Fearless Pursuit (Off The Grid: FBI Series Book 8)

by Barbara Freethy

  As Jax drove them to Beverly Hills, Maya attempted to slow her pulse down to a normal level. She breathed in and out and tried not to think about Julia. She'd never seen anyone die before, and it still hadn't completely sunk in. It felt like the past few hours were more of a blurry nightmare than reality, but in her gut, she knew she wasn't dreaming. This was real. She was caught up in something she didn't understand. Everyone had warned her that she was running into fire, and she'd still kept running.

  Now, she had Jax running with her, and that wasn't fair. All he'd done was deliver an envelope at the request of Wallace Jagger, and he'd gotten caught up in the turmoil that was her life. He'd helped her. He'd supported her. He'd kissed her.

  She slanted a quick look at his profile, thinking how long it had been since they'd kissed. Their day had started out with so much promise: a casual breakfast date, a chance to just get to know each other, and it had been fun. But then she'd returned to her mission and everything had gone to hell.

  Jax had stuck with her. She didn't completely understand why, but she was grateful. He was keeping her sane in a world that was spinning wildly out of control.

  Although, she did wonder again if they'd made the right decision in not telling the police Julia's last words. Would that decision come back to haunt them?

  Jax had made a good case for staying silent. They'd be safer if the killer thought they believed Julia killed Natasha. But it worried her that by not telling the police, they wouldn't investigate her death in the right way.

  She glanced over at Jax, feeling a wave of second thoughts. "Jax, if we'd told the police it wasn't suicide, wouldn't they be doing a more thorough investigation? Wouldn't they be looking for security cameras and that kind of stuff?"

  "They're going to do that anyway," he said, giving her a quick look. "The detective assured me of that. He said they never take a note at face value."

  "Oh, okay, so they're going to investigate as if it could be murder."

  "Yes."

  "But if they're investigating, then the killer will know he still could be caught," she pointed out.

  "That's where you come in. You have to sell it at the club tonight. If you believe it, then they'll feel more confident that an investigation will reveal nothing."

  "That makes sense."

  "But if you're having doubts, Maya, we can drive to the police station. You can tell them you just remembered something. Pretend you were in shock and you weren't thinking clearly."

  She thought about his suggestion. Part of her wanted to do that and part of her didn't. She could always pretend to remember Julia's last words tomorrow. But for tonight, she would put on an act. She would try to take the target off her back and off Jax's back. She really hoped no one at the club knew he was helping her, because the last thing she wanted was for anything to happen to him.

  "Maya?" he asked, a question in his eyes.

  "Sorry. I was thinking it through. I'll see what happens later. I can always go tomorrow."

  Jax nodded, and a few minutes later, he pulled up in front of Blake's home and parked along the curb.

  Then she got her second surprise of the day. There was a car in the circular drive and standing next to that car was her father. He was arguing with Blake, and both men were so caught up in what was going on, they didn't even see them.

  "Oh, my God," she muttered. "That's my dad. What is he doing here?"

  "Only one way to find out. Unless you want to leave? I don't think they've seen us."

  "No. I want to know what's going on." She opened the door and got out. Jax came around the car and they walked down the drive.

  "You shouldn't have said anything to her about that night," her father shouted.

  Blake froze, his gaze moving toward them. And then her father turned. Shock ran across his face.

  "What are you doing here, Maya?" he demanded.

  "I was going to ask you the same thing," she returned. "I thought you barely remembered Blake."

  "Is that what you told her?" Blake asked her dad.

  "Shut up!" her father snapped.

  "I've shut up for too long. I'm done keeping your secrets."

  "What secrets, Dad?" she asked, her stomach starting to churn once more.

  Her father looked at her with both anger and fear, and it was that second emotion that disturbed her the most. Her dad was never ever afraid. The secrets had to be bad, really bad.

  "You should tell her," Blake said. "She's going to figure it out."

  "Thanks to you," her father said bitterly, sending Blake another daggered look.

  "Let's go inside," Blake suggested. He walked to the open front door and waited.

  Her dad hesitated, looking like he preferred to jump into his car and make a run for it.

  "Please, Dad," she said. "We have to talk—all of us."

  Her dad's gaze suddenly moved to Jax. "Who's he?"

  "He's a friend. He's helping me unravel the mystery surrounding Natasha's death. He knows everything that I know, and whatever you tell me, I'm going to tell him. I trust him. Which means you can trust him."

  "I will not share whatever is said here," Jax confirmed.

  Finally, her father closed the car door and walked up to the porch.

  She blew out a breath and gave Jax a quick look. She could see the concern in his eyes, but he urged her forward, and they followed her father and Blake into the house.

  They sat down in the living room and for a moment, there was nothing but a tense silence. Finally, her father looked at her and said, "You were right about the bag of food in my mother's car. It wasn't for her; it was for me."

  Her heart sped up. "You were in the car that night?"

  "For a few minutes, yes."

  "Why only a few minutes?"

  "She picked me up from soccer practice. I was supposed to take the bus home. I was waiting at the stop when she showed up. I didn't want to go with her, because she'd tried to lecture me about drugs a few days before that, and I couldn't stand that she thought she had the right to say anything to me about anything. She abandoned me. She'd given up the right to be my mother."

  She could see her father was getting worked up in his bitter resentment. "But you did go with her?"

  "Yes."

  "What happened after you got in the car?"

  "She told me she'd gotten me food, and she drove me to a park where no one else was around. It was important to her that no one was ever around the two of us. She probably didn't want photos of her being a bad mother or having an unappreciative son."

  "She took you to the park? Which park? The park where she was killed?"

  "Yes. But the car had been moved. We were by the boathouse. She was found in her car nearer to the entrance."

  That was an interesting piece of information. She filed that away to think about later. "What did you talk about?"

  "She said she was worried about me. I told her that she'd given up that right and I wanted nothing to do with her. I said she was a horrible mother, that she was selfish, that it was always about her and no one else. That's basically it."

  "What did she say?" Maya asked, seeing strain in her father's eyes.

  "Nothing. I wouldn't let her talk. I told her there was nothing she could say that would make me like her, much less love her, and then I got out of the car, and I ran. I ran for miles. When I was finally gasping for breath, I took a bus home. My father and Linda were in the house, and I didn't want to see them, so I came here. Blake was out by the pool."

  "And he made you tequila sunrises," she said, remembering what Blake had told her earlier.

  "Yes. I told him what happened, and we got drunk in the pool house. I must have passed out. I woke up and it was morning. And then my dad came over. He looked like I'd never seen him before. He told me that my mother was dead. That she'd died in her car. That she'd shot heroin into her veins."

  "The drugs were yours," she said, horror running through her.

  Her father gave her a bleak, grim look.
"Yes. She had yanked open my backpack, and they spilled out in the car. I wasn't actually taking them; I was selling them. But I didn't tell her that. I wanted her to think I'd become an addict because of her. When I ran, I didn't take the drugs with me."

  Her jaw dropped. She couldn't believe what he was saying. "I don't understand. You were selling drugs?"

  "For Blake," he said, looking over at him. "If my secrets are coming out, so are yours."

  "It was thirty-six years ago," Blake said. "Neither one of us was the same person after that night. We grew up. We changed. We did better. And you couldn't have known your mother would kill herself with those drugs."

  "Did you ever think that she didn't kill herself?" Maya interrupted. "Did either of you consider that possibility?"

  Her dad looked at her with sorrowful eyes. "No, because I was there, and she was so upset. I made her feel worthless. I tried to hurt her, and obviously I did."

  She looked over at Jax, and she saw the answer she was looking for in his eyes. He wanted her to tell the story they'd come up with, but it was a lie, and there had been so many lies already between her father and herself. She wanted to be honest with him now.

  On the other hand, Blake was a wildcard. She didn't know how he fit in exactly.

  Why had her father come running over here? Just to protect his story from that night? Or was there another reason?

  "So that's it," her dad said. "Now you know. If you want to put that in your movie, I guess I can't stop you. I'm sure the police will want to talk to me."

  "Did you ever consider coming forward?"

  "No. I couldn't. I locked that night away. Until you forced me to open the door again."

  "Did you know Julia Poplova?"

  Her father blinked in surprise. "Yes, she was Mom's friend from Russia. She played tennis. Why are you asking me about her?"

  "Because she died this morning in what appears to be a suicide." She didn't say anything about the note, because she wasn't sure how far she wanted to take the story with her dad.

  "I—I don't know what to say," her dad said. "How do you know?"

  "I went there to see her. I found her body."

  Her father paled. "Oh, my God. Maya, I'm sorry."

  "I'd never seen…" She let her voice trail away. "It was bad."

  "So, you went to see Julia and then you came here," her dad said slowly. "Why?" His gaze moved to Blake. "What do you know?"

  "Absolutely nothing," Blake said, throwing up his hands in a sign of innocence. "I haven't seen Julia in years. Why did you come here, Maya?"

  "Because there was a picture of you and Julia in her house, and I wanted to know how you knew her and if she ever spoke about my grandmother to you."

  "Oh, right. I played at her tennis club a few times. But I haven't seen her in a decade, at least. I don't know that we ever talked about Natasha beyond just the usual how sad it was she died young kind of conversation. I wish I could tell you something else."

  "You could have told me about the drugs when I first asked you."

  "I'd made a promise to your father," Blake said. "That's why I told you to remind him about the pool house. I wanted him to remember the promise we made to each other."

  "I can't believe you were selling drugs, Dad." She shook her head in bewilderment. The man was truly becoming a stranger to her.

  "I never did again, not after that night."

  "I didn't, either," Blake said. "We were scared straight. We were always afraid the drugs would be traced back to us."

  "If you'd come clean, maybe the police would have done something different. Maybe Natasha's death would have been investigated more thoroughly."

  "I thought she killed herself," her dad said. "I thought that until just now. But Julia…dying the same way my mom did…that's strange."

  "Was there a note?" Blake asked.

  As she thought about his question, she wondered if he'd had a more specific reason for asking it. And now she knew she had to tell the story. "Yes. There was a note. Julia confessed to killing Natasha. She said the weight of guilt was too much and now that I was looking into the murder, she had to be done. She said she was sorry."

  "What?" her father asked in shock.

  Surprise ran through Blake's eyes as well.

  Were both reactions honest? Or was one of them hiding something?

  "You're saying that Julia killed Natasha," Blake said slowly, his gaze dark and somewhat unreadable. "That's unbelievable."

  "Completely unbelievable," her father echoed.

  "Why?" she asked.

  "Because Mom and Julia were friends," her dad replied. "Mom used to babysit Julia when she was a little kid. She always told me she felt like Julia was her sister."

  "Constantine told me that they had a falling out, that Julia thought Natasha had become too Americanized. She'd lost her roots, her values."

  "Well, that was true," her father said. "But why would she kill her? It doesn’t add up."

  "I agree," Blake said. "When I talked to Julia years after the fact, her sadness about Natasha seemed very real." He paused. "Maybe it was about a man. When I played tennis with Julia, she was single, and she was dating a guy named Daniel. She said she'd met him a long time ago through Natasha, but he'd been married then and now he wasn't."

  "Daniel Bragin?" Jax interjected.

  "I think that was his name," Blake said. "You should talk to him."

  "Or don't talk to anyone else," her father said harshly. "Julia's note references you. You need to stop, Maya. What's it going to take? How many people are going to die?"

  She hadn't wanted to lie to him, but he wasn't giving her a choice. "I am going to stop," she said.

  Her father shook his head, giving her a doubtful look. "If that was true, why did you come here?"

  "Well, I wasn't sure until now that stopping was the right idea but having learned that you were in the car that night has changed my mind."

  "Good. Then I think we're done," her father said abruptly, getting to his feet.

  "I agree," Blake added, as he rose. "I have nothing more to add."

  She had no choice but to get up. Jax did the same, and they walked in silence to the front door.

  "I hope you can all put the past to bed," Blake said, as they stepped onto the porch. "There's nothing you can do to bring either of these women back. It's best you just get on with your own lives."

  As Blake shut the door, they walked down the drive, pausing by her father's car. "I wish you would have told me the truth the other night when I asked," she said. "Why didn't you?"

  "Because I've kept the secret for thirty-six years. I didn't want anyone to know, not you or your siblings or your mom, and especially not my father. I made some mistakes as a young man. I've tried to live a great life since then, a life of integrity. I never sold another drug after that night. I never took a drug after that night."

  "I believe that's true," she said, meeting his gaze. "But you have been living a lie for a long time, and maybe that's why you've always felt distant to me. It's like you could never really be yourself."

  "I am myself. I'm exactly who I want to be. And I'd like you to let me continue being the person that I've made myself into."

  "You want me to keep the secret from our family?"

  "Yes. That's exactly what I want," he said harshly.

  "I don't know if I can do that. Darcy and James, they have a right—"

  "No, they don't. This is my life—not yours, not theirs."

  "Okay." She paused, realizing she wasn't going to win that argument, and she had another battle to fight, one that was far more important. "Dad, I think you should go home, get Mom and go down to Darcy's house for the night. Tell Mom you want to see the baby. She'll be happy to go."

  He stared back at her. "Why?"

  "Because Julia is dead. Because I don't know what's going on. Because I don't want anything to happen to you or Mom or anyone in the family."

  "Why don't you come with us?"

  S
he was relieved he didn't seem inclined to argue. "I might meet you there, but I can't come with you now."

  "Why not?"

  "I have things I have to do."

  More anger ran through his eyes at her stubborn answer. "Fine. I'll take your mother down to Darcy's house. But you call us later."

  "I will."

  Her father got in his car and closed the door. Then he drove away.

  She let out a breath and turned to Jax. "That was…" She couldn't even find the right word.

  "I know," he said, giving her a compassionate smile. "Let's get out of here.”

  "Yes, please." As they got in the car and drove back to Belle's, she said, "I wasn't going to lie to my dad, but he gave me no choice."

  "Did you lie? Do you want to keep going, Maya? If your dad was in the car the night Natasha died, he could be in trouble."

  He made a good point. "You're right. He could be. And maybe he still thinks that Natasha killed herself with his drugs, but I don't. Because Julia died in exactly the same way and she told us she didn't kill herself. There's a murderer out there, and now they've killed at least twice."

  "I agree. It was interesting that the car was moved from the location where Natasha was with your father, to where she was found."

  "I thought so, too. Someone else came to meet her."

  "Someone she knew and probably trusted," he said.

  "They weren't caught on any security cameras in the park, I know that from the police report. But it was a big park and the cameras were few and far between."

  "It would be nice to know how much time passed between your father's departure and your grandmother's death."

  "I should have asked my dad what time he left. There were no signs of a struggle. But then, Julia didn't have any bruises either."

  "The killer must have incapacitated both of them in some way, probably poison in what appears to be an innocuous drink, followed by an injection."

  "But they didn't find any drinks in the car. And I didn't see anything at Julia's house."

  "The killer would have taken it with him."

  She shook her head in bemusement. "I can't believe we're talking about poison and murder like this. It feels so odd."