[A/N: Hi everyone! I made a promise and I stuck to it. Here is the next (and much longer!) part of chapter 10! I know it's kind of weird I broke them up the way I did. Honestly, I was just excited I'd written SOMETHING and wanted to get it out there. Also, in retrospect, this would've been a crazy long chapter if I'd kept Part 1 and Part 2 combined so, whatever no big deal!

Just to clear something up so there's no confusion. Helga and Rich have not had sex or anything close to it. Just wanna be clear about that! All that's happened so far is seeds of attraction growing! And of course, Rich admitted to past feelings and they had a sweet moment where he was comforting her and stuff but nothing more!

Anything else that's confusing that has been brought to my attention will be addressed either in author notes or in the story itself but I don't want to answer questions that would take away from parts of the story so if there's something I don't respond to yet, that means the answer is coming up! Bear with me. There's some thinking involved in this story and even I have had to read and re-read my notes SEVERAL times to make sure I'm keeping everything straight, haha. Hopefully in the end everything makes sense and you guys can say you've enjoyed the ride.

Okay, so, hold onto your hats because this chapter might be a doozy! Let me know what you think in the comments.]

Helga was surprised when Henry led her and Rich into the house and several people she hadn't met yet were sitting or standing around the dining table. She recognized them from photographs, though. Rich's great uncle Maxwell was seated at the far end of the table across from Sandra, Marguerite's mother. Adrienne was there again as well as her sister, Natalie.

"Hi everyone," Rich greeted his family warmly but Helga could tell he felt tense in their unexpected presence.

"Hi sweetheart," Natalie walked over and gave Rich a smothering hug. "And you must be Helga," She turned to the blonde woman beside her nephew.

"In the flesh," Helga shrugged, smirking.

"Sorry I didn't let you know sooner that this would be a big lunch," Henry apologized.

"Well, dear," Sandra said in a dry voice that hinted at a lifetime of smoking. "It kind of fell together quickly,"

"Douglas was supposed to come, too but he's out hunting," Natalie said.

"I swear, that man should live in the woods," Sandra scoffed.

"Come sit down," Adrienne called from the other side of the table. There was already a nice spread set out – salad, finger sandwiches, and warm baked bread with a small tray of butter sitting next to it. "How have you been?" She asked, serving herself some salad as Helga and Rich got comfortable in their chairs.

"Fine," Helga shrugged but something caught her eye when Adrienne turned. She was wearing a necklace with a large amber stone and Helga immediately recognized it from Marguerite's photograph.

"How about you, Rich?" Natalie inquired. "Any symptoms?"

"Here and there," Rich answered uncomfortably and Helga could tell he didn't want to discuss his illness.

"You really shouldn't be out gallivanting on this wild goose chase in your condition," Sandra said haughtily, never even looking at him as she buttered a slice of bread.

Rich shrugged and Helga sat quietly observing, paying particular attention to Adrienne and wondering why she was wearing the same necklace Marguerite had been wearing on the day she went missing. Could she have had something to do with it?

"It's only feeding William's obsession," Maxwell said, his old hands shaky as he lifted one of the finger sandwiches to his mouth.

"I know, Max," Sandra said, then directed her comment back to Helga and Rich. "Rich, your grandfather is old and you're obviously weakened by your illness," Rich bit his lip at that comment to try and quell his embarrassment. Helga knew about his heart condition but he still didn't want everyone talking about him like he was pathetic and helpless. He certainly didn't want Helga thinking that.

"William has spent most of his life searching for my daughter," Sandra sighed, her voice still gruff. "How can anyone else move on when he won't let this go? It's selfish, I tell you," She shook her head.

"Yeah, I mean, the police never found anything," Adrienne said, taking a sip of water.

"Well, we're just trying to help," Rich said, trying to carefully defend he and Helga's actions since the consensus in the room seemed to be that they should give up. "We've got some ideas that might provide more information and even if they don't, it's important to my grandfather,"

"You're a sweet boy, Richard," Sandra sighed. "But if you want to help the family, you should move on from this and tend to yourself,"

. . . . . . . .

"Did you see what your aunt was wearing?" Helga asked once she and Rich were alone outside after lunch.

"No, what?" He replied as they started walking through the woods back to the cottage. His chest felt a little tight and he was tired but didn't want to appear so. Thankfully, Helga was walking at a pace he could manage and he fought through his lightheadedness.

"She's wearing the same necklace Marguerite was wearing in that picture!" Helga exclaimed in a hushed voice, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one had stepped outside of the house and could hear them or was watching. "On the day of the parade," She added.

Rich's brows lifted. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure," Helga nodded. They were getting close to the cottage. "What if she had something to do with Marguerite's disappearance?"

"Wow," Rich let out a breath. "You really think so?"

They walked up to the door of the cottage and Rich leaned against the doorframe.

"Are you okay?" Helga asked, switching gears and her concern for him obvious.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Rich nodded. "That was just a lot of walking, I guess,"

Helga eyed him warily, not completely thrown off by his dismissal, but she continued, "Rich, what do you think happened to Marguerite?" She paused. "Do you think maybe she was murdered?"

Rich's brow furrowed in thought. "I really don't know,"

. . . . . . . .

Present Day

Arnold was working on one of the computers at work, installing updates to the anti-virus software, when he heard Detective Sullivan's voice behind him.

"Arnold Shortman," She said and Arnold turned around in his office chair to see two officers he didn't recognize accompanying her.

"Yeah?" He said curiously. "What's going on?"

"You're under arrest for the murder of your wife, Lila Shortman," Detective Sullivan said sternly as the officers handcuffed him.

"What?!" Arnold exclaimed. "No, what are you talking about?"

"We found the murder weapon," Sullivan said, her arms crossed over her chest. "You have the right to remain silent -,"

"Murder weapon?!" Arnold's voice came out like a squeak as the officers escorted him out of the office, his coworkers watching in shock. "Are you telling me Lila is dead?" He turned to Brainy who was sitting at one of the cubicles nearby, watching with concern.

"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law," Sullivan continued with stating his Miranda rights. "You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you?"

"I understand, but you're making a mistake!" Arnold exclaimed pitifully. "This can't be true,"

It couldn't be. They had to be wrong. It had to be a mistake. He may not have been in love with her anymore and they may have had their problems but he still cared about her and knew for a fact he had nothing to do with whatever had happened to her.

"When we searched your apartment, we found a little toolkit in the bedroom closet that had all of its pieces neatly tucked inside except for one thing – the hammer," Sullivan explained as the officers sat Arnold in the back of the patrol car outside at the curb. "We found it yesterday in the bags of trash we collected from the dumpster outside of your building. It'd been wiped clean but when we tested it, we found your wife's blood all over it,"

"No," Arnold whimpered, his voice breaking. It couldn't be true. He was horrified at the thought of something so terrible happening to Lila. No matter their relationship, he was a compassionate person and the thought of something so horrific happening to her made him feel sick to his stomach. The reality of what potentially happened to Lila and the magnitude of it all finally broke through Arnold's shock and confusion, leaving him feeling appalled and helpless.

"We'll talk more at the station," Sullivan said and shut the door before walking over to her own unmarked vehicle.

. . . . . . . .

Present Day

Later that day, Rich had decided to lie down and rest, leaving Helga alone for a while. As the day had progressed, the air outside had become unseasonably warm so she thought it might be nice to go for a run. She used to run all the time back in high school and in college she spent a semester on the rec soccer team. It had always been a great way to get her frustrations out or sort through her thoughts. It'd been a few years since she'd had the motivation to do anything athletic but she was starting to feel a little different, a little better.

Helga made her way through the woods on a dirt path that led all around the area. It felt weird to be running again but before long, she fell into a rhythm and it felt natural. She didn't even have to think about what her legs were doing – she was free, moving quickly through the woods and feeling lighter than she had in years.

She wanted to confront Adrienne about the necklace. What other reason could there be for her to have it? She was pretty sure it was the same one in Marguerite's photo and assuming she was right, could this mean that Adrienne had had something to do with Marguerite's disappearance? Could Marguerite be dead?

And she definitely wanted to talk to Brooke Wellington. Well, Brooke Wellington Lloyd. She wasn't really looking forward to that conversation. She and Rhonda hadn't really gotten along so she was apprehensive about what dealing with Rhonda's mom would be like but she had to do it. If Brooke was Marguerite's best friend, maybe she knew something. William said they spent a lot of time together; maybe she was with Marguerite at the parade and if Helga could nail down some sort of timeline, she'd be that much closer to figuring out what happened.

As Helga made her way through the woods, her feet pounding against the dirt and dodging tree roots, she didn't notice the sound of twigs cracking and branches being rustled. One particular snap did catch her attention though but before she could make sense of it, she heard a loud bang and suddenly her head had been struck. She fell to the ground, her forearms breaking her fall and avoiding her face hitting the dirt. Her head was throbbing and she felt dizzy. She looked around the best she could but didn't see anyone. Bruises were forming on her arms and she was sure she would feel them later but right now her head was the worst of it. Helga lifted a hand to the side of her head, gingerly feeling where the pain was and when she pulled her hand back, her fingertips were covered in blood.

Shit. Quickly double-checking that no one was around, Helga slowly stood up and hurried back to the house as fast as she could. She stumbled and the pain in her head was making her nauseated but adrenaline helped her to press on. When she finally got inside the cottage, she slammed the door shut behind her, locking it right away. She leaned back against the door trying to catch her breath as blood dripped down the side of her face.

Having heard the commotion, Rich came out of his room. "What's going – what the hell – Helga!" He hurried over to her, gathering her in his arms. "What happened?"

"I think someone shot me," She said, breathless. "I was out running and I heard a loud bang and then something hit me,"

Rich quickly examined the wound on the side of her head. There was a lot of blood but the wound was superficial and had only grazed her scalp. The sight of her blonde hair soaked in blood horrified him and he put an arm around her, guiding her to the bathroom. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up," He said. "Did you see who it was?"

Helga shook her head and immediately regretted it as it made her head hurt more. "No," She said pitifully. "Gah, my head is fucking killing me,"

Rich put the toilet lid down and guided her over to sit on it while he ran a washcloth under the sink. "Just relax, you're gonna be fine," He said, his own adrenaline rush slowly ebbing. He turned the water off and gently pressed the cloth to Helga's scalp, eliciting a yelp. "Sorry! Sorry!" He said, carefully dabbing the wound and cleaning away the drying blood. "It's already starting to stop bleeding on its own," He said quietly. "Do you want me to drive you anywhere?"

"No, I'll be fine," Helga said through clenched teeth. "Do you have any ibuprofen or something? Something to make it stop hurting?"

"I'll see what we have here in a minute," Rich said softly as he gently dabbed Helga's scalp. "I can't believe this happened. I'm terribly sorry," He moved the cloth to the side of her face and wiped away the dried blood.

"It wasn't your fault," She looked up and he caught her gaze. For that moment, he didn't think about anything but her. Seeing her hurt terrified him and he was so overcome with a need to protect her and care for her that he couldn't think of anything else. He pushed some stray hair away from her face, her eyes still watching him as he leaned in and left a gentle kiss on her lips. They were soft with a subtle chill from being outside. As the kiss continued, he dropped the washcloth on the sink's edge next to them and carefully cradled her head in his hand, avoiding her injury.

Helga wasn't thinking, only feeling. Everything about Rich and this moment felt good. He was warm and gentle and when he kissed her, it was like letting out a breath she'd been holding in for years. Even if it was just for a brief moment, the guilt was gone and the anger at herself was gone. She relaxed against his embrace and reciprocated his kiss before she could even think about it. After a couple moments, they parted but Rich rested his forehead against hers.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," He whispered and Helga felt a shudder go down her spine.

. . . . . . . .

The Day of Lila's Disappearance

It had been a long time since she'd taken a road trip and the drive reminded her of simpler times when she'd go on long car rides with her parents during the summer. The weather wasn't ideal since it was still pretty chilly outside but it was a bright, beautiful day and she was feeling exceedingly pleased with herself.

She had been driving for a couple hours now – her plan was to get far enough away from Hillwood that no one would recognize her. She'd stopped at the last rest stop and bought a box of hair dye, then went to the restroom and chopped her long auburn hair up to her shoulders and dyed it brown. The box had said it was supposed to come out darker but it ended up being kind of mousy. She'd always heard that red hair didn't dye as well as other hair colors but she could still tell the difference and that was what was important.

It wouldn't be long before Arnold would come home and find the apartment in disarray. She'd watched him leave the apartment that morning and once he turned the corner, she immediately went to work as she didn't have much time.

She flipped over the coffee table and glass shattered all over the floor. Some of the pictures sitting on the end tables next to the couch fell over and she had specifically set most back in their correct position. Then she went over to the window by the fire escape and used one of Arnold's snow boots to break through it, turning her face away as she did so to protect herself from any flying shards. Most of the glass fell out onto the fire escape so she carefully reached through the window and painstakingly brought several clumps inside, splaying them on the floor around the window.

Once the room was set, she needed to bleed. Over the past month she'd been volunteering at a veterinarian's office across town that Arnold didn't know about. She'd taken a couple needles and tubing from their supply to use for this. She had never been a fan of needles but she was on a trajectory that didn't allow for or care about squeamishness. She wanted Arnold to pay for what he'd put her through. She knew about how he had been hacking into Helga Pataki's computer. For what reason? She could never be sure. But when Rhonda enlisted her cousin Katie to seduce Arnold and it worked, that was the turning point. They'd been struggling in their marriage for a while but the realization that it was all a sham made Lila snap. She wanted revenge. Even if she had to suffer, she needed to show Arnold, and anyone else paying attention, that this wasn't okay. And in some twisted recess of her mind, she felt like she was metaphorically getting revenge on the man who'd attacked her so many years ago in doing this. She wasn't someone's toy to be played with and used and taken advantage of, then cast aside like some piece of garbage and she was going to make sure everyone knew that, even if she had to die trying.

So she came up with a plan. She made friends with one of their neighbors, Jenny Gilbert: a fiery woman, though she wasn't the brightest of individuals. Gaining Jenny's trust and affection hadn't been difficult – she'd spent so many years charming everyone around her that doing so, even deceitfully, came easily. She supplied fictionalized stories of Arnold's infidelity, exaggerating the details and hinting at abuse at home, feigning fear.

The tricky part had been the pregnancy test. She'd drained the toilet so that it couldn't flush and then invited the very pregnant Jenny over for lunch, supplying her guest with endless glasses of sweet tea until she was forced to use the bathroom. Since Jenny hadn't been able to flush the toilet, she'd told her not to worry about it and once alone, she collected the pee from the toilet tank in a urine sample container from the vet. One visit to her doctor and a pregnancy was officially part of her medical record.

It took a while to get enough blood to make the scene look realistic. She'd spent a couple hours with the needle in her arm, a tube connected at one end and pouring blood into a large bowl from the other. She knew Arnold's patterns and she knew she had time as he'd probably spend the better part of the morning just walking around and thinking. He'd always been a daydreamer, lost in his thoughts. She just needed him to stay out long enough for her to get everything ready.

Once she had enough blood, she dumped most of it out onto the kitchen floor, smearing it around and then sloppily cleaning it up with paper towels and bleach. She went into the closet in their bedroom and found a toolkit they'd bought at the hardware store shortly after getting married. She took the hammer out and returned the kit to the back of the closet before going back to the kitchen and dipping the end of the hammer in the bowl of blood. She wiped it off with one of the paper towels she'd used to clean up the floor, then put all of it in a bag. Once she'd gathered everything she needed for the road, she tossed the bag in the dumpster outside and got into her car.

She'd been writing in a diary for a while. She started off with entries dated early in their relationship. She talked about the good times they'd shared, her hope for their love to stay strong. But then she added the fake entries, documenting their downward spiral with overtones of abuse and fear. She'd hid it but she knew it would eventually be found and would only be more incriminating evidence against Arnold.

If she had thought anyone would treat her well, it would've been him. He'd always been so kind and honest. He was the perfect guy and if he could break her heart, break her trust, then there truly wasn't anyone worth putting faith in. So now he would pay for it in much the same way she wished she could've made her rapist pay. Maybe she was displacing her anger toward her attacker all those years ago onto Arnold but she didn't care. She wasn't thinking rationally anymore and was only guided by her anger. She was taking control of her life back, even if that meant being in control of her death. The cops would find the evidence she'd planted. They'd connect the dots and arrest Arnold for her murder. Then when the time was right, she'd swallow some pills and throw herself into the river, permanently sealing Arnold's fate for the murder of Lila Shortman.