The agents followed me to Merlotte's. There were five or six cars parked across the spot where the front parking lot ended and the back parking began, effectively blocking access to the back. But I leaped out of my car and picked a path between them, and the FBI agents were right on my heels.
I had hardly been able to believe it, but it was true. There was a traditional cross erected in the employee parking lot, back by the trees where the gravel gave way to dirt. A body was nailed to it. My eyes scanned it, took in the distorted body, the streaks of dried blood, came back up to the face.
"Oh, no," I said, and my knees folded.
Antoine, the cook, and D'Eriq, the busboy, were suddenly on either side of me, pulling me up. D'Eriq's face was tearstained, and Antoine looked grim, but the cook had his head together. He'd been in Iraq and in New Orleans during Katrina. He'd seen things that were worse.
"I'm sorry, Sookie," he said.
Andy Bellefleur was there, and Sheriff Dearborn. They walked over to me, looking bigger and bulkier in their waterproof quilted coats. Their faces were hard with suppressed shock.
"Sorry about your sister-in-law," Bud Dearborn said, but I could barely pay attention to the words.
"She was pregnant," I said. "She was pregnant." That was all I could think about. I wasn't amazed that someone would want to kill Crystal, but I was really horrified about the baby.
I took a deep breath and managed to look again. Crystal's bloody hands were panther paws. The lower part of her legs had changed, too. The effect was even more shocking and grotesque than the crucifixion of a regular human woman and, if possible, more pitiful.
Thoughts raced through my head with no logical sequence. I thought of who needed to know that Crystal had died. Calvin, not only head of her clan but also her uncle. Crystal's husband, my brother. Why was Crystal left here, of all places? Who could have done this?
"Have you called Jason yet?" I said through numb lips. I tried to blame that on the cold, but I knew it was shock. "He would be at work this time of day."
Bud Dearborn said, "We called him."
"Please don't make him look at her," I said. There was a bloody mess trailing down the wood of the cross to the ground at its base. I gagged, got myself under control.
"I understand she cheated on him, and that their breakup was pretty public." Bud was trying to be dispassionate, but the effort was costing him. Rage was in the back of his eyes.
"You can ask Dove Beck about that," I said, instantly on the defensive. Alcee Beck was a detective for the Bon Temps police department, and the man Crystal had chosen to cheat with was Alcee's cousin Dove. "Yeah, Crystal and Jason had separated. But he would never do anything to his baby." I knew Jason would not have done such a horrific thing to Crystal no matter what the provocation, but I didn't expect anyone else to believe me.
Lattesta walked over to us, Agent Weiss following close behind. She looked a little white around the mouth, but her voice was steady. "From the condition of the body, I believe this woman was a ... werepanther." She said the word as if it was hard to get it through her lips.
I nodded. "Yes, ma'am, she was." I was still fighting to gain control of my stomach.
"Then this could be a hate crime," Lattesta said. His face was locked down tight, and his thoughts were orderly. He was composing a mental list of phone calls he should make, and he was trying to figure out if there was any way he could take charge of the case. If the murder had been a hate crime, he had a good shot at being in on the investigation.
"And who might you be?" Bud Dearborn asked. He had his hands on his belt, and he was looking at Weiss and Lattesta as if they were pre-need burial plot salesmen.
While the law enforcement types were all introducing themselves and saying profound things about the crime scene, Antoine said, "I'm sorry, Sookie. We had to call 'em. But we called your house right after."
"Of course you had to call them," I said. "I just wish Sam was here." Oh, gosh. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and pressed his speed-dial number.
"Sam," I said when he picked up. "Can you talk?"
"Yes," he said, sounding apprehensive. He could already tell something was wrong.
"Where are you?"
"I'm in my car."
"I have bad news."
"What's happened? Did the bar burn down?"
"No, but Crystal's been murdered in the parking lot. Out back by your trailer."
"Oh, shit. Where's Jason?"
"He's on his way here, near as I can find out."
"I'm sorry, Sookie." He sounded exhausted. "This is going to be bad."
"The FBI is here. They're thinking it might be a hate crime." I skipped the explanation of why they'd happened to be in Bon Temps.
"Well, a lot of people didn't like Crystal," Sam said cautiously, surprise in his voice.
"She was crucified."
"Dammit to hell ." A long pause. "Sook, if my mom is still stable and nothing's happening legally with my stepfather, I'll start back later today or early tomorrow."
"Good." I couldn't begin to pack enough relief into that one word. And it was no use pretending I had everything under control.
"I'm sorry,cher ," he said again. "Sorry you're having to handle it, sorry Jason will be suspected, sorry about the whole thing. Sorry for Crystal, too."
"I'll be glad to see you," I said, and my voice was shaky with incipient tears.
"I'll be there." And he hung up.
Lattesta said, "Ms. Stackhouse, are these men other bar employees?"
I introduced Antoine and D'Eriq to Lattesta. Antoine's expression didn't change, but D'Eriq was completely impressed that he'd met an FBI agent.
"Both of you knew this Crystal Norris, right?" Lattesta said mildly.
Antoine said, "Just by sight. She come in the bar some."
D'Eriq nodded.
"Crystal Norris Stackhouse," I said. "She's my sister-in-law. The sheriff's called my brother. But you need to call her uncle, Calvin Norris. He works at Norcross."
"He her nearest living relative? Besides the husband?"
"She's got a sister. But Calvin's the leader of - " I stopped, not sure if Calvin had endorsed the Great Reveal. "He raised her," I said. Close enough.
Lattesta and Weiss huddled with Bud Dearborn. They were deep in conversation, probably about Calvin and the tiny community out at the bleak crossroads. Hotshot was a group of small houses containing lots of secrets. Crystal had wanted to escape from Hotshot, but she also felt most secure there.
My eyes returned to the tortured figure on the cross. Crystal was dressed, but her clothes had ripped when her arms and legs had changed to panther limbs, and there was blood everywhere. Her hands and feet, impaled with nails, were crusted with it. Ropes did the work of holding her to the crossbar, kept the flesh from ripping free of the nails.
I'd seen a lot of awful things, but this was maybe the most pathetic. "Poor Crystal," I said, and found tears were rolling down my cheeks.
"You didn't like her," Andy Bellefleur said. I wondered how long he'd been out here, looking at the ruin of what had once been a living, breathing, healthy woman. Andy's cheeks were patched with stubble, and his nose was red. Andy had a cold. He sneezed and excused himself to use a handkerchief.
D'Eriq and Antoine were talking to Alcee Beck. Alcee was the other Bon Temps police detective, and that didn't make the investigation look too promising. He wouldn't be too regretful about Crystal's death.
Andy faced me again after he'd stuffed his handkerchief in his pocket. I looked at his weary, broad face. I knew he'd do his best to find out who'd done this. I trusted Andy. Square-built Andy, some years my senior, had never been a smiley kind of guy. He was serious and suspicious. I didn't know if he'd chosen his occupation because it suited him, or if his character had altered in response to his occupation.
"I hear she and Jason had split," he said.
"Yes. She cheated on him." This was common knowledge. I wasn't going to pretend otherwise.
"Pregnant and all, like she was?" Andy shook his head.
"Yeah." I spread my hands.That was the way she was .
"That's sick," Andy said.
"Yeah, it is. Cheating with your husband's baby in your stomach between you ... that's just specially icky." It was a thought I'd had but never voiced.
"So, who was the other man?" Andy asked casually. "Or men?"
"You're the only guy in Bon Temps who doesn't know she was screwing Dove Beck," I said.
This time it registered. Andy glanced over at Alcee Beck and back to me. "I know now," he said. "Who hated her that much, Sookie?"
"If you're thinking Jason, you can just think again. He would never do that to his baby."
"If she was so free with herself, maybe it wasn't his baby," Andy said. "Maybe he found that out."
"It was his," I said with a firmness I wasn't sure I felt. "But even if it wasn't, if some blood test says it wasn't, he wouldn't kill anybody's baby. Anyway, they weren't living together. She'd moved back in with her sister. Why would he even go to the trouble?"
"Why were the FBI at your house?"
Okay, so this questioning thing was going to go one way. "Some questions about the explosion in Rhodes," I said. "I found out about Crystal while they were there. They came along out of professional curiosity, I guess. Lattesta, the guy, thinks this might be a hate crime."
"That's an interesting idea," he said. "This is undoubtedly a hate crime, but whether or not it's the kind of thing they should investigate, I don't know yet." He strode off to talk to Weiss. Lattesta was looking up at the body, shaking his head, as if he was noting a level of awfulness he'd thought couldn't be reached.
I didn't know what to do with myself. I was in charge of the bar, and the crime scene was on bar property, so I was determined to stay.
Alcee Beck called, "All people on the scene who are not police officers, leave the area! All police officers who are nones sential to the crime scene, step into the front parking lot!" His gaze fell on me, and he jabbed a finger toward the front. So I went back to lean against my car. Though it was cold enough, it was lucky for all of us that the day was bright and the wind wasn't blowing. I pulled my coat collar up around my ears and reached into the car to get my black gloves. I tugged them on and waited.
Time passed. I watched various police officers come and go. When Holly showed up for her shift, I explained what had happened and sent her home, telling her I'd call when I'd gotten permission to reopen. I couldn't think of any other course of action. Antoine and D'Eriq had left long ago, after I'd entered their cell numbers on my phone.
Jason's truck screeched to a halt beside my car, and he leaped out to stand in front of me. We hadn't spoken in weeks, but this was no time to talk about our differences. "Is it true?" my brother asked.
"I'm sorry. It's true."
"The baby, too?"
"Yeah."
"Alcee come out to the job site," he said numbly. "He come asking how long it had been since I'd seen her. I haven't talked to her in four or five weeks, except to send her some money for the doctor visits and her vitamins. I saw her once at Dairy Queen."
"Who was she with?"
"Her sister." He took a long, shuddering breath. "You think ... was it bad?"
No point beating around the bush. "Yes," I said.
"Then I'm sorry she had to go that way," he said. He wasn't used to expressing complex emotions, and it sat awkwardly on him, this combination of grief and regret and loss. He looked five years older. "I was so hurt by her and mad at her, but I wouldn't want her to suffer and be afraid. God knows we probably wouldn't have been good as parents, but we didn't get a chance to try."
I agreed with every part of what he'd said.
"Did you have company last night?" I said finally.
"Yeah, I took Michele Schubert home from the Bayou," he said. The Bayou was a bar in Clarice, only a few miles away.
"She stay all night?"
"I made her scrambled eggs this morning."
"Good." For once my brother's promiscuity paid off - Michele was a single divorc¨¦e without children and forthright to boot. If anyone would be willing to tell the police exactly where she'd been and what she'd done, Michele was the woman. I said as much.
"The police have already talked to her," Jason told me.
"That was fast."
"Bud was in the Bayou last night."
So the sheriff would have seen Jason leave and would have noted whom he'd left with. Bud hadn't kept the job of sheriff this long without being shrewd. "Well, that's good," I said, and couldn't think of anything else to say.
"You think maybe she was killed because she was a panther?" Jason asked hesitantly.
"Maybe. She was partially changed when she was killed."
"Poor Crystal," he said. "She would have hated anyone to see her like that." And to my amazement, tears ran down his face.
I didn't have the slightest idea how to react. All I could do was fetch a Kleenex from the box in my car and shove it in his hand. I hadn't seen Jason cry in years. Had he even cried when Gran had died? Maybe he really had loved Crystal. Maybe it hadn't been solely wounded pride that had caused him to set up her exposure as an adulteress. He'd fixed it so both her uncle Calvin and I would catch her in the act. I'd been so disgusted and furious with being forced to be a witness - and with the consequences - that I'd avoided Jason for weeks. Crystal's death had shunted aside that anger, at least for the moment.
"She's beyond that now," I said.
Calvin's battered truck pulled up on the other side of my car. Quicker than my eye could track, he stood in front of me, while Tanya Grissom scrambled out the other side. A stranger looked out of Calvin's eyes. Normally a peculiar yellowish color, those eyes were now almost golden, and the irises were so large that there was almost no visible white. His pupils had elongated. He was not even wearing a light jacket. It made me cold to look at him in more ways than one.
I held up my hands. "I'm so sorry, Calvin," I said. "You need to know Jason did not do this." I looked up, not too far, to meet his eerie eyes. Calvin was a little grayer now than he'd been when I'd first met him several years ago, and a little stockier. He still looked solid and dependable and tough.
"I need to smell her," he said, ignoring my words. "They have to let me back there to smell her. I'll know."
"Come on then; we'll go tell them that," I said, because not only was that a good idea, but also I wanted to keep him away from Jason. At least Jason was smart enough to stay on the far side of my car. I took Calvin's arm and we began to walk around the building, only to be stopped by the crime scene tape.
Bud Dearborn moved over to the other side of the tape when he saw us. "Calvin, I know you're rattled, and I'm real sorry about your niece," he began, and with a flash of claw Calvin ripped down the tape and began walking over to the cross.
Before he'd gotten three steps, the two FBI agents moved to intercept him. Suddenly they were on the ground. There was a lot of shouting and tumult, and then Calvin was being held back by Bud, Andy, and Alcee, with Lattesta and Weiss trying to assist from their undignified positions.
"Calvin," Bud Dearborn wheezed. Bud was not a young man, and it was clear that holding Calvin back was taking every bit of strength he possessed. "You gotta stay away, Calvin. Any evidence we collect is gonna be tainted if you don't stay away from the body." I was astonished at Bud's restraint. I would have expected him to crack Calvin in the head with his baton or a flashlight. Instead, he seemed as sympathetic as a strained and taxed man could be. For the first time, I understood that I wasn't the only one who'd known about the secret of the Hotshot community. Bud's wrinkled hand patted Calvin's arm in a gesture of consolation. Bud took care to avoid touching Calvin's claws. Special Agent Lattesta noticed them, and he drew in a harsh breath, making an incoherent warning noise.
"Bud," Calvin said, and his voice came out in a growl, "if you can't let me over there now, I have to smell her when they take her down. I'm trying to catch the scent of the ones who did this."
"I'll see if you can do that," Bud said steadily. "For right now, buddy, we got to get you out of here because they gotta pick up all this evidence around here, evidence that'll stand up in court. You got to stay away from her. Okay?"
Bud had never cared for me, nor I for him, but at that moment I sure thought well of him.
After a long moment, Calvin nodded. Some of the tension went out of his shoulders. Everyone who was holding on to him eased up on their grip.
Bud said, "You stay out front; we'll call you. You got my word."
"All right," Calvin said. The law enforcement crowd let go. Calvin let me put my arm around him. Together, we turned to make for the front parking lot. Tanya was waiting for him, tension in every line of her body. She'd had the same expectations I'd had: that Calvin was going to get a good beating.
"Jason didn't do this," I said again.
"I don't care about your brother," he said, turning those strange eyes on me. "He doesn't matter to me. I don't think he killed her."
It was clear that he thought my anxiety about Jason was blocking my concern about the real problem, the death of his niece. It was clear he didn't appreciate that. I had to respect his feelings, so I shut my mouth.
Tanya took his hands, claws and all. "Will they let you go over her?" she asked. Her eyes never left Calvin's face. I might as well not have been there.
"When they take the body down," he said.
It would be so great if Calvin could identify the culprit. Thank God the werecreatures had come out. But ... that might have been why Crystal had been killed.
"You think you'll be able to get a scent?" Tanya said. Her voice was quiet, intent. She was more serious than I'd ever seen her in our spotty acquaintance. She put her arms around Calvin, and though he was not a tall man, she only reached his upper sternum. She looked up at him.
"I'll get a score of scents after all these folks have touched her. I can only try to match them all. I wish I'd been here first." He held Tanya as if he needed to lean on someone.
Jason was standing a yard away, waiting for Calvin to notice him. His back was stiff, his face frozen. There was an awful moment of silence when Calvin looked over Tanya's shoulder and noted Jason's presence.
I don't know how Tanya reacted, but every muscle in my body twanged from the tension. Slowly Calvin held out a hand to Jason. Though it was a human hand again, it was obviously battered. The skin was freshly scarred and one of the fingers was slightly bent.
I had done that. I'd stood up for Jason at his wedding, and Calvin had stood up for Crystal. After Jason had made us witness Crystal's infidelity, we'd had to stand in for them when the penalty had been pronounced: the maiming of a hand or paw. I'd had to bring a brick down on my friend's hand. I hadn't felt the same about Jason since then.
Jason bent and licked the back of the hand, emphasizing how subservient he was. He did it awkwardly, because he was still new to the ritual. I held my breath. Jason's eyes were rolled up to keep Calvin's face in sight. When Calvin nodded, we all relaxed. Calvin accepted Jason's obeisance.
"You'll be in at the kill," Calvin said, as if Jason had asked him something.
"Thanks," Jason said, and then backed away. He stopped when he'd gone a couple of feet. "I want to bury her," he said.
"We'll all bury her," Calvin said. "When they let us have her back." There was not a particle of concession in his voice.
Jason hesitated a moment and then nodded.
Calvin and Tanya got back in Calvin's truck. They settled in. Clearly they planned to wait there until the body was brought down from the cross. Jason said, "I'm going home. I can't stay here." He seemed almost dazed.
"Okay," I said.
"Are you ... do you plan on staying here?"
"Yes, I'm in charge of the bar while Sam is gone."
"That's a lot of trust he has in you," Jason said.
I nodded. I should feel honored. I did feel honored.
"Is it true his stepdad shot his mom? That's what I heard at the Bayou last night."
"Yes," I said. "He didn't know that Sam's mom was, you know, a shapeshifter."
Jason shook his head. "This coming-out thing," he said. "I don't know that's it been such a good idea after all. Sam's mom got shot. Crystal is dead. Someone who knew what she was put her up there, Sookie. Maybe they'll come after me next. Or Calvin. Or Tray Dawson. Or Alcide. Maybe they'll try to kill us all."
I started to say that couldn't happen, that the people I knew wouldn't turn on their friends and neighbors because of an accident of birth. But in the end, I didn't say that, because I wondered if it was the truth.
"Maybe they will," I said, feeling an icy tingle run down my back. I took a deep breath. "But since they didn't go after the vampires - for the most part - I'm thinking they'll be able to accept weres of all sorts. At least, I hope so."
Mel, wearing the slacks and sports shirt he wore daily at the auto parts place, got out of his car and walked over. I noticed that he was carefully not looking at Calvin, though Jason was still standing right beside the panther's pickup. "It's true, then," Mel said.
Jason said, "She's dead, Mel."
Mel patted Jason's shoulder in the awkward way men have when they have to comfort other men. "Come on, Jason. You don't need to be around here. Let's go to your house. We'll have a drink, buddy."
Jason nodded, looking dazed. "Okay, let's go." After Jason left for home with Mel following right behind, I climbed back in my own vehicle and fished the newspapers for the past few days from the backseat. I often picked them up from the driveway when I came out to go to work, tossed them in the back, and tried to read at least the front page within a reasonable length of time. What with Sam leaving and my business with the bar, I hadn't caught a glimpse of the news since the weres went public.
I arranged the papers in order and began to read.
The public reaction had ranged from the panicked to the calm. Many people claimed they'd had a suspicion that the world contained more than humans and vampires. The vampires themselves were 100 percent behind their furry brethren, at least in public. In my experience, the two major supernatural groups had had a very bumpy relationship. The shifters and Weres mocked the vampires, and the vampires jeered right back. But it looked like the supernaturals had agreed to present a united front, at least for a while.
The reactions of governments varied wildly. I think the U.S. policy had been formed by werewolves in place within the system, because it was overwhelmingly favorable. There was a huge tendency to accept the weres as if they were completely human, to keep their rights as Americans exactly on a par with their previous status when no one knew they were two-natured. The vampires couldn't be too pleased about that, because they hadn't yet obtained full rights and privileges under the law. Legal marriage and inheritance of property were still forbidden in a few states, and vampires were barred from owning certain businesses. The human casino lobby had been successful in banning the vamps from direct ownership of gambling establishments, which I still couldn't understand, and though vampires could be police officers and firefighters, vampire doctors were not accepted in any field that included treating patients with open wounds. Vampires weren't allowed in competition sports, either. That I could understand; they were too strong. But there were already lots of athletes whose ancestry included full- and part-weres, because sports were a natural bent for them. The military ranks, too, were filled with men and women whose grandparents had bayed under the full moon. There were even some full-blooded Weres in the armed services, though it was a very tricky occupation for people who had to find somewhere private to be three nights a month.
The sports pages were full of pictures of some part- and whole-weres who'd become famous. A running back for the New England Patriots, a fielder for the Cardinals, a marathon runner ... they'd all confessed to being wereanimals of one kind or another. An Olympic champion swimmer had just discovered that his dad was a wereseal, and the number-one ranked women's tennis player in Britain had gone on record as saying that her mother was a wereleopard. The sports world hadn't been in such a tumult since the last drug scandal. Did these athletes' heritage give them an unfair advantage over other players? Should their trophies be taken away from them? Should their records be allowed to stand? Another day, I might enjoy debating this with someone, but right now I just didn't care.
I began to see an overall picture. The outing of the two-natured was a much different revelation than the vampires' announcement. The vampires had been completely off the human grid, except in legend and lore. They'd lived apart. Since they could subsist on the Japanese synthetic blood, they had presented themselves as absolutely nonthreatening. But wereanimals had been living among us all the time, integrated into our society yet maintaining their secret lives and alliances. Sometimes even their children (those who weren't firstborn and therefore not weres) didn't know what their parents were, especially if they were not wolves.
"I feel betrayed," one woman was quoted as saying. "My granddad turns into a lynx every month. He runs around and kills things. My beautician, I've been going to her for fifteen years, and she's a coyote. I didn't know! I feel I've been deceived in an ugly way."
Some people thought it was fascinating. "Our principal is a werewolf," said a kid in Springfield, Missouri. "How cool is that?"
The very fact of the existence of wereanimals frightened some people. "I'm scared I'll shoot my neighbor by accident if I see him trotting down the road," said a farmer in Kansas. "What if he gets after my chickens?"
Various churches were thrashing out their policy on weres. "We don't know what to think," a Vatican official confessed. "They're alive, they're among us, they must have souls. Even some priests are wereanimals." The fundamentalists were equally stymied. "We were worried about Adam and Steve," a Baptist minister said. "Should we have been more worried about Rover and Fluffy?"
While my head had been in the sand, all hell had broken loose.
Suddenly it was easier to see how my werepanther sister-in-law had ended up on a cross at a bar owned by a shifter.
