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

by Cate Beauman

  He shifted.

  She looked up at him. “What happened?”

  He clenched his jaw as he held her gaze.

  “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.” She stared out the window as a new awkwardness lingered heavy between them.

  “I know what it’s like to have your life change.”

  She looked at him.

  “Not in quite the same way, but I know what it’s like to wake up with everything status quo and fall asleep the same night with your life completely ripped apart.”

  She took his hand, sliding her thumb along his knuckles.

  “All those years ago, I lost you. You were such a huge part of my life, such a huge part of who I was that I didn’t know how to be without you, so I threw myself into my studies and my internships, and eventually the FBI when I finally got accepted into the academy. I wanted to forget you. Most of the time it was easy, because I was so damn busy—made sure I was busy.”

  Her fingers stilled against his as his confessions hurt her heart.

  “I spent a lot of my time jetting between Iraq, Afghanistan, New York, and DC. In February of this year, I was in Kabul. My team and I were following a few leads.”

  “Terrorism stuff?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, terrorism stuff. I met with one of our informants. He’d helped us out a couple of times before. His information was always good, so when he called and mentioned minor details about a terrorist cell we were trying to dismantle, I went to see him right away.”

  She moved her fingers over his again as his body tensed.

  “The bastard told me about some plot that was going down soon—where we could find a couple of the ringleaders. I acted on it immediately, bringing most of the team with me. In the back of my mind, it all seemed too good to be true. My whole time overseas, it had never been that easy. The insurgents were pretty much wrapped up with a shiny bow, but you don’t know if you don’t check it out.” He shook his head. “We moved in on the place and all hell broke loose. Four of my colleagues died in the house. It was booby-trapped with explosives.” He sighed, sitting up some. “I was outside with Paige. We got thrown back from the force of the blast. It knocked her out, and I tried to drag her away from the scene when I could string two thoughts together, but they were waiting. They shot her right through the back of the head.”

  She flinched, trying to imagine his horror.

  “I knew she was dead, but I couldn’t leave her. They got me three times. I kept them at bay while I waited for help, but I thought I would bleed out before they got there. I almost did.”

  “Paige was an agent?”

  He nodded.

  “She was special.”

  His eyes met hers. “We dated off and on during the three years she was in our field office.”

  She didn’t like thinking of him with anyone else, but they’d both had the right to move on. “I’m sorry you lost her. Lost all of them.”

  “We never told Nana. I came back to Seattle for a while, while I recovered. I stayed until May, then I went back to DC, but I couldn’t do it again. I fumbled around for a few weeks until I truly understood I was finished. Ethan and I got in contact through a mutual friend, Collin, in early June, and Ethan hired me after I cleared a few sessions with a shrink.”

  “And you still go over there? To the Middle East?”

  He nodded. “Collin’s former special ops military. We usually go together. What I do now is different, completely different work, so I can handle it.”

  “I wish I would’ve known.”

  “It wouldn’t have changed the results.”

  “No. But I would’ve liked to have helped.”

  “We didn’t talk, Jules.”

  “For that, I would’ve tried. Like you’re trying for me.”

  Steaming out a breath, he clenched his jaw and closed his eyes.

  She wrapped her arm around him, shaken that they were only here together because by some miracle he’d been spared. “Did they get them?”

  “Most of them.”

  She kissed his chest, where his heart beat. “Good.”

  He stroked his hand along the side of her waist. “She wasn’t you.”

  “Huh?”

  He turned his head, looking into her eyes. “My thing with Paige. She was there. So was I—”

  She shook her head. “You don’t have to explain.”

  “There’ve been other women. A few, but they weren’t you.”

  She nodded and settled back against him, understanding completely. Twice she’d tried to move on—first with Bryce then five years later with Adam, but she’d never been able to forget the man who left her behind.

  “Jules?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Come back with me tomorrow. I don’t want to say goodbye in the morning.”

  If she left, this would be it—for them, for her and Neve. It would be easier to turn her back on Neve, but she wasn’t ready to walk away from Chase. “I’ll come back to Boston. Until Sunday.”

  “Sunday, it is.”

  “When you’re finished here, you’ll go back to LA?”

  “I have to.”

  She didn’t want to think about Sunday and Los Angeles. “Do you want to go to bed?”

  “I can rest right here for a while.”

  She said nothing more, staring out the window long after Chase had fallen asleep, listening to the steady beat of his heart until morning came and the snow stopped, giving way to the sun of a new day.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Julie gripped her hand around the seatbelt as Chase made the final turn, taking them closer to Mr. Dubois’ house. She nibbled her lip as her stomach churned with unease. Why hadn’t she just gone to the airport? Why didn’t she have Chase drop her off when she’d had the chance? She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him anymore than he was to her, but she could’ve flown to Los Angeles to see him at some point. They could’ve spent a few days together before they went their separate ways again.

  Chase slowed in front of the brick house three blocks down from the Porter Mansion, and she struggled not to be sick. When she met with Becky Maglio, she’d expected a recollection of the night Alyson had been taken, not to find pictures of her mother with dyed black hair and her arms wrapped around Ally Porter at the park. Who knew what Mr. Dubois would have to say about Dawn Summerman. If she walked through that man’s door, he might tell her something that would never allow her to think of Miranda Keller the same way again. Her mother. “I’m going to walk over to Neve’s,” she blurted out as Chase took off his seatbelt.

  He looked at her, his eyes shaded by the dark tint of his sunglasses.

  “I mean bullying people out of answers is your forte, not mine.”

  “I wasn’t planning on bullying Mr. Dubois. I’m just going to ask a few questions so we can start getting some impressions of who your mother was the summer of nineteen ninety—what was her state of mind, what were her patterns, so on and so forth. And interrogating people, which I’m not doing here today, that’s an art form, you know.”

  “Yeah. Right.” She brushed his comment away with a wave of her hand. Interrogation techniques were the least of her worries right now. All she was thinking about was whether she could handle hearing what the stranger had to say. “I’ll probably just wait for you back at Neve’s. I should call Leila and check in.” She tuned in as the final notes of Jason Derulo’s latest hit played through the speakers and immediately rolled into The Who Song from How The Grinch Stole Christmas. Reaching forward, she slammed her fingers against the dial, switching it off. “God, I hate that song.”

  Chase’s eyebrow lifted above the lens of his shades. “Go ahead and take the car. I’ll walk back when I’m finished.”

  “Your knee—”

  “Is fine. It feels much better today.”

  “I just—I can’t—I thought I could do this. What if—what if he says something I can’t bear to hear?” Her eyes filled. “What if he says something that can’t b
e taken back?” she added on a fierce whisper.

  He sighed, taking her hand and pressing his lips to her palm. “From the quick conversation I had with him last night, it sounded like he was surprised I was linking Dawn’s name to Alyson’s kidnapping.” He leaned over and kissed her. “Take the car back to the house. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  She wanted to say yes—more than anything she wanted to be the coward Chase accused her of being last night, but she couldn’t. Something wouldn’t allow her to let him handle her business without her. “No.” She sighed. “No, I’ll come in.”

  “I don’t know what to do for you here, Jules. I want to protect you. I want to shield you from anything that could possibly hurt you, but I don’t know how to do that in this situation.”

  How did he do that—say just the right thing to make her adore him even more? “Let’s just go. Let’s go before I change my mind again.” She got out as Chase shut off the engine. She closed her door and fought to brace herself against whatever the next little while would bring when a stocky man with short brown hair, presumably Mr. Dubois, opened his front door.

  “Neve.” He smiled, tossing out a casual wave. “I didn’t know you were coming along.”

  Her stomach sank as she looked at Chase.

  “Take the car.” He held out the keys to her.

  She shook her head.

  Chase took her hand and they walked up the shoveled path together.

  Her grip tightened on his the closer they walked to Mr. Dubois, reading the shock registering on his face as she settled her sunglasses on top of her head.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not wearing my glasses. I thought you were Neve.”

  She sent him a small smile. “That’s okay.”

  “Come in.” Mr. Dubois stepped back. “Come in, please.” He tripped over the coat rack as he continued to stare at her.

  “Thank you for meeting with us, Mr. Dubois,” Chase said, extending his hand. “Chase Rider.”

  Mr. Dubois tore his gaze from Julie.

  “This is Julie Keller,” Chase added.

  Mr. Dubois’ brow furrowed as he extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Julie smiled again. “Likewise.”

  He cleared his throat. “I, uh, I have tonic, or water, milk, juice.”

  “I’m fine, thank you,” she said.

  “You, Mr. Rider?”

  “No, thanks. We don’t want to take up much of your time. We have a few questions.”

  “Take a seat.” He gestured to the spacious living room. “Come right on in and take a seat.”

  Julie sat next to Chase on the couch as Mr. Dubois settled in the chair across from them.

  “We’ll get right down to business.” Chase took the pictures Becky had taken out of his jacket pocket. “Mr. Dubois, do you know this woman?”

  He looked at it, then Julie and Chase. “Yes. This is Dawn Summerman. She nannied for my wife and I during the summer and fall months of nineteen ninety.”

  “What was she like?” Julie asked, desperate to know.

  “She was a nice girl—young woman, really. She was great with our daughters.”

  “You had daughters?” Chase probed.

  “Two girls. Three and five—the same age as Noah and Alyson. Jasmine, my oldest, was in Noah’s kindergarten class. Nala and Alyson would have been in preschool together that next fall if things hadn’t…happened the way they did.”

  Julie’s shoulders relaxed when Mr. Dubois didn’t call her mother some sort of monster. “What was she like with your daughters?”

  “Wonderful. I have a couple of pictures of Dawn with the kids.” He handed over a photo album with Dawn hugging two pretty, smiling little girls.

  Julie took the book from Chase, studying her mother’s smile and the little girls with long black hair and olive skin so much like Alyson’s. Then she focused on the background, recognizing the same park from the pictures Chase still held in his hand.

  “If they wanted to play Play-Doh, she played Play-Doh,” Mr. Dubois continued. “If they wanted to build forts out of blankets, they built forts out of blankets. She read them stories before bed, made sure they had their baths, and decent meals—was a real mother figure to the kids when my ex-wife and I were going through our divorce.”

  “You and your daughters’ mother are no longer married?” Chase hopped in again.

  “No. We were doing a trial separation at that point. The kids lived with me for most of the summer and into the fall while my wife tried to dry herself up at a clinic in New Hampshire. She did okay for a while, and we worked things out. Then she fell off the wagon again. We divorced the summer of ninety-one.”

  “What would you say Dawn’s behavior was like during the time she stayed here with you? Did you notice anything that seemed off?”

  “No.” Mr. Dubois shook his head, and Julie sighed her relief. “Well, not at first.”

  She tensed, sitting farther up in her seat, the moment of peace quickly vanishing. Here it came, the part she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

  “Not until she met that loser Darren or Drake or whoever the hell he was.”

  “Donnie Dorman?” Chase supplied.

  “Yeah.” Mr. Dubois pointed his finger at Chase. “That’s it.”

  “What happened when she met Donnie?” Chase continued, leading the interview.

  “At first I thought the guy was okay. They met sometime late summer but by September or October, I realized I didn’t like him or Dawn when she was around him. She started getting secretive, and she forgot to pick the kids up at school one day—said she and Donnie got a flat tire on the interstate.” He shrugged. “Maybe they did. Maybe they didn’t. It’s hard to say. She would come in late at night on her days off when she used to spend her time with Becky—” He snapped his fingers several times as he looked toward the ceiling, clearly trying to remember something. “Maglio. And she didn’t play with the kids quite as much—spent a lot of time on the phone whispering behind closed doors, real nervous like.”

  “She ended up leaving,” Chase prompted.

  “Sure did. One day, about a week before my wife got out of the treatment center, she sat down with me and said she was giving her notice. I was shocked, quite frankly. Dawn agreed to stay for at least a year. And I paid her damn good wages. But she said she and her family worked stuff out and she was going back to Texas. At first I was upset. Jasmine and Nala loved her, and I wanted her to be here while the girls got used to having my wife back in the house, but then I thought about how she would get away from that sleaze, which would keep him away from my kids. I ended up writing her a check for five hundred the night before she left to thank her, and she was gone the next day.”

  “Would you happen to remember the date? I know it was a long time ago.”

  Mr. Dubois narrowed his eyes. “I’m pretty sure it was sometime in the beginning of December—maybe the first, second, third, somewhere right around there.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t say for sure, but I know she was here for Thanksgiving. She and Donnie had a big fight on the phone after we finished our dessert. I remember telling her it was probably best if she stayed away from him. She agreed.”

  “The first couple days of December?” Chase verified.

  “Definitely some time in there because I was trying to figure out what I was going to do with the kids until Christmas break.”

  “Dawn went back to Texas?”

  “As far as I know she did. She cashed the check the next morning and I never saw her again. A couple months later, I realized I was missing three grand from the petty cash stashes I left around the house. I wanted to ask her about it—tried to track her down in Corpus Christi where she said her family was from, but I couldn’t find her. The few Summermans I contacted had no idea who she was.”

  Julie looked at Chase, shocked that her mother would do such a thing. “You think she took the money?”

  “No. I think that punk kid was in here a few times even though I a
sked her not to bring him around. He wasn’t welcome anywhere near my girls. I figured he had something to do with it, but like I said, I couldn’t ask her. She vanished.”

  Because she wasn’t Dawn Summerman, and she’d never lived in Corpus Christi. Julie didn’t exactly feel relieved as the interview appeared to be winding down. They hadn’t gotten a lot of new information, but Mr. Dubois confirmed that her mother had been a good woman who got mixed up with a bad man.

  “Do you know if she flew to Texas or took a bus?” Chase asked.

  “Probably a bus, but I didn’t drive her to the station so I can’t be sure. When I got up the next morning, she was gone.”

  “Did she ever mention Alyson Porter?”

  Mr. Dubois frowned. “No. Not that I can remember. I know she hung around with Becky quite a bit, then she didn’t, but I can’t recollect her mentioning Alyson.”

  Chase nodded. “This has been really helpful.”

  “Do you think she had something to do with Alyson’s kidnapping?” Mr. Dubois stood as Chase and Julie did.

  “At this point, we’re simply speculating on several leads.”

  “I thought they didn’t have any leads.”

  “We’re looking at the investigation with fresh eyes.”

  “Thank you for seeing us,” Julie said as they were walked to the door.

  “You’re welcome. If there’s anything else I can do. Neve. She’s a great person.”

  “Thanks,” Chase said, shaking his hand.

  Julie nodded as the door shut behind them and let loose a huge breath as they walked to the car. “Well, I guess that wasn’t so bad. We didn’t learn a whole lot, but at least Mr. Dubois verified that Mom was a good person—the person we knew her to be: great with kids, nurturing. She didn’t take Alyson. There’s another explanation here. There has to be.”

  Chase looked at her as he slid his glasses into place, standing by the driver’s side door.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He shook his head. “I’m just ready to get back to the Porters’.”

  She wasn’t, but if she wanted more time with Chase, she would have to go. “Let’s go then.”

  ~~~~