Duke asked, “Did he leave a note about why?”
“He did, typed on the computer in the room. It’s a confession.”
“Confession to what?” I asked.
“You didn’t mention the note before,” Newman said.
“I was getting to it, but Duke wanted the marshals here for it.”
“Newman signed the warrant over to Blake, so it’s her case now, and she doesn’t go much of anywhere without the other two,” Leduc said.
“I thought the execution warrant would be moot by now, but okay,” Livingston said. “The note was on his computer. I’ll hit the highlights. He stole the bagh nakha for the Babingtons. They promised him part of the money from selling the jewels off it. He didn’t know they meant to hurt anyone with it, and he’s sorry about what happened to Ray Marchand.”
“If he’d come forward with the information, it could have saved Bobby’s life,” Newman said.
“Maybe he thought it would implicate him in the murder,” Rico said.
“I can see him stealing something small and not knowing how much it’s worth, but I thought better of Carmichael than to let Bobby be executed if he had knowledge that could save him.” Duke shook his head and looked suddenly older and exhausted again, as if he’d learned one thing too many about human behavior.
“Maybe Muriel threatened to lie and say that it was all Carmichael’s idea,” Rico said.
“You think he’d really let Bobby die rather than risk coming forward?” Duke said.
“I don’t want to believe it, Duke, but it looks like that’s what he did,” Newman said.
Duke took his hat off and wiped a hand over his face like he was trying to use the air to wash it. “It was easier to believe that Bobby lost control of the beast inside him and accidentally killed Ray than to believe this kind of cold-blooded shit.”
“Sometimes it’s easier if they’re real monsters instead of your family and friends,” I said.
Duke looked at me and almost smiled, but then his expression turned sad to match the look in his eyes. “Amen to that. I think we’ve got enough reasonable doubt to get that warrant of yours vacated or changed.”
“I’ve never actually had a warrant where it turned out to be humans only, so I’m not sure how this works. I think I need a judge to vacate it officially before I can walk away.”
“I’ll call him now,” Duke said. He moved away, pushing numbers on his phone. It was nice to have someone on our side who was so intimate with the local judges.
“Is this the end of the case?” Olaf asked.
“If the warrant is vacated by the judge, then yes,” I said.
He took a big breath in and let it out slowly. “If we are not going to hunt together, then I am not sure why I am here.”
“If the warrant is vacated, then we can all go home,” Edward said. He smiled as he spoke.
When we’d first met, he lived for the hunt and the kill. Now he still enjoyed it, but he lived for his family, too. He, like me, had people he missed when he was away from home now. We had lives that we actually enjoyed. Watching Olaf’s reaction reminded me that he had no one. If you kill everyone you’ve been intimate with, there isn’t a lot to build on relationship-wise, I guess.
Duke came back to us with the phone still at his ear. He spoke his side of the conversation out loud for us. “Dill, are you seriously telling me that even though I’m assuring you that we have a murder weapon and suspects with a motive for the murder and for framing Bobby Marchand, that the warrant of execution is still live?”
He listened to the other side of the conversation for a few minutes and then said, “You have to be joking, Dill. You can’t add more to the time limit for the warrant? Dill, I don’t care what the legalese says. You can’t be all right with having one of the marshals execute an innocent man just because there’s not enough time to get a confession!”
He hung up the phone and then made a gesture like he was thinking about throwing it across the yard. “This is the most god-awful, messed-up fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Are you seriously telling us that Bobby is still going to be executed when the time runs out?” Newman asked.
“Dill, Judge Metcalf, has got every law clerk and lawyer he can find researching a way out of the warrant, but it turns out there’s no legal precedent for it, and Dill has never liked to rock the boat.”
Livingston said, “This isn’t rocking the boat. This is legal murder.”
“How do you think I feel?” I asked. “The warrant is in my name now, so if any executing has to happen, I’m the one who’s supposed to do it.”