The Girl and the Deadly End (Emma Griffin FBI Mystery Book 7)

by A J Rivers

  “What kind of names?”

  “All kinds of things. It depends on the person and what they did within Leviathan. The ones closest to him were given new names. The man who signed the guest book was called Finn. He is the only person I know of other than me to get out alive. The only reason he had the opportunity was because he got close to Lotan. He was able to feed me more information about what was going on, and when he left, he offered to bring me.”

  “Why didn’t you go?”

  “You were in danger. You still are. I needed to do everything I could to keep you safe,” he says. Something close to humor sparkles in his eyes briefly. “I’m not vying for your heart, Emma. It wasn’t chivalry. You will always matter to me, but our past is our past.”

  I nod my acknowledgement, not trusting myself to say anything about it. The guilt that started fading when the veil lifted between us loosens further, and it’s like I’ve been released.

  “Can you think of any other names?” I ask.

  “There was one. He was involved in several of the bigger plans while I was there and spent a lot of time with Lotan. He was very loyal and very devoted to continuing the mission. He had a gift for finding people to use as bait for Lotan’s schemes. I guess that’s how he got his name. Jonah called him Fisher.”

  I take my laptop out and click on the window I already have up. Martin’s blog appears, and I show Greg, not starting the video.

  “This is Martin. Does he look familiar?”

  Greg looks at it for a few seconds, slowly shaking his head.

  “I don’t think so. Can I watch it?” he asks.

  “Are you sure you want to?”

  “I want to hear what he has to say.”

  I start the video. My eyes flicker back and forth to him, gauging his expression as he watches. It’s steady, almost cold, but I know it has to be affecting him. At the end of the video, he shakes his head again.

  “No. I don’t know him. But that doesn’t mean much. Much of the control involved keeping us apart or against each other. You didn’t cross Lotan. The biggest risk I took wasn’t leaving that note for you or even resisting Jonah. It was deciding to trust Finn. He could have been a spy. He could have turned me in to Jonah, and that would have been far worse than anything I faced.”

  “Okay,” I nod, feeling some of the hope and optimism I had draining away.

  “What is it?” Greg asks. “What is it about him? I know it’s more than just him mentioning Leviathan.”

  Dean and I exchange glances. Greg already said he didn’t know Martin and wasn’t familiar with anyone else in the organization. The thought of putting even more stress and trauma onto him by telling him about Catch Me makes me hesitant, but at the same time, he might know more than he realizes. Even the smallest detail could be valuable now.

  “Jonah isn’t the only person putting me in danger,” I tell him.

  “What do you mean?”

  Tucking away the papers I already took out; I bring out everything I have about Catch Me and start to unravel it all. He listens in silence, evaluating every picture and occasionally nodding as he tries to take it all in. I’ve gotten to the note supposedly from Marren Purcell that brought me to the train when my phone rings. Seeing it’s Sam, I look at Dean.

  “I’ve got it,” he says.

  I realize he does. I’ve gotten to the strange point in the story where we thought our lives overlapped, not realizing we were linked from long before. Leaving Dean to tell Greg more, I take my phone out and head for the lounge.

  “Hey,” I say, answering the phone. “I miss you. I figured I should get that over with at the beginning of the conversation.”

  “I appreciate it,” Sam says. “I miss you, too. But I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you soon.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask. “Are you already coming back?”

  “No, but I think you might want to come home.”

  “Sam, I can’t. I’m right in the middle of all of this. Greg is giving us more details and what he doesn’t know we’re trying to piece together. I can’t leave it alone now,” I tell him as I reach for the bag of coffee to start a new pot.

  “No, you can’t. Which is why you need to be here to see these reports,” he says.

  “Reports? I thought there was only one about the wreck.”

  “There was. But there are others about what led up to it. You really need to see them, Emma. It has to do with your parents. And with you.”

  Fresh coffee sizzles and spits on the hot plate as I snatch the partially filled pot away and tip it into a cup. Snapping a lid on it, I rush back toward Greg’s room.

  “I’m on my way.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Mariya

  Twenty-two years ago…

  Mariya lifted her mouth from the edge of her teacup to call out to her young daughter as she ran through the house toward the front door.

  “Emma, darling, put on a sweater before you go out. It’s chilly.”

  “No, it’s not,” Emma said. “It’s sunny out there.”

  The young mother laughed.

  “We aren’t in Florida, my love. Here Autumn is when the world starts to go to sleep for the year. Remember when we came for Thanksgiving? That is only two and a half months away,” she said.

  Curious and determined, Emma stared back at her, stuck between believing her mother and already finding her own way in the world. That was one of the many things Mariya loved about her. She was strong and believed first in what she knew within herself, above what she was told. Mariya hoped she would hang on to that as she got older. It’s more difficult as an adult to find the balance. To believe wholly in yourself and also be willing to trust.

  “Two and a half months is a long time, Mama,” Emma said.

  “You’re right. Find out for yourself. Step outside, and you’ll see,” Mariya shrugged.

  Holding her ball beneath her arm, Emma stepped out onto the front porch. She stood there for a few moments before backing into the house and closing it. Setting the ball down, she rushed to her room and came back seconds later, shrugging into her favorite bright yellow sweater. Mariya brought her mouth back to her teacup to muffle her laughter.

  “Can I go?” Emma asked. “Dad is out there.”

  “Can he see you?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Emma nodded. “He’s just in the side yard fixing the fence. He’ll be able to see me.”

  “Alright, then. But don’t go anywhere he can’t see you.”

  “I won’t.”

  Mariya waited a few seconds before getting up from the dining room table and crossing the living room to the large front window. She didn’t want her daughter to know she was watching her. As hard as it was for her, she was trying to encourage independence in Emma. She was only seven years old. There wasn’t much she could do completely on her own, but Ian and Mariya wanted her to feel confident and able to make decisions for herself. They loved her and trusted her, but they were so afraid for her. If anyone understood the risks and dangers lurking in the world, it was the two of them. They had seen the worst in people. They witnessed the cruelty and viciousness of life and knew just how quickly a safe, normal life could fall into treacherous waters.

  Their instinct was to protect her. They wanted to shield her from everything. But they knew that would only limit her. It was far more important to help her take her place in the world. To slowly prepare her for what she might one day experience.

  Mariya knew this and tried to follow it every day. But it didn’t stop her from always wanting to guard her daughter. She stood there by the window, not just keeping an eye on Emma. It was really about savoring every moment she had with her. She was growing up so fast. It seemed like Emma should still be just a baby, cradled in her arms. The days had gone by so fast. They disappeared in an instant and left her reaching for them, trying to hang on as much as she could.

  The last week had been difficult on Mariya. It was the first time in a few months she’d been aw
ay from Emma for more than just a weekend. But she had to do as much as she could in those days to prepare them for coming here. They were planning on spending the next few months, at least through the end of the year, in Sherwood. Mariya would travel as necessary to help women in the area as much as possible, but she would stay close to the family. Those were the days she never liked to face. Days she often stared at on the calendar, dreading their arrival. She would celebrate when they were finally behind her.

  She coped with it in silence. Not that she didn’t think Ian knew. He watched her go through the anxiety and pain every year. Neither of them liked to talk about it. This year they decided they wouldn’t. They would move past it by going to spend time with his parents and enjoying a calmer pace for a little while.

  Emma settled down immediately. She always did. She was adaptable. Willing to go with the ever-changing life they led as long as they were together. Mariya knew she hated when either of her parents left home. But it was easier for her when Ian was gone. The little girl missed her father desperately, but as long as Mariya stayed steady and let her know everything was all right, Emma felt calm. It wasn’t as easy when she needed to be gone. Mariya knew it was because Emma didn’t understand why she left. She knew about her father’s job, at least in the way such a little girl could know. But they hadn’t told her about what her mother did.

  Emma didn’t know about the women or the other small children that they rescued. She didn’t know that when Mariya left it was with a weapon on her hip and a prayer in her soul that she’d be able to deliver those families out of suffering and into new lives. She never let herself dwell on the reality that she might not come home to her own life.

  She’d entertained a thought about stopping. For a time. Many years ago. Just after Emma came into the world, she held her tiny newborn daughter in her arms and looked into her face, thinking about how precious and delicate she was. Mariya wondered how she could ever leave her, how she could ever go back out into that danger and risk her daughter not having her anymore.

  Then she remembered those who relied on her. Many of them had children, and those who didn’t might someday. Those mothers would look into their babies’ faces the same way she looked into Emma’s. They didn’t deserve to fear what would happen to them.

  That’s what sent her back out. It’s what made her push harder and believe deeper. One day she would tell Emma about all of it. She would explain to her what she did and show her the records she kept. Those were valuable to her. The names and the faces, the real people who gave her purpose. Her belief would sometimes falter. Some missions didn’t go as planned. Sometimes the women fell victim despite her best efforts. Each one like a wrench tearing apart her soul. But she could always go to those records, scan through them, remembering those who were able to walk out of the darkness and claim their own piece of light.

  But for now, Emma was just an innocent little girl. She didn’t want her to know about the horrors of the world. For now, Mariya was happy to just watch her play.

  Outside the window, Emma bounced her ball on the sidewalk and occasionally ran across the grass to talk to her father. After a few seconds, the ball slipped from her hands and started rolling toward the street. Worry jumped in Mariya’s heart, and she made a move to go to the front door, ready to call Emma back from running out into the street. But she didn’t need to. A little boy maybe a couple of years older than Emma was riding his bike past the house and stopped just before hitting the ball. He got off his bike and grabbed the ball to bring it back over to Emma. They looked at each other for a brief moment as he carefully placed the ball in her hands.

  It was a sweet moment, so tender and innocent. She only turned away when the phone rang. Jogging into the kitchen, she picked the phone up from the cradle.

  “Hello?” she answered, expecting to hear her mother-in-law’s voice on the other end.

  Ian’s parents weren’t there when they arrived the night before but were supposed to return that night. She expected the call to be from them to make plans for dinner or to say they would be home earlier than expected. Instead, Elliot’s voice came through sharp and urgent. He was supposed to be in Texas, escorting a woman they just took from a truly unimaginable situation in Michigan. Getting a call from him meant something was wrong. He didn’t get in touch with her like this, especially not on this number. It created too much of a trail, too much of something to follow and link back between the women and her.

  “Get inside and lock the doors.”

  “I am inside. That’s how I answered the phone,” Mariya pointed out. “What’s going on?”

  “Is Emma with you? And Ian?”

  “She’s outside playing in the yard, and he’s with her. Elliot, what is happening?”

  She rarely spoke his real name if they weren’t in the same room. It was too risky. But right now, she wasn’t thinking of anything but the urgency in his voice.

  “Get them inside. Lock the doors. I’m at the airport right now. I’m getting the next plane out.”

  “You need to tell me what’s happening right now,” she commanded.

  “He’s there.”

  “What?”

  “Jonah.”

  Her stomach fell, and her hand gripped the phone harder.

  “He’s there, Mariya. In Sherwood. Or at the very least he’s on his way. Doc has been tracing him and found out he tracked your movements and headed for you.”

  “When?”

  It was all she could manage.

  “Earlier today. Don’t try to leave the area. You don’t want him following you and separating you from them. Get in the house, hunker down, and wait for me. I transferred Leah to Paul in Atlanta. He’ll get her to Texas, and I’m on my way to Virginia. I’ll get there as fast as I can. If you see him, call the police.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Now

  “I can’t believe I didn’t put it together when you first started talking about it,” Sam says. We’re in the evidence room of the Sherriff’s Office in Sherwood poring over the files. “But I remember that night. It was chilly that day, but not too cold. I went out to ride my bike. I was going through the different neighborhoods, and I saw a girl playing with a ball in the front yard.”

  “Me,” I nod. “I remember that now. I was playing, and I lost control of the ball. You were riding your bike, and I thought you were going to hit it. I was worried you were going to fall. But you stopped and picked it up and brought it to me.”

  “I rode around for a little bit longer and then headed home for dinner. But I wasn’t there very long when my dad got a call. He told my mom there was a disturbance at the Griffin house. He had to be talking about your grandparents. She asked him if everything was all right. He kind of shrugged her off like he didn’t know what was going on, but he was gone for the rest of the night. The next day when he got home, they talked about the accident. I didn’t know what happened, but later on the news, I saw the story about the crash and that somebody died. Dad was really shaken up about it. It really got to him. I had no idea the two things had anything to do with each other. They wouldn’t talk about it in front of me,” he tells me.

  Looking at the reports and evidence boxes spread out on the table in front of me is like looking at a brutal scrapbook. Vaults locked tight in the back of my mind crack open. Memories I never wanted to experience again seep out into my consciousness.

  “My mother came outside and grabbed me. It scared me at first; then I thought she might be playing. I tried to wriggle away from her so we could play tag, but she held me tight and ran for the house, shouting for my father. I dropped my ball. I remember being so worried about it. It was rolling down the sidewalk again, and I didn’t want it to get away. I tried to get out of her arms again, and she told me to stop. She yelled at me. It was the first time in my life I can remember her really raising her voice at me. She sounded so angry, and I didn’t know what I had done. Dad went and got my ball, and we went inside. He locked all the doors, a
nd she put me down but told me I had to stay right there and not to move. She ran around the house, pulling all the blinds down and checking the windows. It was like a bad storm was coming.”

  “It was,” Sam says. “Just not like you might have thought. The first call my father took to the house was when they noticed Jonah outside. There really wasn’t anything he could do about it, though, because he didn’t get near the house, and technically he had the right to visit his parents just as much as Ian did. The notes in here say the brothers had been estranged for several years, and that tension made it so Ian didn’t want Jonah around.”

  “Of course they were estranged,” I note. “After what he did, my father wouldn’t want anything to do with Jonah.”

  “Well, Jonah clearly didn’t get the message because before my father could even get home, he had broken into the house, and your father was chasing him. That must have been the criminal activity the newspapers didn’t want to report on,” Sam says. “Since Jonah died in the wreck, they couldn’t speculate on what he was doing at the house.”

  “Doesn’t need any speculation,” I say. “The day he came to the house was the anniversary of the day he raped my mother. He was there because he believed it was the anniversary of the day he conceived his child with my mother. This was the first time he’s tried to come for me. Jonah was there that night to claim me back.”

  “But your father chased him away, and it started raining. There really was a storm coming. I remember that now. There was a horrible thunderstorm that night that started just after my father left the house. It would have gotten to its worst when they were driving. Your father must have got in his car and was chasing his brother before the storm made Jonah lose control. He crashed into the ravine off the side of the back road.”

  “No, Sam. It wasn’t an accident. Look at the accident report. There’s no evidence here of a second car skidding on the road. My father might have gone after him, but he wasn’t chasing him when the car went off the road. The articles talk about a chase earlier, not that the car was involved in the wreck. And they never mention my father because there were no criminal charges. Jonah planned that. He planned, if he couldn’t get his hands on me, what he was going to do next. That body was already in the car,” I point out.