Mayotte gingerly examined the revolver with gloved hands. “British issue Webley Mark I, 1887, pocket model, .38 caliber.” She worked the break action, which wouldn’t latch due to damage–it looked like a round had exploded in the chamber, mangling the top of the cylinder and tearing off the rear portion of the upper frame. “I’d say whoever fired it last got a nasty surprise.”

“Why would Aaron have had a gun that old, and that British?” Cynthia asked.

“It’s a Khyber Pass copy,” said Mayotte. “Afghanistan or Pakistan. See this marking here?”

“V. R. 2007,” Cynthia read.

“That’s the cypher for Queen Victoria, who died in 1901. The gunsmiths out there are working out of their backyard, making copies from a master. They don’t know or don’t care what the cypher means, they just slip in the current year. Aaron was in Afghanistan?”

“Yes,” Cynthia said. “The gun came back with his things.”

“Let’s see what it has to say, then.” Mayotte pulled off a glove and pressed her hand to the checkered grip. Immidiately, she was overwhelmed by a flood of memories.