Definitely Dead by Charlaine Harris Read Free Book Online Page A

your grandmother and Portia are great women.”
    That was tactful. Good for Halleigh.
    “But I’d like to have a home of my own,” she said gently, earning my admiration.
    And then I really had to haul ass; I had tables to tend to. But as I refilled beer mugs, cleared empty plates, and took more money to Sam at the cash register, I was filled with awe at Halleigh’s stand, since the Bellefleur mansion was Bon Temps’s premier residence. Most young women would give a finger or two to live there, especially since the big old house had been extensively remodeled and freshened with the influx of money from a mysterious stranger. That stranger was actually Bill, who’d discovered that the Bellefleurs were descendants of his. He’d known they wouldn’t accept money from a vampire, so he’d arranged the whole “mysterious legacy” ruse, and Caroline Bellefleur had jumped into spending it on the mansion with as much relish as Andy ate a cheeseburger.
    Andy caught up with me a few minutes later. He snagged me on the way to Sid Matt Lancaster’s table, so the aged lawyer had to wait a bit extra for his hamburger and fries.
    “Sookie, I have to know,” he said urgently, but in a very low tone.
    “What, Andy?” I was alarmed at his intensity.
    “Does she love me?” There were edges of humiliation in his head, that he’d actually asked me. Andy was proud, and he wanted some kind of assurance that Halleigh didn’t want his family name or his family home as he’d found other women had. Well, he’d found out about the home. Halleigh didn’t want it, and he would move into some humble, small house with her, if she really loved him.
    No one had ever demanded this of me before. After all the years of wanting people to believe in me, understand my freakish talent, I found I didn’t enjoy being taken seriously, after all. But Andy was waiting for an answer, and I couldn’t refuse. He was one of the most dogged men I’d ever met.
    “She loves you as much as you love her,” I said, and he let go of my arm. I continued on my way to Sid Matt’s table. When I glanced back at him, he was staring at me.
    Chew on that, Andy Bellefleur, I thought. Then I felt a little ashamed of myself. But he shouldn’t have asked, if he didn’t want to know the answer.
     
    There was something in the woods around my house.
    I’d gotten ready for bed as soon as I’d come home, because one of my favorite moments in every twenty-four hours is when I get to put on my nightgown. It was warm enough that I didn’t need a bathrobe, so I was roaming around in my old blue knee-length sleep tee. I was just thinking of shutting the kitchen window, since the March night was getting a little chilly. I’d been listening to the sounds of the night while I washed dishes; the frogs and the bugs had been filling the air with their chorus.
    Suddenly, the noises that had made the night seem as friendly and busy as the day had come to a stop, cut off in midcry.
    I paused, my hands immersed in the hot soapy water. Peering out into the darkness didn’t help a bit, and I realized how visible I must be, standing at an open window with its curtains flung wide apart. The yard was lit up with the security light, but beyond the trees that ringed the clearing, the woods lay dark and still.
    Something was out there. I closed my eyes and tried to reach out with my brain, and I found some kind of activity. But it wasn’t clear enough to define.
    I thought about phoning Bill, but I’d called him before when I’d been worried about my safety. I couldn’t let it become a habit. Hey, maybe the watcher in the woods was Bill himself? He sometimes roamed around at night, and he came to check on me from time to time. I looked longingly over at the telephone on the wall at the end of the counter. (Well, where the counter would be when it was all put together.) My new telephone was portable. I could grab it, retreat to my bedroom, and call Bill in a snap of the fingers,