“Bellefleur,” he said briskly.
We were hardly buddies, but I sure was glad to hear his voice.
“Andy, it’s Sookie,” I said, taking care to keep my voice quiet. “Listen, there are two guys in Arlene’s trailer with her, and there’re some long pieces of wood in the back of their pickup. They don’t realize I know they’re in the trailer with Arlene. They’re planning on doing the same thing to me that was done to Crystal.”
“You got anything I could take to court?” he asked cautiously. Andy had always been a closet believer in my telepathy, though that didn’t mean he was necessarily a fan of mine.
“No,” I said, “they’re waiting for me to show up.” I crept closer, hoping like hell they weren’t looking out the back windows. There was a box of extra-long nails in the pickup bed, too. I had to close my eyes for second as the horror crawled all over me.
“I’ve got Weiss and Lattesta with me,” Andy said. “Would you be willing to go in if we were there to back you up?”
“Sure,” I said, feeling anything but. I simply knew I was going to have to do this. It could be the end of any lingering suspicion of Jason. It could mean recompense or at least retribution for the death of Crystal and the baby. It could put at least a few of the Fellowship fanatics behind bars and maybe serve as a good lesson to the rest. “Where are you?” I asked, shaking with fear.
“We were already in the car to go to the motel. We can be there in seven minutes,” Andy said.
“I parked behind the Freer house,” I said. “I gotta go. Someone’s coming out the back of the trailer.”
Whit Spradlin and his buddy, whose name I couldn’t recall, came down the steps and unloaded the wood beams from the pickup. The pieces were already formed into the correct lengths. Whit turned to the trailer and called something, and Arlene opened the door and came down the back steps, her purse over one shoulder. She walked toward the cab of the pickup.
Dammit, she was going to get in and drive away, leaving her car parked in front as though she were there! Any lingering tenderness I’d harbored in my heart burned away at that moment. I looked at my watch. Maybe three more minutes until Andy arrived.
She kissed Whit and waved at the other man, and they went into the trailer to hide so I wouldn’t see them. According to their plan, I’d come to the front, knock on the door, and one of them would fling it open and drag me in.
Game over.
Arlene opened the truck door, the keys in her hand.
She had to stay. She was the weak link. I knew this in every way I could know it—intellectually, emotionally, and with my other sense.
This was going to be awful. I braced myself.
“Hi, Arlene,” I said, stepping out of my cover.
She shrieked and jumped. “Jesus Christ, Sookie, what are you doing in my backyard?” She made an elaborate fuss of collecting herself. Her head was a snarled tangle of anger and fear and guilt. And regret. There was some, I swear.
“I’ve been waiting to see you,” I said. I had no idea what to do now, but I’d slowed her down a little. I might have to physically tackle her. The men inside hadn’t noticed my abrupt appearance, but that wouldn’t last long unless I got extremely lucky. And I hadn’t had a run of luck, much less extreme luck, lately.
Arlene was standing still, keys in hand. It was easy to get inside her head and rummage around, reading the awful story in there.
“What you doing, getting ready to go, Arlene?” I asked, keeping my voice very quiet. “You’re supposed to be inside, waiting for me to get here.”
She saw everything, and her eyes closed. Guilty, guilty, guilty. She had tried to construct a bubble to keep the men’s intent hidden from herself, to keep it from touching her heart. That hadn’t worked—but it hadn’t stopped her treachery today, either. Arlene stood exposed to herself.
I said, “You got in too deep.” My own voice sounded detached and level. “No one will understand that or forgive it.” Her eyes went wide with the knowledge that what I was saying was true.
But I was in for my own kind of shock. I knew, suddenly and surely, that she had not killed Crystal and neither had these men; they’d planned to crucify me in emulation of Crystal’s death because it seemed like such a great idea, such an open statement of their opinion of the shapeshifters’ announcement. I’d been selected as the sacrificial lamb, despite the fact that they knew for sure I wasn’t a shapeshifter; in fact, they thought I wouldn’t put up as much of a fight since I was only a shapeshifter sympathizer, not one of the two-natured. I wouldn’t be as strong, in their opinion. I found this incredible.
“You’re a poor excuse for a woman,” I said to Arlene. I couldn’t seem to stop, and I couldn’t seem to sound anything but matter-of-fact. “You’ve never told the truth to yourself in your whole life, have you? You still see yourself as a pretty, young thing of twenty-five, and you still think some man will come along and recognize that in you. Someone will take care of you, let you quit working, send your kids to private schools where they’ll never have to talk to anyone different from them. That’s not gonna happen, Arlene. This is your life.” And I swept an open hand at the trailer in its weedy yard, the old truck. It was the meanest thing I’d ever said, and every word of it was true.
And she screamed. She couldn’t seem to stop screaming. I looked into her eyes. She kept trying to look away, but she couldn’t seem to do that. “You witch!” she sobbed. “You’re a witch. There are such things, and you’re one of ’em!”
If she’d been right, I could have prevented what happened next.
At that moment, Andy pulled into the Freer yard, just as I had. For all he knew, there was still time to creep up on the trailer. I heard his car more or less at my back. My whole attention was concentrated on Arlene and the rear door of the trailer. Weiss, Lattesta, and Andy came up behind me just as Whit and his friend burst from the back door of the trailer, rifles in hands.
Arlene and I were standing between two armed camps. I felt the sun on my arms. I felt a cold breeze pick up my hair and toss a lock playfully across my face. Over Arlene’s shoulder, I saw the face of Whit’s friend, and I finally remembered his name was Donny Boling. He’d had a recent haircut. I could tell from the white half inch at the base of his neck. He was wearing an Orville’s Stump Grinding T-shirt. His eyes were a muddy brown. He was aiming at Agent Weiss.
“She has children,” I called. “Don’t do it!”
His eyes widened with fright.
Donny swung the rifle toward me. He thought,Shoot HER .
I flung myself to the ground as the rifle went off.
“Lay down your arms!” Lattesta screamed. “FBI!”
But they didn’t. I don’t think his words even registered.
So Lattesta fired. But you couldn’t say he hadn’t warned them.
Chapter 12
In the moments following Special Agent Lattesta’s demand that the two men lay down their arms, bullets flew through the air like pine pollen in the spring.
Though I was in an exposed position, none of them hit me, which I found absolutely amazing.
Arlene, who didn’t dive as fast as I did, got a crease across her shoulder. Agent Weiss took the bullet—the same one that creased Arlene—in the upper right side of her chest. Andy shot Whit Spradlin. Special Agent Lattesta missed Donny Boling with his first shot, got him with his second. It took weeks to establish the sequence, but that’s what happened.
And then the firing was over. Lattesta was calling 911 while I was still prone on the ground, counting my fingers and toes to make sure I was intact. Andy was equally quick calling the sheriff’s department to report that shots had been fired and an officer and civilians were down.
Arlene was screaming over her little wound like she’d been gut shot.
Agent Weiss was lying in the weeds bleeding, her eyes wide with fear, her mouth clamped shut. The bullet had gone in under her raised arm. She was thinking of her children and her husband and of dying out here in the sticks, leaving them behind. Lattesta pulled off her vest and put pressure on her wound, and Andy ran over to secure the two shooters.