Sookie 09 Dead and Gone by Charlaine Harris Page A

places? Who could have done this?
    “Have you called Jason yet?” I said through numb lips. I tried to blame that on the cold, but I knew it was shock. “He would be at work this time of day.”
    Bud Dearborn said, “We called him.”
    “Please don’t make him look at her,” I said. There was a bloody mess trailing down the wood of the cross to the ground at its base. I gagged, got myself under control.
    “I understand she cheated on him, and that their breakup was pretty public.” Bud was trying to be dispassionate, but the effort was costing him. Rage was in the back of his eyes.
    “You can ask Dove Beck about that,” I said, instantly on the defensive. Alcee Beck was a detective for the Bon Temps police department, and the man Crystal had chosen to cheat with was Alcee’s cousin Dove. “Yeah, Crystal and Jason had separated. But he would never do anything to his baby.” I knew Jason would not have done such a horrific thing to Crystal no matter what the provocation, but I didn’t expect anyone else to believe me.
    Lattesta walked over to us, Agent Weiss following close behind. She looked a little white around the mouth, but her voice was steady. “From the condition 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?”