[A/N: Now THIS was fun to write! I have a lot of other pieces of the outline sketched out but this is a good stopping point and I'm getting tired XD I hope you guys like this chapter. I have a feeling that you guys are gonna have more questions than answers for a while but trust me, it will all come together and make sense eventually! This story is gonna be a long one but hopefully I'll be able to update often enough.

If you have ideas as to where this is going or questions, I'd totally love to hear them. Reviews are very appreciated! The support you guys give is inspiration to keep going.

Anyway, enjoy the chapter. It's a nice long one! :)]

Flashback – 2004

"Don't struggle, little Lila," His voice was cruel and the girl could barely stand to look him in the eyes. His icy stare gave no indication of compassion as he slammed the back of her head against the brick wall. They were in a small alleyway between two tall buildings. It was dusk and Lila had been walking home from the city pool on this warm August evening.

"Let me go!" She pleaded, her voice immediately punctuated with sobs and fear. She tried to get away but he was behind her, one arm around her waist and the other groping her throat and mouth, trying to lessen her struggle. She was tiny compared to him, not even half-way through puberty but developed enough for him to have something to grab.

"Such a pretty girl you've grown to be," His breath was hot against her ear and Lila shivered with disgust. "Almost as pretty as your mother was," Her heart was in a panic and tears were streaming down her face. She felt his hand sinking lower, toying with the hem of her bikini bottoms. She'd already lost her pool towel in the initial struggle.

"Somebody please!" Lila cried out to no one in particular. From her vantage point she had no idea if anyone was nearby or not. "Help me!"

The man gripped her neck tight and Lila choked, leaning forward instinctively as she tried to lessen his grip. He grinned fiendishly and pulled her closer to his body. "Okay, no more games," His tone was harsher now, deeper, and Lila screwed her eyes shut as the world went dark.

. . . . . . . .

Present Day

Helga stepped into the Columbia International Airport, pulling a large purple and black suitcase behind her. She hadn't seen Rich in years but she figured she would recognize him when she saw him. Helga rolled her suitcase over to a window by the doors and sat down on the edge of a large potted plant. Rich was coming from Hillwood to fly to Concordia with her, all expenses covered by his grandfather.

"Helga?" Rich approached from the opposite direction in which Helga had come. "Hey," He greeted her warmly but her expression was blank.

"Hi," She forced a smile that didn't meet her eyes. "Have you checked in yet?"

"Not yet, have you?" He had a messenger bag over one shoulder and was rolling a much smaller suitcase in comparison to Helga's. His dark hair was messy but didn't look unkempt and he wore a pair of glasses that gave him a sophisticated appearance. "You look great,"

Helga ignored his compliment. "I haven't. Let's go," She immediately began to lead them to the check-in line and they stood in silence as they waited for their turn to approach.

"So how have you been?" Rich tried to make small talk as they weighed their bags and sent them on the conveyor belt to be loaded onto the plane. "You moved a few years ago, right?"

"Yeah," Helga gave a small nod and waited for her boarding pass to print, plucking it from the machine as soon as it popped out.

"I heard about the accident," Rich said, falling into step slightly behind her and not noticing the way her breath caught and her eyes clenched shut for a moment. "You're a living miracle,"

"Can we not talk about that?" Helga turned and glared at him which took Rich a back for a moment.

"Um, sure," He nodded as they got into the security line. "Sorry,"

Helga breathed and after a couple minutes spoke, "So, can you tell me more about what we're doing in Concordia?"

"Sure," Rich said as they placed their carry-ons on the conveyor belt as well as their shoes, belts, and coats. "My grandfather lives on the shore but most of my other relatives live on the island right next to it – it's small, only maybe seven miles long,"

He paused his explanation as he walked through the security scanner and waited for Helga to come through as well.

"My cousin's name was Marguerite and she disappeared almost thirty years ago," Rich said as he and Helga put their shoes, belts, and coats back on.

"So the likelihood of this actually being a fruitful search is slim," Helga said pointedly.

"Probably," Rich sighed. "But my grandfather is getting old. He won't be around for much longer and he hasn't given up on this for decades. I feel bad for him,"

"Hmm," Helga hummed.

Helga and Rich made idle chit-chat as they waited to board their plane and even as they waited for take-off, they barely spoke. Rich was on his smart phone and Helga stared out the window watching airport employees load their luggage before driving away on a little cart that pulled a longer cart that had once held everyone's suitcases and bags.

As the plane taxied around the landing strip, finally lifting off the ground and ascending higher and higher into the sky, Helga fell into a dissociated dreamland. She stared out at the cumulus clouds, sunlight bouncing off of them in the late morning sky, and fought off the memories that haunted her each day. The last thing she remembered was Arnold's green Packard, the one his grandfather let him use all the time, coming straight for her before she blacked out. She pushed down the geyser of emotion that threatened to erupt from her chest and took a breath to steady herself.

She looked over at Rich who had a pair of earphones in and his head was reclined back against the seat. Helga sighed and leaned her forehead against the window.

. . . . . . . .

William Bauer lived in a large mansion on the shoreline at the edge of the city of Concordia. The island next to it, nicknamed Linden's Cove, was technically considered part of Concordia since it was so close to shore and such a small island.

Helga and Rich showed up at the mansion in a cab and a butler was already standing at the gate waiting for them. As the iron gate opened and the cab pulled in, circling around the courtyard and coming to a stop in front of the house, Helga marveled at the sight of it all.

The yard seemed well-kept, despite winter's brutality. A thin layer of snow covered the ground as blades of dying grass peeped out. There was a fountain in the center of the courtyard, currently out of use, but Helga imagined that come spring this courtyard would be beautiful.

Rich handed some money to the cab driver and the two of them climbed out of the vehicle, grabbing their luggage from the trunk and following the butler inside.

"Welcome back, Mr. Bauer, Ms. Pataki," he'd said. "My name is Ronald. Come this way; Master Bauer is expecting you in his office,"

The two followed Ronald through the massive house and Helga found herself wide-eyed as she noted the towering bookshelves, the elaborately decorated interior with its fancy Persian rugs and ornate lighting fixtures, the large hand-painted portraits of whom she could only assume were other members of the Bauer family.

"Right this way," Ronald escorted them into a large room with windows almost as tall as the ceiling and a few bookcases that were just as impressive. There was a long mahogany desk at the end of the room with two matching chairs sitting in front of it. Another area rug accented the hardwood flooring in this room and at the desk sat a man with grey hair and a face touched by time and sadness.

"Thank you, Ron," The elderly man nodded to his butler and Ronald showed himself back out. "I'm so glad you both could make it," He said to Rich and Helga once they were alone. "How was your flight?"

Helga and Rich approached the desk, Rich being much more at ease and Helga still checking out her surroundings. The sky outside was overcast and big, thick, maroon curtains were drawn, allowing the soft lighting to gently brighten the room.

"Very quick, comfortable," Rich nodded.

"I wish you would've let me send you both first class," William frowned.

Helga wrinkled her nose but Rich responded, "Helga was a bit more comfortable flying economy,"

William opened his mouth to speak but instead shook his head and shrugged good-naturedly. "Ms. Pataki, welcome," He said warmly and the young woman turned to look at him. "Make yourself at home,"

"Uh, thanks," She uttered as she mirrored Rich's movements, sitting down in one of the chairs across from William's desk.

"So, Grandpa, would you care to elaborate on your story for Helga?" Rich nudged.

Helga thought it was kind of interesting but sweet how, even though they came from so much money and were part of society's elite, they still were like real people. She'd never spent much time getting to know Rich when they were in school together but she definitely noticed that neither he nor his grandfather came across as haughty or stuck-up – in fact, they seemed comfortably down-to-earth, despite their wealth.

"Of course," He nodded and Helga studied his aging face. It was clean-shaven which did nothing to disguise every wrinkle and frown-line the man had developed over time. His brow wrinkled and under his eyes was puffy. His eyes were bright and a light shade of grey and she noticed he had a widow's peak that sent a lock of his salt and pepper hair off into one direction in the front. He was wearing a crisp dress shirt but no blazer or tie. He looked respectable but relaxed.

"About thirty years ago," William began his story. "My niece, Marguerite, disappeared during a Fourth of July parade over on the island. She was the daughter of my late wife's sister, Sandra and her husband, Victor. My wife, Claudia and I lost our first child, a baby girl, shortly after she was born and so when Marguerite was born, I grew particularly fond of her as if she were my own," He sighed and smiled at Rich. "Of course, it wasn't long before your father Marcus came along," Rich smirked and nodded as William continued. "Anyway, Marguerite was an exceptional girl – very talented and kind. Her parents were often complimented on how well-mannered and sweet Marguerite was, even at a young age," William paused, his brow furrowing as he pinched his nose in thought, taking a deep breath. "She was sixteen at the time of the parade and the police searched for her for a long time but to no avail. On the day of the parade, the bridge had been shut down for several hours as one of its supports had weakened, causing a portion of it to collapse. The emergency personnel handled it quite promptly but people were stuck on the island for the better part of the day until the bridge was made passable,"

William seemed to read Helga's questioning look and chuckled, "The bridge is safe to pass now, as I'm sure you're wondering," Helga nodded, humming lightly to herself before giving William her attention again.

"By the time the bridge had been re-opened, Marguerite was already gone," William seemingly concluded with a sigh.

"So," Helga said, her gaze fixed on the desk in thought before looking back up at William. "Mr. Bauer, what do you think happened to your niece? You've been thinking about this for a while; I'm sure you have your own ideas,"

William sighed, clasping his hands together on the desk. "I believe she was murdered," He said quietly.

"Why is that?" Helga leaned forward, her curiosity more than piqued by this point. Even with everything haunting her these days, she was still fascinated by the mysterious and she couldn't think of a better distraction than this. At least for now.

"It was no secret that Marguerite was like a daughter to me," William explained. "You have to understand, Ms. Pataki, not everyone in our family is like Rich or Marguerite or myself. I'm afraid many of them have been corrupted by greed and hate. They all had their own reasons, of course, but they became cold nonetheless,"

Helga nodded thoughtfully.

"As I said, we searched for her night and day – divers scoured the shore, policemen and their dogs must have ran over every inch of that island and most of the shoreline here on the mainland but there was no trace of her," William stood up and walked over to one of the bookcases behind his desk, pulling out two large photo albums. "This album is from the year Marguerite disappeared and the other is a variety of photos from different times. The majority of the Bauer family is depicted in these photos so you'll be able to put faces to the names,"

"So you think one of your family members hurt Marguerite?" Helga inquired as she received the two albums and sat them in her lap.

"At this point, Ms. Pataki," William said as he slowly sat back down in his chair, arthritis making his movements shaky. "I don't trust any of them,"

"Great," Helga muttered as she began to flip through the old black and white and sepia-toned photographs.

"Ricky can show you around the island," William said and Rich glowered at the nickname but it faded quickly. "Everyone is aware that you're coming so there shouldn't be any surprises. I'd still be careful but they're expecting you," He turned to Rich. "Make sure you show her Marguerite's childhood home as well as the barn," Rich nodded in reply. "I don't want to overload you with too much information right away. You're free to take more photo albums if you wish and don't hesitate to ask if you have questions or need assistance with anything," Helga closed the photo album she'd been looking through and looked up to nod at the old man. "There's a cottage on the island, about five miles in, where you can stay during your investigation, and Ms. Pataki?"

"Hmm?"

"I will understand if you aren't able to find my niece," He said gently. "All I'm asking is for you to try and you should know I am terribly, terribly grateful.

I guess that's where he got that from. Helga smirked, glancing at Rich who hadn't noticed his grandfather using the same manner of speaking he'd often used when they were kids.

"I'll do what I can," Helga nodded respectfully to the older man as he stood up and the two young adults walked out of his office.

. . . . . . . .

Lila's Diary – 2013

It's late and Arnold is already asleep but I can't contain myself. I have to get this out! Tonight was ever so wonderful. I thought we'd lost the spark that brought us together but it's our third wedding anniversary and Arnold made this evening more special than I had anticipated!

We went to a nice restaurant downtown after he got off of work and oh, he was such a gentleman - pulling my chair out, brushing my hair out of my face, complimenting me. For the first time in so long, it truly felt like with me was the only place he wanted to be. With all the stress we've been through over the past couple years, I wasn't sure what was happening with us but things have been good – ever so – no! They've been magical and perfect and I love this man with all of my heart.

We talked and flirted and when we got back to our apartment he couldn't keep his hands off of me! This is exactly what I needed and have wanted from him for so long.

. . . . . . . .

Present Day

Later that night, Helga and Rich were settled into the cottage. It was a small, one-story building with two bedrooms, one bathroom and a combined living room-dining room-kitchen area that spanned the length of the house. It was made primarily of brick and was surrounded by woods and the properties of the other Bauers. Before sunset, Rich had driven them around the island on a moped his grandfather had kept for him since Rich was a teenager. With the sun going down, it'd gotten chillier and so no one had been out and about for him to introduce her to but he was able to help her get a lay of the land.

Now Helga sat at a round table, a myriad of photo albums open in front of her as she studied each one in detail. She felt like some sort of internal struggle was happening inside her as she didn't want to admit she was actually enjoying something. It'd been so long since she allowed herself to feel comfortable and passionate about something.

Rich had been sitting over on the couch watching TV but was now in the kitchen stirring a pot of box macaroni on the stove.

"I don't think I've had this since I was a kid," He laughed, trying to make small talk with Helga though she didn't respond. He scooped a portion into a bowl and walked over to the table. "Take a break. You haven't eaten since that bag of chips in the airport," He stuck the bowl in front of her face and she glared at it for a moment before sighing and pushing the closest photo album away from her. Rich sat the bowl in front of her and went back to the stove to dish a helping out for himself.

Helga played with the fork in her bowl and watched Rich at the counter. "No butler service out here in the woods, huh?" She joked sarcastically and Rich turned around.

He shrugged, smirking. "I suppose not," He nodded to the television on the other side of the room. "Want to watch something?"

"I'm supposed to be here working, aren't I?" She challenged, pointedly sticking a forkful of macaroni into her mouth and giving him a look.

"You can take a few minutes to relax," Rich tilted his head. "You've been at it for hours. Come on,"

Helga huffed and picked up her bowl, following him over to the couch and plopping down on the cushion next to him.

She stole glances at him when he didn't appear to be looking. He'd certainly changed since she saw him last and yet, he still looked familiar. She did notice, however, the slightly paler tone to his skin and the way he'd tried to hide his shortness of breath when they had been walking around the airport earlier that day. She wanted to ask him about his heart condition but she wasn't quite sure how to broach the subject. He hadn't confided that information to her and she couldn't very well tell him that she'd found his name on a list of people in Hillwood needing organ donors. She couldn't tell him that the whole reason she'd even agreed to help him and his grandfather with this probably pointless search was that she was trying to atone for what she'd done and the people she'd hurt in the accident. She couldn't tell him that she resented the fact that she'd lived and Arnold had died – a person who she had no doubt would've done more good in the world than she ever could - and it was her fault. She couldn't tell him that she'd been researching people and making plans to donate organs to those people who seemed like they deserved them. She couldn't tell him that she was considering giving him her heart.

. . . . . . . .

The Hillwood Community Center was often used for business meetings, conventions, class reunions and sometimes school dances. Rhonda had rented the entire space and tastefully decorated the interior with lights and posters of Lila. There was a buffet table at one end of the room with almost a dozen waiters and waitresses consistently restocking the food supply and a few tall cocktail tables were scattered around the room, each of which was covered with a simple white cloth.

There were a few news crews hanging around and several small tables had been set up with phones and people wearing headsets fielding calls to the tipline.

Arnold walked in with Mr. Sawyer and Brainy and was bombarded by camera crews almost immediately.

"Mr. Shortman, who do you blame for your wife's disappearance?"

"Is it true that the police found blood stains in your apartment?"

"Mr. Sawyer, do you believe your daughter is still alive?"

"Alright, alright," Sullivan and Rollins, who had been hanging around the entrance checking out the people who came, intervened and stepped between the guys and the camera crews. "I told you all to tread lightly tonight,"

The three men took their opportunity to escape the cameras and moved farther into the large room. There were more people than Arnold had been expecting but when he thought about it, it made sense. Even though Lila had become so withdrawn, she'd always been adored by even her acquaintances.

Most people were talking and Arnold tried to make his way over to the beverage table as Mr. Sawyer talked with Mrs. Vitello and Brainy scampered off to find the men's room.

"Arnold, dear," Rhonda appeared behind him, lighting tapping him on the shoulder as he turned around, a plastic up of water in his hand. "So glad you could make it," She flashed a sparkly white smile and lifted her wine glass to him.

"Obviously I would make it, Rhonda," Arnold said evenly. "Lila is my wife,"

"Yes," Rhonda replied, unimpressed, before looking over to where the press were interviewing someone Arnold didn't recognize. "The press release will be in about half an hour so you might want to tidy up your hair or… something," Rhonda said, casting a disdainful look at Arnold's unruly hair.

"The what?" He repeated, eyes slightly wide. "Why didn't you tell me I had to make a statement?"

"Oh, Arnold," She tsk-tsked. "Surely you must have assumed,"

He only glared, sipping his water and wishing he had something stronger. "Well at least I know now," He sighed.

"That's the spirit," Rhonda chimed. "Always loved that about you,"

A man Arnold didn't recognize called Rhonda from the crowd and she excused herself to go meet with them.

Why is Rhonda being so… weird? And frustrating? I know she can be kind of full of herself sometimes but I thought we were on good terms. Arnold thought to himself. Something doesn't feel right.

Arnold wandered around until the press release. Several people had come up to him to express their concern, sympathy, and well-wishes before he'd been charged with stepping up onto a platform at the end of the room along with Mr. Sawyer. Between them was a large poster of Lila, smiling broadly as her auburn hair fell in gentle curls around her face and bounced off the tops of her shoulders.

"Um," Arnold said, lights shining directly onto his face from above. "Thank you all for being here tonight to help support us in our search for Lila. If you have any information that could help us find her, please share it with the police so that we can find her," Arnold winced when a beam of light caught him in the eye and the flashes from the photographers did nothing to alleviate the problem.

"Mr. Shortman, are you worried about your wife and the likelihood that she may not be found?" A reporter called out from the front.

"U-Uh no," Arnold shook his head. "The police know what they're doing. If we all work together, I'm sure we can find out what happened and bring her safely home,"

"Please help us find my little girl," Mr. Sawyer stated when a reporter stuck their microphone in his face. "She's all I have in this world and she means everything to me. I know a lot of you have been friends with Lila or gone to school with her so you know she's a very special girl and she's been through a lot. Please help us bring her back home where she belongs," He finished his emotional plea and, at a loss for words and feeling awkward and uncomfortable, Arnold moved to leave the stage. That is, until Jenny Gilbert pushed her way through the crowd.

"What did you do to her, Arnold?" She yelled out angrily, immediately capturing the attention of the reporters around her who stuck their microphones out to Arnold.

"I-I - what are you talking about?" He stammered, halting in his tracks.

"Did you tell them Lila was pregnant, you asshole?" She cried. "Did you? Or that you didn't want the baby so you could keep sleeping around, you insensitive pig?!"

The crowd roared with questions and confusion as Sullivan and Rollins quickly jogged up to the platform and escorted Arnold away from the reporters and through several doors leading to a separate corridor.

"W-Wha – why'd she do that?" Arnold exclaimed, flabbergasted. "It's not true. It can't be true! Why would she lie to everyone?"

Sullivan and Rollins looked at each other, unfazed by Arnold's confusion. "Mr. Shortman," Sullivan said calmly as Rollins stood by, arms crossed over his chest. "We contacted your wife's doctor and were able to review her medical records," Arnold ceased his flustering to look at the two detectives. "She was indeed pregnant,"

Arnold's eyes narrowed in disbelief and he shook his head. "But-but that doesn't… we…" He couldn't wrap his mind around what they were telling him and he suddenly became aware that they were still staring at him and their eyes didn't look friendly.

"You remember that blood spatter we talked about before?" Sullivan asked. "And the large pool of blood we found that had been cleaned up?" Arnold nodded weakly. "We compared the DNA from that to Lila's DNA in her medical records and found it was a match,"

Arnold swallowed. It wasn't surprising, considering the circumstances, but hearing the confirmation that it was indeed Lila who had lost that much blood made him feel like the room was spinning. Sure, their marriage had been falling apart but he still cared about her. He didn't want anything bad to happen to her.

"Mr. Shortman, do you have any idea how your wife could have lost that much blood?" Sullivan inquired.

"N-No, I don't," Arnold shook his head vigorously, his eyes still wide as he tried to make sense of everything they were telling him. "And she's pregnant?"

"Hard to say now," Rollins said gruffly. "That's a lotta blood to lose when you're pregnant,"

"Mr. Shortman, I'd like to run somethin' by you," Sullivan said, pursing her lips. "See, I've been tryin' to give you some benefit of the doubt for most of this investigation,"

"Huh?"

She continued. "But there's just a few things off that I'm gonna see if you can clear up for us," She gave him a pointed look as she paced back and forth in front of him. "Y'see, when you first called us to your apartment, somethin' felt suspicious. That table that was broken with the glass shattered everywhere, you remember?" Arnold nodded. "Makes you think there was some sort of struggle, don't it?" He nodded again. "If there was that much of a struggle that a piece of furniture got broken, I just could not understand why none of the pictures you guys had setting on the end tables had fallen over. Not a hair out of place, aside from that coffee table," She shook her head and looked at him. "Now, how do you think that happened?"

"I… I really don't know," Arnold shrugged, his gestures desperate. "I called you guys as soon as I got home!"

"Yes, I remember you tellin' us that," Sullivan nodded. "And just to be sure, I went back to that living room and jumped around. Do you know what happened?"

Arnold waited for her to continue.

"The first time I jumped in that little apartment of yours, at least half of those pictures moved or fell down. How could there be a struggle, so intense, that that coffee table gets busted up the way it did but nothing else is affected anywhere else in that room?" She crossed her arms, tilting her head as she looked at him.

"I-I don't know," Arnold exclaimed. "God… I've told you guys everything I know!"

"Have you?" Sullivan quirked an eyebrow. "Were you indeed having an affair?"

"No! I-I mean, once. It wasn't an affair, I just – There was a girl at the office and she quit soon after and I -"He scrambled with his words, his cheeks flushing bright red. "It was a mistake and it never happened again!" Realization suddenly dawned on Arnold and his eyes narrowed, his heart racing. They were trying to pin this on him! "I think I'm done talking with you guys,"

"Just one more—"

"No, I think I need a lawyer," Arnold said, swallowing and clenching his jaw shut.

Sullivan took a deep breath, exhaling through her nose. "Alright then," She turned to Rollins and nodded her head toward the hallway. "C'mon, Rollins,"

Arnold watched the two of them walk away and he fought the urge to turn around and yell or hit the wall. Instead he clenched his fists, leaning back against the wall and sliding to the floor.

. . . . . . . .

Lila's Diary – 2014

I'm at a loss, dear diary. I thought we could repair this relationship and things would get better and we'd be happy together. We were always supposed to be perfect together. Arnold and Lila. Lila and Arnold. But I… I can't believe what he has been doing. I'm not certain how long this has been going on but I'm ever so certain it has to do with how much time he has been spending with Brainy Lockhart since we moved back to Hillwood and he got that IT job.

We've had our arguments, certainly. Have I said or done things that I later regretted? Of course, who hasn't? But I don't know what to make of this. Arnold left his laptop on earlier tonight when he went to shower and as I was cleaning, I happened to notice that the screen looked strange. It didn't appear to be his normal screen. That's when I realized it wasn't his screen that I was looking at – it was someone else's! He had their email inbox open as well as several document folders. I was curious so I sat down and when I clicked the email inbox window, the name of the account immediately caught me off guard. I'm not sure as to why he would do this and I don't know how long it has been going on but I can't say that I'm okay with it. I didn't even know he knew how to do this and I'm afraid to bring it up because I'm not sure how he would react. But it looks like my husband is hacking into Helga Pataki's computer.