Hello Everyone! Just a small chapter, but with some interesting tidbits. Already begun the next chapter, preparing for Mr. Northman's entrance. This chapter is not beta'd.

"Sookie? What are you doing here? I thought you were on call this weekend?"

"Hey, Gran." I gave Gran a tired smile as I climbed the steps of the back porch to join her in the mudroom, the screen door thumping shut behind me. Gran eyed me closely, her brow furrowing as she pulled me into a hug.

"Aw, honey, you look exhausted. Come on, I have some leftovers from breakfast. You're much too skinny for my taste," A near chuckle escaped my lips at her comment about my weight, but she took no notice as she grabbed my hand and pulled me into the kitchen, gently pushing me into a chair at the table. I watched her bustle around the stove as she fixed me a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns and biscuits covered in country gravy. My Gran was always one to offer comfort the southern way; high calorie food, whether you wanted to eat it or not.

Thinking about the pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream from the night before, I eyed the food she placed before me hesitantly. Under Gran's watchful eye, I picked up my fork and dutifully took a bite of the eggs, hoping my stomach didn't rebel too badly.

"Talk to me, Sookie," Gran implored, her brown eyes concerned. "I know you can't talk about your case, but something is clearly bothering you."

Leaning back, I fiddled with my fork as it slid through the gravy. "I haven't been sleeping well, that's all," I took another bite of the eggs, followed by a sip of orange juice that Gran placed before me. "And I hate it when I'm not able to spend time with you for two weekends in a row."

Gran reached over and patted my hand. "Well, I'm glad you came. I'll call Maxine and let her know that she doesn't need to pick me up for church, since you're here. You planning on staying all day? The D.O.G.D are hosting a potluck tonight. Should be good fun."

I gave her an indulgent smile. "Of course I'll come," An unpleasant reminder caused my smile to falter. "Please tell me that William Compton isn't going to be there?"

Gran actually pouted. "He called me the other night and informed me that he would be unable to attend. I suppose you had something to do with that?"

I sat up straighter, unashamed. "Yes, I did." As she opened her mouth to retort, I held my hand up. "Please, Gran. I understand how excited you were about him coming, but trust me when I say it's better if you stay away from him. If it really is so important to you, I'll ask Rasul if he would consider coming and recounting his tale for all of you."

Gran snapped her mouth shut, her disappointment fading in light of my offer. She held her wrinkled hand out to me, a crafty gleam in her eye. Shaking my head in amusement, I took her hand as she said, "Deal." One untrustworthy Vampire swapped with one that I trusted implicitly; it was an arrangement I felt comfortable with.

Standing up, Gran called Maxine and then began to put the leftovers from breakfast in the fridge. "Did you hear about what happened to Mr. Compton? Everlee told me that the Rattrays tried to drain him in Merlotte's parking lot."

I paused with my fork halfway to my mouth. "Yes, I did hear. In fact, I'm the one that busted them."

Turning around with her tupperware container in hand, Gran looked at me incredulously. "You did what?"

After filling her in on my exciting Friday night, Gran became unusually quiet as I helped her finish cleaning up. Placing the cast iron skillet back in the cabinet, Gran surprised me when she grabbed my arms as I turned around.

"Gran?" I asked fearfully, my voice hitching in concern.

"Sookie, you have to promise me that you'll be careful. It's only natural for a grandmother to worry about her grandchildren, but with you, I do so all the time. I don't like that you put yourself in harms way so willingly. Your grandfather was the same way." She said, clasping my hands.

I smiled. "Really? I didn't know that."

Looking suddenly flustered, Gran cleared her throat and looked at the clock over the doorway leading out of the kitchen. "Oh my goodness, it's almost eleven! We better get going." Untying the white apron she had donned to protect her navy blue dress and smoothing the few wrinkles that had set in around the waist, Gran disappeared into the hallway bathroom to apply her lipstick.

Biting my lip, I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms. It was barely ten thirty. And considering that the drive to our church took about five minutes, we were hardly running late. As a cardinal rule, I never invaded the privacy of my brother and grandmother by listening to their thoughts, unless absolutely necessary. But whenever the topic of my grandfather was brought up, Gran behaved strangely and I was sorely tempted to listen in.

Mitchell Stackhouse, my grandfather, had died when a drunk driver had rammed into his car as he'd made his way home from work. I barely remembered the man since I was only three years old at the time of the accident, but I do recall the utter sadness that seemed to cling to Gran in the years that followed. I always chalked it up to her never getting over the death of Grandpa Mitchell, but the longer I thought about it, perhaps there was another reason.

I was brought out of my reverie as Gran returned to the kitchen, straightening the pearl necklace around her neck. She smiled at me, her lips a lovely dusk rose color.

"You ready, sweetheart?" she asked, reaching for her purse that sat on the counter.

"Sure," I replied, grabbing my purse as well.

On the short drive to Tabernacle Holiness Church, I watched Gran out of the corner of my eye as she quietly hummed a church hymn while looking out the window. My curiosity was getting the better of me with each minute that passed, and as I found a parking spot in front of the church, I shocked myself with the question that came from my lips.

"Gran, why don't you ever talk about Grandpa?"

In the process of opening the car door, Gran went unnaturally still. I waited for her to brush my question off but she surprised me as she turned around, her face pale. She looked like a deer caught in someone's headlights.

"Sookie, I-"

Whatever she wanted to say was cut off by the high pitched beeping that came from my purse. Clenching my jaw, I quickly unzipped my purse and rummaged for my on call pager, turning the thing off. The number for dispatch flashed prominently across the display screen. I looked helplessly at Gran, lamenting the horrible timing.

"It's okay, honey. We'll talk some other time." Gran leaned over and kissed my cheek before getting out of the car. Maxine Fortenberry spotted her immediately and together they walked toward the church.

Sighing heavily, I powered up my smart phone and called the number for dispatch. "Shreveport Police Department, what is the nature of your call?"

"This is Detective Stackhouse, I got a page." I responded, turning the key in the ignition and mentally preparing myself for the quickest route back to Shreveport once the dispatcher gave me the details.

"Yes, Detective, the Bon Temps Sheriff's Department contacted us. There has been another murder and they require assistance."

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