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The second drawer down had a gun in it. I actually reached out to touch it but stopped myself. It hadn’t been in plain sight, and since there had been no shots fired in self-defense, we had no reason to think that Ray Marchand had a gun in his desk. I called Newman over to see it.
“Why didn’t he use the gun?” he asked.
“We already said it: He trusted them and didn’t think they were a threat.”
“A shapeshifter that has lost control looks like a threat,” Newman said.
“Maybe Bobby moved too fast for him to go for the gun?” I asked, playing devil’s advocate.
We both looked at the door, trying to visualize the scene. The leopard could potentially make the leap from the door to the desk. “Were all the drawers closed like this?”
“As far as I remember, yes.”
“Ask around to anyone else that was a first responder. Just ask if they noticed anything moved, disturbed, or open in the desk area besides the stuff on top being on the floor,” I said.
“And if no one remembers the drawer being open?” Newman asked.
“Ray was prepared to defend himself. Even if the leopard hit the door and made the leap to the desk, the drawer should have been open. I’m not saying he’d have had time to draw the gun and aim, let alone shoot. You know how fast shapeshifters move.”
“So, he opens the drawer, and then the leopard is slashing at him. He does have defensive wounds on his arms.”
“The leap could have knocked over the lamp, and the struggle cleared the desk,” I said.
“Are we trying to figure out how Bobby did it, or how someone else did it?” he asked.
“We’re trying to get to the truth,” I said.
He nodded. “Okay. Now what?”
“I’d really like to make sure that gun is loaded and if it’s silver-plated ammo.”
We looked back down at the gun. Could we check the gun for ammo by saying we didn’t want to leave a loaded gun unattended in a house where there’d already been one murder, or was it outside the purview of our legal authority?
The doors opened, and Sheriff Leduc came through like he owned the place. Whatever had been wrong, he’d stuffed it back into its box. He was Duke Leduc again as he said, “Troy found your warrant on the computer, Marshal Newman. Time to take you back to town so you can do your duty.”
“Having the warrant just makes it legal to kill the prisoner. It doesn’t mean I have to do it as soon as I get the paper in my hands,” Newman said.
“Troy says the date on the warrant is the night of the murder. So your original seventy-two hours is down to less than sixty according to the information on the warrant. You have to finish the warrant before the deadline’s up. You’re running out of time to do your duty, Win.”
“Don’t you mean Bobby’s running out of time?” Newman said.
“I’m beginning to think you’re a coward, Win.”
“And I’m beginning to think you’re an asshole,” I said, “but let’s not go calling each other names.” I used my phone to take a picture of the gun. If it was loaded with silver bullets, then it just pointed more guilt at Bobby, because it meant that his uncle had been afraid of him.
“What are you taking a picture of?”
“A gun,” I said.
“Ray always had a loaded gun for protection in his desk.”
“Nice of you to share that,” I said.
“Well, us assholes aren’t big on sharing.”
“I’m sorry I called you a name, but compassion isn’t the same thing as cowardice.”
“No, he’s right, Blake,” Newman said. “I don’t know if I’m brave enough to kill Bobby.”
