“Not my doing,” Andy said, a little too loudly. Judge Rosoff looked pained.
“Bellefleurs, please remember where you are,” she said, and they both stood at attention, absurdly. The judge had a twitch at the corners of her mouth.
When all the prisoners had been arraigned, Judge Rosoff nodded and Jessie Schneider and Kenya herded us out into the van. A second later, the parish bus began loading the male prisoners. Finally, we were on our way back to the jail.
An hour later I was dressed in my own clothes again, walking out into the sun, a free woman. My brother was waiting. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to pay you back when you stood by me when I was in jail,” he said, and I winced. I hadn’t ever pictured that happening myself. “But here I am, picking you up at the hoosegow. How’d you like those toilets?”
“Oh, I’m thinking of having them put in at the house, to remind me of good times.” Since he was my brother, he ground it in for a couple more minutes. My nickname was now “Jailbird,” and my picture on Facebook had bars drawn over it. And on and on.
“Michele?” I asked, when Jason ran out of funny comments. Since we’d been together all our lives, Jason understood what I meant without the whole sentence.
“She couldn’t get off work,” he said, meeting my eyes so I’d know he wasn’t lying. As if I couldn’t have told by seeing directly into his brain. “She woulda come, but her boss wouldn’t let her off.”
I nodded, ready to believe Michele didn’t think I was guilty.
“The last time we talked about Eric, you and him were on the outs,” Jason said. “But he must be carrying a torch to have bailed you out like that. That’s a shitload of money.”
“I’m surprised myself,” I said. And that was a huge understatement. Based on past experience, when Eric got angry at me, he let me know about it. When he’d decided I was being prissy about killing a few enemies in a bloodbath, he’d bitten me without bothering to take away the pain. I’d let that incident go by without having a showdown over it—a mistake on my part—but I hadn’t forgotten it. After our terrible confrontation the night before my arrest, I had never expected this magnanimity from Eric. Even attributing it to a sentimental gesture on his part didn’t match what I knew of Eric. I definitely wanted to ask Mustapha a few questions, but he was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Sam, which was somewhat more of a surprise.
“Where do you want to go, Sis?” Jason was trying not to act like he was in a hurry, but he was. He had to get back to work; he’d taken an extended lunch hour to come to court.
“Take me to the house,” I said, after a second’s thought. “I have to shower and put on clean clothes and, I guess . . . go in to work. If Sam wants me there. I might not be such an advertisement for the place now.”
“Are you kidding? He went nuts when he heard they arrested you,” Jason said, as if I should have known what had happened while I was in jail. Sometimes Jason got what I was kind of jumbled up with “psychic” or even “omniscient.”
“He did?”
“Yeah, he went to the station to yell at Andy and Alcee Beck on Sunday. Then he called the jail about a million times to ask how you were doing. And he asked the judge who the best criminal lawyer in the area was. By the way, Holly’s been working in your place while you were out sick and this morning, just to pick up a little extra cash for the wedding. She says don’t worry! She don’t want to come back regular.”
When we got to Hummingbird Road, I thought, I’m really free. I didn’t know if I’d ever recover from the overwhelming humiliation of being arrested and going to jail, but I assumed that when I’d gotten over the oppressive weight of the experience, I’d have learned some lesson God wanted me to learn.
I had a moment of thinking of our Lord being dragged through the streets and pelted with offal and then having his court hearing in a public place. Then being crucified.
Well, not that I was comparing myself to Jesus, I told myself hastily, but I’d done that kind of backward, right? Almost been crucified, then been arrested. We had something in common, Jesus and me! I threw that thought out of my mind as not only a gross exaggeration, but maybe even blasphemy, and focused instead on what to do with my new freedom.
Shower first, for sure. I wanted to wash off the jail smell, plus I hadn’t showered since Saturday morning. If I’d gone back to my cell after the courtroom, I could have showered with the other female inmates. Woo-hoo!
Jason had been silent during our drive to my house, but that didn’t mean his brain hadn’t been busy. He was glad Michele was cool with my arrest, because it sure would have been uncomfortable if she’d thought his sister was guilty, and that might have delayed the wedding. Jason really wanted to get married.
“Tell Michele to come see the dress I bought for my bridesmaid dress, anytime,” I said, as Jason pulled up behind the house. I’d retrieved my purse when I’d been released, so I had my keys.
Jason gave me a blank look.
“The one I bought to wear to your wedding. I’ll call her later.”
Jason was used to me chiming in on his thoughts. He said, “Okay, Sook. You take it easy today. I never believed you done it. Not that she didn’t have it coming.”
“Thanks, Jason.” I was genuinely touched, and of course I knew he was completely sincere.
“Call me if you need me,” he said, and then he took off for work. I was so glad to unlock the door and be back in my own home, I almost started crying. And after being jammed into a jail cell with a hungover Jane Bodehouse, it was exquisitely sweet to be alone. I glanced at the telephone answering machine, which was blinking furiously, and I was certain there were some e-mails waiting for me. But a shower came first.
While I dried my hair with a towel, I looked out the window at the shimmering landscape. Everything looked dusty again, but it would be a couple of days before I needed to water, thanks to the recent rain. I actually looked forward to getting out in the yard, because after jail it looked incredibly beautiful. The extravagant growth and lushness had only increased while I was gone.
I put on makeup, because I needed to feel attractive. I put a ton of moisturizer on my newly shaved legs and sprayed on a little spritz of perfume. This was more like it. Every second I felt more like myself, Sookie Stackhouse, bar owner and telepath, and less like Sookie the Jailbird.
I pushed down the Play button on the answering machine.
Here are the people who didn’t believe I should have been arrested: Maxine; India; JB du Rone’s mom; Pastor Jimmy Fullenwilder; Calvin; Bethany Zanelli, coach of the high school softball team; and at least seven others. I had to feel touched that they’d bothered to call to express their feelings, even though I’d been in jail and it had been possible I’d never get to hear their encouraging messages. I wondered if I should write a thank-you note to each caller. My grandmother would have.
As I listened to Kennedy Keyes’s voice telling me Sam had said I shouldn’t come in today and I should rest, I could see by the counter that I had only one more message. A man’s voice came on. I didn’t recognize it. He said, “You had no right to take away my last chance. I’m going to make sure you pay for it.” I looked at the number. I didn’t recognize it, either. Was I shocked at the determination in his voice? Yes. But I wasn’t surprised. I know how people really are. I can hear their thoughts. I couldn’t read the brain of someone who’d left a phone message, but I know intent when I hear it. My anonymous caller had meant every word he’d said.
Now it was my turn to make a phone call. “Andy, I need you to come out here and listen to something,” I said when he picked up his cell. “You may not want to, but if I’m in danger, you gotta protect me, right? I didn’t lose that when I got arrested?”
“Sookie,” Andy said. He sounded massively tired. “I’m on my way.”
“And do me a favor, okay? This is weird, and I know you won’t want to do it, but you tell Alcee Beck to clean out his car. I’m pretty sure there’s something in his car that shouldn�
��t be there.” I’d had so much time to think in jail that I’d remembered a little flash of memory: Alcee’s car parked by the woods. The odd flicker of movement I’d seen from the corner of my eye. The fact that Alcee was so insanely determined I be arrested and charged that I’d thought, It’s almost like he’s under a spell.
That seemed like such a good fit, I was sure it was true.
Chapter 10
Though Sam hadn’t wanted me to come in the day I was released from jail, I went in to work the next morning. On one level, it was such a normal thing to do that my preparations felt quite ordinary. On another level, since I’d spent part of my jail time thinking I might never get to walk back into Merlotte’s again, I was nervous about making a public appearance after facing such an ugly allegation.
Andy Bellefleur had listened to the threat on my answering machine and taken the little tape with him. I’d wished I’d been smart enough to make a copy before he drove off. I hadn’t needed to ask him if he’d conveyed my request to Alcee Beck. I heard from his thoughts that he hadn’t, that he was already in bad with Alcee because Andy’d maintained they shouldn’t arrest me, while Alcee had bulled ahead with the charges. So there was something I’d have to take care of myself.
After Jason’s account of Sam’s agitation at my arrest, I’d expected a big welcome back to the bar. In fact, I’d expected Sam would call me the night before, but he hadn’t. Now, seeing him behind the bar, I smiled and started over to give him a hug.
Sam looked at me for a long moment, and I felt the conflict rolling off him. If fireworks had been exploding out of his brain, he couldn’t have been more lit up. But then his whole face shut down, and he turned his back to me. He began polishing a glass furiously. I was surprised it didn’t shatter in his fingers.
To say I was hurt and bewildered would be understating by about a ton. I didn’t think Sam was exactly angry with me for being arrested, but he was angry about something. Though I got hugs from all the bar staff and at least six customers, Sam avoided me like I was Typhoid Mary.
“Jail isn’t catching,” I said tartly, the third time I had to pass him to pick up plates from the serving hatch. He had turned away to examine the list of emergency phone numbers as if there were some new information on it that had to be memorized in the next five minutes.
“I . . . I know that,” he said, biting off whatever he’d been about to say. “Good you’re back.” An Norr came up to get a pitcher of beer, and that cut our conversation off at the knees . . . if you could call our exchange a conversation. I went about my business, but I was fuming. Not for the first time, I wanted to know what Sam was thinking, but since he was a shapeshifter, I could only feel that his thoughts were dark and frustrated.
That made two of us.
On the plus side, if any bar patrons were scared of being served by a woman who’d been arrested for murder, they didn’t act like it. Of course, they were used to Kennedy, who not only had been arrested for killing her abusive ex-boyfriend but had actually done both the killing and the time to pay for it.
Sam was practically running a work-release program.
Somehow, thinking about Kennedy made me feel better, especially since she’d been one of the kind people who’d come to court the previous morning. Speaking of Kennedy (if only to myself), a couple of hours later she came in with her honey, Danny Prideaux, in tow. As always, Kennedy looked as if she’d just arrived at a hotel to check in for a pageant weekend: groomed from head to toe, wearing a turquoise and brown tank top and brown shorts. Her turquoise sandals boosted her up another two inches. How did she do it? I marveled at her.
After pausing for a moment so her entrance would register (something she did quite by habit), Kennedy crossed the floor to wrap her arms around me in a ferocious hug, which was a first. Apparently, we were now sisters under the skin. Though the comparison made me uncomfortable, I could hardly be holier-than-thou—so I reciprocated the hug and thanked her for her concern.
Kennedy and Danny were there for a drink before Danny went to his second job as daytime guy for Bill Compton. Danny met with Bill every other night, he told me, to get his orders and report on the results of his previous days. Today, he’d be over at the house to let in some workmen.
“So Bill keeps you busy?” I said, trying to think what Bill would need Danny to do.
“Oh, it’s not bad,” Danny said, his eyes fixed on Kennedy. “I wasn’t working at the builders’ supply today, so I’m meeting the security guys at the house to show them where Bill wants the sensors put. Then I’ll wait while they do the installing.”
It struck me as funny that Bill was getting a security system. Surely humans needed intruder alerts more than vampires did? Actually, I might look into that when Claudine’s bank was cleared to resume business. Getting a security system wasn’t a bad idea.
Kennedy started talking about the bikini wax she’d gotten in Shreveport, and Danny’s new employer was banished in favor of this more interesting topic, but the next idle moment I had I caught myself wondering if Bill’s security system meant that he’d had some trigger event to suggest he really needed one. Since he was my nearest neighbor, I ought to know if someone had tried to break into his house. It would be all too easy to get so wrapped up in my own multilevel troubles that I forgot other folks had troubles, too.
Also, I was curious as hell. And it was a relief to think about something besides being an accused murderer and breaking up with my boyfriend.
Kennedy said, “What’s your vampire got to say about this murder charge, Sookie?”
Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect.
“Apparently, he put up my bail, but I think that was just for old times’ sake,” I said. I looked at her directly, so she’d get the message.
“Sorry,” she said, after a moment’s absorption of my message and the depth of my pit o’ breakup misery. “Oh, wow.”
I shrugged. And I could hear Kennedy wondering if I’d go back to Bill Compton now that I’d lost my second vampire lover.
Bless her heart. Kennedy just thought like that. I patted her hand and moved on to another customer.
I grew tired, really tired, by about seven o’clock. I’d outstayed the first shift and was well into the second, and on this Tuesday night the crowd was thin. I went behind the bar to talk to Sam, who was fidgeting around in a very un-Sam way.
“I’m gonna go, Sam, because I’m dead on my feet,” I said. “That okay?”
I could see the tension in his body language. But he wasn’t angry with me.
“I don’t know who pissed you off, Sam, but you can tell me,” I said. I met his eyes.
“Sook, I . . .” And he stopped dead. “You know I’m here if you need me. I’ve got your back, Sook.”
“I got a real nasty message on my answering machine, Sam. It kind of scared me.” I made a wry face to show him I hated being such a chicken. “I didn’t recognize the number it came from. Andy Bellefleur said he’d look into it. I’m just saying that what with one thing and another, I’m grateful that you said that. It means a lot. You’ve always been there for me.”
“No,” he said. “Not always. But I am, now.”
“Okay,” I said doubtfully. Something was really eating at my friend, and I had no way to pry it out of him, which normally wouldn’t be a problem for me.
“You go home and get some rest,” he said, and he put his hand on my shoulder.
I scraped up a smile and offered it to him. “Thanks, Sam.”
It was still broiling hot when I left Merlotte’s, and I had to stand by my car for a good five minutes with both the front doors open before I could bear to get inside. I had that icky sensation of sweat trickling down between my butt cheeks. My feet could hardly wait to be out of the socks and sneakers I wore to work. While I waited for the car to cool—well, to become less hot—I caught a flash of movement from the trees around the employee lot.
At first I thought it was a trick of the sunlight bouncing off the
chrome trim on my car, but then I was sure I’d seen a person in the woods.
There was no good reason for anyone to be out there. To the rear of Merlotte’s and facing onto another street lay the little Catholic church and three businesses: a gift shop, a credit union, and Liberty South Insurance. None of them were likely to have customers who would opt to wander in the fringe of woods, especially on a hot weekday evening. I wondered what to do. I could retreat to Merlotte’s, or I could get in the car and pretend I hadn’t seen anything, or I could dash into the woods and beat up whoever was watching me. I considered for maybe fifteen seconds. I didn’t think I had enough energy to dash, though I had plenty of anger to fuel a beating. I didn’t want to ask Sam for anything; I’d asked him for so much, and he was acting so odd today.
So, option two. But just to make sure someone knew what was happening . . . and I didn’t get any more specific than that . . . I called Kenya. She answered on the first ring, and since she knew it was me calling, I saw that as a good thing.
“Kenya, I’m leaving work now, and there’s someone out back skulking in the trees,” I said. “I got no idea what anyone would want to do back there—there’s nothing besides Sam’s trailer—but I’m not going to try to handle that on my own.”
“Good idea, Sookie, since you ain’t armed and you ain’t a cop,” Kenya said tartly. “Oh . . . you aren’t armed, are you?”
Lots of people had personal handguns in our neck of the woods, and just about everyone had a “critter rifle.” (You never knew when a rabid skunk would come up in your yard.) I myself had a shotgun and my dad’s old critter rifle at home. So Kenya’s question wasn’t out of left field.
“I don’t carry a gun with me,” I said.
“We’ll come check it out,” she said. “You were smart to call.”
That was nice to hear. A police officer thought I’d done something smart. I was glad to reach the turnoff into my driveway without any occurrence.
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