"So I see," Alcide said unenthusiastically. "I guess I'd better let him in. Enter, Eric," he said, as he slid open the window.

Eric entered as smoothly as a tall man can enter a small window. He was wearing a suit, complete with vest and tie. His hair was slicked back into a ponytail. He was also wearing glasses.

"Are you in disguise?" I asked. I could hardly believe it.

"Yes, I am." He looked down at himself proudly. "Don't I look different?"

"Yes," I admitted. "You look just like Eric, dressed up for once."

"Do you like the suit?"

"Sure," I said. I have limited knowledge of men's clothes, but I was willing to bet this sort of olive-brown three-piece ensemble had cost more than I made in two weeks. Or four. I might not have picked this out for a guy with blue eyes, but I had to admit he looked spectacular. If they put out a vampire issue of GQ, he'd definitely be in the running for a photo shoot. "Who did your hair?" I asked, noticing for the first time that it had been braided in an intricate pattern.

"Oooh, jealous?"

"No, I thought maybe they could teach me how to do that to mine."

Alcide had had enough of fashion commentary. He said belligerently, "What do you mean by leaving the dead man in my closet?"

I have seldom seen Eric at a loss for words, but he was definitely speechless-for all of thirty seconds.

"It wasn't Bubba in the closet, was it?" he asked.

It was our turn to stand with mouths open, Alcide because he didn't know who the hell Bubba was, and me because I couldn't imagine what could have happened to the dazed vampire.

I hastily filled Alcide in on Bubba.

"So that explains all the sightings," he said, shaking his head from side to side. "Damn-they were all for real!"

"The Memphis group wanted to keep him, but it was just impossible," Eric explained. "He kept wanting to go home, and then there'd be incidents. So we started passing him around."

"And now you've lost him," Alcide observed, not too chagrined by Eric's problem.

"It's possible that the people who were trying to get to Sookie in Bon Temps got Bubba instead," Eric said. He tugged on his vest and looked down with some satisfaction. "So, who was in the closet?"

"The biker who marked Sookie last night," Alcide said. "He made a pretty rough pass at her while I was in the men's room."

"Marked her?"

"Yes, blood offense," Alcide said significantly.

"You didn't say anything about this last night." Eric raised an eyebrow at me.

"I didn't want to talk about it," I said. I didn't like the way that came out, kind of forlorn. "Besides, it wasn't much blood."

"Let me see."

I rolled my eyes, but I knew darn good and well that Eric wouldn't give up. I pulled my sweatshirt off my shoulder, along with my bra strap. Luckily, the sweat-shut was so old, the neck had lost its elasticity, and it afforded enough room. The fingernail gouges on my shoulder were crusted half-moons, puffy and red, though I'd scrubbed the area carefully the night before. I know how many germs are under fingernails. "See," I said. "No big deal. I was more mad than scared or hurt."

Eric kept his eyes on the little nasty wounds until I shrugged my clothes back into order. Then he switched his eyes to Alcide. "And he was dead in the closet?"

"Yes," Alcide said. "Had been dead for hours."

"What killed him?"

"He hadn't been bitten," I said. "He looked as though his neck might have been broken. We didn't feel like looking that closely. You're saying you aren't the guilty party?"

"No, though it would have been a pleasure to have done it."

I shrugged, not willing to explore that dark thought. "So, who put him there?" I asked, to get the discussion going again.

"And why?" Alcide asked.

"Would it be too much to ask where he is now?" Eric managed to look as if he were indulging two rowdy children.

Alcide and I shot each other glances. "Um, well, he's …" My voice trailed away.

Eric inhaled, sampling the apartment's atmosphere. "The body's not here. You called the police?"

"Well, no," I muttered. "Actually, we, ah …"

"We dumped him out in the country," Alcide said. There just wasn't a nice way to say it.

We had surprised Eric a second time. "Well," he said blankly. "Aren't you two enterprising?"

"We worked it all out," I said, maybe sounding a tad defensive.

Eric smiled. It was not a happy sight. "Yes, I'll bet you did."

"The packmaster came to see me today," Alcide said. "Just now, in fact. And he didn't know that Jerry was missing. In fact, Jerry went complaining to Terence after he left the bar last night, telling Terence he had a grievance against me. So he was seen and heard after the incident at Josephine's."

"So you may have gotten away with it."

"I think we did."

"You should have burned him," Eric said. "It would have killed any trace of your smell on him."

"I don't think anyone could pick out our smell," I told him. "Really and truly. I don't think we ever touched him with our bare skin."

Eric looked at Alcide, and Alcide nodded. "I agree," he said. "And I'm one of the two-natured."

Eric shrugged. "I have no idea who would have killed him and put him in the apartment. Obviously, someone wanted his death blamed on you."

"Then why not call the police from a pay phone and tell them there's a dead body in 504?"

"A good question, Sookie, and one I can't answer right now." Eric seemed to lose interest all of a sudden. "I will be at the club tonight. If I need to talk to you, Alcide, tell Russell that I am your friend from out of town, and I've been invited to meet Sookie, your new girlfriend."

"Okay," said Alcide. "But I don't understand why you want to be there. It's asking for trouble. What if one of the vamps recognizes you?"

"I don't know any of them."

"Why are you taking this chance?" I asked. "Why go there at all?"

"There may be something I can pick up on that you won't hear of, or that Alcide won't know because he is not a vampire," Eric said reasonably. "Excuse us for a minute, Alcide. Sookie and I have some business to discuss."

Alcide looked at me to make sure I was okay with this, before he nodded grudgingly and went out to the living room.

Eric said abruptly, "Do you want me to heal the marks on your shoulder?"

I thought of the ugly, crusty crescents, and I thought about the thin shoulder straps on the dress I'd brought to wear. I almost said yes, but then I had a second thought. "How would I explain that, Eric? The whole bar saw him grab me."

"You're right." Eric shook his head, his eyes closed, as if he were angry with himself. "Of course. You're not Were, you're not undead. How would you have healed so quickly?"

Then he did something else unexpected. Eric took my right hand with both of his and gripped it. He looked directly into my face. "I have searched Jackson. I have looked in warehouses, cemeteries, farmhouses, and anyplace that had a trace of vampire scent about it: every property Edgington owns, and some his followers own. I haven't found a trace of Bill. I am very afraid, Sookie, that it is becoming most likely that Bill is dead. Finally dead."

I felt like he'd smacked me in the middle of the forehead with a sledgehammer. My knees just folded, and if he hadn't moved quick as lightning, I'd have been on the floor. Eric sat on a chair that was in the corner of the room, and he gathered me up into a bundle in his lap. He said, "I've upset you too much. I was trying to be practical, and instead I was …"

"Brutal." I felt a tear trickle out of each eye.

Eric's tongue darted out, and I felt a tiny trace of moisture as he licked up my tears. Vampires just seem to like any body fluid, if they can't get blood, and that didn't particularly bother me. I felt glad someone was holding me in a comforting way, even if it was Eric. I sunk deeper into misery while Eric spent a few moments thinking.