Dead until Dark

Andy looked a little sick.

"I know," I whispered.

"It seems to me," Andy began again, "that somehow he decided he'd feel justified in doing that horrible thing if he convinced himself that everyone in his sister's situation de­served to die. In fact, the murders here are very similar to two in Shreveport that haven't been solved up until now, and we're expecting Rene to touch on those while he's rambling along. If he makes it."

I could feel my lips pressing together in horrified sympathy for those other poor women.

"Can you tell me what happened to you?" Andy asked quietly. "Go slow, take your time, and keep your voice down to a whisper. Your throat is badly bruised."

I had figured that out for myself, thanks very much. I murmured my account of the evening, and I didn't leave anything out. Andy had switched on a little tape recorder after asking me if that was all right. He placed it on the pillow close to my mouth when I indicated the device was okay with me, so he'd have the whole story.

"Mr. Compton still out of town?" he asked me, after I'd finished.

"New Orleans," I whispered, barely able to speak.

"We'll look in Rene's house for the rifle, now that we know it's yours. It'll be a nice piece of corroborative evi­dence."

Then a gleaming young woman in white came into the room, looked at my face, and told Andy he'd have to come back some other time.

He nodded at me, gave me an awkward pat on the hand, and left. He gave the doctor a backward glance of admiration. She was sure worth admiring, but she was also wearing a wedding ring, so Andy was once again too late.

She thought he seemed too serious and grim.

I didn't want to hear this.

But I didn't have enough energy to keep everyone out of my head.

"Miss Stackhouse, how are you feeling?" the young woman asked a little too loudly. She was brunette and lean, with wide brown eyes and a full mouth.

"Like hell," I whispered.

"I can imagine," she said, nodding repeatedly while looking me over. I somehow didn't think she could. I was willing to bet she'd never been beaten up by a multiple murderer in a graveyard.

"You just lost your grandmother, too, didn't you?" she asked sympathetically. I nodded, just a fraction of an inch.

"My husband died about six months ago," she said. "I know about grief. It's tough being brave, isn't it?"

Well, well, well. I let my expression ask a question.

"He had cancer," she explained. I tried to look my con­dolences without moving anything, which was nearly impos­sible.

"Well," she said, standing upright, returning to her brisk ma

Shepherd of Judea! No wonder I felt bad.

"Your face and neck are severely bruised. Of course, you could tell your throat was hurt."

I was trying to imagine what I looked like. Good thing I didn't have a mirror handy.

"And you have lots of relatively minor bruises and cuts on your legs and arms." She smiled. "Your stomach is fine, and your feet!"

Hohoho. Very fu

"I have prescribed pain medication for you, so when you start feeling bad, just ring for the nurse."

A visitor stuck his head in the door behind her. She turned, blocking my view, and said, "Hello?"

"This Sookie's room?"

"Yes, I was just finishing her examination. You can come in." The doctor (whose name was So

JB du Rone drifted to my bedside, looking as lovely as the cover model on a romance novel. His tawny hair gleamed under the fluorescent lights, his eyes were just the same color, and his sleeveless shirt showed muscle definition that might have been chiseled with a—well, with a chisel. He was look­ing down at me, and Dr. So

"Hey, Sookie, you feelin' all right?" he asked. He lay a finger gently on my cheek. He kissed an unbruised spot on my forehead.

"Thanks," I whispered. "I'll be okay. Meet my doctor." JB turned his wide eyes on Dr. So

tripped over her own feet to introduce herself. "Doctors weren't this pretty when I was getting my shots,"

JB said sincerely and simply. "You haven't been to a doctor since you were a kid?" Dr. So

"I never get sick." He beamed at her. "Strong as an ox." And the brain of one. But Dr. So

She couldn't think of any reason for lingering, though she cast a wistful glance over her shoulder as she left.

JB bent down to me and said earnestly, "Can I bring you anything, Sookie? Nabs or something?"

The thought of trying to eat crackers made tears come to my eyes. "No thanks," I breathed. "The doctor's a widow."

You could change subjects on JB without him wondering why.

"Wow," he said, impressed. "She's smart and single." I wiggled my eyebrows in a significant way. "You think I oughtta ask her out?" JB looked as thoughtful as it was possible for him to be, 'That might be a good idea," He smiled down at me. "Long as you won't date me, Sookie. You're always number one to me. You just crook your little finger, and I'll come ru

What a sweet guy. I didn't believe in his devotion for a minute, but I did believe he knew how to make a woman feel good, even if she was as sure as I was that I looked breathtakingly bad. I felt pretty bad, too. Where were those pain pills? I tried to smile at JB.

"You're hurting," he said. "I'll send the nurse down here." Oh, good. The reach to the little button had seemed longer and longer as I tried to get my arm to move.

He kissed me again as he left and said, "I'll go track that doctor of yours down, Sookie. I better ask her some more questions about your recovery." After the nurse injected some stuff into my IV drip, I was just looking forward to feeling no pain when the door opened again.

My brother came in. He stood by my bed for a long time, staring at my face. He said finally, heavily, "I talked to the doctor for a minute before she left for the cafeteria with JB. She told me what-all was wrong with you." He walked away from me, took a turn around the room, came back. More staring. "You look like hell."

"Thanks," I whispered.

"Oh, yeah, your throat. I forgot."

He started to pat me, thought the better of it.

"Listen, Sis, I gotta say thank you, but it's got me down that you stood in for me when it came time to fight."

If I could have, I'd have kicked him.

Stood in for him, hell.

"I owe you big, Sis. I was so dumb, thinking Rene was a good friend."

Betrayed. He felt betrayed.

Then Arlene came in, to make things just peachy keen.

She was a mess. Her hair was in a red tangle, she had no makeup, and her clothes were chosen at random. I'd never seen Arlene without her hair curled and her makeup loud and bright.

She looked down at me—boy, would I be glad when I could stand up again—and for a second her face was hard as granite, but when she really took in my face, she began to crumble.

"I was so mad at you, I didn't believe it, but now that I'm seeing you and what he did... oh, Sookie, can you ever forgive me?"

Geez, I wanted her out of here. I tried to telegraph this to Jason, and for once I got through, because he put an arm around her shoulders and led her out. Arlene was sobbing before she reached the door. "I didn't know..." she said, barely coherent. "I just didn't know!"

"Hell, neither did I," Jason said heavily.

I took a nap after trying to ingest some delicious green gelatin.

My big excitement of the afternoon was walking to the bathroom, more or less by myself. I sat in the chair for tenminutes, after which I was more than ready to get back in bed. I looked in the mirror concealed in the rolling table and was very sorry I had.