The funeral was small, as Georgie had wanted, with herself, Lainie, Olivia and a few others that had known Meredith Hughes and considered her a good friend during her life. Lainie provided the eulogy, having known Meredith better than her own daughter. Georgie sat quietly, tears falling silently down her face as Lainie spoke of her mother's love for the stage and silver screen.
Finally, the service ended and the small party proceeded to the graveside service. Olivia stood silently next to Georgie, glancing up to see Richard dePasquale watching from afar. She looked over to Georgie to see if she noticed the man and was surprised to see the teen's eyes trained on the older man's. She could see recognition dawning in her soft green eyes. She looked back down as the man looked her way, dropping the hand full of dirt and roses she held on the grave before turning to walk away. Olivia followed, her eyes trailing to the man's figure once more before following Georgie out of the cemetery.
"Georgie," Olivia said, calling the girl's name.
"Why was he there," Georgie asked, turning to face her, anger blazing in her eyes. "He had no right to be there!"
"How did you know that was your father," Olivia asked, keeping her voice calm and even.
"How could I not," Georgie asked, "Our eyes are the same."
"Your father loved your mother," Olivia said, "he had every right to be there."
"So you knew," Georgie shouted, "You knew he was my father? Why…why didn't you tell me? I thought you said I could trust you!" Every word that poured out of her mouth was filled with anger. Anger at her mother for never loving her; anger at her father for never coming for her; anger at Olivia for having lied to her.
"You can trust me," Olivia said, reaching for her. Georgie pulled away, her eyes staring into Olivia's. "He didn't want you to know. He thought it might upset you."
"Well, isn't that the story of my life," she said, her voice filled with. "Why is it that everything, EVERYTHING, I have ever wanted in my life has been denied for the sake of someone else's happiness. For my mother, I was an embarrassment to her career. For my father, it was fear of having to acknowledge a mistake and for everyone else I have ever known, I have been pushed aside, because it was 'the right thing to do'." She stopped, hanging her head as tears fell down her face.
"Georgie," Olivia said, stepping towards her.
"Don't," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I just…I need to be alone right now." Olivia nodded, watching Georgie walk away, her head held high, like she had been taught her entire life.
"How was the funeral," Elliot asked as Olivia walked into the station.
"Good, I guess," Olivia said, "Richard dePasquale was there."
"Did Georgie recognize him?"
"She'd have to be blind not to," Olivia said, sitting down. "She was mad that I didn't tell her about her father."
"She has a right to be," Elliott said, "But we couldn't tell her."
"Yeah," she said, "I know. We get any other leads?"
"Yeah," Elliott said, "I questioned our friend earlier. He gave the name of the person that hired him for the hit."
"Who'd he name," Olivia asked, leaning against her desk, eyebrows raised.
"Analise Johnson," Elliott said. "I already have it running through the computers. So, far, nothing's popped up. Adam said that Ms. Johnson contacted him about two weeks ago, asking him to kill Meredith Hughes.
"Convenient that he knew a name," Olivia said, studying the board of suspects.
"I thought so too," Elliott said. "Maybe the perp wasn't so smart."
"Or maybe they lied about their name," Olivia said, examining the name Elliott had written down.
