Sliding the Glock, encased in a plastic bag, across the table in the interview room, Rivers asked James, “Is this your gun?” He and Mendoza were seated on one side, Cahill on the other, a manila folder unopened between them. Every second of the conversation was being recorded by cameras and microphones. Rebecca Travers had angled to be in the room as well, but Rivers hadn’t allowed it, of course. Protocol. Also, he wanted to interview Cahill alone to study the man’s expressions, to observe the slightest of his reactions.

Currently, Rebecca was in the waiting area with a deputy.

Rivers wanted to talk to her, too, but first things first. Right now, James Cahill was up to bat.

A tic had developed near Cahill’s right eye as he eyed the weapon. “Can I pick it up?”

Rivers nodded. “Just leave it in the bag.” The pistol had been tested for prints already and had been fired into a water tank to see if the bullet fired in the lab had matching striations to the one that would be extracted from Willow Valente’s skull. Just to be certain the gun wasn’t a plant.

Cahill studied the pistol. “Yeah. I think so. I mean, it looks like mine. And mine’s registered, so you should already have that figured out. I gave you all that information when I told you it had been stolen.”

Mendoza nodded. “We checked the registration.”

“Then why are you asking me?” he asked.

“Confirmation.” Mendoza’s gaze held his.

“Where did you find it?”

“Next to Willow Valente’s head. In the bed with her.”

“Jesus. Are you fuc—kidding me?” Cahill couldn’t take his gaze off of the gun. “What was it doing there?”

Rivers leaned back in his chair. “I was hoping you could tell us,” he said as Cahill slowly shook his head from side to side.

“I have no idea. The last time I saw it—I told you—the Glock was in the dining room, which is really my office, in a drawer on the sideboard. That’s where I keep it, and it’s never loaded. You know this already. I filed a damned report. It wasn’t in the house when you guys searched it. Obviously, it was stolen. By the killer or his accomplice! For God’s sake, I had nothing to do with it!”

“And you put the gun in the drawer in your dining room when?” Mendoza asked.