Sucker Punch (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter 27)

He shook his head without looking.

“You used it to slice Ray Marchand to pieces, and now you can’t even look at it?”

He looked at me then. His eyes were startled, but not as afraid as before. “I told you, I have never touched that thing, never seen it out of its case.”

“Then why was it in your house?” I asked.

“You did not find it in our house.” He sounded very certain.

“But we did,” I said.

“Where?” he asked, indignant again.

“Wher

e what?” Edward asked.

“Where in our house did you find it?”

“In the shed out back,” Edward said.

Todd looked arrogant. “The shed where we store the lawn mower and the gardening equipment? The shed that we don’t even bother locking so that anyone in the neighborhood could walk in and steal it?”

Olaf spoke, surprising all three of us, I think. “Your nephew is going to die in less than a day.”

Todd turned those startled eyes toward Olaf. “But you found the murder weapon. You know that Bobby is innocent now.”

“The judge won’t vacate the warrant unless we can find the real murderer,” I said.

He frowned at me, then at all of us in turn. “But you think that Muriel and I are the murderers. You’ve found the murder weapon. Isn’t that enough to save Bobby?”

“We thought it would be, too, Todd,” Edward said, “but the execution warrants for supernatural crimes . . . well, they aren’t set up to let people live.”

“Are you saying that you’ll still kill Bobby, knowing that he’s innocent?”

“I don’t want to do it,” I said.

“You’d do it?”

“Marshal Newman signed the warrant over to me, so yes.”

“But he’s innocent. You said so.”

“I believe he is, but the judge won’t give us any more time on the warrant. The local police will continue to gather evidence to prove you and Muriel killed Ray Marchand, but by then it’ll be too late to save Bobby.”

“That’s . . . that’s . . . that’s monstrous,” Todd said.

“Ironic choice of words, Todd, since we kill the monsters.”

“But you know he’s innocent.”

“But we can’t prove it in time.” Edward shook his head sadly, looking younger and strangely innocently disappointed.

God, he could act. I’d never be that good, but I did my best to play up the whole female-and-small thing. To save Bobby’s life, I’d bat my big brown eyes at his uncle.

“You can save Bobby, Todd,” I said, and debated whether touching his hand would be too much and finally decided against it. I could kill suspects, but holding hands was frowned on.

“How?” he asked.