Love You to Death

by Bebe Faas Rice

  “Okay, I won’t touch you. But can I say something?”

  “What?”

  “That I’ve been a real jerk and I was wrong to act the way I did. It’s just that I’m so crazy about you, Julie, it makes me half-nuts sometimes. The thought of you kissing another guy—I mean, parking someplace and really making out with him—nearly drives me wild.”

  He looked up at her pleadingly. She didn’t reply.

  “I love you,” he repeated. “I guess I’m not showing it the right way, but I do. And I’m sorry I grabbed you like that. Does it hurt?”

  “No,” Julie told him. “Not now.”

  “I’ll never do anything like that again,” he said. “That’s a promise.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Am I sure? Does the sun rise in the east? Do you want me to prove it to you? Ask me to do anything, Julie, and I will. I’ll walk on hot coals if you want, just say the word.”

  “Oh, stop it, dummy,” Julie said, smiling in spite of herself. “I forgive you.”

  Quinn threw out his arms and looked heavenward. “Thank you! Thank you, Lord!”

  Later that night, as she lay in bed, Julie thought about what had happened. How jealous Quinn had been. Wild with jealousy.

  It was scary to be loved like that. Scary but thrilling. She couldn’t believe he felt all that emotion for her. She didn’t know any other girl whose boyfriend was that crazy in love with her.

  She’d been angry with Quinn when he’d grabbed her wrist and acted so wild, but she couldn’t stay mad at him long.

  And he’d promised never to do anything like that again, hadn’t he?

  So everything was okay with them, now.

  He had come by after supper and taken her out to the movies. He’d really impressed her parents.

  He’d called her mother “ma’am” and her father “sir.” They’d simply eaten it up, her mother in particular. She was always going on about good manners, and how the kids today didn’t act respectful around their elders.

  Well, Quinn’s manners had been perfect, absolutely perfect, and he’d looked like a real Prince Charming in that blue shirt that matched the color of his eyes.

  And she could tell that her father was impressed by the fact that Quinn was on his own, earning his own living and going to school at the same time.

  When she’d gone upstairs for her purse, Mollie had followed her and said, “Wow, Julie that guy’s a walking sexpot. Tara’s probably making a wax doll of you this very minute, so be ready for some strange, shooting pains when she starts sticking in the pins.”

  All in all it had been a very successful first meeting with the folks.

  Forget that other stuff at lunch.

  It would never happen again.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  That was a close call at lunch.

  He really blew it and nearly lost her for good.

  But it wasn’t his fault. It was just that he loved her so much.

  She shouldn’t have talked as if it were natural to go up to The Point. It wasn’t. Decent girls didn’t do things like that. He was looking for a good girl, someone special, who’d saved herself just for him.

  That’s why he’d flipped out when Julie started in about The Point. He suddenly got this mental picture of her up there, with some lousy little rich kid’s dirty hands all over her.

  He hoped she’d never find out just how angry he’d really been. Lucky for him he’d managed to explain it away and make her smile at him again.

  He’d liked it when she’d told him she never “made out” with any guy anywhere. What an angel! If she ever changed, he didn’t know what he’d do.

  Well, he’d been lucky today, all right. Julie’s folks really liked him. He could tell. And he had an idea that her father would probably want to take him into the family business if—when—he and Julie were married.

  That Karen Slack thing had worked out okay, too.

  He’d been lucky. The Point was deserted, as he’d hoped it would be, and the whole thing took only a few minutes.

  He had no regrets for what he did. After all, it was entirely Karen’s fault. She hadn’t left him any choice. She should have realized it was dangerous to try to blackmail someone into being your boyfriend.

  He’d made sure she hadn’t told anyone about him—his records and his past—before he did what needed to be done. She hadn’t.

  She didn’t have much of a chance, though, to realize her big mistake—that she shouldn’t have messed with him. One shove and she was on her way down. And by the time she hit those rocks, she’d probably blacked out.

  Grady hopped up on the bed and curled into a ball beside him. Good old Grady. Quinn stretched out one hand and rubbed Grady’s ears.

  “I really hurt Julie today,” he told the cat, “so what can I do to make it up to her, old buddy?”

  No reply from Grady.

  “I know what I do owe her, although she’ll never know I was the one who did it.”

  Those two bums. The muggers from Tara’s driveway. It was high time he did something about them. Something permanent. They were probably starting to get over the aches and pains he’d given them. They were probably planning revenge.

  He should have taken care of them before, but he’d had too many other things on his mind. Well, better late than never. He’d do it as soon as possible.

  He rolled over on his side and immediately fell into a dreamless and untroubled sleep.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “Hey, Julie!” Mollie said the next morning, climbing into the car and snapping her seat belt. “I’ve got something interesting to tell you. I was dying to tell you last night, but you were too busy drooling over that gorgeous hunkerino.”

  “I was not drooling, Mollie. Salivating a little, maybe, but not drooling.”

  Julie released the hand brake and backed out of the driveway. Her mother was letting her take one of the family cars anytime she wanted now. One of the benefits of my new maturity, she thought with a smile. There’s nothing like a big romance to throw you into a whole new league.

  “It’s about Tara,” Mollie said.

  “Tara? She barely even speaks to me these days.”

  “Then this should dull the pain,” Mollie said. “Tommy and I just uncovered the juiciest dirt on sweet little Tara’s fancy ancestors.”

  “How? You don’t usually listen to gossip, Mollie.”

  “No, but this is high-tech snooping, sister dear. It’s that new program I got for my computer, the one that allows me to access newspaper files. I found a couple of really neat stories in some old 1920’s issues of one of the Richmond papers that said—”

  “You can actually do that? Tap into old newspaper files?”

  “Yeah. It’s great,” Mollie said with a grin. “Anyway, it seems that back in the twenties, Tara’s family owned Maywood, which was a broken-down wreck, and not much else. They’d lost just about everything in the Civil War and—”

  “You mean they were poor?”

  “Poor as church mice. Stop interrupting or we’ll be at school before I get to all the good stuff.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Well, evidently Tara’s great-grandaddy decided to do something about the family finances, so he became—get this, Julie—a bootlegger.”

  “You’re kidding me,” Julie said. “You’re talking about Tara’s honored and genteel ancestors?”

  “That’s right. Prohibition was in full swing, so the Braxtons became big-time bootleggers, just like the gangsters in all those movies.”

  “The newspapers said all that?”

  “Well,” Mollie went on, “the paper ran this big story because the government was trying to get the goods on them, but the witnesses kept backing out or changing their stories. The Braxtons were poor, but they sure must have known people in the right places. So they eventually got filthy rich via illegal booze. Old Great-Granddaddy Braxton really knew how to recoup his losses.”

  “The Braxtons, bootleggers,�
�� Julie said wonderingly. “Can you imagine? No wonder they could afford all the remodeling and restoration they did on Maywood, not to mention the heated pool and billiard room, and that party-sized hot tub Tara goes skinny-dipping in. Well, I’m glad I don’t have any secret crimes I’m trying to hide, with the two of you snooping around.

  Tara was definitely up to something.

  Julie could tell by the way she, Shelley, and Jessica abruptly stopped talking when Julie came up, unexpectedly, behind them in the hall.

  It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened lately. The three of them always seemed to have their heads together, plotting.

  It was pretty clear to everyone in the school now that Julie was no longer a part of what used to be a close-knit foursome. The three of them had excluded her from all their activities. Not that she minded; she was too busy these days with Quinn to take much notice. It was amazing how he filled her life.

  Sometimes, though, she missed their big shopping trips to the mall. That always used to be fun, trying things on and giggling. Tara was a shopoholic and practically lived at the mall. She knew every department of every store and had a sixth sense about when things would be going on sale.

  My wardrobe will never be that good again, Julie thought with a sigh. We did have some good times together.

  But now the other three were up to something.

  Well, it can’t be too bad, Julie reassured herself. If Tara thinks she can break up Quinn and me, she’s wrong. And that’s all that matters now—Quinn, and what we have going for us.

  She went over to her locker and took out the books she would need for first period.

  “Something wrong, gorgeous?” said a voice behind her.

  “Oh, Brad,” Julie said, turning. “You scared me. I was a million miles away.”

  “So I noticed,” he said. “I wish it was me you were with, a million miles away.”

  He didn’t appear to be joking. Brad had changed recently, Julie thought. He’d grown more serious.

  “Is that a line or what?” she said lightly.

  “It’s an ‘or what.’ It definitely isn’t a line,” Brad told her.

  “If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were for real.” Julie tried to cover her growing uneasiness with a laugh.

  “It is for real,” he said.

  People had begun to drift off down the halls to their classes. Julie and Brad were alone in front of her locker. He didn’t seem to want to leave her.

  She really didn’t feel like getting into a big discussion right now with Brad. And where was Quinn? He usually met her before first period.

  “Don’t you know how I feel about you, Julie?” Brad persisted.

  “No. No, I don’t,” she replied, fiddling with her books, her eyes lowered. This was getting downright embarrassing. “You’re such a kidder, Brad. I never know how to take you.”

  “Take me any way you want, I’m yours! There I go again, acting smart-mouthed. But I do mean it, Julie.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since always. Well, since the big swim party last summer, anyway. You looked so cute in that polka-dot bikini, with the matching freckles popping out across your nose. I thought to myself, ‘Hey, what’s happening here?’”

  “But you never said anything to me until now,” Julie said. “Why? If you really felt that way, why didn’t you say something instead of acting like a clown?”

  Brad shrugged. “Because I was . . . am . . . a dumb jerk, that’s why. I thought I’d impress you with my wit and charm, but I guess you were looking for a Greek god, not a clown.”

  “You mean Quinn.”

  “Yeah, Quinn, God’s gift to Braxton Falls. And speaking of Quinn, Julie . . .” Brad’s voice trailed off, and he looked uncomfortable.

  “What about him?”

  “I don’t know, exactly. It’s just a feeling I have. He’s too . . . something. Intense. Brooding. I don’t know. I wish you weren’t so crazy about him.”

  Julie opened her mouth to protest, but Brad held his hand up to silence her. “You’re a real sensible girl, Julie, but Quinn could be the original Jack the Ripper and you probably wouldn’t even notice.”

  “What a terrible thing to say!” Julie snapped. “Has it ever crossed your mind, Brad, that maybe you’re just a little bit jealous of him?”

  “Sure I’m jealous of him,” Brad said. “Who wouldn’t be? He’s got you, hasn’t he? But that’s not why I’m telling you this. If I thought he was right for you, I wouldn’t say a word. But I swear, Julie, there’s something wrong with that guy. I can feel it in my bones.”

  “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with Quinn! And if that’s all you wanted to tell me, I’ve got to get to class now.”

  “Okay, okay, if that’s how you feel,” Brad said. “Uh’oh, here comes your Greek god right now. Talk about jealous. Look at that face! He doesn’t want you to be around anyone but him, haven’t you noticed? That’s not healthy, Julie.”

  Quinn was walking quickly down the hall toward them. He must have overslept, Julie thought. That’s why he’s late. But Brad was right about the expression on Quinn’s face. He didn’t like her talking to Brad, that was clear.

  “I hope you aren’t expecting me to duke it out with that guy over you,” Brad said. “I don’t have a chance against all those muscles. Besides, I faint at the sight of blood. My blood, anyway.”

  The bell for first period rang.

  “Ah, saved—literally—by the bell! I’m out of here,” Brad called over his shoulder as he trotted down the hall.

  Brad was wrong, Julie thought defensively. Quinn was perfect, just perfect. Maybe he was a little jealous, but he was getting over that. Hadn’t they talked all that out yesterday, and hadn’t he apologized? It’s just that he cared so much for her that he wanted her all to himself now, until they got to know each other better.

  So why, then, did she tell him Brad was only getting a history assignment from her? Why was it important to convince him that her conversation with Brad was strictly business? Why did she feel she needed to tell a lie like that?

  And why had the look on Quinn’s face frightened her so?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  BRAXTON FALLS—The bodies of two young men were found late yesterday afternoon in the woods south of town. They were the victims of apparent foul play.

  The bodies, lying in the backseat of a 1989 gray Ford Escort, were discovered by a family hiking in that area.

  Each of the victims, who appeared to be in their early twenties, had been dealt a blow to the head. Police found a crowbar next to the bodies. It is estimated the deaths occurred sometime between 10 p.m. and midnight on Saturday.

  Traces of drugs and drug paraphernalia have been found in the car, leading police investigators to suspect that the murders were drug related.

  Although neither victim carried identification, the car was registered to a Norman Clayborn of Custisville, Virginia. Clayborn was subsequently identified as one of the victims. The other has been identified as Frank E. Soames, also of Custisville. . . .

  Norman and Frank.

  Norm and Frankie! A gray Ford Escort!

  Julie suddenly felt dizzy and nauseated. Those were the two men in Tara’s driveway. The ones who’d threatened her. The ones that Quinn had beaten up. It had to be them!

  “Are you finished with the front page, Julie?” asked her mother. “There’s absolutely nothing in the feature pages this morning. Julie? Are you feeling all right? You look so pale.”

  “No . . . no, Mom. I’m fine. It’s just that I didn’t get to bed until late last night.”

  “I told you so,” scolded her mother. “You were out with Quinn until all hours Friday night. And then again last night. Thank goodness the boy had to work Saturday night, or I’d hate to think how exhausted you’d be this morning!”

  Julie wasn’t listening to her mother.

  Those men. Murdered!

  Julie could hardly wait to be alone wit
h Quinn at school, in a spot where they couldn’t be overheard.

  She waited in the school parking lot for him and ran over to his car as he opened the door and unfolded his long legs. She couldn’t help admiring Quinn as he smiled at her. But this was not the time for thoughts like that. Hadn’t he seen the article in this morning’s paper? How could he be so cheerful when this had happened?

  “Quinn, did you see this morning’s paper?”

  He nodded. “About those two guys?”

  “Yes. Oh, Quinn—they were murdered. With a crowbar! It’s so awful!”

  Quinn put his arms around Julie and pulled her to him. She could feel his heart beating fast, the way it always did when he held her close.

  “I’d say they got what they deserved, Julie,” he said gently.

  “To be murdered? Nobody deserves that.”

  “They did. They were going to hurt you.” Quinn’s voice was grim. Unforgiving.

  “Maybe we should have reported what happened to the police,” Julie said. “Can we be in any trouble? I mean, can they connect us with those two in any way? What if they find out about what happened in Tara’s driveway and think we had something to do with their deaths?”

  Quinn put his cheek on her hair and rocked her back and forth, the way a mother would soothe an overexcited child.

  “Listen to what you’re saying, honey,” he told her. “You’re not making any sense. Why should they think we had something to do with the murders? No one knows anything about what those two tried to do to us. No one except you and me, and neither of us is going to tell the police about that, are we?”

  “Maybe we should, Quinn.”

  Quinn stopped rocking and pressed Julie closer to him, resting his cheek on her hair. “Why? Why get involved in something like that? We’d only be asking for trouble, Julie.”

  “But if—”

  “Look, you don’t want to go down to the police station and answer all sorts of questions about your relationship with Norm and Frankie, do you?”

  “Of course not,” Julie said.

  “Then leave it alone. You had nothing to do with their deaths. Besides, think about all the publicity you and your family would get if you—we—got mixed up in this thing.”