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

by Barbara Freethy

  "Then you should quit. You should take the time to write the script and make the movie. The jobs you've been doing—you can always go back to those, but I don't think you ever will. This is your break. This is your chance to be the filmmaker you've always wanted to be. It's time for those producers you work for to get their own coffee."

  She smiled, touched by her mother's renewed faith in her. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

  "It's long overdue, Maya." Guilt flashed through her mother's eyes. "I should have been more supportive of you. I was trying to protect your father, but it shouldn't have been at your expense. I'm very sorry about that. I felt like things were spinning out of control, and I didn't know what to do. I didn't realize that your father had held things back from me until yesterday."

  "They were too painful for him to share."

  "But he's feeling so much better today, knowing the truth. Even if no one ever paid for his mom's death, he's been freed from the trappings of his guilt. You did that for him, even though you had to fight him every step of the way."

  "I'm glad he feels better."

  "Now, what else do you need from me?"

  "Eventually, I'm going to need some clothes and a place to live. Darcy was nice enough to lend me these jeans, but they're a little tight on me. How did she get so skinny after having a baby?"

  "Your sister is a fitness fanatic," her mom said with a smile. "You can come home and stay there as long as you want. Clothes are also not a problem. We can start with some online shopping today."

  "Maybe later. I really want to tell Grandpa what's going on. Now that the two main suspects in Grandma's death have been arrested, I want to drive back to LA and talk to Grandpa."

  "Are you sure it's safe?"

  "I think so, and I don't want to let more time go by before I see him. He could hear about all this on the news, and that's not the way I want him to find out."

  "All right. I'm going to trust your judgment. You can take my car. I'll ride back with your dad. We brought both our cars here as we weren't sure how long we'd be staying."

  "Thanks."

  "Be safe."

  "I will."

  She grabbed her mom's keys and headed out the door. There were still two men sitting in a vehicle in front of the house, but they made no effort to stop her from leaving. They'd probably gotten word that arrests were being made.

  It took her over an hour and a half to get back to LA. When she arrived at her grandfather's facility around two, she was met by a guard, who checked her ID, and then accompanied her to her grandfather's room. He insisted on coming into the room, which was fine with her. She was glad they were being so careful.

  Her grandfather was sitting at a table by the window working on a puzzle.

  "Hi, Grandpa," she said, kissing his cheek before she took the seat across from him.

  A happy light entered his eyes. "Maya, you look beautiful as always."

  "And you look handsome as always," she returned, exchanging a smile with him.

  "So much like your grandmother. I wish she could have met you, known you."

  "I wish that, too."

  His expression sharpened. "You're here because of her. It can't be good, not if you need a security guard."

  "No. It's not good."

  "Natasha was murdered," he said flatly.

  "Yes, and it looks like Edward Coleman did it."

  "Edward Coleman? The DA who became the Attorney General?" he asked in shock. "Why would he kill her?"

  "Because he was a Russian spy and so was Grandma."

  "What?" He shook his head in disbelief. "No. She wasn't a spy. She was an actress."

  "From what I understand, she was recruited by Constantine Dimitrov while you and Natasha were still married. She wanted to get back into the movies, and her ambition was stronger than her good sense. Constantine used that to bring her under his control, to force her to spy for him in return for his help. Wallace Jagger was her first target."

  "I always wondered if she really loved Wallace or Constantine. It seemed like she did at times."

  "I think she had affection for both of them, but Constantine was using her, and she was using Wallace."

  "I can't believe she was spying for the Russians. She didn't even like Russia. She hated growing up there. She had no one who loved her. She was poor. I never would have guessed that in a million years."

  "Then you probably wouldn't have guessed that she actually turned on the Russians and went to the FBI and became a double agent."

  His eyes widened. "Are you sure you're not making this up to make a better movie?"

  She smiled. "I'm really not. With Grandma's help, the FBI took down a huge spy ring in the eighties, but the bureau left Coleman and Constantine in play because she was getting information from them. They didn't want to shut down the pipeline. Then Natasha was killed, and a few days later, the FBI agent who had been handling her died of a heart attack, probably induced by some kind of poison. Since Grandma had been working off the books, once that agent died, no one knew that Natasha's death was murder."

  "Was it Coleman or Constantine?"

  "I don't know if there's irrefutable evidence against Coleman, but it looks like he killed Julia, so there's a good chance he also killed Natasha."

  "Wait! Julia is dead?" More shock entered his eyes.

  "Oh, yes, sorry. I forgot you didn't know that. Coleman tried to frame Julia as Natasha's killer."

  Her grandfather shook his head. "I never imagined the story would go like this."

  "Natasha did some bad things, Grandpa, but she did some good things, too."

  "Does your father know everything?"

  "Yes."

  "How's he handling it?"

  "Maybe better than you might expect. I think the truth has set him free." She didn't want to get into the night of the murder, the fact that her father had been in the car. That could all come out later. Her grandfather was already starting to look fatigued and overwhelmed.

  "Maybe Rex will now understand why she separated from us," her grandfather said. "I'm sure she didn't want to put him or myself in danger."

  "She loved you both. You know that, because you read her journals."

  "But there were so many things I didn't understand. And that odd black book—what was that about?"

  "It was code, Grandpa. It was everything she'd been doing. If you hadn't given me those books, none of this might have come to light."

  He smiled. "I knew you were the right person for the job. I didn't expect you to take down a Russian spy ring, which makes me nervous about your safety."

  "I'm okay. I might have started the ball rolling, but the FBI is on this now. They're the ones who are collecting the evidence that will put everyone away."

  "Good. Then you can concentrate on making your movie."

  "I'm going to need your help on that."

  "You'll have it." He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Thank you, Maya. I have one last favor. Will you tell her for me?"

  "I will." She gave him another kiss and left the room.

  Walking out to her car, she felt happier than she had in a while. Her grandfather and father had closure. Her family was back to supporting her, and the bad guys were going to jail. There was one more person who needed to hear that.

  Jax roamed the Firebird Club Tuesday afternoon, looking for the one person who had evaded arrest—Sylvia Graham. Her car was in the lot, but she was nowhere to be found. After his team had descended upon the club, they'd been able to take Alexander, Victoria, Louisa, and Ryland Jagger into custody. Ryland had immediately requested a lawyer, which he'd get once he got to the field office. They'd be working with Damon's office on the interviews and statements as they simply needed more manpower to get through everyone at the same time. This was looking to be one of the biggest spy operations in history.

  Daniel Bragin, his daughter, Lindsay were also being brought in for questioning along with Dustin Paul and Lisa Hoffman.

  But
right now, he was focusing on finding Sylvia. After the club had been shut down and members asked to leave, the staff had been sequestered in the main dining room. There had been a lot of questions and speculation, none of which they'd addressed.

  As he made his way back up to the lobby, he ran into his former boss, Ray Shalinski, who had just finished talking to Beck.

  "Jax, what's going on?" Ray asked.

  "I'm sure Agent Maxwell has apprised you of the situation."

  "I have," Beck replied.

  Ray's gaze narrowed. "You really fooled me, Jax. I thought you were just an actor looking to make some money serving drinks. Sylvia was right to be suspicious of you."

  "Have you seen Sylvia? We can't find her."

  "She was here. I spoke to her about five minutes before all of you came busting in. She got a text, and I saw her go outside. I don't know where she went."

  "A text from whom?"

  "She doesn't tell me who she's texting," Ray said.

  "Are you sure you don't know?" he challenged. "You've been working here for six months, and you speak Russian." While David had told him that he didn’t believe Ray was involved in anything, Jax didn't want to discount the possibility that he might be.

  Ray gazed back at him, truth in his eyes. "I never wanted to know, Jax, and no one ever wanted to clue me in. I just did my job. That's it."

  "Then you should be okay, but you'll need to sit through some interviews. Your cooperation will be appreciated."

  "As if I have a choice about cooperating," Ray said with annoyance. "You know, there's a lot of good people who work here, too. Now the club will have to shut down and they'll be out of jobs."

  "That's unfortunate. But this club has been harboring spies and traitors, Ray, and if you want to end up on the right side of this situation, you'd be wise to tell everything you know."

  "Like I said, I don't know anything. Sylvia was a closed book. And to the members, I'm just the bar manager. I'm not their peer or their confidant. Alexander was my boss; he wasn't my friend. I wasn't old school, like them. They all knew each other. Half of them grew up here. I was just hired help." Ray paused. "You have to believe me."

  He actually believed Ray. From what he'd seen, Ray had stayed in his lane. "You'll be fine. Just tell the truth."

  "Let's go," Beck told Ray, as he led him away.

  Jax picked up his phone as it started to buzz. Caitlyn was on the line.

  "I'm at Sylvia Graham's home," Caitlyn said. "She's not here, Jax. But you know what is here? Edward Coleman's car. The one that was allegedly at Julia Poplova's house the day she was killed."

  The truth suddenly hit him in the face. "Edward hadn't been driving his car; Sylvia had. Which meant she was the one who killed Julia. Hell, maybe she was the one who killed Natasha." His mind raced with possibilities. Sylvia was only eighteen when Natasha died. Not that that necessarily made her innocent. But it would explain why Constantine never went after Coleman or vice versa. Maybe they didn't know who killed Natasha. Or perhaps Coleman knew Sylvia had done it and chose to protect his daughter. "We need to find Sylvia."

  "I agree. I'll see if there are any other clues in her house," Caitlyn replied.

  "Thanks." As that call ended, he punched in Savannah's number. She was at the office, interrogating David. "I need your help. Are you still with David?"

  "We're becoming best friends," she said dryly. "He's sitting right across from me."

  "Put the phone on speaker."

  "You got it."

  "David, we can't find your mother. She slipped out of the club as soon as we got there, but her car is still in the lot. Would she be hiding somewhere?"

  "She probably took the club car or my grandfather's car."

  "What's the make and model of the club car? Do you know the license plate?"

  "Yes."

  As David rattled off that information, Jax jotted it down in his phone, then asked again, "Where would your mother go? She's not at her house. Does she have a second home somewhere?"

  "She has a condo in Hawaii. She could be anywhere. She has a ton of money stashed away."

  "Try harder, David."

  "Dude, I've given you a lot."

  "Where would your mother go if she thought she was going to go down for all the crimes she has committed?"

  "You're asking the wrong question," David said.

  "Then tell me what question to ask."

  "What would she do if she thought she'd been betrayed? She's extremely vengeful. Anyone who crosses her pays a price. My father left her and literally fell off the face of the earth. You might want to look into that sometime." He paused. "Hell, she's probably coming after me. She must know by now I turned her in. She's going to kill me."

  "Relax. She won't be able to get to you." His mind spun once more. While David had brought his mother down, she didn't know that yet. She might think that the raid was tied to Natasha's murder, to Julia's murder. And the person who had instigated all of that was Maya. His heart began to pound. "I gotta go."

  He hung up and called Maya. It went to voice mail. "Call me, Maya. It's urgent. Sylvia has disappeared. She might be coming after you." He ended the call and then got back on the phone, this time checking in with the team admin, Eric Connors. Eric had set up the security for Maya's family. "Eric, I need to find Maya. Do you have her sister Darcy's phone number? What about her parents?"

  "Maya left Carlsbad hours ago. She went to her grandfather's assisted living facility."

  "Is she still there?"

  "No, she left ten minutes ago."

  He swore under his breath. "What's the address for the facility?"

  Eric gave him the address, and he ran for the door. He jogged down the steps, jumping into his vehicle and gunning the motor. He got to the facility in less than twenty minutes. Thank goodness, it was not that far away. The security detail took him into Phillip Ashton's room.

  Ashton was tall and thin, with white hair and dark eyes. He gave him a startled look. "Do I know you?"

  "No, you don't." He tried to temper the anxiety he was feeling so as not to scare the man. "But I'm very good friends with your granddaughter, Maya. I've been helping her look into your first wife's murder." He pulled out his badge. "I'm Jax Kenin. I'm an FBI agent."

  The man's tension eased. "Maya said the FBI was helping. What can I do for you?"

  "I'm looking for Maya."

  "Why? Is she in trouble?"

  "It's just very important that I find her."

  "She's in danger then," Phillip said worriedly.

  "I just need to talk to her."

  Phillip stared back at him. "You care about her, don't you?"

  "Very much," he admitted. "Do you have any idea where she was going after she left here?"

  "Yes. She was going to see Natasha."

  For a split second, he didn't understand, and then it hit him. "She was going to Natasha's grave?"

  Phillip nodded. "She wanted to tell her that her murderer had been caught."

  "Where is Natasha buried?"

  "Oakmont Cemetery. It's right off the 405 Freeway."

  "I know where it is. Thanks."

  "You take care of Maya, Agent Kenin. She's very important to me."

  "To me, too," he said, meeting the old man's gaze, and then he ran out of the room.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Maya bought flowers in the gift shop at the Oakmont Cemetery and then drove through the winding hills to the area where her grandmother was buried. The cemetery was beautiful, set on a hill with views of the ocean. There were groves of thick trees everywhere, providing small, private areas, where some of LA's most famous celebrities were buried.

  It took her a few minutes to find her grandmother's grave. She'd never actually been to the grave before. She'd never even thought about it until her grandfather had given her the journals and sent her off to find the truth.

  An odd shiver ran through her when she located the headstone. She read the name aloud. "Natasha Petrova."
It seemed odd that there was no mention of the men she'd married. It was also strange that there were no words of description on the stone—no loving wife or devoted mother reference. It was just her name and the dates of her life. It seemed rather sad that a woman who had created so many headlines had not been buried with even one. But then, she didn't really know who had paid for any of this. It hadn't been her grandfather. Perhaps it had been Wallace or maybe Constantine, who had loved Natasha in his own twisted way.

  Her grandfather had told her that the funeral had been large. Hundreds of people had gathered to pay their respects. Her father had not wanted to go, but her grandfather had insisted, thinking his son would one day regret not saying good-bye to his mother. But after her dad had seen Natasha's casket, he'd run out of the church.

  Her father must have been in terrible pain that day. The only way he'd been able to deal with his guilt was to hide in his anger for his mother, to blame her for everything so there was no space left in which to blame himself. She understood him much better now. She hadn't just discovered who her grandmother was through all this; she'd also finally gotten to know her dad.

  As she looked around, she could almost picture the ceremony. All of Natasha's friends from the Russia House would have been there. She could see each and every one of them expressing deep pain and regret. Some of those emotions might have been real and honest, but others were surely fake.

  Had Constantine known that Edward had killed Natasha? Probably down deep in his gut, he had, but perhaps he'd refused to believe it.

  Had Louisa been thrilled to see her rival for Constantine's affections being lowered into the ground? Constantine had told her there was no rivalry between Louisa and Natasha, but having met Louisa, Maya didn't think that was true.

  Had Wallace been in attendance, not realizing that his marriage to Natasha had all been part of the game? That she'd married him to spy on him, to get access to his media connections?

  What about Bragin? Had he suspected that whatever relationship he'd had with Natasha had only been for nefarious reasons?