Dead in the Family

we did. Pam had some towels in her trunk, and I put them down on the seat of Bruno’s car. Pam poked around in his ashes to retrieve the Lexus key, and after looking over the instrument panel, I figured I could drive it. I followed Pam for forty minutes, staring longingly at the Bon Temps sign as we sped past it. I pulled over to the shoulder right after Pam did. Following Pam’s instructions, I left the key in the car, wiped off the steering wheel with the towels (which were damp from their contact with me), and then scuttled to Pam’s car and climbed in. It was still raining, by the way.
    Then we had to return to my house. By then I was aching in every joint and a little sick to my stomach. Finally, finally, we pulled up to my back door. To my amazement, Pam leaned over to give me a hug. “You did very well,” she said. “You did what had to be done.” For once, she didn’t look as if she were secretly laughing at me.
    “I hope this all turns out to be worth it,” I said, sounding as gloomy and exhausted as I felt.
    “We’re still alive, so it was worth it,” Pam said.
    I couldn’t argue with that, though something within me wanted to. I climbed out of her car and trudged across the dripping backyard. The rain had finally stopped.
    Claude opened the back door as I reached it. He had opened his mouth to say something, but when he took in my condition, he closed it again. He shut the door behind me, and I heard him lock it.
    “I’m going to shower,” I said, “and then I’m going to bed. Good night, Claude.”
    “Good night, Sookie,” he said, very quietly, and then he shut up. I appreciated that more than I could say.
     
     
    When I got into work the next day at eleven, Sam was dusting all the bottles behind the bar.
    “Good morning,” he said, staring at me. “You look like hell warmed over.”
    “Thanks, Sam. Good to know I’m looking my best.”
    Sam turned red. “Sorry, Sookie. You always look good. I was just thinking . . .”
    “About the big circles under my eyes?” I pulled down the skin of my cheeks, making a hideous face for his benefit. “I was real late getting in last night.” I had to kill someone and move his car. “I had to go over to Shreveport to see Eric.”
    “Business or pleasure?” And he ducked his head, clearly not believing he’d said that, either. “I’m sorry, Sookie. My mom would say I got up on the tactless side of the bed today.”
    I gave him a half hug. “Don’t worry. Every day is like that for me. And I have to apologize to you. I’m sorry I’ve been so ignorant about the legal trouble facing shifters and Weres right now.” It was definitely time for me to look at the big picture.
    “You had some good reasons to concentrate on yourself the past few weeks,” Sam said. “I don’t know that I could have recovered the way you have. I’m real proud of you.”
    I didn’t know what to say. I looked down at the bar, reached for a cloth to polish away a ring. “If you need me to start a petition or call my state representative, you just say the word,” I told him. “No one should make you register anywhere. You’re an American. Born and bred.”
    “That’s the way I look at it. It’s not like I’m any different from the way I’ve always been. The only difference is that now people know about it. How did the pack run go?”
    I’d almost forgotten about it. “They seemed to have a good time, far as I can tell,” I said cautiously. “I met Annabelle and the new guy, Basim. Why is Alcide beefing up the ranks? Have you heard anything about what’s been happening in the Long Tooth pack?”
    “Well, I told you I’d been dating one of them,” he said, looking away at the bottles behind the bar as if he were trying to spot one that was still dusty. If this conversation continued in the same vein, the whole bar would be spanking clean.
    “Who would that be?” Since this was the second time he’d mentioned it, I figured it was okay for me to ask.
    His fascination with the bottles was transferred to the cash register. “Ah, Jannalynn. Jannalynn Hopper.”
    “Oh,” I said, in a neutral way. I was trying to give myself a little time to make my face bland and receptive.
    “She was there the night we fought the pack that was trying to take over. She, ah . . . took care of the wounded enemies.”
    That was an extreme euphemism. She’d cracked their skulls with her clenched fists. Trying to prove that it wasn’t National Tactless Day