Author's Note: Thanks for reading my fic, I hope you'll take the time to leave a review, kind words are very appreciated. Please note that this chapter contains very offensive language, more than usual. ;)
9-8-10 Many thanks to my beta bajan-martini's.
Chapter 22: The Clock Starts
Hours felt like days, and the days felt like weeks. It was the same during my tour of duty in Iraq. Daily life had become intense and the pressure was constantly increasing.
Last night, Eric had marked his property with blood. He smeared his blood on the frame of my front door and said, "I'm marking my property." Now I've got blood around my front door – how am I going to explain that to the UPS delivery man? I tried not to dwell on what he meant by 'property,' I didn't need that head game...That whole testosterone, macho thing is just…I'm just glad he was incapable of marking it with other body fluids…
Today…well today was a whole new day, with a whole new guy who was leaving his own unique mark all around my interrogation room.
He was disgusting. He reeked of stale beer, urine, and road kill – and I'm not joking. I mean he was foul. He was what I thought vampires were going to smell like, but didn't. Or at least not the ones that I'd met. While in Iraq, I occasionally would have to do three-day patrols out in the field, and of course we couldn't wash properly. We used sanitary wipes and anti-bacterial soap, but to no avail; we still smelt like a herd of cattle roaming the range on a hot summer day. But this guy…Whoa doggie! Before Kyle and I went into the interrogation room, we put Vicks mentholated rub under our noses to help combat the stench. It barely did the job. When he left, I asked several of my deputies to wipe down the table and chairs that he used or touched. I think Kevin even mopped the floor.
The "he" was Elvin Alton Rodow. He was average everything – height, weight, and build. However, his appearance was definitely not average. He wore a filthy tank top, which was covered by a dirty, grease-smeared, short-sleeve shirt. His jeans and boots were caked and crusted with unrecognizable crude. His brown hair was combed back and plastered to his head. His hair was so greasy looking that I expected it to drip grease onto the floor. I guess his appearance validated his smell.
He was a jack of all trades and had performed a variety of odd jobs for Dr. Larek Scorpovinski. Suzette Megginson, the doctor's former receptionist at the laboratory, had remembered ol' Elvin – how could she forget him – and she was sure that he handled the disposal of all the trash from the laboratory. I was hoping that included our barrel full of vampires.
Elvin was cooperating during our interview and he seemed like a nice enough guy. However, I had my suspicions that he didn't always live on the right side of the law. He was leaning back in his chair, slumped down with his legs sprawled open. He was cleaning his yellow-brown teeth with a toothpick and relaxing after enjoying a bountiful feast of sandwiches, candy, and sodas from our vending machines. Of course, his meal was our treat; it was a ploy to win his trust and it worked. After a few minutes of silence, he started to talk again, "Yep…he paid me good. In cash. I knowed a lot of weird tings went on in der, in dat place. I'd git on down der almost ever'day, and he'd give me summin to do."
I leaned far back into my chair, tipping it so it balanced on its back legs. It may have seemed like I was purposely reenacting a moment from the movie "Cool Hand Luck," but I wasn't. I was trying to get away from Elvin's smell. I worded my next question carefully, so that he wouldn't feel threatened. "The doctor had some hazmat waste barrels at the laboratory. He had them moved to the landfill or did you take them somewhere else?"
All the interrogation techniques worked like a charm, Elvin was a text book example of compliance.
"Oh, uh…well, I'z, I'z go to the dump, down der near Monroe. But, sum'time, I'd bury it. Only cos the dump weren't open or takin' stuff like dat. So, I'z do what they done did wid it, jus' buried it." That answered our question on why we found a hazmat barrel that contained vampire corpses in the swamp. He probably dumped it there. I wondered how many other barrels he had dumped or buried.
"It sounds like you were hauling barrels all the time. How many do you think you hauled or buried…twenty, maybe thirty?"
Elvin started to clean his fingernails with the toothpick. He was stalling, trying to construct a non-incriminating response. Meanwhile, Kyle was looking a little green around the gills. Kyle was a neat freak and this was killing him. I silently prayed that Kyle wouldn't lose his lunch while sitting next to me.
"Well…I guess, maybe der abouts…maybe more, like seventy or so. I hauled other stuff for 'em, too." Elvin started to jiggle his right leg while he was talking; my questions were making him nervous.
Maybe he's afraid that I would ask this question. "Did you know what was in the barrels?"
Elvin avoided my eyes and just shook his head 'no.' Elvin, I think you're lying to me or hiding something from me. I started probing, and prodding - which he resisted. But, when I started to threaten his current and future freedom, he broke.
Apparently Elvin and the doctor both hated vampires. "I swear I didn't knowed what was in dem barrels, but I'z knowed it was summin' weird. I swear! He hate dem vampers! Me too! Theyz disgustin'! They'd taken his girl…his wife! He knowed it and he looked but couldn't find her. He'd told me he'z goin' to end dem. He had a plan. I don't knowed what it was, but he said he was going to do and do it up right!"
I think we might have a motive…
Later that afternoon, my senior staff members, Kenya and Kyle, huddled with me around my desk, listening to the background noises and voices from the various callers on the conference call. A.J. had organized a teleconference with all of the sheriffs in the parish. I had my phone on the speaker option, patiently waiting for the meeting to begin.
Finally, A.J.'s voice came booming across the phone line. "Okay, we're all here?…Charlie, where's my –" I heard an incoherent, muffled response. "Alrighty then...Let's git this show on da road, folks!"
I had been prepped before the meeting by one of A.J.'s staff. I knew we were going to discuss my newest missing persons case, which involved my deputy, Ted Millot, and members of his immediate and extended family. Also, we were going to update everyone on the Moufette family's on-going investigation. Before the meeting, I was told to not mention the military or other items that A.J. deemed too sensitive. I wasn't sure if A.J. thought that some 'Big Brother' might be watching us, or if he didn't trust some of his staff.
A.J. conducted a roll call of all attendees on the phone. All but a very few of the men (I'm the only female sheriff on A.J.'s staff) responded to him using a lame code language. An example of this code was how Paulie Laroux, a sheriff from the north side of the parish, responded when his name was called. "Yessum, I'm here A.J. I got a couple of my boys here…they is kin…you understand, right?" Paulie's message was translated to mean that he had werewolf family members, 'kin,' with him. I knew Paulie was one, after seeing him in the group that came to capture Roman at my house. When it was my turn to respond, I just said I had my senior staff with me, and named them. No comment was made by anyone on the phone.
The meeting lasted for nearly two hours. A.J. took us through the entire history of the Moufette 'sit-che-a-shen,' up to and including the infected hospital staff. At one point, I heard a man clear his throat and I knew instantly that it was Roman. I knew practically every non-sexual sound that the man could make. I had a slight emotional reaction to his voice, but I was surprised and glad that I didn't become flustered.
Well good, that means he's out and about, and feeling fine. Good…I'm glad that he's okay…
A.J.'s voice drew my attention back to the moment. "Jimmy, hand me that clipboard over yonder…yeah, that's it. Jo – you there?" I quickly responded ,"Yes sir." He then continued, "Do you have anything you want to add to what I said?" I responded to him with a "No sir."
"Okay, so Roman, where are we now?" Unexpectedly, A.J. passed the control of the meeting over to Roman. Or, I should say I wasn't expecting it. Roman responded with a "Thanks, A.J." Interestingly enough, again, my emotional response to Roman's voice was slight. At one time, I would have felt excited – maybe even giddy - my stomach would have done flip-flops. Now, I felt…glad…but that was it. I guess that my near-fatal experiences with Roman and his bitch – I mean fiancé - had a profound effect on me. Together, they had thoroughly extinguished the torch that I had carried for Roman.
I heard paper rustling and then Roman spoke again. "Ted Millot and his immediate family…plus several of his kin and their families, have now been missing for five days. We haven't found any…"
As he continued to talk, my mind wandered back over the events of the last several weeks. I constructed a mental timeline, starting with attack by the infected vampire, Nathan, on Miss Sadie Moufette, onto the consequential decimation of members in the Moufette family. The surviving members then went on to attack and infect hospital staff members. An interesting note to file – the infected staff had exhibited violent, crazed behavior sooner than earlier cases and they were surviving longer than previous victims. I was convinced that my missing deputy, Ted Millot, and his missing family members were linked to these events. He must have been bitten or was somehow infected when he was at the hospital when the hospital staff was attacked. My mental review ended with my earlier interview with Elvin Rodow.
Roman finished his portion of intel and then handed the meeting over to me. "That's all I got. Okay Jo, the ball's in your court. Would you tell us about your current situation and events from this morning?" Roman's formality didn't disturb me, I was used to it. That's how the military does business, coldly and efficiently. But for some reason, I felt a twinge of sadness. He sounded and felt like such a stranger to me - he wasn't the Roman that I had known.
"Thank you, Roman. Well…to be blunt…I've got a stack of bodies in my morgue and the number will, unfortunately, probably increase real soon. The infected hospital staff are hanging in there, God bless them, but…Determining the whereabouts of Ted Millot and his family is our number one concern, as you can well imagine…Today, we interviewed," I then remembered that A.J. didn't want us to say names of witnesses on investigation findings, "…um, a person of interest regarding the situation. It is possible that this…entire situation…started with the intention of doing severe harm to the vampire community."
I wasn't expecting the response that I received. I heard laughter, snickers, and a couple of "Yeah!" I guess the vampire hate crime angle isn't going to be a big motivator for justice with this crowd. I ignored the shouts and comments and continued on, but I made a point of highlighting the obvious. "Well, it may have started with a hate crime against vampires, but now it's spread to other species. So, it's now everyone's problem." There was dead silence for a few moments.
Someone jumped in with a question to A.J., "A.J…sir." I faintly heard A.J. coax the man to talk. "Go on then, Randy."
"Whadda they look like? Theyz diseased right…so, are they like…you know, all covered with sores and stuff, or do they look like zombies…or…" I could hear several men laugh when Randy said the word, 'zombie.'
A.J. cleared his throat a couple of times before he spoke. I wasn't sure if it was a nervous tick or if he had actual nasal drainage. "Well-ah…I've just seen pictures…and it was of da dead ones…I..I've not seen a live one. Yo - Jo, youz da only one dats seen 'em on da front line, whaddaya say they look like?"
My first response was to say that they looked like zombies, but I took the more diplomatic route, "Well…they don't have sores but they may have wounds from being attacked. They look crazed and act extremely hostile…There's absolutely no recognition or intelligent response to others or to their surroundings, except…except to indiscriminately and…very aggressively…attack without warning or provocation. When they die…A.J., is it okay for me to continue with this subject point…?"
I got a "Yeah, g'on," back from him.
"Both vampire and the human victims…orally expel…black fluids when they died. My coroner, I guess I should say my former coroner, Mike Spencer, he handed in his resignation yesterday; anyway, he said that the internal organs of both species, human and vampire, were shriveled and distorted. The lab tests didn't make sense to him. I have a volunteer coroner, Dr. Liam McTavish, who's helped us since the very first assault, and he is currently re-evaluating all reports and tests. I'll know more after he finishes."
I glanced over at Kenya and Kyle and almost laughed out loud. They both had been so quiet and I was so wrapped up in my own little world that I had practically forgotten that they were there. They both look like kids sitting around a campfire, listening to ghost stories. Their eyes were as big as saucers. They had not been privy to all the information that was discussed in the meeting. Now that they had the whole picture, they were rightfully alarmed.
A.J. finally broke the silence. "Alrighty…dat's where we are...BUT!…I want to say dis, and I want y'all to listen up! These…infected people – they're ours. Our people, our kin. Don't go shooting to kill. Try to subdue 'em, use rubber bullets, stun 'em, whatever the fuck you can do to bring 'em down without killin' 'em – and without gettin' yourself hurt, either. Only use firearms when absolutely necessary, and aim to wound, if you can. Y'ALL HEAR ME?"
He received a unified and resounding 'yes sir' in return.
"Also – listen up, and listen up good! Everyone will keep their mouth shut, dis ain't going beyond dis meetin'! AND, you will report anything even remotely associated with dis situation immediately to Jo. You go to her, she'll come to me. Dat's how I want dis wheel to roll. Jo, you've got da ball and I'm going to let you keep running with it…and," A.J. started to chuckle, "we all know dat you are quiiiite capable," Others on the line started to chuckle or snicker, "of handling any 'sit-che-a-shen.'" The chuckles and snickers had turned into out loud laughter, joined by a few cat calls and provocative whistles.
A.J. struggled to subdue his laughter, while adding, "Heeeells beeeells, dat perp sure as shit learned a lesson dat day...Damn girl, you took him down twice!" There was a gale of laughter in support of A.J.'s statement. I didn't get it; I had no idea of what he was talking about.
"Um…A.J., if you don't mind my asking…I'm not sure what you're talking about?" Immediately after I spoke, another gale of laughter blew through the phone line.
A.J. shouted over the laughter, "HELL GIRL! I'm talking about your video!"
Okay, I'm totally lost. "A.J., what video?"
"Dat video on YouTube! Where you was taking down dat fat bastard…what's his name?" I heard some whispering, then A.J. spoke again, "Yeah, yeah, dat boy, Donnie Cox. Damn, he was huge ass big, Jo and you brought him down! Ain't no doubt about it, he went down!" More raucous laughter came across the phone line.
I looked at Kenya and she looked at me, and then we both jumped on my laptop, but I let her take over. She pulled up YouTube's website, and if as on cue, A.J. said, "Go to YouTube and type in 'lady cop and huge or fat man.' It'll come up."
Sure enough, it did…and I was mortified. Someone, some bystander, had used a cell phone or hidden camera to videotape the entire arrest, starting with Kenya getting body slammed and ending with me tying up Donnie.
I think I went into shock as A.J. and his sycophants continued to talk and joke about it. I vaguely heard someone bark out that there was a tri-state informal bet going on between chiefs of police and a few sheriff departments. The competition was about who had the toughest female officers - and there were qualifying factors! Someone rattled off some of the bet's criteria: only women using hand to hand combat while taking down a perp could be considered, only one woman alone could capture the perp, the perp had to be very large or obviously very strong, and on and on.…There were other criteria mentioned, but I didn't care to listen, I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts and concerns…Damn, there's going to be a lawsuit, I just know it! We gotta get that off of that website.
Again, as if reading my mind, A.J. shouted to me over the testosterone rumble, "Hey – Jo. Don't you fret none! I ran da video by da legal folks and youze right in line with da law. Ain't nothing to worry about…" He then fell back into a side bar conversation,"Hey, George, call up Gordy over der in Durango, Texas, and tell him…"
I spoke loudly into the phone, barely concealing my anxious tone, "A.J. A.J! We gotta get it off of there! Does anyone know how we can get the video removed from-?"
I didn't miss the lilt of impatience in A.J.'s voice when he interrupted me, "Jo…there ain't nothin' to worry about…We've got it all in hand. We're working on dat!…Just calm down, cher!…Okay, so Leroy, how much…"
I lapsed into a stupefied state. Kenya and I just continued to stare at the computer screen while an enthralled Kyle ran the video over and over again. Kenya seemed to be having some sort of religious experience, though it didn't look like a good one. She ever so slightly rocked back and forth, while repeatedly whispering variations of, "Oh Lord! Good Lord above! Oh, my Lord!"
Finally, I heard A.J. adjourn the meeting. But, some sort of sick fascination kept me glued to the video. Oddly, the one thought that kept jumping in front of all my other worries was - Damn, my butt looks huge…
Later that evening, my thoughts had changed drastically…
I so want to kill that mother-fucker piece of bat shit! I'm going to get a stake – screw that, I'm to get a spike of silver and ram it in his motherfucker heart. Then, I'm going to cut off his arms and beat him with them…No; I should do that before I stake him…
I was hurrying back from the florist shop that was two blocks away from the station. The owner, Shirley, had been kind enough to give me the key. This was my third frigging trip in as many hours. Mother-fucker, piece of bat shit!
My vampire prisoner, Allitar Zalarus, must have woken up on the wrong side of his coffin – he was not in a good mood. It was dusk and the night after he had been arrested and incarcerated. His bail hearing wouldn't be for another twenty-four hours….nope, he was not a happy vampire…
First, he demanded to be unchained. Then, he wanted a better mattress, and then a better holding cell, and then he wanted a HD television with cable hookup. But, his ultimate demand – and my personal favorite – was that he had to have human blood because he was allergic to TruBlood. When he only received the television, which we placed outside his cell, and we told him that it was the only demand we could meet - he went ballistic.
The vampire cell was built to accommodate both vampires and humans. It had a shelf-like bed that was suspended and bolted to the titanium walls. There was a metal toilet that was bolted to the titanium floor, and a ceramic sink that supplied only cold water; it was mounted, not bolted, to the titanium wall.
Allitar was a strong little fucker, but not as strong as Eric, and apparently his restraining chains weren't restricting enough. First, he destroyed his mattress. Then, he tried to rip the bed off the wall but when that failed, he had a hissy fit and smashed the plastic bottles that contained his TruBlood breakfast. Either the thrill of victory from destroying some objects or the on-going agony of not defeating our resistance motivated him to successfully kick the porcelain sink off the wall. He hit the jackpot - water gushed out into his cell, into the waiting area and into the other holding cell. Luckily, Kyle was monitoring him and immediately turned off the main water valve to the building. The flooding was minor but we were faced with a whole new problem. We didn't have running water.
We quickly got a plumber, but he refused to go down and pump out the water because he was afraid of our 'vamper.' So, Kyle, Kevin, and I set up the sump pump and drained out the water. Allitar entertained us by cursing at us in Spanish and English.
"Puta! Bastardo! You are trash, a cheap whore! Usted está porcina filty! You will regret this! You are starving me! This is neglect – ABUSE! Yo desagüe seco! I want my lawyer, it is against the law that I cannot see him. I DEMAND…" We zoned him out as best we could.
Another twenty four hours with this little shit, God help me…
Our plumbing problem escalated into a crisis – we weren't going to have running water until after Allitar left, because NO plumber would go near the vampire holding cells. We called every plumber in the phone book and my staff even called their friends and relatives – but nope, nobody dared go anywhere in the vicinity of the vamper.
For some weird and inexplicable reason, I started having an irrational and constant need to "relieve" myself. I was obsessed with the need to pee. I would rush over to the florist shop, use the facilities, and as soon as I got back to my desk, I had to pee again! Jesus Christ, his mother, father, and all his home boys! What the hell is wrong with me? Dammit. A shrink would have had a field day with my problem.
Our top priority became procuring a port-a-potty. The florist shop rest stop was only for my use, per stipulations by the owner. The staff and human prisoners had to use the banquet hall facilities at the fire station. The prisoners were chained and driven over to the fire station, and then anyone in the hall had to leave until the prisoner was removed from the site. This worked well for us…but not so well for the young couple that was decorating and arranging the hall for their wedding and reception. They weren't thrilled or cordial.
Luckily, our nighttime front desk processing officer had a sister-in-law whose husband's father rented out port-a-potties. Thank God everyone is related in this town. Two potties were delivered before lunch on the next day.
Finally, two nights after Allitar's arrest, he had his bail hearing. He was ordered to immediately pay for the damages to the police department which he did, as well as pay a hefty bail because he was determined to be a potential flee risk. Before he left Bon Temps, he left me a special 'good bye' message.
On my way home, after standing in on Allitar's bail hearing, I stopped off at a pizza shop to grab a sandwich for my dinner. I parked my replacement cruiser in front of the shop. I was in the shop for probably no more than fifteen minutes and when I came out, all of my tires were slashed and a sharp object had been used to carve lines into the sides of my car.
FUCK! SHIT! DAMMIT! I parked right fucking in front of the shop! Only a vampire can move that fast and do that kind of damage without a human seeing it. BAT FUCKER! FUCKWAD! That piece of shit, Allitar, did this – dead dick wad.
I called the station for a wrecker and then ate my sandwich while I waited. I had a good-size mouthful of sandwich when my phone rang. It was Eric.
"Mmwhah?" I tried to speak and almost choked on the food in my mouth.
"…Jo?" Evidently, Eric couldn't understand me nor was sure it was me.
"Uhh…Yeah…agh..Yuh" I was making great progress in chewing and swallowing but still was having difficulty talking.
Eric's phone reception wasn't the best and his voice went in and out. He must be in a moving car. I did hear, "How is your night going?"
After slopping out, "SHITTY!" I was able to speak clearly. "It's shit! Because your little buddy fucked up my cruiser!"
"What? I don't understand you, you're not making sense."
My anger had built to a level that impeded my ability to be polite. "I said, your friend Allitar slashed my fucking tires and carved up the sides of my goddamn cruiser! I'm waiting for a wrecker now to haul it back to the station. So, how the hell is your night going, huh?"
"Where are you?" He sounded exasperated – he should have sounded apologetic! I didn't know why it mattered where I was, but I told him anyway. The moment I finished replying, he hung up on me.
Fucking…asshole! Fucking…fucking fucker, fuck…fuck it!
The wrecker truck and Eric showed up at the same time. Eric, as always, looked sexy and sinful. He was dressed in his signature black wife-beater, and the rest of his ensemble was all in black. I wasn't unpleased to see him…but I didn't think it was necessary to be overly friendly.
My car was loaded on the wrecker truck and I was ready to go back to the station with the driver, when Eric offered me a ride home. I said 'no.' We quickly spiraled into a DEFCON 3 argument without raising our voices above a whisper…Then, I begrudgingly accepted his offer.
We drove in total silence for about five minutes, both of us distracted by our own thoughts. I was trying to solve my transportation issue. I was so angry because now I had to use my privately leased vehicle for work until I could get another cruiser. I would have to pay a pretty penny if my leased car was damaged. Getting another cruiser was going to be near-impossible.
Eric finally broke the silence, "Did you eat something recently?"
"Yep, an Italian cold cut sandwich with the works…and hot peppers, why?"
He wrinkled up his nose and responded, "It smells horrible. Don't try to kiss me goodnight when you get out of the car."
I dramatically swung my head in his direction and presented him with my best imitation of a sneering, hang-face, petulant teenager. I jeered at him with an "As if!"
Eric responded with sardonic snort. I would not be bested by a snort, so I quickly racked my brain for an appropriate insult.
"Hell, I know how you feel…I worry that some of those specks between your teeth might be someone I know!" Ohhh, snap!
Eric laughed out loud and I couldn't suppress a few of my own chuckles. We lapsed back into silence.
Eric tried making conversation again, but it probably wasn't the best subject to pick. "How do you know it was Allitar? Did you see him?"
I rolled my eyes and expressed my impatience with a dramatic huff of breath. "It was him, Eric! I'm sure of it…I didn't see him, but it was him…only a vampire can make that kind of damage so quickly, without being seen by humans…He gave me a look when he left the court house…It was him…Two cruisers. Shit! It's incredible, just incredible; I've gone through two cruisers in almost three weeks!"
Eric reached over and turned on his CD player.
My God, what the hell is that? "What the hell is that, it sounds like moose mating?" The music – if you can call it that – was a collision of horns, drums, and hand-plucked string instruments. It was edgy…lousy…loud…and just awful!
Eric shot me an annoyed glance. "That is the CD you gave me…when you and I met privately in my office…Remember?" He wiggled his eyebrows at me.
"Oh no!" I started to laugh out loud. "That's horrible! I'm so sorry, I had no idea…turn it off!" I reached to turn off the CD but Eric smacked my hand away.
"I like it! It's actually an excellent recording…it reminds me of you…"
I didn't know if he was insulting me or not. He slowly reached and turned down the music until it was barely audible background noise.
Eric picked up our dropped conversation. "If you can't prove that Allitar damaged your car, then you have no case. BUT, I will talk to him…You can't blame yourself about the destruction of the two cars. It wasn't your fault. Let it go, relax, it's over."
I bit my tongue and didn't reply. I just stared ahead into the dark night.
"I apologize for having left so suddenly the other night, it was important. Have you missed me?" He was smiling and there was a twinkle in his eye. He was just so upbeat and annoying tonight.
I flashed him a fake smile. My smile became genuine when my snarky, twisted little brain formulated a response appropriate to his arrogance. "Oh, yes…Yes indeed! As a matter of fact…ever since that night, I've written in my Hello Kitty diary, 'Mrs. Eric Northman' at least a hundred times!…Page after page, 'Mrs. Eric Northman,' over and over again. Starting tonight, I'm going to use my color markers and draw rainbows around all the letters and THEN…I'm going to use these cute, little, red heart stickers to dot the 'i's' in every 'Eric.'"
He chuckled and slowly shook his head. "Little heart stickers, huh?"
I decided to play through – "I was looking at china patterns on-line for us. Do you like roosters or seashells? I picked the seashells…" I glanced at him; I got a raised eyebrow in return.
I was on a roll, so I kept going, "Do you like dogs? I thought we could adopt a cockerpoodle and name it Snickerdoodle, and…" I stopped because I was distracted by my window being rolled down, it stopped about a third of the way open. Louisiana was cool in December, and since he was driving at a fast clip, the blowing air was cold. "Why did you roll down my window? It's cold."
"It's a warning for you to change the subject…or, you will have to leave." He had a tight little smile on his face. I think he was still joking, but there was a slight edge in his voice.
I joked back, "Toughen up, princess, can't you take a joke?" My window rolled down a little further. I responded with "Asshole." He laughed, and then he waited a few moments to see if I was going to continue with my stalker talk. When I didn't speak, he rolled up my window until it was closed.
I glanced at the speedometer and was slightly concerned, "Uh, Eric...the speed limit is not a suggestion…it's the law. Are you in a hurry, got a hot blood donor waiting for you?"
He looked at me with a sly grin on his face, "Oooohhh, are we jealous?"
"No, no…I don't…don't have any desire to be a blood juice box." I regretted saying that as soon as it came out. But, I didn't apologize, I just stared forward.
"I saw your YouTube video…I was very impressed. You were so butch!"
What? Oh no, no, no…NOOOOO! I think Eric said something else but I don't know what it was, because it felt like the air around me compressed in, interfering with my ability to breathe. I felt myself turn beet red and I was sure that my sandwich was going to make a re-appearance.
As always, my brain decided to go out on a tangent and the only coherent thought that I had was: Please don't say anything about my huge ass.
"Did you know we had female warriors?…Very few actually, it was quite rare, but they did exist, back in my human days." He didn't wait for an answer. "There was one woman…her name was Gerta…she was respected…accepted…She was a very skillful warrior, very brave. She was amazing for a human woman."
I tensed up waiting for the punch-line, which I knew was going to be at my expense…I waited…and waited…I glanced at Eric. He was staring ahead into the night, wrapped up in his thoughts. My mind drifted back to the videotape.
He startled me when he spoke next, and I had to stop myself from jumping. "I was younger than she…too young, not a man, yet…she was very kind. It pained me when I learned that she had died in childbirth. Your video reminded me of her…you…remind me of her. " His voice had become so quiet that I had to strain to hear him.
I was just astonished that he was sharing so much of himself with me. I was hesitant to speak, I wasn't sure if he would welcome any discussion of Gerta. But, I thought it was the polite thing to do, to speak, and acknowledge what he had told me. "So..um, was she a relative or…or…or…um…a childhood crush?"
He didn't respond right away. I started to feel like an idiot. What a stupid question, Jo!
After a few moments of silence, Eric quietly mumbled, "She wasn't a relative."
A thrill zinged through me. I pieced together what he had just said – he just complimented me! I think he did. He compared me to a warrior that he had a crush on when he was a boy!
Wait - Is that what he meant? That's what he meant, right?...Chill, Jo! How old am I – twelve now? Shit, don't get all Disney-happy because Eric said you reminded him of a two thousand year old, dead, butch warrior. Damn, when I put it that way...
He turned towards me and said, "She was ordinary, but extraordinary…for a human…and a female. Her presence enveloped you…she made you feel like you…I was very impressed with the video…but, I've been impressed before that...with you."
I just melted into the car seat. I didn't have a bone left in my body. What…why…wow…If he's fucking with my head…I…Eric…man, man-o-man…shit, I can't deal with this…shit…I slowly sat up straight and quietly inhaled and exhaled, trying to stave off what felt like the beginnings of a panic attack. I'm a fucking freak! I heard him laughing and looked over at him.
When he saw my face, he started laughing harder. "Too much for you, Josephina?" He reached over and patted my thigh. "Don't worry; I don't say things like that very often." He glanced at me and then chuckled, "Calm down, take deep breaths."
I was now calm, but perturbed. I didn't like the fact that he had seen me react like I had. For no particular reason, I started to doubt the sincerity of his words. He's just fucking with me. Shit, why do I do that? Why don't I want to accept his compliment? Why can't – Oh snap out of it, Jo. Enough with this crap!
"Jo?…Well, now I know how to shut you up, all I have to do is compliment you."
"Oh, fuck off, you're just trying to butter me up so that I'll kiss you goodnight!" I was back!
"There's my Josephina! No compliment can keep her down-"
"Did I mention that I ate onions and garlic salami? I changed my mind, lean over. I'm going to give you a big wet one!" He glared at me and then shook his head and chuckled.
We spent the rest of the drive to my house bantering and joking. When he dropped me off, and because we had mutually grossed each other out earlier, we jointly decided to pass on a kiss…but, I copped a feel of his butt. He didn't seem upset by it.
I received a phone call early the following morning, right after I had arrived at the station. It was from Bernie Browne, the sheriff over in Charlestown, which is a town about thirty minutes from Bon Temps.
Bernie sounded flustered and agitated. I heard something else in his voice and I wasn't sure what it was, but he clearly was upset. "Hey Jo, it's Bernie – we got ya…we've got summin' over here in Charlestown. Oh hell, I think we found your man Ted Millot and his family. I would appreciate it if you could come over here and take a look. But…um…no sirens or warning lights. I can't have people hearin' about this. We need to keep this quiet-like. You'll see why when you get here."
I had Kyle and two other deputies, LeShawn and George, accompany me to the destination. When we arrived, a strong, sickly feeling of foreboding washed over me. It grew rapidly in strength as we all parked and disembarked from our respective vehicles.
Before we left the vicinity of our parked cars, I rounded up my men and spoke with them. "I have a feeling that this is going to be a difficult crime scene. Sort of like the car crash involving Miss Sadie and her daughter's family. You all know what I'm saying?" Kyle and LeShawn traded glances and dropped their heads and nodded, but then they both straightened their postures, and gave me their undivided attention. They were mentally braced for whatever was to come.
George, however, wasn't doing as well as the other two. He was repeatedly swallowing – not a good sign, it meant his stomach was churning and he was on the verge of getting sick. I then saw raw terror flood his eyes. George would have to stay behind for everyone's sake. I didn't have time to babysit him and I didn't want him to put anyone in jeopardy because he couldn't react or act.
"George, I need you to stay here with the cars, handle communication with the station, and stand by in case we need you. Kyle and George, come with me."
George tried to muster up to the moment, "Ma'am, I'm okay, really! I can do-"
I interrupted him, "George, I need you here, right here. You're my anchor man. I need you to be ready to provide backup in case we get into trouble. You stand by, keep your eyes open, and man the radio. I'm depending on you." I think my firm little pep talk helped him save face and it brought him out of his panic. George's eyes became focused and he stopped swallowing like a sick dog.
"Yessum, Sheriff. I'll be right here, I won't let ya down. I swear!"
"Good. Good man, George. Come on guys, let's go."
As we were walking through the parking lot, I noticed that it contained a number of different kinds of parked vehicles. Besides police cars, there were delivery trucks, a mail truck, and a sprinkling of civilian cars.
I silently prayed that my instincts were wrong - but my instincts were rarely wrong. Dread sprung up in my chest and grew stronger and stronger with each step that brought me closer to the entrance of the nursing home.