I should have known my brother would come to see me. I should only have felt surprised that he hadn't appeared earlier. When I got up the next day at noon, feeling as relaxed as a cat in a pool of sunshine, Jason was in the backyard on the chaise I'd used the day before. I thought it was smart of him not to come inside, considering we were at odds with each other.

Today wasn't going to be nearly as warm as the day before. It was cold and raw. Jason was bundled in a heavy camo jacket and a knit cap. He was staring up into the cloudless sky.

I remembered the twins' warning, and I looked at him carefully; but no, it was Jason. The feel of his mind was familiar, but maybe a fairy could impersonate even that. I listened in for a second. No, this was definitely my brother.

It was strange to see him sitting idle and even stranger to see him alone. Jason was always talking, drinking, flirting with women, working at his job, or working on his house; and if he wasn't with a woman, he nearly always had a male shadow - Hoyt (until he'd been preempted by Holly) or Mel. Contemplation and solitude were not states I associated with my brother. Watching him stare at the sky as I sipped my mug of coffee, I thought,Jason's a widower now .

That was a strange new identity for Jason, a heavy one he might not be able to manage. He'd cared for Crystal more than she'd cared for him. That had been a new experience for Jason, too. Crystal - pretty, stupid, and faithless - had been his female counterpart. Maybe her infidelity had been an attempt to reassert her independence, to struggle against the pregnancy that had tied her more securely to Jason. Maybe she'd just been a bad woman. I'd never understood her, and now I never would.

I knew I'd have to go talk to my brother. Though I'd told Jason to stay away from me, he wasn't listening. When had he ever? Maybe he'd taken the temporary truce caused by Crystal's death as a sign of a new state of things.

I sighed and went out the back door. Since I'd slept so late, I'd showered before I'd even made my coffee. I grabbed my old quilted pink jacket off the rack by the back door and pulled it over my jeans and sweater.

I put a mug of coffee on the ground by Jason, and I sat on the upright folding chair close to him. He didn't turn his head, though he knew I was there. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses.

"You forgiven me?" he asked after he'd taken a gulp of coffee. His voice sounded hoarse and thick. I thought he'd been crying.

"I expect that sooner or later I might," I said. "But I'll never feel the same about you again."

"God, you've gotten hard. You're all the family I've got left." The dark glasses turned to face me.You have to forgive me, because you're all I have who can forgive .

I looked at him, feeling a little exasperated, a little sad. If I was getting harder, it was in response to the world around me. "If you need me so much, I guess you should have thought twice before you set me up like that." I rubbed my face with my free hand. He had some family he didn't know about, and I wasn't going to tell him. He would only try to use Niall, too.

"When will they release Crystal's body?" I asked.

"Maybe in a week," he said. "Then we can have the funeral. Will you come?"

"Yes. Where will it be?"

"There's a chapel out close to Hotshot," he said. "It doesn't look like much."

"The Tabernacle Holiness Church?" It was a peeling, white ramshackle building way out in the country.

He nodded. "Calvin said they do the burials for Hotshot from there. One of the guys in Hotshot is the pastor for it."

"Which one?"

"Marvin Norris."

Marvin was Calvin's uncle, though he was four years younger.

"I think I remember seeing a cemetery out back of the church."

"Yeah. The community digs the hole, one of them puts together the coffin, and one of them does the service. It's real homey and personal."

"You've been to a funeral there before?"

"Yeah, in October. One of the babies died."

There hadn't been an infant death listed in the Bon Temps paper in months. I had to wonder if the baby had been born in a hospital or in one of the houses in Hotshot; if any trace of its existence had ever been recorded.

"Jason, have the police been by any more?"

"Over and over. But I didn't do it, and nothing they say or ask can make that change. Plus, the alibi."

I couldn't argue that.

"How are you fixed as far as work goes?" I wondered if they would fire Jason. It wasn't the first time he'd been in trouble. And though Jason was never guilty of the worst crimes attributed to him, sooner or later his reputation as being a generally okay guy would simply crumple for good.

"Catfish said to take time off until the funeral. They're going to send a wreath to the funeral home when we get her body back."

"What about Hoyt?"

"He hasn't been around," Jason said, sounding puzzled and hurt.

Holly, his fianc¨¦e, wouldn't want him hanging around with Jason. I could understand that.

"Mel?" I asked.

"Yeah," Jason said, brightening. "Mel comes by. We worked on his truck yesterday, and this weekend we're going to paint my kitchen." Jason smiled at me, but it faded fast. "I like Mel," he said, "but I miss Hoyt."

That was one of the most honest things I'd ever heard Jason say.

"Haven't you heard anything about this, Sookie?" Jason asked me. "You know - the way you hear things? If you could steer the police in the right direction, they could find out who killed my wife and my baby, and I could get my life back."

I didn't think Jason was ever going to get his old life back. I was sure he wouldn't understand, even if I spelled it out. But then I saw what was in his head in a moment of true clarity. Though Jason couldn't verbalize these ideas, he did understand, and he was pretending, pretending hard, that everything would be the same ... if only he could get out from under the weight of Crystal's death.

"Or if you tell us," he said, "we'll take care of it, Calvin and me."

"I'll do my best," I said. What else could I say? I climbed out of Jason's head and swore to myself I wouldn't get inside again.

After a long silence, he got up. Maybe he'd been waiting to see if I'd offer to make lunch for him. "I guess I'll go back home, then," he said.

"Good-bye."

I heard his truck start up a moment later. I went back in, hanging the jacket back where I'd gotten it.

Amelia had left me a note stuck to the milk carton in the refrigerator. "Hey, roomie!" it said by way of opening. "Sounded like you had company last night. Did I smell a vampire? Heard someone shut the back door about three thirty. Listen, be sure and check the answering machine. You got messages."

Which Amelia had already listened to, because the light wasn't blinking anymore. I pressed the Play button.

"Sookie, this is Arlene. I'm sorry about everything. I wish you'd come by to talk. Give me a call."

I stared at the machine, not sure how I felt about this message. It had been a few days, and Arlene had had time to reconsider stomping out of the bar. Could she possibly mean she wanted to recant her Fellowship beliefs?

There was another message, this one from Sam. "Sookie, can you come in to work a little early today or give me a call? I need to talk to you."

I glanced at the clock. It was just one p.m., and I wasn't due at work until five. I called the bar. Sam picked up.

"Hey, it's Sookie," I said. "What's up? I just got your message."

"Arlene wants to come back to work," he said. "I don't know what to tell her. You got an opinion?"

"She left a message on my answering machine. She wants to talk to me," I said. "I don't know what to think. She's always on some new thing, isn't she? Do you think she could have dropped the Fellowship?"

"If Whit dropped her," he said, and I laughed.

I wasn't so sure I wanted to rebuild our friendship, and the longer I thought about it, the more doubtful I became. Arlene had said some hurtful and awful things to me. If she'd meant them, why would she want to mend fences with a terrible person like me? And if she hadn't meant them, why on earth had they passed her lips? But I felt a twinge when I thought of her children, Coby and Lisa. I'd kept them so many evenings, and I'd been so fond of them. I hadn't seen them in weeks. I found I wasn't too upset about the passing of my relationship with their mother - Arlene had been killing that friendship for some time now. But the kids, I did miss them. I said as much to Sam.

"You're too good,cher ," he said. "I don't think I want her back here." He'd made up his mind. "I hope she can find another job, and I'll give her a reference for the sake of those kids. But she was causing trouble before this last blowup, and there's no point putting all of us through the wringer."

After I'd hung up, I realized that Sam's decision had influenced me in favor of seeing my ex-friend. Since Arlene and I weren't going to get the opportunity to gradually make peace at the bar, I'd try to at least fix things so we could nod at each other if we passed in Wal-Mart.

She picked up on the first ring. "Arlene, it's Sookie," I said.

"Hey, hon, I'm glad you called back," she said. There was a moment of silence.

"I thought I'd come over to see you, just for a minute," I said awkwardly. "I'd like to see the kids and talk to you. If that's okay."

"Sure, come over. Give me a few minutes, so I can pick up the mess."

"You don't need to do that for me." I'd cleaned Arlene's trailer many a time in return for some favor she'd done me or because I didn't have anything else to do while she was out and I was there to babysit.

"I don't want to slide back into my old ways," she said cheerfully, sounding so affectionate that my heart lifted ... for just a second.

But I didn't wait a few minutes.

I left immediately.

I couldn't explain to myself why I wasn't doing what she'd asked me to do. Maybe I'd caught something in Arlene's voice, even over the phone. Maybe I was recalling all the times Arlene had let me down, all the occasions she'd made me feel bad.

I don't think I'd let myself dwell on these incidents before, because they revealed such a colossal pitifulness on my part. I'd needed a friend so badly I'd clung to the meager scraps from Arlene's table, though she'd taken advantage of me time after time. When her dating wind had blown the other way, she hadn't thought twice about discarding me to win favor with her current flame.

In fact, the more I thought, the more I was inclined to turn around and head back to my house. But didn't I owe Coby and Lisa one more try to mend my relationship with their mom? I remembered all the board games we'd played, all the times I'd put them to bed and spent the night in the trailer because Arlene had called to ask if she could spend the night away.

What the hell was I doing? Why was I trusting Arlene now ?

I wasn't, not completely. That's why I was going to scope out the situation.

Arlene didn't live in a trailer park but on an acre of land a little west of town that her dad had given her before he passed away. Only a quarter acre had been cleared, just enough for the trailer and a small yard. There was an old swing set in the back that one of Arlene's former admirers had assembled for the kids, and there were two bikes pushed up against the back of the trailer.

I was looking at the trailer from the rear because I'd pulled off the road into the overgrown yard of a little house that had stood next door until its bad wiring had caused a fire a couple of months before. Since then, the frame house had stood half-charred and forlorn, and the former renters had found somewhere else to live. I was able to pull behind the house, because the cold weather had kept the weeds from taking over.

I picked a path through the fringe of high weeds and trees that separated this house from Arlene's. Working through the thickest growth, I made my way to a vantage point where I could see part of the parking area in front of the trailer and all of the backyard. Only Arlene's car was visible from the road, since it had been left in the front yard.

From my vantage point, I could see that behind the trailer was parked a black Ford Ranger pickup, maybe ten years old, and a red Buick Skylark of approximately the same vintage. The pickup was loaded down with pieces of wood, one long enough to protrude beyond the truck bed. They measured about four by four, I estimated.

As I watched, a woman I vaguely recognized came out of the back of the trailer onto the little deck. Her name was Helen Ellis, and she'd worked at Merlotte's about four years before. Though Helen was competent and so pretty she'd drawn the men in like flies, Sam had had to fire her for repeated lateness. Helen had been volcanically upset. Lisa and Coby followed Helen onto the deck. Arlene was framed in the doorway. She was wearing a leopard print top over brown stretch pants.

The kids looked so much older than the last time I'd seen them! They looked reluctant and a little unhappy, especially Coby. Helen smiled at them encouragingly and turned back to Arlene to say, "Just let me know when it's over!" There was a pause while Helen seemed to struggle with how to phrase something she didn't want the kids to understand. "She's only getting what she deserves." I could see Helen only in profile, but her cheerful smile made my stomach heave. I swallowed hard.

"Okay, Helen. I'll call you when you can bring 'em back," Arlene said. There was a man standing behind her. He was too far back in the interior for me to identify with certainty, but I thought he was the man I'd hit on the head with a tray a couple of months back, the man who'd been so ugly to Pam and Amelia. He was one of Arlene's new buddies.

Helen and the kids drove off in the Skylark.

Arlene had closed the back door against the chill of the day. I shut my eyes and located her inside the trailer. I found there were two men in there with her. What were they thinking about? I was a little far, but I stretched out with my extra sense.

They were thinking about doing awful things to me.

I crouched under a bare mimosa, feeling as bleak and miserable as I've ever felt. Granted, I'd known for some time that Arlene wasn't truly a good person or even a faithful person. Granted, I'd heard her rant and rave about the eradication of the supernaturals of the world. Granted, I'd come to realize that she'd slipped into regarding me as one of them. But I'd never let myself believe that whatever affection she'd ever felt for me had slipped away entirely, transmuted by the Fellowship's policy of hate.

I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. I called Andy Bellefleur.

"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.