vial. There was rubber tubing around her arm. He dropped to his knees.
Her eyes registered absolute terror when she saw him.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he assured her. "I'm going to get you help." He didn't have to tell Maya to call 911; she was already on the phone.
"Not su..i..cide," the woman gasped, her hand pawing at his arm. "Kill me."
Maya squatted down next to him. "Who tried to kill you, Julia?"
Julia's lips parted, and her eyes widened. "Natasha? You're alive?"
"I'm not Natasha. I'm her granddaughter. Do you know who killed her? Who tried to kill you? Is it the same person?"
"So sorry. My fault. Natasha was right. Should have believed her. I—I loved her." Her body stiffened, and then her gaze went dead.
"She's gone," he said flatly.
Maya turned to him, fear and bewilderment in her eyes. "Why would anyone kill her?"
"She knew something." He looked past Maya to a letter on the coffee table. He got up, then used the hem of his shirt to pick it up, careful not to leave any prints.
"What's that?" Maya asked, getting to her feet.
He scanned it quickly. "Looks like a suicide note."
"But she said someone killed her."
"This note reads like a confession." He turned his gaze to hers. "For your grandmother's death."
"Can I see it?"
"I don't want you to touch it."
"Why?"
"Fingerprints. I'll read it to you. This is what she says: I need to confess my sins. I am the one who killed Natasha Petrova. She betrayed our friendship, and in a moment of rage, I killed her. I made it look like she overdosed, but I spiked her drink and then I injected her with heroin. I can no longer live with my guilt. I know her granddaughter is looking for answers, and I need to give her the most important one. Please let her know how very sorry I am." He looked at Maya. "That's it."
"It's a lie. She said so."
He nodded, wishing they'd gotten here a few minutes earlier. "She was set up to take the blame for Natasha's murder. The question is who set her up?"
"Constantine is the one who steered me in her direction. What are we going to do, Jax?"
He could hear sirens now and made a quick decision. "We're not going to tell anyone what she said."
"What are you talking about?" she asked in confusion. "Why wouldn't we tell the police?"
He had to give her an answer that would make sense to her. "Because then whoever did this will know that their strategy failed, and you'll be the next target, Maya. You and probably me." He could see the uncertainty in her eyes and while a big part of him wanted to tell her he was FBI and that he could protect her, the situation was far too volatile for confessions that would take longer than the next thirty seconds to explain. "We'll give the police the note. We'll let them investigate. We need to buy a little time. Trust me, Maya."
Conflict played through her green eyes but then she slowly nodded. "Okay. I won't say anything."
Relief ran through him. He did want to keep her safe, but he also wanted some time to give his team a chance to take this case over. "Why don't you answer the door?" As she walked away, he sent a quick text to Flynn, explaining the situation. Then he got ready to talk to the cops.
They were held at the scene for over an hour, giving their statements to the police officers, and then repeating them to a detective who arrived with the medical examiner. He stayed undercover, answering the same repetitive questions as calmly as he could while pretending to be out of his depth. The suicide note lent credence to the theory that Julia had in fact killed herself, and for now, that was enough. Since Maya was referenced in the note, it made sense that they had come to speak to Julia about Natasha. It added up to the cops, but it didn't add up to him.
While the police were finishing up their conversation with Maya, he wandered around Julia's living room, looking for other clues. In an adjacent alcove was a glass case with dozens of trophies displayed from Julia's days on the pro circuit. Along with those trophies were pictures of Julia on the court, as a child and then a teenager and later as an adult. As he moved toward the far end of the case, there were photos from the