Lattesta walked over to us, Agent Weiss following close behind. She looked a little white around the mouth, but her voice was steady. “From the condition of the body, I believe this woman was a . . . werepanther.” She said the word as if it was hard to get it through her lips.

I nodded. “Yes, ma’am, she was.” I was still fighting to gain control of my stomach.

“Then this could be a hate crime,” Lattesta said. His face was locked down tight, and his thoughts were orderly. He was composing a mental list of phone calls he should make, and he was trying to figure out if there was any way he could take charge of the case. If the murder had been a hate crime, he had a good shot at being in on the investigation.

“And who might you be?” Bud Dearborn asked. He had his hands on his belt, and he was looking at Weiss and Lattesta as if they were pre-need burial plot salesmen.

While the law enforcement types were all introducing themselves and saying profound things about the crime scene, Antoine said, “I’m sorry, Sookie. We had to call ’em. But we called your house right after.”

“Of course you had to call them,” I said. “I just wish Sam was here.” Oh, gosh. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and pressed his speed-dial number.

“Sam,” I said when he picked up. “Can you talk?”

“Yes,” he said, sounding apprehensive. He could already tell something was wrong.

“Where are you?”

“I’m in my car.”

“I have bad news.”

“What’s happened? Did the bar burn down?”

“No, but Crystal’s been murdered in the parking lot. Out back by your trailer.”

“Oh, shit. Where’s Jason?”

“He’s on his way here, near as I can find out.”

“I’m sorry, Sookie.” He sounded exhausted. “This is going to be bad.”

“The FBI is here. They’re thinking it might be a hate crime.” I skipped the explanation of why they’d happened to be in Bon Temps.

“Well, a lot of people didn’t like Crystal,” Sam said cautiously, surprise in his voice.

“She was crucified.”

“Dammit tohell .” A long pause. “Sook, if my mom is still stable and nothing’s happening legally with my stepfather, I’ll start back later today or early tomorrow.”

“Good.” I couldn’t begin to pack enough relief into that one word. And it was no use pretending I had everything under control.

“I’m sorry,cher ,” he said again. “Sorry you’re having to handle it, sorry Jason will be suspected, sorry about the whole thing. Sorry for Crystal, too.”

“I’ll be glad to see you,” I said, and my voice was shaky with incipient tears.

“I’ll be there.” And he hung up.

Lattesta said, “Ms. Stackhouse, are these men other bar employees?”

I introduced Antoine and D’Eriq to Lattesta. Antoine’s expression didn’t change, but D’Eriq was completely impressed that he’d met an FBI agent.

“Both of you knew this Crystal Norris, right?” Lattesta said mildly.

Antoine said, “Just by sight. She come in the bar some.”

D’Eriq nodded.

“Crystal Norris Stackhouse,” I said. “She’s my sister-in-law. The sheriff’s called my brother. But you need to call her uncle, Calvin Norris. He works at Norcross.”

“He her nearest living relative? Besides the husband?”

“She’s got a sister. But Calvin’s the leader of—” I stopped, not sure if Calvin had endorsed the Great Reveal. “He raised her,” I said. Close enough.

Lattesta and Weiss huddled with Bud Dearborn. They were deep in conversation, probably about Calvin and the tiny community out at the bleak crossroads. Hotshot was a group of small houses containing lots of secrets. Crystal had wanted to escape from Hotshot, but she also felt most secure there.

My eyes returned to the tortured figure on the cross. Crystal was dressed, but her clothes had ripped when her arms and legs had changed to panther limbs, and there was blood everywhere. Her hands and feet, impaled with nails, were crusted with it. Ropes did the work of holding her to the crossbar, kept the flesh from ripping free of the nails.

I’d seen a lot of awful things, but this was maybe the most pathetic. “Poor Crystal,” I said, and found tears were rolling down my cheeks.

“You didn’t like her,” Andy Bellefleur said. I wondered how long he’d been out here, looking at the ruin of what had once been a living, breathing, healthy woman. Andy’s cheeks were patched with stubble, and his nose was red. Andy had a cold. He sneezed and excused himself to use a handkerchief.

D’Eriq and Antoine were talking to Alcee Beck. Alcee was the other Bon Temps police detective, and that didn’t make the investigation look too promising. He wouldn’t be too regretful about Crystal’s death.

Andy faced me again after he’d stuffed his handkerchief in his pocket. I looked at his weary, broad face. I knew he’d do his best to find out who’d done this. I trusted Andy. Square-built Andy, some years my senior, had never been a smiley kind of guy. He was serious and suspicious. I didn’t know if he’d chosen his occupation because it suited him, or if his character had altered in response to his occupation.

“I hear she and Jason had split,” he said.

“Yes. She cheated on him.” This was common knowledge. I wasn’t going to pretend otherwise.

“Pregnant and all, like she was?” Andy shook his head.

“Yeah.” I spread my hands.That was the way she was .

“That’s sick,” Andy said.

“Yeah, it is. Cheating with your husband’s baby in your stomach between you . . . that’s just specially icky.” It was a thought I’d had but never voiced.

“So, who was the other man?” Andy asked casually. “Or men?”

“You’re the only guy in Bon Temps who doesn’t know she was screwing Dove Beck,” I said.

This time it registered. Andy glanced over at Alcee Beck and back to me. “I know now,” he said. “Who hated her that much, Sookie?”

“If you’re thinking Jason, you can just think again. He would never do that to his baby.”

“If she was so free with herself, maybe it wasn’t his baby,” Andy said. “Maybe he found that out.”

“It was his,” I said with a firmness I wasn’t sure I felt. “But even if it wasn’t, if some blood test says it wasn’t, he wouldn’t kill anybody’s baby. Anyway, they weren’t living together. She’d moved back in with her sister. Why would he even go to the trouble?”

“Why were the FBI at your house?”

Okay, so this questioning thing was going to go one way. “Some questions about the explosion in Rhodes,” I said. “I found out about Crystal while they were there. They came along out of professional curiosity, I guess. Lattesta, the guy, thinks this might be a hate crime.”

“That’s an interesting idea,” he said. “This is undoubtedly a hate crime, but whether or not it’s the kind of thing they should investigate, I don’t know yet.” He strode off to talk to Weiss. Lattesta was looking up at the body, shaking his head, as if he was noting a level of awfulness he’d thought couldn’t be reached.

I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was in charge of the bar, and the crime scene was on bar property, so I was determined to stay.

Alcee Beck called, “All people on the scene who are not police officers, leave the area! All police officers who are nones sential to the crime scene, step into the front parking lot!” His gaze fell on me, and he jabbed a finger toward the front. So I went back to lean against my car. Though it was cold enough, it was lucky for all of us that the day was bright and the wind wasn’t blowing. I pulled my coat collar up around my ears and reached into the car to get my black gloves. I tugged them on and waited.

Time passed. I watched various police officers come and go. When Holly showed up for her shift, I explained what had happened and sent her home, telling her I’d call when I’d gotten permission to reopen. I couldn’t think of any other course of action. Antoine and D’Eriq had left long ago, after I’d entered their cell numbers on my phone.