Carl nodded solemnly in response to her question, indicating the pistol had been retrieved at the crime scene. He didn't want to hear his voice at the moment. She looked so broken up, and rightfully so.  Of course she hadn't seen it before.  He walked back across the office, and sat down behind the desk. He pulled the center drawer open an inch or so, enough to unlock the bottom right drawer. All six side drawers were, in essence, locked when the center drawer was closed.  He dropped the pistol into the bottom drawer and closed it. Then he took his keys from his pocket.  As he locked the center drawer, he found his voice again.<br/>"We won't mention this to the police." he said, matter-of-factly.<br/><br/>He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes a moment. A good hot cup of coffee was needed. The silence seemed eerie as the morning was shadowed by such gruesome events.  He could imagine, to a degree, the state Jessica was in. She probably felt detached, like she was outside her own body watching everything in slow motion. While he couldn't imagine her pain, he was familiar with the fear and uncertainty.<br/><br/>As he sat quietly, he was trying to put what few facts he had into perspective. He knew there were many more pieces to the puzzle, but he was already trying to make the ones he had fit together.  An eternity later, he stood back up and paced the length of the office a time or two. Then he poked fingers between the blinds, spreading them apart enough to look down at the street. While he stared down at the street, watching for a police car, he remembered the husband. "Would you like to try your husband again? while we wait?"