From Dead to Worse

know why. I never did anything to you. I’m not even dating Alcide. But you’re trying to off me like I am powerful. You killed poor Maria-Star. You killed Christine Larrabee. What’s with this? I’m not important.”
    Patrick Furnan said slowly, “You really believe it’s me doing this? Killing female pack members? Trying to kill you?”
    “Sure I do.”
    “It’s not me. I read about Maria-Star. Christine Larrabee is dead?” He sounded almost frightened.
    “Yes,” I said, and my voice was as uncertain as his. “And someone’s tried to kill me twice. I’m afraid some totally innocent person is going to get caught in the cross fire. And of course, I don’t want to die.”
    Furnan said, “My wife disappeared yesterday.” His voice was ragged with grief and fear. And anger. “Alcide’s got her, and that fucker is going to pay.”
    “Alcide wouldn’t do that,” I said. (Well, I was pretty sure Alcide wouldn’t do that.) “You’re saying you didn’t order the hits on Maria-Star and Christine? And me?”
    “No, why would I go for the women? We never want to kill pure-blooded female Weres. Except maybe Amanda,” Furnan added tactlessly. “If we’re going to kill someone, it’d be the men.”
    “I think you and Alcide need to have a sit-down. He doesn’t have your wife. He thinks you’ve gone crazy, attacking women.”
    There was a long silence. Furnan said, “I think you’re right about that sit-down, unless you made up this whole thing to get me into a position where Alcide can kill me.”
    “I just want to live to see the next week myself.”
    “I’ll agree to meet with Alcide if you’ll be there and if you’ll swear to tell each of us what the other is thinking. You’re a friend of the pack, all the pack. You can help us now.”
    Patrick Furnan was so anxious to find his wife he was even willing to believe in me.
    I thought of the deaths that had already taken place. I thought of the deaths that were to come, perhaps including my own. I wondered what the hell was going on. “I’ll do it if you and Alcide will sit down unarmed,” I said. “If what I suspect is true, you have a common enemy who’s trying to get you two to kill each other off.”
    “If that black-haired bastard will agree to it, I’ll give it a shot,” said Furnan. “If Alcide has my wife, not a hair on her body better be disturbed, and he better bring her with him. Or I swear to God I’ll dismember him.”
    “I understand. I’ll make sure he understands, too. We’ll be getting back with you,” I promised, and I hoped with all my heart that I was telling the truth.

Chapter 9
    It was the middle of the same night and I was about to walk into danger. It was my own damn fault. Through a swift series of phone calls, Alcide and Furnan had worked out where to meet. I’d envisioned them sitting down across a table, their lieutenants right behind them, and working this whole situation out. Mrs. Furnan would appear and the couple would reunite. Everyone would be content, or at least less hostile. I would be nowhere around.
    Yet here I was at an abandoned office center in Shreveport, the same one where the contest for packmaster had taken place. At least Sam was with me. It was dark and cool and the wind was lifting my hair from my shoulders. I shifted from foot to foot, anxious to get this over with. Though he was not as fidgety as I was, I could tell Sam felt the same way.
    It was my fault he was here. When he’d become so curious about what was brewing with the Weres, I’d had to tell him. After all, if someone came through the door of Merlotte’s trying to shoot me down, Sam at least deserved to know why his bar was full of holes. I’d argued bitterly with him when he’d told me he was coming with me, but here we both were.
    Maybe I’m lying to myself. Maybe I simply wanted a friend with me, someone definitely on my side. Maybe I was just scared. Actually, no “maybe” about that at all.
    The night was brisk, and we were both wearing waterproof jackets with hoods. Not that we needed the hoods, but if it got any colder, we might be grateful for them. The abandoned office park stretched around us in gloomy silence. We stood in the loading bay of a firm that had accepted big shipments of something. The large metal pull-down doors where the trucks had been unloaded looked like big shiny eyes in the gleam of the remaining security lights.
    Actually, there were lots of big shiny eyes around tonight. The