Dead Until Dark

I’m down, Sis.”
    I took a deep breath. “Okay, okay. You’ve quit making these little videos, right?”
    He nodded emphatically. I didn’t believe him.
    “And you told Sid Matt all about it, right?”
    He nodded less firmly.
    “And you think that’s why Andy is on your case so much?”
    “Yeah,” Jason said morosely.
    “So, if they test your semen and it isn’t a match for what was inside Maudette and Dawn, you’re clear.” By now, I was as shifty-faced as my brother. We had never talked about semen samples before.
    “That’s what Sid Matt says. I just don’t trust that stuff.”
    My brother didn’t trust the most reliable scientific evidence that could be presented in a court. “You think Andy’s going to fake the results?”
    “No, Andy’s okay. He’s just doing his job. I just don’t know about that DNA stuff.”
    “Moron,” I said, and turned away to get another pitcher of beer for four guys from Ruston, college students on a big night out in the boonies. I could only hope Sid Matt Lancaster was good at persuasion.
    I spoke to Jason once more before he left Merlotte’s. “Can you help me?” he asked, turning up to me a face I hardly recognized. I was standing by his table, and his date for the night had gone to the ladies’ room.
    My brother had never asked me for help before.
    “How?”
    “Can’t you just read the minds of the men who come in here and find out if one of them did it?”
    “That’s not as easy as it sounds, Jason,” I said slowly, thinking as I went along. “For one thing, the man would have to be thinking of his crime while he sat here, at the exact moment I listened in. For another thing, I can’t always read clear thoughts. Some people, it’s just like listening to a radio, I can hear every little thing. Other people, I just get a mass of feelings, not spelled out; it’s like hearing someone talk in their sleep, see? You can hear they’re talking, you can tell if they’re upset or happy, but you can’t hear the exact words. And then other times, I can hear a thought, but I can’t trace it to its source if the room is crowded.”
    Jason was staring at me. It was the first time we had talked openly about my disability.
    “How do you stop from going crazy?” he asked, shaking his head in amazement.
    I was about to try to explain putting up my guard, but Liz Barrett returned to the table, newly lipsticked and fluffed. I watched Jason resume his woman-hunting persona like shrugging on a heavy coat, and I regretted not getting to talk to him more when he was by himself.
    That night, as the staff got ready to leave, Arlene asked me if I could baby-sit for her the next evening. It would be an off-day for both of us, and she wanted to go to Shreveport with Rene to see a movie and go out to eat.
    “Sure!” I said. “I haven’t kept the kids in a while.”
    Suddenly Arlene’s face froze. She half turned to me, opened her mouth, thought the better of speaking, then thought again. “Will . . . ah . . . will Bill be there?”
    “Yes, we’d planned on watching a movie. I was going to stop by the video rental place, tomorrow morning. But I’ll get something for the kids to watch instead.” Abruptly, I caught her meaning. “Whoa. You mean you don’t want to leave the kids with me if Bill’s gonna be there?” I could feel my eyes narrow to slits and my voice drop down to its angry register.
    “Sookie,” she began helplessly, “honey, I love you. But you can’t understand, you’re not a mother. I can’t leave my kids with a vampire. I just can’t.”
    “No matter that I’m there, and I love your kids, too? No matter that Bill would never in a million years harm a child.” I slung my purse over my shoulder and stalked out the back door, leaving Arlene standing there looking torn. By golly, she ought to be upset!
    I was a little calmer by the time I turned onto the road to go home, but I was still riled up. I was worried about Jason, miffed at Arlene, and almost permanently frosted at Sam, who was pretending these days that I was a mere acquaintance. I debated whether to just go home rather than going to Bill’s; decided that was a good idea.
    It was a measure of how much he worried about me that Bill was at my house about fifteen minutes after I should have been at his.
    “You didn’t come, you didn’t call,” he said quietly when I answered the door.
    “I’m in a temper,” I said. “A bad one.”
    Wisely he kept his distance.
    “I