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