Dead to the World

going to waste my time repeating my story to someone who just had some time to fill. Given his air of authority, and the fact that he wasn’t opting for mindless belligerence, I was willing to bet this man was worth talking to.
    “I’m Calvin Norris. I’m Crystal’s uncle.” From his brain pattern, he was also a shifter of some kind. Given the absence of dogs in this settlement, I assumed they were Weres.
    “Mr. Norris, I’m Sookie Stackhouse.” I wasn’t imagining the increased interest in his expression. “Your niece here went to the New Year’s Eve party at Merlotte’s Bar with my brother, Jason. Sometime the next night, my brother went missing. I want to know if Crystal can tell me anything that might help me find him.”
    Calvin Norris bent to pat the toddler on the head, and then walked over to the couch where Crystal glowered. He sat beside her, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands dangling, relaxed, between them. His head inclined as he looked into Crystal’s sullen face.
    “This is reasonable, Crystal. Girl wants to know where her brother is. Tell her, if you know anything about it.”
    Crystal snapped at him, “Why should I tell her anything? She comes out here, tries to threaten me.”
    “Because it’s just common courtesy to help someone in trouble. You didn’t exactly go to her to volunteer help, did you?”
    “I didn’t think he was just missing. I thought he—” And her voice cut short as she realized her tongue had led her into trouble.
    Calvin’s whole body tensed. He hadn’t expected that Crystal actually knew anything about Jason’s disappearance. He had just wanted her to be polite to me. I could read that, but not much else. I could not decipher their relationship. He had power over the girl, I could tell that easily enough, but what kind? It was more than the authority of an uncle; it felt more like he was her ruler. He might be wearing old work clothes and safety boots, he might look like any blue-collar man in the area, but Calvin Norris was a lot more.
    Packmaster, I thought. But who would be in a pack, this far out in the boondocks? Just Crystal? Then I remembered Sam’s veiled warning about the unusual nature of Hotshot, and I had a revelation. Everyone in Hotshot was two-natured.
    Was that possible? I wasn’t completely certain Calvin Norris was a Were—but I knew he didn’t change into any bunny. I had to struggle with an almost irresistible impulse to lean over and put my hand on his forearm, touch skin to skin to read his mind as clearly as possible.
    I was completely certain about one thing: I wouldn’t want to be anywhere around Hotshot on the three nights of the full moon.
    “You’re the barmaid at Merlotte’s,” he said, looking into my eyes as intently as he’d looked into Crystal’s.
    “I’m a barmaid at Merlotte’s.”
    “You’re a friend of Sam’s.”
    “Yes,” I said carefully. “I am. I’m a friend of Alcide Herveaux’s, too. And I know Colonel Flood.”
    These names meant something to Calvin Norris. I wasn’t surprised that Norris would know the names of some prominent Shreveport Weres—and he’d know Sam, of course. It had taken my boss time to connect with the local two-natured community, but he’d been working on it.
    Crystal had been listening with wide dark eyes, in no better mood than she had been before. A girl wearing overalls appeared from the back of the house, and she lifted the toddler from his nest of Duplos. Though her face was rounder and less distinctive and her figure was fuller, she was clearly Crystal’s younger sister. She was also just as apparently pregnant again.
    “You need anything, Uncle Calvin?” she asked, staring at me over the toddler’s shoulder.
    “No, Dawn. Take care of Matthew.” She disappeared into the back of the house with her burden. I had guessed right on the sex of the kid.
    “Crystal,” said Calvin Norris, in a quiet and terrifying voice, “you tell us now what you done.”
    Crystal had believed she’d gotten away with something, and she was shocked at being ordered to confess.
    But she’d obey. After a little fidgeting, she did.
    “I was out with Jason on New Year’s Eve,” she said. “I’d met him at Wal-Mart in Bon Temps, when I went in to get me a purse.”
    I sighed. Jason could find potential bedmates anywhere. He was going to end up with some unpleasant disease (if he hadn’t already) or slapped with a paternity suit, and there was nothing I could do