Hatfield and McCoy (16 page)

McCoy ignored her. “His name is Rusty,” he told Julie.

“Rusty. Nice name,” Julie murmured. She stared at Rusty. He cocked his head at her, as if he knew he was being judged. A massive, shepherdlike tail began to wag, and Rusty gave a little whine.

He had great eyes, Julie decided at last. Big, brown, mournful eyes. He looked at her as if he knew that she was supposed to be his master, as if he knew it was necessary for her to like him.

“Rusty, Julie,” McCoy said. The dog trotted forward a few steps to Julie. He pressed a cold nose against her hand.

“Hi, Rusty,” Julie said.

“Robert, this is a restaurant parking lot,” Brenda reminded him. “We're going to scare away all the clientele with that monster.”

“He's not a monster.”

“He's ugly as hell!”

“He was the best in his class,” McCoy retorted.

Julie stared at him again, her eyes narrowing. “Maybe we should head back to Brenda's,” she murmured.

“Rusty's not getting in my car!” Brenda said with a laugh.

“No, he's not, he's getting in mine,” McCoy told her. “And don't you ever beg me for a fine dog like Rusty, little sister, because after this, you'll never get one from me!”

“Thank God!” Brenda said, laughing. “Julie, you go ahead with that new creature of yours. Or both those creatures of yours. I'm going for my kids. I'll meet you at my house.” Brenda waved and started for her car.

“Come on, Rusty, let's go,” McCoy told the dog.

As obediently as if he understood every inflection of every word, Rusty turned and hopped into the backseat. Julie walked around to sit next to McCoy in the front passenger seat.

As they headed out of the parking lot, she exploded with a, “But why?”

He hesitated, as if he didn't want to answer her. Then he smiled. “Didn't you always want a big old dog?”

“No, not really,” she admitted, but she had to smile. He was trying. She'd give him that.

“How about a thank-you gift?” he said huskily.

“Flowers would have done fine,” she said.

He was silent for just a second. “Julie, the kidnapper called me today.”

“What?” she gasped, turning to him. Despite his dark glasses, she could see the gravity in his features. She bit her lower lip.

The kidnapper had called him. Was that the danger she had seen in the dream that had become reality now?

“What—what did he say? How did you know it was him?”

McCoy shrugged. She wondered if he was hedging. “He didn't say too much of anything. I knew it was him because I'll never forget his voice. Julie, he knows me. He knows what is going on around me. I'll just feel better if you're not alone.”

She looked at her hands. They were shaking. She clenched them, determined that he wouldn't see she had suddenly felt a terrible sweep of fear come rushing over her.

“McCoy, I keep a gun. It's a little ladies' Colt. Petty taught me how to use it. I'm actually pretty good at a firing range.”

He turned to her, a wry smile twisting his lips. “Is poor Rusty really that ugly? I thought he was a great-looking dog. I spent hours with the trainer before making my final choice. He was on special request for a cop in the D.C. area, but I convinced the guy I needed him more. He's perfectly housebroken. And he'll obey every command you give him.”

“A dog is better than a gun?” Julie said.

“A dog senses things when you're asleep. Can a gun do that?”

Julie laughed softly. “I guess not.” She was suddenly touched. McCoy had taken a lot of effort to get the dog for her. He had probably done some heavy-duty bargaining. And a dog like Rusty had probably been a very expensive investment, too.

Maybe more than a diamond—a small diamond, anyway.

She turned to look at Rusty. His face was a perfect cross between Rottweiller and shepherd, with shepherdesque markings. Those huge brown eyes looked at her soulfully. He wagged his massive tail, and barked once.

“He's … he's great,” Julie said.

She saw McCoy smile, and was convinced that he thought she was merely humoring him. It didn't seem to matter.

Just so long as she kept the dog.

Julie sat back as he drove. “It's very strange, you know.”

“What's so strange?”

“Well, you don't seem to have any problems thinking that a dog can have a sixth sense.”

She watched as his fingers tightened around the wheel. “I never said that a dog had a sixth sense. A dog has an excellent sense of smell and very acute hearing. And this fellow should scare away almost anyone.”

Julie couldn't argue with that.

They pulled into Brenda's driveway well ahead of Brenda. McCoy said that she needed to get to know Rusty. And although Rusty might be one of the most obedient dogs in the world, McCoy seemed determined to teach her how to give instructions. So out in front of Brenda's farmhouse they worked with Rusty. Julie told him to come, to heel, to lie down and to play dead. She told him to bark, and she told him to be quiet.

“Is that it?” Julie asked McCoy.

“Not quite,” McCoy said grimly.

“Well?”

“You can tell him to attack,” McCoy said very softly. “Just remember that if you do, he'll take hold of the person by the throat and throw the full force of his weight upon him.”

“Will he …”

“No, he won't rip the throat out, he'll just stay there, forever if need be, until he's told to get off. I watched him working with the dummy. If a fool tried to fight him, the fool could be pretty well ripped up.”

Julie turned away uneasily.

McCoy spun her around. “Julie, this man has tried to kill three times. We can only assume that he succeeded once, since only one young woman has never been found. He tried to kill a child, Julie.”

She nodded. “Yes, I know.”

Brenda's car pulled up the drive. She had barely braked it to a halt before Taylor and Tammy leaped out and ran to McCoy. “Uncle Robert, Mom's been telling us about the dog for Julie!” Taylor called out. Then he saw the dog. “Oh, wow, he's great!”

“He's not as ugly as all sin, Mom,” Tammy cried, puzzled as she studied poor Rusty.

“Well, maybe he's only as ugly as half of all sin!” Brenda called out cheerfully. Then she became somber as she stepped out of the car. “Robert, Rusty won't hurt the kids, will he?”

“Definitely not,” McCoy said. And it was a good thing, of course, because the kids were already on the ground with Rusty, shrieking with laughter as they rolled over and over with the giant canine. Brenda, coming up to stand between McCoy and Julie, gave her grudging approval at last.

“Well, he is quite a creature, isn't he?” she said. “Julie, before you leave, I thought of a few things my brother didn't. I have some bowls and a twenty-five-pound bag of dog chow in my trunk. That'll last you until at least tomorrow.”

Julie smiled. “Thanks.”

“And since my brother decided not to let anyone enjoy lunch, I picked up some burgers to barbecue.”

“Brenda, I have to go back to the station,” McCoy began.

“Oh, you have another hour, I'm sure.”

“They're turkey burgers, Uncle Robert,” Tammy said.

McCoy groaned. “I don't think I have an hour—”

“You weren't supposed to tell him!” Brenda moaned.

“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.