Sweet Little Lies

Chapter Eighty-Four

Harry really thought about killing the detective right then and there. There was no one around to see them. His fingers twitched towards the Glock located by his right knee under the steering wheel.

"Detective." He greeted flatly.

"Not a great time to be driving out here, Styles." She noted, steely eyes studying him.

"That's why I'm trying to get off the road." He sent her a flat smile, "Is there a reason for this, or are you just saying hello?"

Gold tilted her head, trying to keep her face impassive, but Harry could see the faint traces of a sneer trying its way onto her face. "You haven't returned my phone calls."

"We've been grieving." He told her simply.

"You and your wife?" She inquired not so subtly, "Where is she, by the way?" She glanced inside the car like Ivy would pop out at any moment.

"Yes, our family."

"Well," she took a step back and looked down the street, "our condolences. Would you mind passing on the message that we would like to speak with her when she's done... mourning."

"Why do you need to speak with her?" Harry asked innocently, "We were told it was a car crash."

Gold matched his naive gaze with one of pure distaste. "Right. Just a car crash."

"I heard you made an arrest for the bombing."

She clenched her jaw. "Yes."

"Saskie Dvorsky." He tapped his finger on the open window sill. "Interesting choice."

"Choice?" Gold challenged, "It's not a choice when that's where the evidence leads you."

"And who led the evidence to you?"

Silence.

Detective Gold was visibly taken aback. She frowned at him, then narrowed her eyes. "What is that supposed to imply?"

Harry studied her for a long moment. She had changed within the last few months. When she first came to light, she looked young, eager. A bright-eyed detective that wanted to do good. Clean up the streets of this godforsaken city.

Now Queenstown had swallowed her up just like the rest of them. It was plague that caught up to everyone eventually, goodness and virtue a homing beacon for it. It was why this city had been the way it had for centuries. Why the circle existed in the first place, survived when so many died in it's name.

Detective Gold was just another victim along the way. Who knows if she became so desperate that she took the first sign of guilt she could or if someone had poisoned her. Did she make a deal with the devil or just fall to her knees at his feet.

"You're still new here, Detective." Harry said after a long, tense moment. "But I know you're not that clueless."

Gold's lips pressed into a flat line. "Tell your wife we need to speak."

She backed up slowly, watching him as if he would pull something. Her instincts weren't that far off considering he still wanted to pull out his gun and put a bullet in her head. But he suppressed those feelings. His own instincts were telling him that Gold was not working for anyone but herself. Which meant she could still be bought, be influenced.

New plans surfaced in his head as he rolled up his window. He waited until Gold pulled out onto the street and drove off. He followed suit after she was out of sight, but took odd turns and a long route in order to shake any tails she might have placed on him.

Finally, he arrived at the doctor's house. He pulled into an alleyway and walked up to the side door, knocking. A woman opened it, older, sterner, and gestured for him to come inside. Heat swelled around him as the door shut behind him. A fire was going in the other room, a child's laugh echoing through the hall.

Harry didn't wait to climb down the set of stairs that led to the doctor's lab. There he saw the doctor himself walking out of a room, writing something down on his clipboard. He looked up, stopping short when seeing Harry stalk towards him.

"Oh, it's you." He shook his head and nodded at him, "He's stable, speaking. No memory loss and no sign of a head injury. You're free to head in."

Without saying a word, he swept past the doctor and entered the room. A soft beeping indicated a steady heart rate, and there sat Griffin, hooked up to machines, looking paler than Harry had ever seen him.

Cecilia was by his side, holding his hand. She looked at them and stood up. "I'm going to get some water. I'll be back in a moment."

Griffin nodded and accepted the kiss she gave him before leaving the room.

The door clicked shut.

Harry stepped forward. Griffin sat up, wincing a little. His expression was serious, and Harry saw something in his eyes. He asked, "How are you feeling?"

"I'll live." Griff's deep voice answered. "Have you found her yet?"

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"CeCe told me what happened after."

"No," Harry swallowed, "but we're close. We've got the map."

Griffin straightened, "You found it?"

He nodded, "We're going to end this. Once the storm subsides, we're gathering the troops and heading underground."

"Okay." Griffin's face filled with resolve. "I'll be ready."

"You don't have to-"

"Shut up."

Harry felt a sense of relief fill him. He wanted Griffin to be there. It might be selfish considering the man was healing from a car crash and had several bullet holes littering his body, but Harry didn't care. His lieutenant was his right hand.

"I don't think your girl will like that too much." Harry closed the gap and stood next to the bed.

"No, she won't." He sighed, "But she'll know I have to do this. To make things right."

Harry frowned, "I don't blame you for what happened."

"That doesn't change that was my fault." Griff said stubbornly.

Harry knew better than to try and talk his friend down. No words would change how he felt. He would let Griff come with them, so that way he could give himself a reason to forgive himself. Once they got Ivy back, she wouldn't let him dwell on it anyways. She'll probably smack the shit out of him for even thinking it might be his fault.

The door opened, CeCe coming in with a water and hot tea. She took one look at them and said, "Are you fucking kidding me?"