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Bill arrived just as I was carrying my bag out to the car. He had a backpack, which struck me as funny. I suppressed my smile when I saw his face. Even for a vampire, Bill looked pale and drawn. He ignored me.

“Cataliades,” he said, with a nod. “I’ll hitch a ride with you, if that suits you. Sorry about your loss.” He nodded to Diantha, who was alternating long, furious monologues in a language I didn’t understand with the sort of frozen-faced stare I associated with deep shock.

“My niece died an untimely death,” Cataliades said, in his deliberate way. “She will not go unavenged.”

“Of course not,” Bill said, in his cool voice. While Diantha reached in to pop the trunk, Bill moved to the back of the car to toss his backpack into its depths. I locked my front door behind me and hurried down the steps to put my bag in with his. I caught a glimpse of his face before he registered my approach, and that glimpse shook me.

Bill looked desperate.

13

THERE WERE MOMENTS ON THE DRIVE SOUTH WHEN I felt like sharing all my thoughts with my companions. Mr. Cataliades drove for a couple of hours, and then Diantha took the wheel. Bill and the lawyer didn’t have a lot of small talk, and I had too many things on my mind for social chitchat, so we were a silent bunch.

I was as comfortable as I’d ever been in a vehicle. I had the rear-facing seat all to myself, while Bill and the lawyer sat opposite me. The limo was the last word in automotive luxury, at least in my eyes. Upholstered in leather and padded to the nth degree, the limo boasted lots of leg room, bottles of water and synthetic blood, and a little basket of snacks. Mr. Cataliades was real fond of Cheetos.

I closed my eyes and thought for a while. Bill’s brain, naturally, was a null to me, and Mr. Cataliades’s brain was very nearly so. His brain emitted a low-level buzz that was almost soothing, while the same emanation, from Diantha’s brain, vibrated at a higher pitch. I’d been on the edge of a thought when I’d been talking with Sam, and I wanted to pursue it while I could still catch hold of its tail. Once I’d worked it through, I decided to share it.

“Mr. Cataliades,” I said, and the big man opened his eyes. Bill was already looking at me. Something was going on in Bill’s head, something weird. “You know that Wednesday, the night your girl was supposed to appear on my doorstep, I heard something in the woods.”

The lawyer nodded. Bill nodded.

“So we assume that was the night she was killed.”

Again with the double nods.

“But why? Whoever did it had to know that sooner or later you would contact me, or come to see me, to find out what had happened. Even if the killer didn’t know the message Gladiola was bringing, they’d figure that she’d be missed sooner rather than later.”

“That’s reasonable,” Mr. Cataliades said.

“But on Friday night, I was attacked in a parking lot in Shreveport.”

I got my money’s worth out of that statement, I can tell you. If I’d hooked both the men up to electroshock machines and given them a jolt, the reaction couldn’t have been more dynamic.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bill demanded. His eyes were glowing with anger, and his fangs were out.

“Why should I? We don’t date any more. We don’t see each other regularly.”

“So this is your punishment for my dating someone else, keeping something so serious from me?”

Even in my wildest fantasies (which had included such scenes as Bill breaking up with Selah in Merlotte’s, and his subsequent public confession to me that Selah had never measured up to my charms), I’d never envisioned such a reaction. Though it was very dark in the car’s interior, I thought I saw Mr. Cataliades roll his eyes. Maybe he thought that was over the top, too.

“Bill, I never set out to punish you,” I said. At least I didn’t think I had. “We just don’t share details of our lives any more. Actually, I was out on a date when the attack occurred. I believe I’m used to us not being part of the scenery.”

“Who was your date?