessional portions were true, but now she wondered about everything else.
Arnold paused, taking a breath, his jaw rotating around a few times before, "I…convinced myself that I shouldn't care that you were gone or that she was gone," He closed his eyes, "I was always going to care though. Spending the rest of my life knowing that she was out in the world…" He trailed off, opening his glassy green eyes and shaking his head, "The only way I wouldn't have cared is for me to cease existing. I had sins to atone for first and the least I could do was make you feel like you did the right thing."
Helga swallowed, "I think it did the exact opposite," She confessed.
"Yeah," He quipped with a tight nod before continuing his climb up the stairs. He needed to cool off be alone for awhile. Ironic considering he had been nothing but alone for months by then.
Striding down a hallway that felt as familiar to him as it did foreign he intended to take refuge in his office for awhile. He noticed that there was flooring down, and in the copper-tone color he'd been so fond of to boot. He wondered if she had it done before things got ugly between them or if she'd merely convinced herself that she'd liked it first after he'd become—temporarily—non-existent to her.
He cracked the door to his study, rather surprised to find it almost the way he had left it. His laptop wasn't on the desk but there was an open topped box sitting there, appearing to be full of many things. Across the room, it looked like she'd hung a bunch of his clothes in the small tri-fold door closet. His mind mused over the fact that that stuff still existed at all. He had prepared himself to learn that she'd donated it all or burned it or something. Though now that he thought about it, his vehicle was still stored in the garage, which in itself was nothing short of a miracle.
He walked over to the box and peered in, in fact seeing his laptop along with a bunch of other things that he imagined had been taken in the search warrant. Work phone, personal phone, iPads for both home and work. With his free hand, he pulled the laptop out and sat it on his desk, doing the same for his personal phone before shooing the box to the floor beside his chair.
Glancing down at Hunter in the crook of his arm, her eyes wide as she watched what he was doing. He grinned, leaning down and kissing her on her little blonde topped head. There was a sinus headache forming behind his stinging eyes, triggered by the onslaught of emotion. He shifted the infant over into his left arm, freeing up his right hand to turn his phone on and pry open his laptop. They both had battery life, though not much, which sent him digging through that box for power cords to jam into the wall outlet behind his swivel chair.
Both devices booted quickly and the first thing he did was bulk delete all his voicemails, and text messages. He didn't care at all what any of them said. The phone had service still which was of very surprising to him, though considering everything else of his that still remained, perhaps it shouldn't have been.
All the files on his computer were disorganized, no doubt that they'd gone through it with a fine tooth comb. He hoped they had enjoyed reading countless medical journals and and sifting through an internet search history that primarily consisted of sports news sites and food and outdoor blogs.
Downstairs Helga was still partially stupefied by what had just happened between them. But again, it shouldn't have, and she knew it. He'd bitten her head off a few times before then, she should have known that there was more tension brewing under the surface than what appeared.
And now she had to live under the same roof as him. Regret was already hovering which brought guilt. With a sigh, she walked over and picked up Hunter's bouncer, intending to take it up stairs for him to use.
She trudged up the stairs with it, already know he'd gone to the office because every square inch of floor in that old house creaked distinctively. Toeing the door open a touch, she saw him sitting at his desk, Hunter in arm as he fiddled with his laptop.
Arnold caught sight of her from the corner of his eye, turning his head and lifting his brows in questions, "Is there something you need?" He said in a very curt tone, wishing to be left alone and aggravated she was bothering him so soon.
"No," She shook her head, instantly regretting trying to be nice, but inched further into the room anyway, "She seems light right now, but after awhile your arm is going to get heavy," She explained, setting the bouncer down near his desk, "She loves hanging out in this thing."
"Oh…" Arnold's face softened as he looked at the contraption, "Uh…thanks."
"Yeah…" She replied, making her way back to the door before turning, "Let me know what you feel like for dinner."
Arnold nodded, "I will."
It was a bar night, and with all the tension in the department, it was a much needed bar night. Sid was early, as usual, watching Brian and then Jeremy drift into the cozy warmth from the frigid cold night. Each one pried themselves out of their thick coats before sliding into the booth seat across from him. "What's up."
"I'm thinking about going back to Florida, man," Jeremy announced, rubbing his hands together, "I'm not even kidding."
"Really?" Sid thinned his eyes in disbelief, "You've lived here longer than you lived there. You should be used to the cold by now."
"It's two degrees out there. Nobody ever gets used to this," His partner insisted.
"Have you tried?" Brian chuckled, "Like maybe try to acclimate yourself instead of bundling up so much."
Jeremy blinked at him, "Dude, I'm half cuban. We are warm blooded people."
"And my family is from Spain, what's your point?" Brian rolled his eyes.
"Oh just shut up both of you," Sid waved them off as their beers arrived, he having ordered for all of them prior.
"Can I get you guys anything else?" The young waitress asked.
"Anybody eating tonight?" Sid asked.
"Nah, I think I'm good," Jeremy shook his head.
"Same."
"Alright well let me know when you boys want another round and we'll get it right out."
"Thanks," Brian nodded and took a heavy gulp from his pilsner, "You guys think Claire is going to get the boot with all this media focus on her?"
Sid snorted, "Probably not. People like her don't get fired. They quietly resign if anything get moved into another job. Besides, it's not entirely her fault. She got wrapped up in this crap as much as everybody else." Truthfully he didn't care what happened to their prosecutor. As long as he wasn't being put in a position to blow up his career to do the right thing he was good.
"Yeah true," The dirty headed blonde agreed, "So what else has been happening with you surface dwellers?" He chuckled, "Any identifications on those new bodies yet?"
"Nope," Jeremy interjected, "Lab is hella backed up right now."
Sid sighed, "As usual."
"Have you seen the photos of that container?" Jeremy tilted his head toward Brian, who nodded, "Shit is crazy right?"
"What's crazy is how…somebody can leave behind so many clues and yet…not one of them gets us any closer to figuring out who he is," Sid shook his head, bringing his glass to his lips, "He's slathered DNA everywhere in there but…useless until we have something to test it against."
"Yeah I know how frustrating that is."
"It's maddening because I feel like we're so close…so close to figuring this out," Sid huffed.
"What is it they say? Six degrees of separation?" Jeremy theorized as he grabbed for his stout.
A couple hours ticked by, and after a few rounds they were all pretty firmly ready to get out of there for the night. Beers were finished and they each began sliding out of the booth, sliding back into their winter coats before slipping out into the cold wall of night air.
Sid looked both ways down the sidewalk, before habitually asking, "Where'd you two park?"
"We're both across the street right there," Jeremy pointed to his and Brian's trucks next to one another.
Sid deadpanned, "How? You both were late."
"Hell if I know man."
"Yeah well. I'm parked around back so…I guess I'll see you guys tomorrow."
Brian chuckled, "Sounds good. Take it easy."
"Yeah, you too."
Sid made to walk away, looking back once as his two friends began crossing the street, stopping mid stride when he watched one of them tuck both their hands in his front pockets as he briskly walked across the road with such an ever present gate.
"No" Sid vehemently told himself and continued walking on.
A/N: Arnold's home. Yay! But, they have some problems. Boo! And like I kept saying, he was going to rip into her about it. It had to happen. The big question is…will they be willing to come together and work on it or have they both caused each other too much damage? We'll see. We still have a killer to catch too!