Page 27 of Chasing Justice
She needed to know the truth about her friend even if it was something Maya didn’t want to hear. It could be the start in finding justice for him.
“Come on, Juniper. We’re going to take a little trip.”
Juniper sprang to her feet.
Chapter Seventeen
Maya loaded Juniper into the back of the SUV and sat for a moment in the car. She hadn’t been to her grandfather’s place since they’d fought. Should she call him, let him know she was thinking about stopping by? Or just surprise him? She wanted answers to Doug’s letters and what he had told her, and she wanted them now, but that philosophy didn’t always work with her grandfather, and patience wasn’t one of her strong suits.
Maya knew she’d been the one who created the problems. She had to admit that he had every reason to be mad at her. She had lied to him—something she had never done before, at least not at this level. She had told him she couldn’t come home for her grandmother’s funeral, that she was still in Afghanistan, but that wasn’t true. Maya had been stateside in San Diego.
After Zinger died, she had been under investigation. Eventually she was cleared. Maya began her discharge process, and then she’d found out about her grandmother taking her own life. Maya couldn’t believe it and wasn’t ready to handle that after everything else she had been through, so she’d lied and gone to a bar.
She couldn’t handle seeing her grandfather’s sorrow or more death, and she had grieved the way that worked best. Maya had toasted to her grandmother. Over. And over. And over. Then she’d made the mistake of drunk dialing Pops and spilling her guts that she was in a bar in San Diego and she could have come home. As the saying went, that’s how the fight started.
She couldn’t explain to her grandfather and he didn’t understand. Even after she’d decided to move home, she and Pops continued to fight. Maya now realized that while she had told herself she moved home to find peace and normalcy, she also needed her grandfather. Admitting that was hard. Maybe talking to him today was the first step.
“Ready to go?” Maya asked Juniper.
Juniper barked and hopped up and down in the back.
“Remember, you have medical restrictions.”
Juniper barked again. As they drove, the mountain peaks hid behind low-hanging clouds. Dew clung on tree leaves. June could be warm in Colorado, but this year the nighttime thunderstorms and rain made everything feel like spring. The summer heat had stayed away up here so far.
Maya wound her way through the back-mountain roads, finishing up her coffee and wishing she had more. The lack of sleep was catching up to her.
“Don’t get in a fight,” Maya muttered. “Try apologizing for once in your life.”
Juniper whined in answer.
Her grandfather’s driveway appeared after a sharp curve. Maya, out of habit, had already slowed down. She turned in and stopped the car. She could still change her mind. There was still a chance her grandfather hadn’t seen her.
Juniper let out a loud woof. “Quiet,” Maya corrected in a firm tone.
Juniper whined and circled around the back seat, panting in excitement.
“You’re not working right now, but I’m glad you’re feeling better. You need to take it easy for a while. Doctor’s orders. Remember?”
Maya put the car in gear and continued down the drive. The house sat about a quarter mile off the road. The old log cabin had been restored by her grandparents and had a fresh coat of varnish on it. Pops had been busy.
A wave of guilt swept through Maya. She should have been over helping him with stuff like that, not sitting at home feeling sorry for herself. A pile of leftover wood from winter was stacked on the front porch between two pillars. Two rocking chairs sat on the other side of the porch near the bright red door.
Maya fought back tears. Only one of those chairs was being used now. She missed Nana so much.
Maya parked near the house and got out of the car. Juniper made small circles in her car kennel. Maya ignored her as she climbed the steps to the house. The second step still creaked. She picked up her hand, ready to knock, but instead it fell by her side. Peering in the window, she could tell the kitchen was empty, which meant her grandfather was probably out in the barn.
The old red barn, built in the early 1900s, had also been restored and had provided years of refuge for Maya. She could escape and go read up in the hayloft, Bear snuggled in next to her. It became her own secret place to think or be alone. Her thoughts would wander from wondering what life would be like if her mother had lived and dreaming about traveling the world while serving her country.
Maya stepped back off the porch and headed toward the barn. A round pen sat nestled back in the trees, and as she came closer, she heard hoofbeats. Coming around the corner, Maya caught sight of a cute little sorrel filly trotting around the pen in a nice rhythm.
Maya’s grandfather stood in the middle, looking all cowboy. He wore brown leather chaps, a Carhartt vest, and his favorite worn brown cowboy hat with sweat stains. He had a lasso rope in his hand, and when needed he would tap his leg with the rope to encourage the filly to keep trotting. He clucked and let the rope slap his thigh and the filly obediently went into a soft, steady canter. Then Pops shifted slightly in front of the horse and the filly picked up on his cue, coming back to a trot.
Her grandfather could dance with an animal. He knew how to help them overcome fear. He was one of the best horsemen she knew. Working dogs was similar. Maya knew her abilities had come from both of her grandparents. Nana had taught Maya so much about patience when she helped her train Bear.
Pops walked in a slight diagonal across the round pen and drew the filly’s eyes in his direction. Then he stepped back, and the horse blew out her breath, walked, and turned toward him, joining him in the middle of the pen. He sat and stroked her face, his fingers massaging around her ears. The filly relaxed, licking and chewing and allowing Pops to rub all over her head.
“Hello, Maya.”
