Page 30 of Chasing Justice

Maya grinned and turned around, picking up her long curly hair so her grandmother could put on the necklace. “There,” Nana said, closing the clasp. “It fits you perfect.”

Maya let her hair back down and fingered the key. “I’m never taking this off, Nana.”

“Good. And this is a photo of you and your mother. You look so much like her. This is one of my favorite pictures, but it’s time that you have it,” Nana said, handing Maya the frame.

Maya always had a hard time remembering what her mother looked like. She studied the image, staring at it. She couldn’t remember her mother, this person with a large smile, hugging her, but somehow the picture made Maya feel better.

“Thank you, Nana.”

“You’re welcome. Now, we need to go make some omelets before Pops gets home.”

“Maya?” Pops’s voice interrupted Maya’s memory. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m good. Just remembering Nana,” Maya said. Her fingers went to the smooth necklace that, true to her promise, she had never taken off. The Marines allowed women to wear necklaces as part of their dress code and in Afghanistan it brought her comfort.

I miss you, Nana.

Maybe coming here was a mistake.

Chapter Eighteen

Her grandfather prepped the coffeepot and hit the power button. As the machine started to sputter and percolate, Pops leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. He appeared tired and worn. How often had Maya only thought about herself and her feelings from her grandmother’s death? Had she ever stopped to think about her grandfather’s feelings?

“So, what do you want to know?” Pops asked.

“I want to know about Nana and a few things Doug told me.”

“What about her?”

Maya sat down at the family dinner table. She ran her fingers over the grooves and nicks created from years of family meals and activities. “Do you really think Nana took her own life?”

“What makes you ask that?”

“Do you?”

“You’re not answering my question.”

“And you’re not answering mine,” Maya shot back.

“I don’t know.”

Maya hesitated, then blurted out, “Doug said you knew the truth about Nana’s death. What did he mean by that?”

Her grandfather stared at her. Maya’s face flushed. Maybe that was too much. Barking came from outside, and he turned to look out the window. “You have the dog with you?”

“Juniper.”

“What?”

“Juniper. Her name is Juniper. I’m tired of everyone calling her ‘the dog.’ You’re trying to get out of my question.”

“My honest answer is I don’t know.” Her grandfather pulled down two mugs and poured coffee into both. He added cream and then asked, “Sugar? You can bring the...uh, Juniper in.”

Maya shook her head no. “She’ll be okay out in the car. I need to get to know her better, so we don’t destroy your house.”

“Okay. When did he say that?” he asked, joining Maya at the table. The chair scraped the wood floor as he pulled it back and sat down.

“After the explosion. We were waiting for the helicopter to come. He told me you knew the truth about Nana’s death, and that you knew the truth about the explosion. I’m trying to figure out what he meant. Is he saying she didn’t commit suicide? That she was murdered? Are you looking into it? And was Doug in trouble? Why would you know about the explosion?”