Hatfield and McCoy

by Heather Graham

  “Honest, Uncle Robert,” Taylor advised him, one man to another. “You really can’t tell the difference. They’re pretty good. I eat them.”

  “Oh, well. If my nephew eats them, they can’t be all bad. But really, Brenda, I’ve got to go back to work. Hurry it up, will you?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “I’ll give you a hand,” Julie said.

  “No, no. You get to know your creature. There really isn’t anything to do. The barbecue is all set, I have those quick-burning coals. And I have store-bought tossed salad, macaroni salad and chips. It will only take a few minutes.”

  She smiled merrily and went off, Tammy following behind her like a very mature little helper.

  “He really is a great dog, Uncle Robert,” Taylor said.

  “Yeah? You think so?” McCoy said, ruffling his nephew’s hair.

  “You can come see him anytime you want,” Julie said. “And if your mom is real busy, I can bring him here sometimes.”

  McCoy knelt by Taylor and threw a stick. Rusty began to bark and bellow, then chased after it. “Guess what, Taylor.”

  “What?”

  “Rusty has a brother. But don’t tell your mom yet. I want her to suffer.”

  “Uncle Robert, I’ll be the one suffering!” Taylor said.

  McCoy laughed. “Well, we’ll see. I’m going to have to break this to her gently.” He glared at Julie. “Don’t you say anything to her, either.”

  “Not a word!” Julie said.

  Brenda poked her head out the door. “Come on in. Taylor, you can give that monster some water and a bowl of dog food. Julie, Robert, you can wash up and grab the plates—it’s paper and plastic tonight, all right?”

  “Sounds great!” Julie said.

  “Taylor, get the hose out in back for his water, huh?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Taylor went off as he was told. McCoy and Brenda watched as Julie knelt and patted Rusty on the head. He rewarded her with a lick of the tongue that seemed to encompass her entire face. “Yuck!” She laughed. “Brenda, I think I need a bath!” she wailed.

  “Oh, quit being such a fuss!” McCoy said flatly.

  She stood indignantly. “Well, excuse me. You just remember that if he decides to sleep in bed with me. My room is small,” she warned McCoy softly.

  “What was that?” Brenda asked. She had heard. That soft blue glitter of mischief was in her eyes.

  Julie flushed and McCoy laughed. “Do you ladies have to tell each other everything?” he whispered.

  She let out a sigh of exasperation and spun around, heading for the house. “He deserves turkey burgers nightly!” she told Brenda.

  Actually, the turkey burgers were very good, and piled high with lettuce and tomatoes and pickles, they resembled their beef cousins to a T. McCoy commented to his sister that they were delicious.

  They ate at the picnic table in the backyard. The children sat for at least ten minutes, dutifully eating one burger each, making their mother happy by quickly consuming salad, then jumped up to play with the dog.

  Rusty hadn’t stayed around the table. Julie hadn’t had the heart to send him away when he had come sniffing, but McCoy had ordered him to go sit, and that was exactly what the dog had done.

  But when the kids rose to go play with him, McCoy let them each take half a turkey burger to give to Rusty. The kids, delighted, fed him.

  And Rusty, delighted, lapped up the turkey burger.

  Then the three of them raced around the big lawn. The kids shrieked with gales of laughter. Rusty barked now and then, his furry tail flying.

  “I think I’m going to feel guilty taking him home,” Julie said.

  “Oh, no, no, no!” Brenda laughed. “The housing market hasn’t been that good lately. I sprung for the puppy chow today. Now it’s in your lap.”

  McCoy took a long swig of soda. “Every boy should have a dog,” he said. “And that Taylor, he’s a good kid.”

  “Didn’t you say that you had to go back to work, Robert?” Brenda asked him.

  He laughed. “Yeah, I do. Come on, Julie. I’ll follow you home.”

  She looked up, startled.

  “Julie doesn’t have to go to work, you do.”

  “I’m going to follow her home,” McCoy said simply. He stood and kissed his sister on top of the head. “Thanks for dinner. It was great. Julie, come on.”

  “Has he always had this illusion that he’s a drill sergeant?” Julie asked Brenda. She wasn’t going, she decided.

  “It only comes out at times,” Brenda promised her.

  “Julie!” He turned to look across the yard where the kids were playing with Rusty. “Hey, Rusty, come!”

  Rusty barked and came bounding toward him. “See? Look how good Rusty is—no complaints,” McCoy told Julie.

  “That’s right, McCoy. Something you should bear in mind. Rusty is obedient, and I am not,” Julie said with feigned patience. “Rusty is a dog, and I am a woman.”

  McCoy laughed. “All right. Come here, woman. Let’s go. Please!”

  All right. It was the “please” that did it. She’d go. She didn’t know why he was so determined to follow her home, but he was.

  She thanked Brenda for dinner and was pleasantly touched when both kids—manly Taylor included—offered her a kiss on the cheek goodbye. Then she was packed into her car, and McCoy was behind her with Rusty in his backseat, his big head sticking out the window.

  “You should be the one to keep that dog, McCoy!” she said softly beneath her breath.

  She pulled up to her own mountain. McCoy came behind her just as she was dragging Brenda’s gift of the twenty-five pounds of dog food out of the car. “I’ll get it,” McCoy told her. He carried the food into her kitchen, Rusty following behind him, his tail wagging.

  “There are rules here,” Julie warned the dog. “The kitchen is yours, the porch is yours. Upstairs is a no-no. I will not have fleas where I sleep.”

  “Are you insinuating that I would buy you a dog with fleas?” McCoy inquired. “Or are you just trying to keep him out of my half of the bed?”

  She had to laugh at the inquiry. Then she realized that his eyes were on fire, that a slow grin was sensually curling his lip. He took a step toward her.

  “McCoy, you said you have to go back to work,” she reminded him.

  “I do,” he told her. But he was closer. And she was suddenly in his arms. And his kiss had the same sizzling appeal it had always had.

  Yes, he had to go back to work. But apparently, he had a little time. Before she knew it, they were upstairs. And their clothing seemed to be melting away.

  And the world disappeared as he made love to her.

  Yet, as he lay beside her later, his chest glistening in the moonlight that flickered into her room, he seemed more distant than ever before. He rose, walked to the window, then came back to her.

  “I have to go.”

  “Are you coming back tonight?” she asked.

  He hesitated. “No. I’ll be busy.”

  She gritted her teeth. He wasn’t going to be busy. And he wasn’t coming back tomorrow, or the day after. She knew it. What she didn’t know was why.

  “Fine.”

  “Julie—”

  “Never mind! Just go.”

  “Damn you, Julie, if you just understood—”

  “Well, I don’t, because you never want to tell me anything. And you’re making me neurotic. One minute you can’t leave my side, and the next minute you’re climbing out of bed to tell me that you don’t want to see me again.”

  “I didn’t say that—”

  “I’m a psychic, remember?” she said curtly. He wasn’t coming back, she thought with panic. At least, that was what he was thinking at the moment.

  And everything still seemed so intimate between them. They were both naked, slick, warm. They should have been content. They should have been curled into one another’s arms.

  She leaped up, wrenched her robe from the foot of her bed and sli
pped into it. She tied the belt in a knot as she continued speaking to him.

  “But then, that is the problem, isn’t it? You’d be perfectly happy if I’d just pretend that none of it existed. Well, I can’t!”

  “Julie, damn you!”

  He was sputtering. She was right. But suddenly he jerked her into his arms.

  And kissed her again.

  And it was all there. All the passion, all the demand. All the hunger.

  Maybe even love …

  But then he broke from her abruptly. “I have to go.”

  She stepped back, tears stinging her eyes as he dressed.

  “Julie—”

  “You said that you had to go,” she said flatly.

  He didn’t try to argue with her. He left her in the room. She heard his footsteps as he hurried down the hallway—and then the door slammed.

  Then she heard his bellow far beneath her. “Come lock this door!”

  “I have a monster of a dog,” she muttered to herself. “Why do I have to lock the damned door?”

  But she went downstairs and did so. She leaned against the door while she heard him gun his motor, then drive away.

  “I hate him!” she said out loud. Then she added softly, “I think I love him. I really do.”

  Rusty came and stuck his cold wet nose into her hand while he wagged his tail, waiting to be petted. Absently, Julie obliged him.

  “What makes him tick, Rusty?” she said to the dog. “He can’t seem to stay away, he buys me presents—like you. And then …”

  She paused, realizing that she still didn’t really know what Brenda had been about to tell her about her brother.

  He had been married. That was all she knew.

  “So what happened to his wife, Rusty? And why did it make him hate psychics?”

  Rusty barked.

  “I swear, I am going to find out tomorrow!” Julie vowed.

  But the questions seemed to plague her relentlessly.

  It was going to be a long, long night.

  Chapter 9

  By the next evening, Julie was frustrated. She hadn’t heard from McCoy.

  And she hadn’t been able to reach Brenda, either. She had tried the business number through most of the day, but had managed to speak with nothing but Brenda’s answering machine.

  She had tried to concentrate on a new story, but had quickly given up the effort. Then she had tried to read a new mystery that she had been dying to sink her teeth into, but she couldn’t concentrate on any printed matter any more completely than she could concentrate on her own.

  At six she sat on her front steps, idly patting Rusty, who had worn himself out running around, and now sat contented by her side, half of his big body on one step, half of it on another.

  Suddenly, Rusty sat up and started to bark.

  “What is it?” Julie asked the dog. Then she saw. One of Petty’s police patrol cars was winding its way up her little patch of mountain.

  “Who is it, huh?” She felt herself tighten from head to toe, hoping that it was going to be McCoy. She knew, though, that he wouldn’t be in the cruiser. And when the car pulled to a halt in front of her house, she quickly saw that Patty was driving and Joe Silver was at her side.

  The two exited the car smiling. Then Rusty started to bark and bellow.

  The smile quickly left Patty’s pretty freckled face and she stopped dead still. Joe’s brown gaze became somber, and he, too, stopped walking.

  “It’s all right!” Julie called quickly. She put a firm hand on Rusty’s collar. “Rusty, these are the cops!” she remonstrated to the dog. “He’s supposed to be so damned well trained!” she called out. “A burglar will come and good old Rusty will probably lead him to the silver! Rusty, they’re friends. Sit!”

  Rusty whined but immediately dropped at her feet. He put his nose between his paws.

  “Where on earth did he come from?” Patty asked her.

  “You didn’t know anything about him?” Julie said.

  Joe walked up, smiling again. “I didn’t know anything, but I imagine that I can guess. McCoy bought him for you, right?”

  Julie glanced at Joe and shrugged. “Yes, McCoy gave him to me.”

  “The guy doesn’t believe in flowers or candy, huh?” Patty said, still studying the dog. She gazed at Julie again. “Is he hideous or beautiful? I’ll be damned if I can tell.”

  Joe laughed. “Shepherd and Rottweiler, I think. Look at that head! What does he eat?”

  “Anything and everything, so it seems,” Julie said with a sigh. He was a great dog, really. He was house-broken, and he did have the biggest, most soulful brown eyes she had ever seen in that huge head of his.

  But last night he hadn’t liked being kept downstairs while Julie slept. He’d found one of her old slippers and chewed it into pulp.

  “What’s his name?” Joe asked.

  “Rusty.”

  “Hello, Rusty,” Patty said.

  Rusty growled.

  “Never mind, Rusty.”

  “There’s nothing wrong, is there?” Julie asked, looking from one to the other. “Did Petty send for me for some reason or another? You know, he can just call. He doesn’t need to send you two out all of the time.”

  “Petty didn’t send us at all,” Patty told her.

  “McCoy asked us to come out.”

  “McCoy!” Julie said, startled. But then it all made sense. He wasn’t coming around himself. He was going to do his best to distance himself from her.

  He was worried about her, though. So he’d given her a dog, and now he was sending out his troops.

  Patty shrugged. “I told him that I’d call you, but he wanted us to come out and take a look around. Who knows, maybe he wants someone to see that police cruisers can be at your house quickly.”

  “Maybe,” Julie murmured. She gritted her teeth, wondering why it hurt so badly that McCoy suddenly seemed so determined to shake her off. She should be furious. He was absolutely incredible. He came on like a cyclone. He seemed to be following her wherever she went, and he had appeared at the lunch table when she had least wanted him to do so.

  And then her house …

  The sweet tension had been there. The electric need. And he had seemed to want her so damned badly …

  But as soon as that tempest had ended, he had withdrawn. Completely.

  “Well,” she said brightly, determined not to let anyone see that she could be affected by Robert McCoy in any way, shape, or form. “What are you two up to now?” She gazed at her watch. “It’s past six. Want to come in for a while?”

  “I’m not so sure that we can,” Joe said, laughing. He pointed at Rusty, who had lodged his bulk in front of Julie’s door.

  “Rusty!” Julie moaned. “Give me a second. I’ll put him in the basement.”

  Rusty whined and cast all his weight on his haunches, but Julie was determined. She dragged the huge dog through the front door, the entryway, and into the kitchen. She panted as she held him by the collar and opened the basement door. “I’m sorry, Rusty, but you just can’t be nasty to my friends like that!”

  When she turned around, Joe and Patty had followed her into the kitchen. Patty was in the refrigerator. “What have you got that’s cold?”

  “Are you off duty?” Julie asked.

  “Yep. You were our last official project. You’re fine. At least, she looks fine to me,” Patty said.

  “Looks great to me,” Joe agreed. “Have you got any cold beer in there?”

  Julie stepped around Patty and found a can of beer and tossed it over to Joe. “White Zinfandel, white Zinfandel,” Patty murmured.

  “Boy, she’s even specific,” Julie moaned to Joe.

  “Hey, Patty, beggars are not supposed to be choosers,” Joe reprimanded her.

  “But I know she’s got it in here somewhere—beyond all the green stuff,” Patty teased.

  “Move!” Julie commanded. She found the wine and poured a glass for Patty, then sat on one of the bar
stools at the kitchen counter. “How are things going?” she asked.

  Joe shrugged. “There was a break-in at Mike Geary’s souvenir store,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I’m talking about the kidnapping. Or kidnappings. Any news?”

  Joe shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

  “Something happened yesterday.”

  “What?” Julie demanded.

  “Yeah, what?” Joe echoed.

  Patty stared at him incredulously. “You didn’t hear? Oh, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. I was alone in the office with McCoy when somebody called and asked to speak with him. I didn’t think anything of it at first. Then all of a sudden McCoy is waving at me madly, indicating that I should get a trace going on the call. I tried, but I’d barely gotten things started before the caller hung up.”

  “The kidnapper?” Julie said.

  “I imagine. Or else somebody claiming to be the kidnapper.”

  “What did he say?” Julie asked.

  “I didn’t get a chance to hear—”

  “Well, what did McCoy say?”

  “McCoy didn’t say anything, not to me. He was closeted with Petty this morning for awhile, so I guess the two of them really hashed it out. Whatever he said, though, it disturbed the hell out of McCoy.”

  Julie stared at Joe. He shrugged helplessly. “This is the first that I’m hearing about it, too.”

  “Well, they must be trying to keep a really low profile,” Julie mused. “But—how could he be sure it was the kidnapper?”

  “I think,” Patty told her, pulling up a bar stool, “that McCoy had no doubt. Don’t forget, Julie, McCoy listened to the kidnapper’s voice time and time again on the night you two went from phone booth to phone booth trying to find Tracy Nicholson.”

  “I had forgotten,” Julie said thoughtfully. She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s just trying to make sure that he doesn’t say anything to the two of you, or to Timothy, or even Petty—anyone who might say something to me. He’s probably afraid that. I hear things and then imagine that they’re part of my abilities.”

  “Oh, don’t take it that way!” Patty said.

  “And why not?”

  Patty paused, blinked, then shrugged. “He must think a great deal of you.”