Charlaine Harris - Dead Ever After

“What?”

“I need to take a nap. Move over.”

I blinked. “Presuming? Much?”

“If someone comes to get him out of the hole, wouldn’t you rather have me in here beside you?”

“I’d rather have you out on the porch with a rifle,” I muttered, but I moved over a little.

“Doors are locked,” Sam said. His eyes closed the second he lay down. And within two minutes, he was asleep. I could tell by his breathing and his brain waves.

Well, damn. I was in bed with Sam Merlotte, and we were both going to sleep.

When I woke up, it was daytime again. I heard someone moving around the house. I didn’t open my eyes. Instead, I reached out with my other sense, the sense that Mr. Cataliades had given me. Tara was here, but I couldn’t sense Amelia’s dad, so I assumed his soullessness was really acting as a mask. Apparently, not having a soul nullified you as a person.

Tara came in, wearing her new shorts. “Hey, sleepyhead,” she said. “I was just going to come wake you up. Sam had to go do some paperwork, so he asked me if I could come over to stay for a few minutes. He said you’d started tossing and turning.” She tried very hard not to stare significantly at the dent in the pillow beside me.

“Hey, sleeping was all that went on,” I told her.

“With the vamp gone, the door’s wide open,” she said innocently. “Nobody to say nothing about how you spend your time. You’re a free woman.”

“I’m just saying, that’s premature.” I gave her a no-nonsense look.

“All righty. If that’s the way you want to play it.”

I gritted my teeth. “I’m not playing it. That’s the way it is. I’m still working through some stuff.”

Tara looked at me blandly. “Sure, that’s real smart. You need to get up and have some sausage-and-egg biscuits. My mother-in-law says it’ll build your blood back up.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said. Suddenly, I was hungry.

While I ate, she showed me a few dozen pictures of the twins and talked about the babysitter she’d just hired, Quiana something. “She’s like me, she’s got a bad past,” Tara said. “We’re going to get along fine. Listen, I know Sam’s handy, and since you and him are so tight, maybe you can help us? We’re going to plan how to make the baby’s room bigger. We sure can’t afford to move.”

“Sure, after my shoulder gets better. Just name the day,” I said. It was nice to think about the future. A home-improvement project sounded both wholesome and normal.

Tara got restless after ten minutes, and I could tell she was thinking about getting back to the twins. There was a suspicious damp spot on the front of her blouse. I hurried her off with sincere thanks for the meal, and after she was gone, I got dressed, which took time and a surprising amount of energy. I also put my phone on its charger and began returning calls. I tried very hard to forget there was a bound man in my closet, and I tried not to imagine how many hours he’d been there without access to a bathroom. I had no sympathy for Copley Carmichael, and more practically, I couldn’t even imagine how I could get him to a toilet without endangering myself.

Calling Andy Bellefleur flitted across my mind for maybe half a second. I could just see myself trying to explain that I really hadn’t known my friend’s dad was tied up and a prisoner in my home. Even I could hardly believe it, and I knew it was true. I would not go back to jail for anything. Anything.

So, for the time being, there Copley Carmichael would have to stay, even if he peed all over himself.

Chapter 19

A HOUSE IN A BON TEMPS SUBURB

the same day

“You’re friends of Sookie Stackhouse’s?” Alcee Beck stood in his doorway, eyeing his visitors with deep suspicion. He’d heard about the girl; everyone in Bon Temps who’d been in Merlotte’s had talked about the girl. Platinum hair, bizarre ensemble, talked in a foreign language. Her companion was not as weird to the eyes, but something about him set off an alarm in Alcee Beck’s head, and Alcee was never one to ignore such an alarm. It was how he’d stayed alive in the air force. It was how he’d stayed alive when he’d come home.

“We are,” said Mr. Cataliades, his voice as smooth and rich as cream. “And we’ve brought a coworker of yours with us.” He indicated the car parked by his van, and Andy Bellefleur emerged, looking horribly self-conscious but determined.

“What are you doing with these people, Bellefleur?” Alcee said, and the threat was clear in his voice. “You shouldn’t bring anyone to my house. I should beat you senseless.”

“Honey,” said a quavering voice from behind him, “You know you like Andy. You got to listen to what he has to say.”

“Shut up, Barbara,” said Alcee, and a woman appeared behind him.

Alcee Beck had many faults, and they were well-known, but it was just as well-known that he loved his wife. He was openly proud of Barbara’s college degree and her job as the only full-time librarian working in Bon Temps. He was rough with the rest of the world, but he minded his manners with Barbara Beck.

That made her appearance all the more shocking to Andy Bellefleur. Barbara, always well groomed and dressed, was wearing a bathrobe and no makeup. Her hair was a mess. And she was obviously terrified. If Alcee hadn’t hit her yet, it was evidently something she had cause to fear. Andy had seen a lot of battered wives, and Barbara was as cowed as a woman who’d been hit more than once. And Alcee Beck had no notion he was behaving in a way contrary to his normal practice.

“Alcee, your wife is scared. Can she come out of the house?” Andy asked, in a neutral voice.

Alcee looked both startled and angry. “How dare you say such a thing?” he bellowed. He spun to face his wife “Tell them that isn’t true.” For the first time, he seemed to take in her demeanor. “Barbara?” he said uncertainly.

It was obvious to them all that she was afraid to speak.

“What do you want?” Beck asked his visitors, all the while looking at his wife with a troubled face and a troubled mind.

“We want you to let us search your car,” Andy said. He’d gotten closer while Alcee was staring at his wife. “And just in case you think I’d plant something in your car, we’d like it if you’d let this young lady do the search.”

“You think I’m taking drugs?” Alcee’s head swung around like an angered bull’s.

“Not for a second,” Mr. Cataliades reassured him. “We think you have been . . . bewitched.”

Alcee snorted. “Right.”

“Something is wrong with you, and I think you know it,” Mr. Cataliades said. “Why not let us check this simple thing, if only to rule it out?”

“Alcee, please,” whispered Barbara.

Though he was obviously unconvinced there was anything in his car, Alcee agreed with a nod to the search. He withdrew his car key from his pocket and unlocked the car doors with the electronic key without moving from the front door. He gestured with the hand holding the key. “Knock yourself out,” he told the girl. She gave him a bright smile and was in the car so fast she seemed to be a blur.

The three men moved closer to Alcee Beck’s car.

“Her name’s Diantha,” Mr. Cataliades told Alcee Beck, though Alcee hadn’t asked out loud.

“Another fucking telepath,” Alcee said, with an ugly sneer. “Just like Sookie. Our town didn’t need the one we got, much less another one.”

“I’m the telepath. She’s much more. Watch her work,” said the part-demon proudly, and Alcee felt compelled to watch the white hands of the girl as she patted and probed every inch of his car, even leaning close to smell the seats. He was glad he kept his car clean. The girl—Diantha—slid bonelessly from the front seat to the back and then froze in place. If she’d been a dog, she’d have been on point.