He opened my bag, put it to his face, and inhaled. "No, that's not a scent I picked up at the gate in the backyard. Of course, considering all the scents around there and the length of time before we were able to investigate, that can't be a definite no." He handed it back.
I felt almost disappointed. Jannalynn made me so antsy that I would have liked to find her guilty of something, but I chided myself for being uncharitable. I should be glad Sam was dating an innocent woman. And I was. Right?
"You look unhappy," Bill said. We were walking back to his house, and I'd tucked the plastic bag under my arm. I'd been thinking of how I'd return Jannalynn's jacket to Sam's office. I'd have to do it soon.
"I am unhappy," I said. Then, because I didn't want to explain my every inner qualm, I told Bill, "I listened to the news on the radio while I was cutting up sweet potatoes. That girl Kym, the police are trying to blame her murder on a vampire because she died in Eric's front yard. Someone vandalized Fangtasia, threw white paint all over the exterior. Are Felipe and his crew still here? Why don't they go home?"
Bill put his arm around me. "Calm down," he said, his voice hard.
I was so surprised that I actually held my breath for a moment.
"Breathe," he commanded. "Slowly. Thoughtfully."
"What are you, Zen Master Fang?"
"Sookie." When he used that voice, he meant business. So I took a deep breath, let it out. Again. Again.
"Okay, I'm better," I said.
"Listen," Bill said, and I raised my eyes to his. He was looking excited again. He shook his own bag. "We've had all eyes open to try to track down Colton ... or find his body. Very early this past morning, Palomino called from her job at the Trifecta. She's seen Colton. Felipe does have him. We've got a plan to get him out. Cobbled together, but I think it might work. If we can accomplish that, maybe we'll also discover where they're keeping Warren. If we find Warren and broadcast his whereabouts, Mustapha will come forward to tell what he knows. When Mustapha tells us who suborned him by holding Warren hostage, then we'll know who killed Kym. When we tell the police, the heat will be off Eric. Then we can solve the problem of that ass**le Appius's posthumous betrothal of Eric to Freyda. Felipe and his 'posse' will go back to Nevada. Eric will have his sheriff's job, or a new title, but Felipe will not fire him or kill him."
"That's a hell of lot of dominoes, Bill. Colton to Warren to Mustapha to Kym's murderer to the police to Appius to Freyda to Eric. Anyway, isn't it too late? We're doomed. Colton's probably already told him everything."
"He can't have. Colton was grieving so hard over Audrina that I wiped his memory of her death. So he doesn't remember all of what happened that night, by any means."
"You didn't tell Eric that, did you?"
Bill shrugged. "I didn't need his permission. It doesn't matter now, anyway. Felipe won't have Colton after tonight." He brandished the bag he'd brought.
"Why?"
"Because you and I are going to kidnap him back."
"And do what with him?" Colton was a pretty nice guy, and he hadn't had what anyone would think was an easy life. I didn't want to rescue him from Felipe only to find that Bill planned to remove Colton as a witness in a very final way.
"I have it all planned. But we have to act quickly. I've texted Harp to tell him we have to reschedule. I think this is more important than asking him questions about Kym's parents."
I had to agree.
"Say we get Colton out," I said, as we hustled toward Bill's car. "What about Immanuel? Can they track him in Los Angeles?" Immanuel the hairdresser, also human, had been there that night, since Victor's cruelty had led to his sister's death.
"He got work on the set of a television show. Ironically, it's about vampires and most of the shooting takes place at night. Two members of the crew are actually vampires. I put Immanuel under the care of one of them. He'll be guarded."
"How'd you arrange that?"
"Coincidence. It happens," Bill said. "And you're the other human, but you can't be glamoured. So if we can just get Colton away and find Warren ..."
"Since Warren never came into Fangtasia the night we killed Victor," I said, "I don't believe his abduction has anything to do with Victor's death. I think Warren was snatched just to force Mustapha to let Kym Rowe in the back door of Eric's house." I had enough lightbulbs popping over my head to illuminate an operating room. "What do you think?"
"I think we have a lot of questions," Bill said. "Now let's go find out some answers."
Our first stop was my house, where I left Jannalynn's jacket and opened the bag Bill had brought.
"Good God," I said in disgust. "I got to wear that?"
"Part of the plan," Bill said, though he was smiling.
I stomped into my room and pulled on the blue "flirty" skirt, which began well below my navel and ended about two inches below my happy place. The "blouse"-and it was a blouse in name only-was white with red trim and tied between my br**sts. It was just like a bra with sleeves. I put on white Nikes with red trim, which was the best match I had on my shoe rack. There sure wasn't any pocket in this outfit, so I stuck the cluviel dor in my shoulder bag. While I was preparing for this secret mission, I put my phone on vibrate so it couldn't ring at an awkward moment. I looked in the bathroom mirror. I was as ready as I'd ever be.
I felt ridiculously self-conscious when I came into the living room wearing the abbreviated outfit.
"You look just right," Bill said soberly, and I caught the corner of his mouth twitching. I had to laugh.
"I hope Sam doesn't decide we ought to dress this way at Merlotte's," I said.
"You would have a full house every night," Bill said.
"Not unless I lost some weight." My glance in the mirror had reminded me that my stomach was not exactly concave.
"You look mouthwatering," Bill said, and to make his point his fangs came down. He tactfully closed his mouth.
"Oh, well." I tried to accept this as an impersonal tribute, though I don't think any woman minds knowing she looks good, as long as the admiration isn't expressed in an offensive way and doesn't come from a disgusting source. "We better get going."
The Trifecta, a hotel/casino on the east side of Shreveport, was the closest thing the town had to "glamorous." At night it glowed silver with so many lights I was sure you could see it from the moon. Since the lot was full, we were forced to park outside the fenced employee parking area. But the gate was open and unguarded at the moment, so we simply walked through the lot and right up to the very prosaic beige metal door that was the employee entrance.