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“That’s an interesting question,” I said. “I was on the interstate driving home from Shreveport with Eric. We’d been to a restaurant here.”

“So who would know where you were and who you were with?” Amanda said while Alcide frowned down at the floor, deep in thought.

“Or that you’d have to return home along the interstate last night.” Tray was really rising in my opinion; he was right in there with the practical and pertinent ideas.

“I only told my roommate I was going out to dinner, not where,” I said. “We met someone there, but we can leave him out. Eric knew, because he was acting as chauffeur. But I know Eric and the other man didn’t tip anyone off.”

“How can you be so sure?” Tray asked.

“Eric got shot protecting me,” I said. “And the person he took me to meet was a relative.”

Amanda and Tray didn’t realize how small my family was, so they didn’t get how momentous that statement was. But Alcide, who knew more about me, glared. “You’re making this up,” he said.

“No, I’m not.” I stared back. I knew this was a terrible day for Alcide, but I didn’t have to explain my life to him. But I had a sudden thought. “You know, the waiter—he was a Were.” That would explain a lot.

“What’s the name of the restaurant?”

“Les Deux Poissons.” My accent wasn’t good, but the Weres nodded.

“Kendall works there,” Alcide said. “Kendall Kent. Long reddish hair?” I nodded, and he looked sad. “I thought Kendall would come around to our side. We had a beer together a couple of times.”

“That’s Jack Kent’s oldest. All he would have had to do was place a phone call,” Amanda said. “Maybe he didn’t know . . .”

“Not an excuse,” Tray said. His deep voice reverberated in the little kitchen. “Kendall has to know who Sookie is, from the packmaster contest. She’s a friend of the pack. Instead of telling Alcide she was in our territory and should be protected, he called Furnan and told him where Sookie was, maybe let him know when she started home. Made it easy for Lucky to lie in wait.”

I wanted to protest that there was no certainty that it had happened like that, but when I thought about it, it had to have been exactly that way or in some manner very close to it. Just to be sure I was remembering correctly, I called Amelia and asked her if she’d told any callers where I was the night before.

“No,” she said. “I heard from Octavia, who didn’t know you. I got a call from that werepanther boy I met at your brother’s wedding. Believe me, you didn’t come up in that conversation. Alcide called, real upset. Tanya. I told her nothing.”

“Thanks, roomie,” I said. “You recovering?”

“Yeah, I’m feeling better, and Octavia left to go back to the family she’s been staying with in Monroe.”

“Okay, see you when I get back.”

“You going to make it back in time for work?”

“Yeah, I have to make it to work.” Since I’d spent that week in Rhodes, I have to be careful to stick to the schedule for a while, otherwise the other waitresses would get up in my face about Sam giving me all the breaks. I hung up. “She told no one,” I said.

“So you—and Eric—had a leisurely dinner at an expensive restaurant, with another man.”

I looked at him incredulously. This was so far off the point. I concentrated. I’d never poked a mental probe into such turmoil. Alcide was feeling grief for Maria-Star, guilt because he hadn’t protected her, anger that I’d been drawn into the conflict, and above all, eagerness to knock some skulls. As the cherry on top of all that, Alcide—irrationally—hated that I’d been out with Eric.

I tried to keep my mouth shut out of respect for his loss; I was no stranger to mixed emotions myself. But I found I’d become abruptly and completely tired of him. “Okay,” I said. “Fight your own battles. I came when you asked me to. I helped you when you asked me to, both at the battle for packleader and today, at expense and emotional grief to myself. Screw you, Alcide. Maybe Furnan is the better Were.” I spun on my heel and caught the look Tray Dawson was giving Alcide while I marched out of the