Whatever it was, he couldn’t come out with it, apparently.
“Let’s go,” I suggested. It would be hard to turn the conversation back to neutral ground, I figured. I might as well go home.
It was a funny ride back. Sam always seemed on the verge of speaking, and then he’d shake his head and keep silent. I was so aggravated I wanted to swat him.
We got home later than I’d thought. Gran’s light was on, but the rest of the house was dark. I didn’t see her car, so I figured she’d parked in back to unload the leftovers right into the kitchen. The porch light was on for me.
Sam walked around and opened the pickup door, and I stepped down. But in the shadow, my foot missed the running board, and I just sort of tumbled out. Sam caught me. First his hands gripped my arms to steady me, then they just slid around me. And he kissed me.
I assumed it was going to be a little good-night peck, but his mouth just kind of lingered. It was really more than pleasant, but suddenly my inner censor said, “This is the boss.”
I gently disengaged. He was immediately aware that I was backing off, and gently slid his hands down my arms until he was just holding hands with me. We went to the door, not speaking.
“I had a good time,” I said, softly. I didn’t want to wake Gran, and I didn’t want to sound bouncy.
“I did, too. Again sometime?”
“We’ll see,” I said. I really didn’t know how I felt about Sam.
I waited to hear his truck turn around before I switched off the porch light and went into the house. I was unbuttoning my blouse as I walked, tired and ready for bed.
Something was wrong.
I stopped in the middle of the living room. I looked around me.
Everything looked all right, didn’t it?
Yes. Everything was in its proper place.
It was the smell.
It was a sort of penny smell.
A coppery smell, sharp and salty.
The smell of blood.
It was down here with me, not upstairs where the guest bedrooms sat in neat solitude.
“Gran?” I called. I hated the quavering in my voice.
I made myself move, I made myself go to the door of her room. It was pristine. I began switching on lights as I went through the house.
My room was just as I’d left it.
The bathroom was empty.
The washroom was empty.
I switched on the last light. The kitchen was . . .
I screamed, over and over. My hands were fluttering uselessly in the air, trembling more with each scream. I heard a crash behind me, but couldn’t be concerned. Then big hands gripped me and moved me, and a big body was between me and what I’d seen on the kitchen floor. I didn’t recognize Bill, but he picked me up and moved me to the living room where I couldn’t see any more.
“Sookie,” he said harshly, “Shut up! This isn’t any good!”
If he’d been kind to me, I’d have kept on shrieking.
“Sorry,” I said, still out of my mind. “I am acting like that boy.”
He stared at me blankly.
“The one in your story,” I said numbly.
“We have to call the police.”
“Sure.”
“We have to dial the phone.”
“Wait. How did you come here?”
“Your grandmother gave me a ride home, but I insisted on coming with her first and helping her unload the car.”
“So why are you still here?”
“I was waiting for you.”
“So, did you see who killed her?”
“No. I went home, across the cemetery, to change.”
He was wearing blue jeans and Grateful Dead T-shirt, and suddenly I began to giggle.
“That’s priceless,” I said, doubling over with the laughter.
And I was crying, just as suddenly. I picked up the phone and dialled 911.
Andy Bellefleur was there in five minutes.
JASON CAME AS soon as I reached him. I tried to call him at four or five different places, and finally reached him at Merlotte’s. Terry Bellefleur was bartending for Sam that night, and when he’d gotten back from telling Jason to come to his grandmother’s house, I asked Terry if he’d call Sam and tell him I had troubles and couldn’t work for a few days.
Terry must have called Sam right away because Sam was at my house within thirty minutes, still wearing the clothes he’d worn to the meeting that night. At the sight of him I looked down, remembering unbuttoning my blouse as I walked through the living room, a fact I’d completely lost track of; but I was decent. It dawned on me that Bill must have set me to rights. I might find that embarrassing later, but at the moment I was just grateful.