Answers For Julie (Book Nine In the Bodyguards of L.A. County Series) Read online

  ANSWERS FOR JULIE

  BOOK NINE IN THE BODYGUARDS OF L.A. COUNTY SERIES

  CATE BEAUMAN

  Answers For Julie

  Copyright © June 2015 by Cate Beauman.

  All rights reserved.

  Visit Cate at www.catebeauman.com

  Follow Cate on Twitter: @CateBeauman

  Or visit her Facebook page: www.facebook.com/CateBeauman

  First Print Edition: June 2015

  ISBN-13: 978-1514181751

  ISBN-10: 1514181754

  Editor: Invisible Ink Editing, Liam Carnahan

  Proofreader: Kimberly Dawn

  Cover: Demonza

  Formatting: Rachelle Ayala

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are a work of fiction or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Table of Contents

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chapter Forty-six

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Thank you!

  Finding Lyla

  Chapter One

  About The Author

  Book Ten Coming Soon!

  DEDICATION

  To Brian, my very own warrior.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A big thank you once again to John Reese, one of my many fact keepers in the world of fiction.

  Chapter One

  Newton, Massachusetts

  December 1990

  How The Grinch Stole Christmas ended the way Alyson liked best, with the Grinch smiling while he served Cindy Lou Who and the town of Whoville roast beast. The credits rolled quickly over the television screen as the iconic “Welcome Christmas” lyrics filled the room. She and Noah lay on their bellies, resting their chins on their palms with their elbows settled against the floor. Alyson grinned when her big brother scrambled up and crawled closer, pressing his forehead to hers.

  “Did you like it? Did you like the movie, Ally?”

  “Mmhm,” she said as she nodded. She and Noah had watched the Grinch last night too, but tonight had been even better. Mommy told Becky they could have hot chocolate with whipped cream. Even now her belly was full from the rich, chocolaty drink.

  “I bet you really remember the Grinch now, huh,” he said, pushing his forehead against hers for the second time.

  Ally grinned, nodding again, remembering how upset Noah had been at the park yesterday when she told him she didn’t know who the Grinch was. Noah had dug his boots into the snow, stopping his swing and running to tell Mommy that Ally didn’t remember the Grinch. Mommy had laughed, hugging Noah as she told him Ally had been too young last Christmas, but she would most likely remember the Grinch from now on. “I remember. I’ll never, ever forget.” Her smile turned into giggles as she and Noah hugged. Their enthusiastic embrace quickly turned into several rolls over the sleeping bags Becky had laid out for them on the soft carpeting.

  Noah untangled himself and sat up, his black hair standing up in messy spikes. “Maybe Mommy will let us watch it again tomorrow.”

  Alyson nodded, loving the idea. “The Grinch is mean, then he’s nice.”

  “He gives back all the presents,” Noah agreed as he stood in his Ninja Turtles pajamas.

  “Okay, rug rats. Time for bed.” Becky, their next-door neighbor, set down her magazine, got to her knees, and began rolling up Noah’s navy blue sleeping bag. “I told your mom I’d have you two in bed by eight thirty.” Becky made fast work of Alyson’s pink sleeping bag, then turned off the television. The fancy music floating upstairs from the west wing replaced the cheerful sounds of Dr. Seuss’s Christmas special.

  Alyson got to her feet in her My Little Pony nightgown and purple socks. “Can Mommy and Daddy come say goodnight?”

  “Not tonight.” Becky scooped up Alyson as she stood, and Alyson giggled as her tummy flip-flopped with the quick motion. “Your mommy and daddy are the king and queen of the ball, so they can’t leave.”

  “Mommy and Daddy have lots of fancy parties, because Daddy’s business is important.” Alyson repeated what her mother had told her, playing with Becky’s green dangling ornament earrings.

  “Yes, it is,” Becky agreed.

  “Mommy says I can go to her parties and wear dresses and dance when I’m all growed up.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  “Maybe we can go wave to her,” Alyson suggested with a hopeful smile as she looked toward the hallway and the echoing noises coming from the ballroom.

  Becky shook her head. “They’ll see you in the morning.”

  “When we get to go to the hospital and help Santa give presents to the sick kids!” Noah finished off his statement with a slap of his hands to his cheeks and a yell the way Kevin McCallister had in the Home Alone movie they’d watched a few days ago. Noah continued to holler with his palms pressed to his face while he rushed back into the TV room and then hurried to the bathroom in the four-room nursery suite.

  “Are you excited to see Santa?” Becky asked, tucking Alyson’s long black locks behind her ear as they followed.

  She didn’t know a whole lot about Santa except for the stuff Noah told her while they flipped through the toy magazines every day when he came home from Kindergarten. “He has a beard and eats cookies.”

  “And brings us lots and lots of toys.” Noah hopped about from foot to foot.

  “Settle down, Noah, or you’ll never fall asleep.” Becky smiled at Alyson. “What do you want Santa to bring you?”

  Alyson reached out, touching the distracting silver square chunks on Becky’s front teeth. “Mermaid stuff so I can be just like Ariel, and My Little Ponies, and Barbies—”

  “That’s girl stuff. I’m getting more Nintendo stuff and dinosaurs, and Domino Rally, but you can’t play wi
th it ‘cause you’ll break it.”

  Alyson frowned, truly insulted. She was always gentle with hers and Noah’s things. “Nuh uh.”

  “You’re too little for toys like mine.” Noah smirked with a glint in his eyes, eyes exactly the same as hers.

  Her frown deepened. “I’m a big girl.”

  “Noah,” Becky warned. “Santa’s making his list and checking it twice.”

  “I’m a big girl,” Alyson repeated, crossing her arms, her bottom lip starting to quiver.

  “Yes, you are,” Becky soothed, kissing her forehead. “You’ll be four when the flowers come out again.”

  “But I’ll be six next month, which is way older.” Noah grinned mischievously.

  “When you’re way older, you should be way nicer to your little sister,” Becky scolded.

  Noah looked down with what could only be shame on his handsome face. “Sorry, Ally.”

  “Come on.” Becky gestured toward the pale blue bathroom stenciled with smiling, colorful fish. “Let’s brush your teeth and get you two right into bed.” Becky put a dab of toothpaste on Alyson’s Ariel toothbrush and gave her teeth a careful scrub. “Okay. Spit.”

  Alyson did as she was told, watching her brother in the mirror as he spit his own glob of Colgate in his sink.

  “Let’s tuck you in, Ms. My Little Pony,” Becky said, giving a gentle tug to the back of Alyson’s nightgown.

  “Good night, Ally.” Noah set down his Donatello toothbrush and hugged her. “You’re a big girl,” he conceded.

  And all was forgiven. “You’re a big boy.” She squeezed him hard, grinning.

  “Come on.” Becky took Alyson’s hand. “Noah, pick out a story and I’ll be right in.”

  “Okay.” He dashed off to his room next door to Ally’s.

  Alyson led her babysitter into her spacious room decorated in delicate pinks and whites. Teddy bears and dolls sat on shelves. Her china tea set was in place at her table for the party she would have with Mommy tomorrow afternoon.

  “Up you go, rug rat.” Becky helped her settle in and tucked the covers over her before kissing her forehead. “That one’s from me.” She kissed her again. “And this one’s from your mommy. She told me to give you an extra kiss from her.”

  “Mommy’s a beautiful queen.” She beamed, thinking of her mother’s warm smiles and soft skin that always smelled like pretty perfume.

  “Yes, she is.” She handed Alyson Smiley, her favorite teddy bear. “You look just like her.” She bopped Ally’s chin with a gentle tap of her finger. “Now get some sleep so you’ll be ready to see Santa tomorrow.”

  “When will he fly here with Rudolph?”

  “In eight more days.”

  She grinned, thinking of the wrapped packages Noah said they would find under the huge tree in the living room on Christmas morning. “Santa will come down the chimney.”

  She nodded. “Yes, he will. Now get to sleep.”

  “Okay.”

  “Good night.”

  “Good night.” She turned on her side as Becky left and snuggled into her covers, listening to the music from downstairs while she stared at the white lights twinkling on the baby Christmas tree she and Mommy had decorated for her room. Noah’s excited voice carried from his room, and her eyes drooped in the warmth and comfort of her bed. Her mind drifted to the Grinch and Cindy Lou Who, and her eyes flew open when her bedroom door creaked shut. She didn’t like her door closed.

  Sitting up, Alyson relaxed when she realized she wasn’t alone and looked at the woman dressed in a black coat and hat, Becky’s friend who liked to come and play with her and push her on the swings at the park.

  “Hi, Ally,” she whispered, stepping farther in the room, looking over her shoulder.

  “Hi.” She yawned. “Did you come to play with me?”

  “Whisper,” the woman said, glancing over her shoulder again.

  She smiled. “Okay.”

  “Do you want to come with me? We could go to the park.”

  Alyson glanced out the window at fat snowflakes falling in the dark, pushed off her covers, and stood. “I have to ask my mommy.”

  “She said it’s okay, but we have to hurry and be very, very quiet.” The woman moved to the bed, grabbed two teddy bears and laid them down, pulling the blankets up and over the stuffed animals. “It’s a secret game.”

  Becky and Noah’s voices were muffled through the wall, and Alyson pressed her hand to her mouth, suppressing a giggle. “I like secret games.”

  “Me too. Come on.” The woman took something from her pocket with gloved hands and unfolded it, laying a piece of paper flat at the foot of the bed.

  “What’s that?”

  “A note so your mommy will remember I took you to the park.”

  “I only want to play for a little while. I’m going to see Santa with Mommy and Noah.”

  “Just for a little bit,” the woman assured with a smile. “Let’s hurry.” She lifted Alyson and bundled her under the pink and purple blanket Grandma Porter made for her when she had been a teeny, tiny baby.

  “I need my boots and coat.”

  “I have some for you at my house.”

  “Okay.”

  The woman walked to the bedroom door and stopped, holding a finger to her lips. “Shh.”

  Alyson grinned and said “Shh” back.

  The woman stepped into the hallway and out the French doors that opened to the large balcony Alyson and Noah weren’t allowed to play on and hurried down the long sweep of stairs.

  Alyson clung tight to the woman taking her to the park. She stared back at her huge brick and pillar house lit with hundreds of Christmas lights as Becky’s friend ran with her into the shadows of the street.

  Chapter Two

  Bakersfield, Washington

  November 2015

  Chase drove his rented GMC Canyon pickup north, heading away from Spokane International Airport toward Bakersfield. Shivering, he gave the gas pedal an extra punch as he nudged the heat higher, freezing his ass off in the brutal eastern Washington temperatures. For two and a half weeks, he’d worn swim trunks and tank tops while he accompanied his principals on their family vacation in Dubai. The current nineteen degrees registering on the truck’s temperature gauge was a shock to the fucking system.

  He tucked his face farther into the warmth of his coat, switched on his blinker, and moved to the left lane, passing a line of cars traveling too slow for rush hour. Glancing in his rearview mirror, he noted his path clear to the right and moved back, giving the accelerator a little more weight. The faster he got to Bakersfield and did what he needed to do, the faster he could leave. Two weeks, maybe three max, and he would be outta here.

  Clenching his jaw, he absorbed another wave of guilt, hating that he’d landed in Los Angeles yesterday and made his way to Ethan and Sarah’s for their huge Thanksgiving bash, only to have Ethan pull him aside and tell him he needed to call his parents right away.

  During his time off the radar in the Middle East, Nana had died and been buried before the temperatures could take an even nastier dip—as they had over the last ten days. He missed the funeral but couldn’t blame his family for making the decision to go ahead without him. The idea of Nana lying in Mr. Studebaker’s fridge until the spring thaw didn’t sit well with him. It was better thinking of her resting peacefully right next to Pop.

  Sighing, he shook his head and gripped the steering wheel tighter with the next rush of regret. He should’ve called her more often. It had been at least a solid month—probably closer to two—since he picked up the phone and checked in. Work had been crazy—first his stint in Kentucky, then a couple of other duties and the trip overseas, but that was no excuse. He’d taken time for granted and Nana’s had run out. She’d lived a good, long life, passing in her sleep at eighty-five, yet somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d believed she would live forever.

  He’d planned to surprise her and his parents at Christmas. Several years ago, holiday
festivities had gravitated west, and Nana started flying to Seattle. He’d arranged his schedule to come home and be with his family, but instead he was here—on the opposite side of the state, getting ready to deal with his grandmother’s estate.

  She’d left him her house—the small two-bedroom ranch where he’d spent his summers and Christmas vacations—the place he used to love to be. But those days were long over. Now he had a property to sell that, according to his mother and the realtor, had seen better days. The rooms needed packing, new flooring, as well as some other updates before he could put it on the market. He’d thought about keeping the place strictly for nostalgic reasons but dismissed the idea as foolish. There was nothing left for him in Bakersfield now that Nana was gone.

  He spotted his exit ahead and merged off the highway, following the desolate back roads for several miles, finally turning left when he approached civilization. He passed the city pool he’d swam in every hot June, July, and August day, then the movie theater where he’d gobbled down pounds of buttered popcorn while he watched some flick with his friends. He smiled as he drove by Sal’s Pizza Shack, noting that Sal was doing a brisk business on a cold Friday night. Apparently even after ten years, the loud, burly man made a good pie.

  Chase headed down another block and turned off Main Street, slowing when he spotted the house he remembered so well, much tinier now as he looked at the drab white ranch through adult’s eyes. Nana’s place was definitely in rough shape.

  He pulled in behind the Oldsmobile she’d been driving since he was a kid and sat back, steaming out a long breath, taking it all in. The windows he’d peered out hundreds of times would need to be replaced, the door Nana had always reminded him to close behind him would more than likely have to go, possibly the roof as well, but he would have to take a closer look in the morning.

  Glancing to his left, he studied the house next door, which he knew as well as Nana’s—or had at one time. Gram Keller’s home had definitely seen improvements. The place looked great with huge picture windows occupying most of the front. A pretty oak door complemented the new dark beige siding. White Christmas lights had been wrapped around the neat row of bushes out front, lending a festive look on the cloudy, moonless night. Someone bought the place up after Nana’s best friend died several years ago, exactly when, he couldn’t be sure. He rarely got updates on the happenings in Bakersfield—a choice he’d demanded his grandmother respect a long time ago.