“I like the scent of you when you’re afraid, Adler.”
“I know you do.” I couldn’t keep the anger out of my voice as I said, “Moriarty.”
He took another step forward, and this time I made myself step forward to meet him. We stood so close that it was almost more awkward not to touch. I glared up at him, putting all my rage and defiance into my eyes. I would not cower for him.
He bent over me, not like he was moving in for a kiss, but so he could smell my hair. His voice was a low rumbling whisper against my hair. “I am torn with you, Anita, my Irene. You would make a magnificent hunt to end as all my hunts have ended. To take all that rage and power away from you is exciting, but I can have you like that only once, and I do not think I want you only once. You are the first woman that has ever made me think I would want her more than once.”
I think I held my breath. I had no idea what to say to him in that moment, and we were standing too close for me to just pull a gun and shoot him. He’d been fast for a human before, but now he was a werelion, one that was trained in hand-to-hand combat and who outweighed, outreached, out-everythinged me.
My hand found the doorknob behind me. I could still hear the voices inside, so close, but they might as well have been on the moon at that moment.
I found my voice, and it was breathy and shaking. I hated that, too. “And you wonder why I wanted to call you Moriarty.”
“Not anymore,” he whispered, and laid his lips against my hair again.
I turned the doorknob, and he had to move back or risk us both stumbling through the door. I did half-fall through, my hand on the door handle the only thing that saved me from tripping to the floor. Olaf came through the door gracefully like the big predatory cat he was. Oh, hell, he’d always moved like that. I could bitch about a lot of things, but the man knew how to move.
24
“SO, THOUGH THE shapeshifter listed on the warrant by name is in a cell in the next room, he is still alive,” Olaf said from the chair that he’d folded all that height into. He had a cup of coffee in his hands, but he seemed to be holding it more than drinking from it. He hadn’t drunk coffee or tea when we first met, so maybe he was just doing it to be social, the same way he’d decided not to kill me so we could date.
I was drinking mine with my back leaned against the wall near the open door to the cell area. I’d been offered one of the chairs but chose to stand in case I needed to draw a weapon or move quickly. Olaf might try flirting again, and I wanted to be prepared. We didn’t have enough people to guard the prisoners and explain everything to Olaf and argue about what our next move was, so Duke had told Deputy Wagner to yell if Bobby woke up. If Bobby had been plain-vanilla human, I’d have been worried that I’d done more than just knock him out, but since his brain and heart were still in his body, I knew that whatever I’d done to him would heal eventually.
“Yeah,” I said, and took another sip of coffee. It was good coffee, strong but not too strong—right on that edge of wake-me-up bitter and too acrid to sip and enjoy. Bad coffee you drank because it was coffee; this was good enough to drink slowly and savor each mouthful. It was helping settle my nerves as well as yummy and warm. I didn’t like Leduc, but he made a nice pot of coffee.
“Why?” Olaf said.
“Why what?” Newman asked.
“Why is he still alive?”
“That’s what I’ve been asking. Maybe you can talk sense into Win and Blake here or take the warrant over yourself,” Leduc said from his swivel chair behind his big desk.
“Win is Marshal Newman?” Olaf said.
“Short for Winston,” I said.
Newman sighed heavily from where he was perched half sitting, half leaning on the far corner of Leduc’s desk. “But everyone calls me Win.” He gave me a pseudo-hard stare as if giving me grief for sharing the name he disliked, but his heart wasn’t in it. We’d joke for real later when we’d saved a life and figured out who the real murderer was.
“I will call you Newman.”
“That works for me, Jeffries.”
Olaf took a sip of coffee and turned back to Leduc. “I cannot take Newman’s warrant from him, Sheriff Leduc. He has to sign it over to me, or he has to be so badly injured that he cannot complete it.”
“What happens if a marshal that’s serving a warrant dies before it’s complete?” Kaitlin asked from the chair behind the deputy desk.
“That would fall under too injured to complete,” I said, sipping my coffee. I was debating whether I should drink slowly and make it last, or quickly and grab another cup before someone else emptied the pot.
“Oh, of course,” she said, and she looked embarrassed. She’d refused coffee and taken water. The glass of clear liquid sat on the desk in front of her, looking sad and incomplete, as if it had been cheated of its destiny to be made into coffee. Or maybe I was just fixating on coffee so I wouldn’t think too hard about Olaf being here without Edward to act as a buffer, or any of the men I was actually a couple with to help keep the big guy at arm’s length.
Livingston spoke from the other comfortable client chair, which he’d moved so that he sat by Duke’s big desk. His coffee was on a coaster at the edge of the desk. “It’s not about which marshal has the warrant now, Duke. The footprints at the crime scene don’t match the prisoner.”
Duke said, “And how do you feel about testifying in court about the innocent shapeshifter, little lady?”
For a second, I thought he was talking to me, but then Kaitlin answered, “Duke, I’ve told you before not to call me little lady.” I liked that she corrected him.
He rolled his eyes and sighed like she was being silly, but replied, “Fine. Have it your way, Kaitlin. Just answer the question.”
“I could testify that the prints don’t match Bobby Marchand’s. They’re close in size, but the shape of the foot itself isn’t even close. I could absolutely testify to that, but that doesn’t make him innocent or guilty of the crime. I don’t know for certain it’s the victim’s blood that was tracked from the crime scene to the bedroom. We assume it is, but for court, we’d need to be certain.”
“Since there were no other bodies or large pools of blood found at the scene, it’s a safe assumption that the bloody footprints were made from Ray Marchand’s blood,” Livingston said.
“We can assume that here and now. I’ll be happy to talk to the judge that issued Newman’s warrant to try to buy us more time to figure out if Bobby Marchand deserves to die for this crime, but you know that if we do find other viable suspects and have a trial, we assume nothing. You taught me that.” Kaitlin smiled at Livingston and took a sip from her sad glass of water.
“If we find another shapeshifter is guilty of the crime, there will still be no trial,” Olaf said.
“Only one name is on the warrant,” Kaitlin said. “If he didn’t do it, then you need a new warrant with a new name on it.”
I shook my head. “The warrant is worded to cover any supernaturals involved in the crime and any accessories to the crime, regardless of straight-up human or not.”
“But if Bobby Marchand is innocent, then he doesn’t have any accomplices, because he didn’t commit the crime,” Kaitlin said.
“True, as far as it goes,” I said. I’d finished my coffee, and no one else was headed for the pot. Would it be rude to take the last cup, and did I care?
Newman explained, “What Blake means is the warrant will still cover anyone involved in the crime, even if the person named isn’t involved.”
“I don’t understand,” Kaitlin said.
“The new time-limited warrants are in place because some of our newer brethren have refused their kills,” Olaf said, “but the warrants remain what they have always been: legal documents to cover any violence we do in the course of our jobs.”
“We understand that,” Livingston said.
�
�You would think that if we prove Bobby is innocent, the warrant is void,” Newman said, “and I will act as if that’s the case, but Blake and Jeffries are right. It’s a choice I would make not to execute the warrant to the absolute limit of its legality.”
“What does that even mean?” Leduc asked.
“It means that Newman will void the warrant if we find out that Bobby was framed. Even if we know who the killer is, he will not execute them,” I said.
“Why would you refuse to execute the shapeshifter guilty of this crime?” Olaf asked.
“I wouldn’t refuse to execute a shapeshifter that lost control and started killing people,” Newman said.
“Now I do not understand,” Olaf said.
“Newman and I don’t think the murder was done by a shapeshifter. We think humans did it to frame the only shifter in town,” I said.
“Why does that affect Newman’s ability to complete the warrant? The crime remains the same, and the warrant allows him to bring justice to those that committed it.”
“Are you really suggesting that Newman should kill any humans involved in the crime?” Kaitlin asked.
“Why should humans be treated more lightly by the law than shapeshifters?” Olaf asked.
“Because humans don’t have claws and teeth to tear your throat out,” Leduc said, and he sounded outraged.
“They may not grow their own, but if it wasn’t Bobby, then it was humans using something to mimic claws, and they still slit the victim’s throat,” I said.
“When you say humans, who do you have in mind?” Leduc asked.
“The only people that have a motive for the killing and have broken the law in front of me are the aunt and uncle.”
“Are you seriously suggesting that we execute Muriel and Todd Babington if they framed Bobby Marchand for murder?” Livingston asked.
“No, I’m just saying that legally we could.”
“Well, I couldn’t,” Newman said.
“You mean you would not, not that you could not,” Olaf said.
“Yes, that is what I mean. If I have issues killing a wereleopard that happens to be someone I know, then I sure as hell don’t want to kill human beings that could be safely kept in jail for life. We only kill the supernaturals because they have proved too dangerous for prison. Muriel and Todd can rot in jail or be executed after a trial. We don’t have to kill them to keep the prison staff safe.”
“True,” I said.
“I did not say that we had to kill them. I said we could kill them legally,” Olaf said.
“No, just no. We don’t know they’re guilty of anything except being greedy and stupid,” Newman said.
He pushed away from the desk and went to stand so he was looking out the window by the door. I realized the night wasn’t quite as inky black in the window. It wasn’t dawn, or even light, but more as if the darkness was lessening. I thought about it, and I could feel the press of dawn like a promise out there. The air would smell different if we opened the door, as if night and day had different scents the way that dogs and cats smell different. I couldn’t tell any other time without a watch, but I could sense when the sun was close to rising. I think it was all those years of fighting vampires and praying for the light to come and help save us. It was still dark enough that there was nothing for Newman to look at out there, but I don’t think the view was the point. He just didn’t want to look at any of us right that minute.
“No one is killing Muriel and Todd on my watch,” Leduc said.
“Because you know them? Because you have a history with them?” Newman asked without turning away from the window.
“Not just that, but they’re harmless. I don’t believe they hurt Ray.”
“But you don’t know they didn’t,” I said.
“I know them, Blake. They might have been able to kill Ray if they needed money bad enough, but they wouldn’t have been able to cut him up like that. Todd wouldn’t have had the stomach for it, and Muriel wouldn’t have had the strength.”
“Do you have any other suspects besides them and the wereleopard in the cell?” Olaf asked.
Newman turned around so he could look at me. I looked back at him but had nothing helpful to share.
“No,” I said.
“Not yet,” Newman said.
“What if you don’t find anyone else to blame?” Kaitlin asked.
“Let Newman check with the judge about extending the warrant deadline. Then we’ll worry about figuring out whodunit,” Livingston said.
“You cannot be on board with this, Dave,” Duke said.
“Duke, if there’s even a chance the wrong person’s name is on that warrant, we need to figure it out before anyone else gets killed.”
“I didn’t figure you for one of those liberal bleeding hearts that feels sorry for the poor wereanimal,” Duke said.
“You know me better than that, Duke.”
“I thought I did.”
“We need to figure out whose prints those are,” I said.
“Well, they aren’t Jocelyn Marchand’s. That’s for sure. She’s tall, but her feet are dainty compared to the prints,” Newman said.
“Who else was in the house?” I asked.
“According to her and Bobby, no one but them and Ray.” Duke looked at Olaf and added, “Ray Marchand is the victim—was the victim.”
Olaf nodded, as if thanking Duke for clearing up his confusion. Once I’d have thought that he didn’t really care about any part of a case except the killing at the end, but he was actually good at the job and a great person to have on your side in a firefight. Edward put his abilities close to his own, which was damn high praise. If you could keep him from wanting to go all serial killer on you, he was good backup. Of course, the if was pretty serious when it happened.
“Whoever left the footprints was trying to point the finger at Bobby,” Newman said.
“Maybe,” Duke said, which was more than he’d conceded before about Bobby’s innocence. We were making progress.
“All I can say for sure is that the footprints don’t belong to him,” Kaitlin said.
“Is it enough to buy us time on the warrant?” I asked.
We all sort of looked at one another.
“I’ve never tried to get extra time on a warrant except when the suspect fled the area. I know I can get an indefinite timeline for a pursuit across the country. I’m not really sure what will be enough to get an extension for proof of guilt,” Newman said.
“Tell me why you are trying to save the shapeshifter listed on the warrant,” Olaf said.
We explained it in more detail to him until he held up a hand. “If Anita thinks it is not a shapeshifter kill, then I will trust her expertise.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Olaf nodded at me.
“When I looked Blake up, your name was in some of the online articles. I thought you’d be on my side and want to end this fiasco,” Duke said.
“I am not on anyone’s side. I was alerted that there’d been another crime associated with the warrant. I was nearby, and I came to offer aid if it was needed.”
“Thank you,” Newman said.
“Don’t thank me. If Anita hadn’t been listed with the warrant, I would have just gone home.”
“You sweet on Blake or something?” Duke asked.
Olaf gave the sheriff an unfriendly look. “I have never been accused of being sweet on anyone.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Anita and I have hunted together before. We’ve killed together. I was nearby, so I came to see if she needed my help. That is all.”
“What’s your opinion as a marshal, Jeffries? Do you agree with Blake and Newman about the course of action?” Livingston asked.
“I think it is not our jobs to decide guilt or innocence. Our job is to kil
l who the warrant tells us to kill. Unless the hunt is difficult, our jobs are very simple. Newman is complicating it.”
“That’s what I said. Keep it simple. You go in, kill the murdering monster, and get out. Bing, bang, boom,” Duke said.
“Bing, bang, boom?” Newman said, staring at him.
“Yeah.”
“If you think it’s so easy, Duke, then fine. If I can’t get extra time, I’ll let you do the honors,” Newman said. He let his anger ease into his voice just a little.
“What are you talking about, Win?”
“If the judge won’t grant a stay of execution long enough for me to be certain Bobby wasn’t framed, I’ll let you do it. You can look him in the eyes and pull the trigger. I’ll stand right outside the cell so it’ll be legal.”
“It’s your warrant, Win.”
“And if I’m convinced that Bobby is guilty, I’ll act on it. But until then I don’t want to kill him and find out later that he was innocent. Do you?”
“It won’t be legal if I do it. It’ll just be murder,” Duke said. I couldn’t read the expression on his face, but it wasn’t happiness.
“Technically, if the named marshal is present, then it’s all legal,” I said. I looked at Duke as I spoke, watching his reaction.
Duke shook his head. “That can’t be right.” He was a little pale around the gills.
“It’s not what the lawmakers meant when they wrote up the execution-warrant system, but it’s how it’s been interpreted in court over the years,” I said.
“See, in court, which means it’s not legal for me to do it.”
Newman, Olaf, and I all shook our heads. “It’s got court precedents so long and so accepted that it won’t be a problem,” I said.
Duke looked at all of us. Whatever he saw on our faces didn’t reassure him. “That doesn’t seem right.”
“See, Duke, you don’t want to shoot someone you know either,” Newman said.
“It’s not my job to do it.”
“It’s my job to kill dangerous supernaturals, not to kill innocent ones that have been framed using the law as a weapon,” Newman said.
Sucker Punch Page 18
