From Dead to Worse (Sookie Stackhouse #8)(26)
Author: Charlaine Harris

Had been a good thing.

I felt tears well up in my eyes and looked out the window. We’d passed the racetrack and the turnoff to Pierre Bossier Mall, and we went a couple more exits before Tray turned the truck onto the off ramp.

We meandered through a modest neighborhood for a while, Tray checking his rearview mirror so often that even I realized he was watching for anyone following us. Tray suddenly turned into a driveway and pulled around to the back of one of the slightly larger homes, which was demurely clad in white siding. We parked under a porte cochere in the back, along with another pickup. There was a small Nissan parked off to the side. There were a couple of motorcycles, too, and Tray gave them a glance of professional interest.

"Whose place?" I was a little hesitant about asking yet another question, but after all, I did want to know where I was.

"Amanda’s," he said. He waited for me to precede him, and I went up the three steps leading up to the back door and rang the bell.

"Who’s there?" asked a muffled voice.

"Sookie and Dawson," I said.

The door opened cautiously, the entrance blocked by Amanda so we couldn’t see past her. I don’t know much about handguns, but she had a big revolver in her hand pointed steadily at my chest. This was the second time in two days I’d had a gun pointed at me. Suddenly, I felt very cold and a little dizzy.

"Okay," Amanda said after looking us over sharply.

Alcide was standing behind the door, a shotgun at the ready. He’d stepped out into view as we came in, and when his own senses had checked us out, he stood down. He put the shotgun on the kitchen counter and sat at the kitchen table.

"I’m sorry about Maria-Star, Alcide," I said, forcing the words through stiff lips. Having guns aimed at you is just plain terrifying, especially at close range.

"I haven’t gotten it yet," he said, his voice flat and even. I decided he was saying that the impact of her death hadn’t hit him. "We were thinking about moving in together. It would have saved her life."

There wasn’t any point in wallowing in what-might-have-been. That was only another way to torture yourself. What had actually happened was bad enough.

"We know who did it," Dawson said, and a shiver ran through the room. There were more Weres in the house – I could sense them now – and they had all become alert at Tray Dawson’s words.

"What? How?" Without my seeing the movement, Alcide was on his feet.

"She got her witch friends to do a reconstruction," Tray said, nodding in my direction. "I watched. It was two guys. One I’d never seen, so Furnan’s brought in some wolves from outside. The second was Cal Myers."

Alcide’s big hands were clenched in fists. He didn’t seem to know where to start speaking, he had so many reactions. "Furnan’s hired help," Alcide said, finally picking a jumping-in point. "So we’re within our rights to kill on sight. We’ll snatch one of the bastards and make him talk. We can’t bring a hostage here; someone would notice. Tray, where?"

"Hair of the Dog," he answered.

Amanda wasn’t too crazy about that idea. She owned that bar, and using it as an execution or torture site didn’t appeal to her. She opened her mouth to protest. Alcide faced her and snarled, his face twisting into something that wasn’t quite Alcide. She cowered and nodded her assent.

Alcide raised his voice even more for his next pronouncement. "Cal Myers is Kill on Sight."

"But he’s a pack member, and members get trials," Amanda said, and then cowered, correctly anticipating Alcide’s wordless roar of rage.

"You haven’t asked me about the man who tried to kill me," I said. I wanted to defuse the situation, if that was possible.

As furious as he was, Alcide was still too decent to remind me that I’d lived and Maria-Star hadn’t, or that he’d loved Maria-Star much more than he’d ever cared about me. Both thoughts crossed his mind, though.

"He was a Were," I said. "About five foot ten, in his twenties. He was clean-shaven. He had brown hair and blue eyes and a big birthmark on his neck."

"Oh," said Amanda. "That sounds like what’s-his-name, the brand-new mechanic at Furnan’s shop. Hired last week. Lucky Owens. Ha! Who were you with?"

"I was with Eric Northman," I said.

There was a long, not entirely friendly silence. Weres and vampires are natural rivals, if not out-and-out enemies.

"So, the guy’s dead?" Tray asked practically, and I nodded.

"How’d he approach you?" Alcide asked in a voice that was more rational.

"That’s an interesting question," I said. "I was on the interstate driving home from Shreveport with Eric. We’d been to a restaurant here."

"So who would know where you were and who you were with?" Amanda said while Alcide frowned down at the floor, deep in thought.

"Or that you’d have to return home along the interstate last night." Tray was really rising in my opinion; he was right in there with the practical and pertinent ideas.

"I only told my roommate I was going out to dinner, not where," I said. "We met someone there, but we can leave him out. Eric knew, because he was acting as chauffeur. But I know Eric and the other man didn’t tip anyone off."

"How can you be so sure?" Tray asked.

"Eric got shot protecting me," I said. "And the person he took me to meet was a relative."

Amanda and Tray didn’t realize how small my family was, so they didn’t get how momentous that statement was. But Alcide, who knew more about me, glared. "You’re making this up," he said.

"No, I’m not." I stared back. I knew this was a terrible day for Alcide, but I didn’t have to explain my life to him. But I had a sudden thought. "You know, the waiter – he was a Were." That would explain a lot.

"What’s the name of the restaurant?"

"Les Deux Poissons." My accent wasn’t good, but the Weres nodded.

"Kendall works there," Alcide said. "Kendall Kent. Long reddish hair?" I nodded, and he looked sad. "I thought Kendall would come around to our side. We had a beer together a couple of times."

"That’s Jack Kent’s oldest. All he would have had to do was place a phone call," Amanda said. "Maybe he didn’t know…"

"Not an excuse," Tray said. His deep voice reverberated in the little kitchen. "Kendall has to know who Sookie is, from the packmaster contest. She’s a friend of the pack. Instead of telling Alcide she was in our territory and should be protected, he called Furnan and told him where Sookie was, maybe let him know when she started home. Made it easy for Lucky to lie in wait."