Dead and Gone by Charlaine Harris Page B

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