Helga had just begun to get wrapped up in the whirlwind of emotions making her dizzy and carefree and reckless when the heavy burden of reality came crashing down on her.
She abruptly broke from Arnold's embrace, slipping out from between him and the car and wiping her face despite the way the rain continued to stream down her forehead and over her cheeks.
"I-I-I'm sorry," She managed without looking at him, continuing to back up toward the building. "I don't know what I um…" She trailed off, furrowing her brow in confusion and disbelief.
"Hey, it's okay," Arnold said encouragingly, following her but she continued to step away until she was under the awning. To be honest, he hadn't known what had come over him either. It was as though something that had been building up in him for a long time finally broke free and his instincts led him to a place he hadn't anticipated. Even as the rain washed away the taste of her lips, he could still feel them as though their moment had never ended.
"Can you just let me inside?" Helga said desperately, almost pleading as she wrapped her arms around herself.
"Yeah, sure," Arnold murmured, not loud enough for her to hear as he locked the car up and led her to their motel room. He could get their stuff later. He started to speak as they made their way down the minimally lit concrete sidewalk, trailing wet footprints as they went. "Hey, um -"
"Don't," She cut him off. "Please don't,"
Arnold promptly quieted, pursing his lips as they stopped in front of the door and he gestured for her to enter first.
The room likely hadn't had a decor update since the 1980's, what with the wood paneling and loud wallpaper pattern. There were two double sized beds and a lounge chair that didn't look particularly comfortable. A small area in the back with a sink and mirror, partially separated by a wall, indicated where the toilet and shower were.
"Do you uh… did you want me to get a different room?" Arnold asked hesitantly. While he was confused and surprised, he couldn't say he was displeased with what had transpired. It felt like the appropriate culmination to this fiery connection they'd established long ago. If he was being completely honest with himself, he hadn't wanted it to stop. Sure, if he thought about it too long, it was kind of weird. He'd known her forever and they'd had such a tumultuous relationship. But at the same time, it felt right. Even throughout her bullying and their fighting during their formative years, she'd always had a strange way of complementing him that no one else ever did. The only valid reason he had to be uncomfortable with the situation was the precarious circumstance he was in with Lila and the police. Even if he was angry with her, even if she had betrayed him in an unconscionable way, he still felt the same guilt he'd felt when he'd slept with another woman and he and Helga had barely kissed for a minute.
"No," Helga's voice was soft but heavy, as though weighed down by all of the feelings she wasn't expressing. "Um, it's okay," She walked over to one of the beds, crawling up to the top and sitting over the covers as she dug her phone out of her jeans pocket, breathing a small sigh of relief to see that it had somehow avoided water damage thanks to the way her jacket had extended over it.
She knew he was curious and wondering and staring but she wanted the earth to swallow her up in that moment. How could something she'd wanted for so long, something she'd spent years of her life begging the heavens and stars for, feel so wrong? This was not for a lack of affection, as she still regarded Arnold with as much love and adoration as she ever had, nor was it for a lack of attraction because their chemistry had been explosive. Too much was happening at once, though. The situation with Rich still weighed on her mind and she felt uncomfortably exposed thinking about how close she had come to killing herself only recently. She still had a lot of healing to do and the experience felt like the wind had been knocked out of her as she fell into a pool, unable to breathe and unable to make sense of which way was up or down.
She still had a lot to figure out, about herself and about her relationships with other people. So much had changed in such as short amount of time that she needed time to process and make sense of it all, which, as she realized this, left her a bit flabbergasted. To think, Arnold had not only accepted her kiss but had reciprocated, quite fervently in fact, and she was having these conflicting feelings. A former version of herself would have been cursing and screaming at her to pursue more but she wasn't that person anymore. She was a little more mature, a lot more broken, and despite the way he made the hair on her arms stand up and her stomach turn itself in knots, she could only handle so much at one time.
. . . . . . . .
They'd spent the night in relatively awkward silence, choosing to go to sleep shortly after settling into their room. With the morning came a break in the storm clouds and as they reviewed old police reports at the Templeton station, bright sunny light was beaming through the old windows.
"This is all we've got on her file," A cop named Barry said as they stood at a desk, looking through a manila folder with reports, newspaper clippings, and an onslaught of gruesome photos. "Magda Lavine," He read aloud as Arnold and Helga studied the file. "This was before my time but says here they found her body about 6 hours after it happened," He pointed to a passage in the typed police report but both of them had a hard time tearing their eyes away from the grisly photo of a woman, all but completely unrecognizable. "A farmer saw smoke coming from the fire and thought it was some kids having a party," Barry continued.
"They cut out fat from her body," Helga said under her breath in a grave tone.
Arnold nodded, keeping his voice low enough that only she could hear. "Like the verse,"
"They found the remains of fat together with the head," Barry continued, their quiet conversation unbeknownst to him.
Once they'd gotten back into the groove of investigating, it'd been easier to put last night's incident out of their minds. Or at least, be able to ignore it for the time being. As they returned to the car, both feeling heavy and somber from the information they'd collected, they took a moment to sit in the car and breathe.
"It's all coming together," Arnold said, tilting his head back against the seat and staring up at the roof of the rental car.
"Yup," Helga murmured, her brow furrowed as she bit her lip. "This is so fucked up,"
Arnold wordlessly agreed, pausing for another moment before turning the keys in the ignition and pulling away from the police station.
"We still need to figure out who B.J. is," Helga said as they got back on the highway that would take them to Concordia. "And okay, so she saw a pattern and apparently knew who the killer was, otherwise, what else explains her disappearance? But what I don't get it how are all of these women connected,"
"Maybe figuring out who B.J. is will make that more obvious," Arnold surmised and Helga shrugged.
"I should update William," She said after a beat, picking her phone up from where she'd left it in the center console. "Hey William," Helga greeted amicably once William answered the phone. "How's it goin'? Is this a good time for an update?"
"Of course, Helga," The elderly man said warmly. "I appreciate you taking the time to call,"
"No sweat," Helga said nonchalantly, preparing to take the conversation in a much more grim direction. "So we've got a lead - Marguerite's journal and those names and numbers? It looks like they're matching up with bible verses and women who were murdered as far back as the 50's,"
"Hmm," William hummed thoughtfully, obviously impressed. "That would make sense; she was quite dutiful in her religious studies. Have you managed to determine the connection between them?"
"That's what we're still working on," Helga replied. "But we're kind of stuck on this one name - B.J. I don't suppose you know what that could stand for?"
"Unfortunately I don't," William said regretfully. "But you may want to get in contact with the detectives who worked on her original case. They may be of more help,"
"Okay," Helga replied. "Hey, um, did you find out anything else about... what happened with Rich?"
"I'm afraid not," William sighed wistfully. "That investigation is still ongoing as well. Please let me know if there is anything else I can do to assist you, Helga," He said graciously. "You've found more than I'd hoped for and my gratitude for that alone is more than words can express,"
"It's no problem," Helga said casually, despite the obvious dangers this investigation had brought about. As though she were picking up a gallon of milk from the gas station instead of risking her life to solve not only an unsolved missing persons case but potentially a string of murders. "Take it easy, William," She said, hanging up and turning to Arnold. "Let's stop at the local precinct on our way back to the cottage and see if they can tell us anything about B.J.,"
. . . . . . . .
They got back to the cottage in the late afternoon as the sun was just beginning to fall. The ground was still wet from the previous night's rain but the sky was clear as they stepped out of the car, exhausted both physically and mentally. Their trip to the Concordia police station hadn't turned up much in terms of information but they spoke to one of the detectives who had assisted with Marguerite's missing person case who'd promised to get in touch if they uncovered any information pertaining to someone named "B.J.". Other than that, the only thing they had to work with was the suspicion that the suspect they were looking for as likely old, given how far back some of these cases went and assuming they were all committed by the same person. And if that person was old and a member of the Bauer family, that reduced the potential suspects considerably.
"Good evening," A voice approaching from the woods by the cottage surprised Arnold and Helga as they approached the front door.
Arnold blinked. "Hi Henry," He said pleasantly. "What are you doing out here?"
"Oh," Henry chuckled, gesturing with the lead in his hand and the small terrier on the other end. "Taking Percy for his evening walk," He replied casually, then looked between the two of them. "You're still here, I see?"
"Yeah," Helga piped up, adjusting the folders in her arms. "There's still a lot of work to do,"
"I see," Henry nodded thoughtfully. "Well, best to leave you to it, hmm?" He said smugly then nodded as he started to walk away in the direction of his house.
"Did you hear the condescension in his voice?" Helga grumbled once they were inside the cottage. "Ugh, I can't wait to be done with this family. Stuck up twats with sticks up their asses…"
"Did you just use a British slang term?" Arnold chuckled, closing the front door behind him.
"So what if I did, Football-head?" She shot back mildly. "Anyway, we've got a lot of work to do so I'm gonna make some coffee and get to it. That alright with you?"
"By all means," Arnold said, putting his hands up defensively. "So we just need more info on B.J., right?"
"Right," Helga said from the kitchen counter as she dumped out the morning's brew. "And to figure out the connection between the five, and figure out who their killer was and the connection to Marguerite and what kind of role Rhonda's mom played in this whole mess and, you know, solve the whole case,"
Arnold rolled his eyes at her sarcasm. "How's that coffee coming along?"
"Bite me, Arnold," Helga deadpanned. "I'm freaking exhausted. Leave me alone,"
"Whatever you say," He chuckled, skimming the contents of the folders they'd brought in from the car. Arnold tried to focus more on the text of the newspaper articles and less on the haunting images of the women depicted, his mood shifting to a more notably somber one.
. . . . . . . .
Her feet hurt from walking and she'd broken down several times since leaving Stinky's, thinking about the horrible act she'd committed. While she saw it fit for her past attacker to meet a gruesome fate, thoughts of Stinky and his kind and humble demeanor plagued her. He hadn't deserved what she did to him but she'd had no choice. She was desperate and had to get out. She had a purpose and a goal and she couldn't let anything get in her way.
Between her guilt and her past and current pain, she wasn't sure if she had the strength to keep going but the thought of finally getting revenge on the man who raped her and hurt her mother. She'd been wandering the streets for days, using the last of her cash to stay in the cheapest motel she could find until that ran out and she wasn't sure where to turn.
She reclined against the metal bench of the bus stop, rubbing her sore feet and ignoring the judgmental stares of bus passengers as each bus came and dropped off a new group. She looked pretty rough - her auburn hair tousled and tangled, her clothes wrinkled, and dirt smudged on her hands and face. She was still angry and still vengeful but she was exhausted and running out of options.
An expensive black luxury car pulled up to the bus stop and Lila's heart fluttered with simultaneous anxiety and relief as a familiar woman stepped out of the backseat.
"Oh Lila," Brooke said gently, rushing over to her on the bench. "Dear, I've been so worried. Come on, let's get you cleaned up," She said, ushering Lila into the car and taking off.