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It was horribly frustrating to have her right in front of me and at the same time be unable to discover what she knew. I dropped all my shields, and I listened in as hard as I could.

But she suspected something when I touched inside her head.

She looked vaguely puzzled and glanced around. That was enough warning for me. I scrambled back into my own head as quickly as I could. I continued back behind the bar, passing within a couple of feet of the witch as she tried to figure out who’d brushed at her brain.

This had never happened to me before. No one, no one, had ever suspected I was listening in. I squatted behind the bar to get the big container of Morton Salt, straightened, and carefully refilled the shaker I’d snatched from Kevin and Kenya’s table. I concentrated on this as hard as anyone can focus on performing such a nothing little task, and when I was through, the poster had been mounted with the staple gun. Hallow was lingering, prolonging her talk with Sam so she could figure out who had touched the inside of her head, and Mr. Muscles was eyeing me—but only like a man looks at a woman—as I returned the shaker to its table. Holly hadn’t reappeared.

“Sookie,” Sam called.

Oh, for goodness sake. I had to respond. He was my boss.

I went over to the three of them, dread in my heart and a smile on my face.

“Hey,” I said, by way of greeting, giving the tall witch and her stalwart sidekick a neutral smile. I raised my eyebrows at Sam to ask him what he’d wanted.

“Marnie Stonebrook, Mark Stonebrook,” he said.

I nodded to each of them. Hallow, indeed, I thought, half-amused. “Hallow” was just a tad more spiritual than “Marnie.”

“They’re looking for this guy,” Sam said, indicating the poster. “You know him?”

Of course Sam knew that I knew Eric. I was glad I’d had years of concealing my feelings and thoughts from the eyes of others. I looked the poster over deliberately.

“Sure, I’ve seen him,” I said. “When I went to that bar in Shreveport? He’s kind of unforgettable, isn’t he?” I gave Hallow—Marnie—a smile. We were just gals together, Marnie and Sookie, sharing a gal moment.

“Handsome guy,” she agreed in her throaty voice. “He’s missing now, and we’re offering a reward for anyone who can give us information.”

“I see that from the poster,” I said, letting a tiny hint of irritation show in my voice. “Is there any particular reason you think he might be around here? I can’t imagine what a Shreveport vampire would be doing in Bon Temps.” I looked at her questioningly. Surely I wasn’t out of line in asking that?

“Good question, Sookie,” Sam said. “Not that I mind having the poster up, but how come you two are searching this area for the guy? Why would he be here? Nothing happens in Bon Temps.”

“This town has a vampire in residence, doesn’t it?” Mark Stonebrook said suddenly. His voice was almost a twin of his sister’s. He was so buff you expected to hear a bass, and even an alto as deep as Marnie’s sounded strange coming from his throat. Actually, from Mark Stonebrook’s appearance, you’d think he’d just grunt and growl to communicate.

“Yeah, Bill Compton lives here,” Sam said. “But he’s out of town.”

“Gone to Peru, I heard,” I said.

“Oh, yes, I’d heard of Bill Compton. Where does he live?” Hallow asked, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice.

“Well, he lives out across the cemetery from my place,” I said, because I had no choice. If the two asked someone else and got a different answer than the one I gave them, they’d know I had something (or in this case, someone) to conceal. “Out off Hummingbird Road.” I gave them directions, not very clear directions, and hoped they got lost out in somewhere like Hotshot.

“Well, we might drop by Compton’s house, just in case Eric went to visit him,” Hallow said. Her eyes cut to her brother Mark, and they nodded at us and left the bar. They didn’t care whether this made sense or not.

“They’re sending witches to visit all the vamps,” Sam said softly. Of course. The Stonebrooks were going to the residences