Nick met Matt’s eyes. A partnership that needed no words.
Nick’s smile lingered. He looked out the window. “It does look like it’s clearing up, doesn’t it?”
Epilogue
A couple of puffy white clouds looked lonely crossing the expansive Arizona sky. Beneath them, a spring breeze tickled the tops of the Ponderosa pines that surrounded a small fishing lake. At the east end of the lake, Nick and Julie gently rocked on the porch swing. From their wooden deck they could take in the entire scene. Nick was reading the Sunday edition of the Arizona Republic while Julie worked a pair of knitting needles around a spread of yarn on her lap.
“Here come the neighbors,” Julie said.
Nick looked up from the paper and had to squint from the reflection of sunlight glaring off the lake. He saw two figures emerge from a path in the woods just north of the lake. Matt McColm and Jennifer Steele furiously pumped the pedals of their lightweight bicycles toward the Bracco’s A-frame. Their momentum guided them up the slope of grass that separated the Bracco’s home from the lake itself. They stopped in front of the porch, straddled their bikes, and took long swigs from their bottled water. They both wore shorts and tee-shirts, which were marked with small patches of sweat. Matt slid his water bottle into the carrier below his seat and peered over the wooden railing that surrounded the deck, “Howdy, Sheriff.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “You’d be Sheriff too if the President flew into Payson to campaign for you a week before the election.”
Matt shook his head and smiled. “Sheriff Bracco.”
“He never gets tired of saying that,” Steele said, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.
“I never do,” Matt agreed.
“Well, I love it,” Julie said. “It sure beats, ‘We were shot at today, Jule, but don’t worry, they missed us again.’”
Steele laughed. Nick and Matt shrugged, as if they hadn’t a clue what she was talking about.
“You guys staying for coffee?” Nick said.
“Naw,” Matt said. “I’ve got to get back and shower. I’m on call today.”
“On call?” Nick scoffed. “Exactly what does ‘on call’ mean to a resident agent in Payson — on a Sunday? You waiting for someone to pull a gun on an ATM machine?”
“Very funny, Sheriff.” Matt pointed to a couple of teenagers in an aluminum rowboat fishing the far end of the lake. “I suppose you’re spying on the Chandler boys, waiting for them to exceed their limit. That would be a big catch for you, wouldn’t it?”
“Listen to you two,” Steele said. “Both of you bellyaching over the lack of stress in your jobs. Do you really miss the action that much?”
“A little machismo never hurt anyone,” Matt said.
Now it was Julie’s turn to roll her eyes. She looked at Steele who was still breathing heavy from the bike ride. “How far did you go?”
“Forty miles.” She gestured to Julie, “You should come with us sometime.”
Julie smiled. “I think I will.”
Matt pointed to the newspaper in Nick’s lap. “Too bad about Mustafa, huh?”
Julie gave Nick a suspicious glance. “Mustafa?”
Nick handed a section of the paper to Julie and tapped a particular article listed under ‘World Events.’ Julie scanned the story. “Small caliber shot to the back of the head,” she said. “Almost sounds like a Mafia hit.”
Nick and Matt were quiet.
Steele cocked her head. “What do you two characters know about it?”
“Just what I read in the paper,” Matt said.
“Ditto,” Nick said, opening the comics. “There’s too much violence in the world.”
While still reading the article, Julie added, “It says that Mustafa was the fifth member of the FBI’s top-ten list to be murdered in the past five months.”
Matt leaned over and felt the pressure in his tires.
Nick held up the comics and laughed. “That Dilbert just kills me.”
Julie finished the story and put the paper down. She looked over at Nick who was pretending to be fascinated with the entire section of animated cartoons. She shook her head. “You can take the boy out of the FBI, but you can’t take the FBI out of the boy.”
“Amen,” Steele said, watching Matt hop on his bike seat and begin pedaling down the hill.
“We’ll see you guys later,” he said.
“Yeah, thanks,” Nick said sardonically.
Steele glanced over her shoulder as she pulled away. “Was he always this helpful when he was your partner?”
“Worse,” Nick said, waving her off.
As they watched the two resident agents ride away, Julie said, “I like her.”
“So do I.”
Julie picked up Nick’s coffee mug and headed inside. “Another cup?”
“Why not?”
A few minutes later Julie returned and placed Nick’s coffee mug on the railing. She sat down next to him, picked up her knitting needles and regained a familiar rhythm. Nick reached over and grabbed the business section of the paper.
Julie gazed at the majestic setting before them and sighed. “It’s so pretty up here, isn’t it?”
“It sure is.”
“A beautiful place to raise children.”
“You bet.”
“Do you remember telling me that you would build a swing set in the yard when we had kids?”
“I do,” Nick said, turning a page.
“How long does it take for you to build something like that?”
Nick snapped the paper shut and turned to see Julie working her knitting needles with a sly grin.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because,” she reached into her pocket and held up a square, white cuvette. In the center of the cuvette was the universal plus sign for positive. “You’ve got approximately seven months to finish the job.”
Nick’s smile was instant and genuine. He pulled Julie into a warm hug and the two of them melted into each other’s arms. Their dreams mingled together like the sheets and blanket of an infant’s crib.
Nick took in a deep breath as they rocked back and forth. All those years of silence built up inside of him. He whispered, “I lov—”
“I know,” Julie said, clutching Nick with all of her might. “I’ve always known.”
RUSSIAN HILL
Chasing Chinatown Trilogy
Book One
(Abby Kane FBI Thriller)
By Ty Hutchinson
Chapter 1
Jerry and Vicki burst through the door of their hotel room in a fit of giggles. She led; he followed. She dropped her purse, then removed her brown wig before spinning once like a ballerina and falling back onto the king-size bed.
“I had such a wonderful time today.” Vicki let out a breath and smiled. “Isn’t San Francisco the best city ever?”
“Charming and quite loveable,” said her husband as he collapsed onto the bed next to her. He buried the side of his face in the soft pillow, causing his cheek to squish upwards and clamp his eye shut.
“The day unfolded perfectly. It couldn’t have happened any better.”
He lifted his head. “There was a little planning involved.”
She jabbed a finger into his ribs. “You know what I mean, silly.”
“Boy, I’m beat.” He cuddled the pillow and turned his face away from her.
“Me, too, but we have dinner reservations at Top of the Mark and I’m looking forward to it.”
Jerry didn’t need to look at his wife to know she had pouty lips. Her voice conveyed her stance. He also knew that, if he looked at her, she’d hit him with fluttering eyelashes. He never could say no to that. “Okay, we’ll rest for a bit,” he mumbled.