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Authors: Charlaine Harris
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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 divorcée 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’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 divorcée 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
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