Killer

Chapter 1

I don't own any of these characters. They all belong to Charlaine Harris. I only own the story idea.


It was not the first time she'd been in a concrete room. It probably wouldn't be the last. The table that she was sitting at was long and old. The metal chair was uncomfortable. The chairs beside her and the one across from her were empty. The room was cold and gray. She kept her hands in her lap; palms side down and her eyes were focused on the two-way mirror. She never showed fear. She wasn't a coward. She wanted to make sure that they knew that.

The door to the room opened and in walked a short and unattractive cop. He was carrying a very thick folder. He looked a mess. His shirt was wrinkled and his pants looked as if they would stand up and walk away on their own just as soon as he took them off. His tie was covered in jelly donut jelly. His appearance did nothing to compliment the way that he looked. His comb over was worse than Donald Trump's. The wrinkles on his face were yellow. She could only assume it had to do with the two packs a day cigarette habit that he has. He reeked of stale cigarettes and old coffee. It was even stronger and worse when he opened his mouth.

"I'm Sheriff Dearborn as you already know."

She didn't bother to introduce herself. There was no point. He already knew who she was.

"Would you like a drink?"

She shook her head no. She kept her hands on her lap; palms side down.

"Are you sure?" He used his thumb to point over his shoulder. "We got soda, coffee, and tea."

She didn't shake her head at all this time. She only stared at him.

"Are you hungry? I can get someone to go out …"

"Cut the bullshit, Sheriff Dearborn. I ain't hungry and I ain't thirsty. You tell me now why I'm here or else I walkin' out the door." Sookie looked from the sheriff to the two-mirror and smiled.

Sheriff Dearborn was taken aback. It usually took a little longer to get her riled up but she went right into her rage. He could usually keep her in the concrete room for an hour before she lost her cool. He tried to look hurt and insulted but he failed miserably. "There's no need for being rude, Miss. Stackhouse. We can be civil with each other."

Sookie laughed but it wasn't an infectious or a cheerful laugh. It was the type of laugh that sent chills through one's body. "Civil?" she asked. "You want me to be civil with you? You should be a comedian in your free time, Bud. Civility doesn't seem to be a word that any of you cops seem to understand or know the definition of. You come into our home and destroy everything in your path and you want me to be civil?" With her hands still placed palms down in her lap, Sookie leaned forward and said, "Fuck you, Bud. How's that for civil?"

Sheriff Dearborn was no longer in a pleasing or friendly mood. He slid the file across the table at Sookie. Some of the pictures fell out of it. Some fell on the floor. Some fell in her lap. She didn't move. She kept her eyes forward and on the two-way mirror. Her hands remained her in lap; palms side down.

"Open it," Sheriff Dearborn said.

She didn't move.

Slamming his hands on the table and jumping up from his seat, he yelled, "Fucking open it, Stackhouse!"

She didn't flinch. She didn't jump. She didn't move. "I'm not openin' anything. You should have made sure that it was open when you threw it at me. You open it." She glared at the sheriff to let him know that she meant what she said. She knew what he was doing. She knew what he wanted and she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

Sheriff Dearborn wanted to slap that girl right across her face. She was just like Adele and Corbett Stackhouse; her grandma and her daddy. She will always be headstrong. It's gotten worse since Jason. Bud began picking up the pictures from the floor and her lap and placed them on the table. He lined them up neatly in front of her before going back to his seat. He watched her face as she looked at the pictures. She looked at each one. Her face was blank of any expression.

"Look Sookie," he started. "You need to tell us what happened."

"What'd you find at my house, Sheriff?"

That question caught him off guard. They'd torn that house apart and found nothing. They hadn't found anything and she knew it. Somehow that bitch knew it. "We found enough to drag your ass in here."

Sookie sat back in her chair and looked the sheriff in his eyes. "If that's true, why are you asking me what happened? You should already know from the evidence that you've collected, right? I gotta do your job for you again?"

Bud decided to ignore her comment. "I'm trying to be nice here, Sookie."

"Well stop tryin'."

"You do this every time we bring you in here. I'm tired of this."

"Well maybe you need to stop bringing me in here."

"We are not playing games with you."

Sookie looked over Bud's shoulder and smiled at the two-way mirror. "I'm not playing with you, Bud. You ain't got nothin' on me."

Bud stood up and started walking around the room; pacing back and forth. He chuckled. "You got us. We didn't find a damned thing. That's the strange part, Sookie. We dusted every inch of your house for fingerprints and you know what we found?"

Sookie looked at him and smiled. "I wasn't there. I was here."

"Nothing," he said as he threw his arms out by his side. "We found nothing. Your family has lived in that house for years. Generations of Stackhouses have lived in that house and we found not one fingerprint. There are no fingerprints in your house of any kind. Not yours. Not Adele's. Not Corbett's. No fingerprints from visitors. Don't you find that to be a little strange?"

Sookie looked shocked. "Not all," she replied. She then filled the room with laughter. "Am I here because we have a clean house? I had no idea that was a crime."

"I ain't got time for your smart ass comments."

"And I ain't got time for you." Sookie scooted her chair back from the table and stood up. Her hands were still in her lap; palms side down. "Good day, Sheriff."

Bud Dearborn blocked the door. "Sit your ass back down. You ain't going nowhere."

Sookie stood toe to toe with the sheriff. "You arrestin' me?" she asked.

Bud saw something in her eyes that terrified him. "No," he said shakily. "You ain't leaving here though."

"I suggest you step aside, Bud Dearborn. You open that door so that I can get home or I'll own you and every cop in this place." Whispering, she said, "You don't want to fuck with me. You ain't got nothin' on me."

Without missing a beat, he did as he was told. In even the hardest criminals' eyes, he'd never seen in their eyes what he saw in hers.

The officers that were in the room watching them through the two-way mirror, walked out just as Sookie left the interrogation room. For the first time since leaving the room, Sookie's hands were no longer in resting on her legs. She sweetly waved at the cops; fanning her fingers at them. When she walked to the double doors, she used her bottom to push them open. They were still watching her.

"Good night, all," she called in a saccharin rich voice.

She whistled and smiled as she walked from the police station. They'll never catch her. She learned from the best. Sookie's cell phone began to ring.

"Hey Gran," she said. "They had to let me go. They had no proof."

"That's my girl. You didn't touch nothin', did ya?"

"No ma'am," she replied.

"Good girl. You come on home and let Gran feed ya."

"On my way. Love you, Gran." Sookie ended her call and said, "Yep. I'm on my home. They'll never catch me."


A/N: What do you think? If it's good enough, I'll continue. If not, I'll delete it.