Sweet Little Lies

Chapter Forty-One

"Enough!" Ms. Mueller barked out, "Don't you dare try and tell me how I should feel about my own flesh and blood. You come in here, all high and mighty, thinking you have some moral superiority-"

"Your daughter is dead!" CeCe interrupted, "She was murdered in cold blood and all you're saying is that it was inevitable. Maybe it was inevitable because you gave up on her."

"Get out!" She stood suddenly, pointing at the door. "Get out of my house!"

"It would be my pleasure!"

CeCe stormed out, Griffin glancing back at Ms. Mueller, who was puffing her cigarette with annoyance. No grief in sight.

He followed her out, eyes sweeping the area for any signs of danger. It was as quiet as before, but noticeably darker. The clouds were beginning to roll in. He clicked open the locks on his car, but CeCe strolled right past it, her hands balled up in fists.

Griffin locked the car doors once more and silently followed her. It started to drizzle, the sound of thunder off in the distance, but CeCe continued. She walked a few blocks down until she found a park. No one was there, the swings moving from the wind, chains creaking with every pass.

Finally, she found a bench and sat down, stuffing her hands in her coat pockets. "Can you believe the nerve of her? To not give a shit about her daughter like that?"

Griffin looked down at her, her leg bouncing up and down, posture stiff as a board. There was about six inches between them when he sat down beside her, asking, "What's going on?"

CeCe glanced at him, her eyes narrowed, "I mean, did you meet that woman?"

"This isn't about her."

"Then what is this about?"

"You tell me."

She huffed and remained silent.

Griff's lips ticked up in a half smile. She was such a stubborn broad.

"Cecilia." He prodded, "Tell me."

He waited patiently for her to answer him. He could see her sorting out her thoughts, debating on whether or not to open up to him.

"She reminded me of my mother." CeCe said after a long while. "We lived not far from here when I was a kid. After I graduated and turned eighteen, my mom ditched us, leaving a few hundred bucks to keep us afloat. I wasn't an easy child, but she was constantly blaming me for everything. One of her boyfriends left, it was my fault for scaring him away. Our electricity turned off because she didn't pay the bill, it was my fault for not working more even though I was in school.

"I got caught with weed once, and my mom made it out to be this big thing and that I would inevitably go down the path of harder drugs. Harder drugs, by the way, that my mother routinely took herself. She used to pop in every once in a while after she left, judge me for how I was raising Cat, and when she found out I was dancing for a living, she decided that was the time to lecture me about my life choices."

Griffin had wondered about her parents and why she was looking after her younger sister, but he had never asked. In his research, there were profiles on them, but he he hadn't read them all that deeply. As long as he didn't recognize the names, there was no real reason to go too deep. Even back then, it felt like an invasion of privacy to the woman he barely knew but was already slightly obsessed with.

CeCe clenched her jaw, then let it go. "I just kept picturing her as my mom and how she would react if that happened to me or Cat. There's no one to care that she's dead, not even her own blood."

"You care." She looked at him, and he continued, "You care about what happened to her. She wasn't alone, Cecilia."

A thin layer of tears built up, but she refused to let them fall, blinking and looking forward now. The rain pellets grew bigger, a flash of lightning lighting up the grey sky near downtown, but she didn't move. And neither would he. Not until she was ready.