A/N: I did quite bit of research on this, as well as using imagination. So somethings are perfectly accurate and possible, others are just fiction because it works with the story, hopefully you'll work with me on this one.
Haven't decided on whether this is a romance or not yet, and it will probably be open either way. Hope you enjoy!
Sometimes, when you wake up in the morning, you have that nagging feeling it's going to be a bad day. That feeling was how Tim felt when he got up. He knew he was right the moment he walked into the office, finding Detective Yorn and a couple of his officers talking to Art, who looked very pale. Raylan and Rachel sat stiffly at their desks and he was getting some very shifty looks from the other Marshals.
"Who died?" He asked Rachel lightly, as he picked up the spare coffee on her desk.
She wasn't amused, "A witness under protection, in South Lexington. Patrick and Aston were on duty, they're still pretty shook up."
Tim frowned, "Why's Yorn here? It's our case, isn't it?" He glanced over to Art's office, where everyone was now staring at him, Art motioned for him to join them.
"Deputy Marshal Tim Gutterson?" Asked Yorn, out of formality, they knew each other in passing.
"Yeah. What's up?" He asked, leaning against the now closed door to Art's office.
"Florence Hecker, a witness under your department's protection, was shot dead last night," Replied Yorn, he pulled a picture out of a folder and handed it to Tim. It's showed the victim sprawled in a pool of her own blood, which came from a large bullet wound to the side of her neck.
"Messy," Muttered Tim, "Looks like the first shot missed, too," He pointed to the second bullet impact on the wall behind the dead witness. He glanced up at Art who seemed to be mentally telling him to shut up, Tim raised an eyebrow at him and continued, "You're thinking a sniper?"
Yorn nodded, "Using a Remington 700PSS, as far as we can make out."
Tim glanced at the photo again, "Yeah, that works with the wound and impact on the wall, I'd say .30 cal, probably 800 meters guy is pretty lousy shot."
"You have one?" Asked Yorn, Tim found the question a little strange but answered nonetheless.
"Yeah, it's in my locker, why?"
"We're going to need to take a look," Replied Yorn, Tim just gaped, Art looked furious.
"These implications are preposterous! You have no right to barge in here and-" Started Art, Yorn interrupted him.
"This is a standard procedure, Chief Mullen, please there's no need to get wound up. We'll check the weapon then be on our way. Now, the locker room please?"
Tim handed the key over to one of the officers who opened up the locker and started the poking around. A few minutes later he stepped back.
"There's no riffle."
"What?" Tim almost shoved him out of the way, having a look for himself but soon came to the same conclusion.
"Tim, are you sure you put it here?" Asked Art, hoping he'd simply misplaced it and forgotten about it. He knew it was highly unlikely though, not losing track of your weapons had to be pretty high up the list in any kind of military training. Tim nodded, Art didn't miss the slight look of panic flashing over his face before it when back to neutral.
"Well this makes things a little more complicated," Started Yorn, "I'm afraid we'll have to take you in for questioning."
"Oh for Christ's sake, you can't be serious! You really think Tim killed a witness?" Snapped Art, stepping between Tim and the officers.
"I hope not, but we have an investigation to conduct based on evidence." Replied Yorn, giving Tim an almost apologetic look.
"The first shot missed and the second was a close call, messy shot to the neck. I don't miss." Said Tim, glaring at the three officers.
"We know, but here you are without your weapon which coincides with the murder weapon. You're a great shot, how hard could it be for you to fake a missed shot?" Yorn sighed, "Please remove your sidearm, as a courtesy we won't cuff you if you promise to walk out with us without a fuss."
Art opened his mouth, but was quieted when Tim put a hand on his shoulder, "I know I didn't do it. You know I didn't do it. They'll work it out soon enough," He gave a sad smile and handed Art his gun.
As soon as Tim was out the door, Art called everyone to attention, "I'm going to need a list of all non-Marshal personnel who entered this building in the last three days, you two," He pointed at the two Marshals in front of him, "Go through every single locker, if you find a Remington 700PSS you tell me." He then stormed into his office and closed the blinds.
Raylan and Rachel exchanged a look, and Raylan followed Art, not even bothering to knock as he walked in, shutting the door behind him.
Art was pouring himself a whiskey, he got a second glass out when he saw Raylan had walked in.
"They have no motive and no murder weapon. What the hell do they think they're playin' at?" Ranted Art, Raylan took a seat opposite him and sipped at his drink.
"There was a 60k hit on Hecker," Raylan said quietly, Art gave him a look then added quickly, "Not that Tim's stupid enough to use his own registered weapon then pretend to have misplaced it."
"Unfortunately someone's IQ isn't a suitable defense," Sighed Art and downed his glass in one, "I better go downtown to see him, he strikes me as the type who wouldn't call a lawyer when he's innocent."
"Rookie mistake," Laughed Raylan, "I'll look into some other leads."
"Call me if you find anything, and don't steal my whiskey!" Cautioned Art as he walked out the door.
Art walked into the LPD and was directed to the holding cells. He almost felt like crying when he saw one of his favorite Marshals had been tossed into a cell with all the other common criminals. He noticed the big bald guy, on the opposite side of the cell from Tim had a fresh shiner coming through. Well at least he didn't have to worry too much about the kid's physical well-being.
Tim got up and walked over to Art so they could have a quiet conversation through the bars, being careful to keep his hands behind his back when he received a dirty look from the watching officer.
"It's a little early in the day isn't it?" Drawled Tim, Art realized he must of smelled the bourbon on him. He shrugged.
"When I die of liver failure, you and Raylan will be the ones to blame. Jesus Christ, how come you're in here? They told me you had a hearing, they already made a case, what the hell did you say? Have you got bail?"
"Surprisingly enough, I have." Replied Tim, choosing to answer the last question only, "Turns out not having any previous felonies and a history of military service comes in handy with some judges. Plus their case isn't too solid. Too bad I can't afford it." He eyed the cell and the other suspects in disgust.
"Well, if we all pool together we might be able to-"
"It's set at 80,000, boss."
"Well, shi-it!"
Tim cracked a smile, it was somehow comforting to hear one of Art's catchphrases.
"We're gonna get you out of here, even if we have to steal some cash from evidence-" Tim assumed that was a joke, but before he could make sure another officer entered and yelled his name out.
"You just got bailed out," the Officer walked up to the cell, unlocked the door and let Tim out. The officer behind the desk pulled out a box and returned all the personal belongings that were taken away from him previously.
"You got any rich friends?" Asked Art, as they walked out, Tim spotted a familiar figure leaning on Art's car as she smoked her cigarette. She noticed them too, and waved.
"You posted my bail?" Asked Tim, once they were within talking distance, she rolled her eyes.
"Hi Tim, I'm fine thanks, and you?"
"Er; yeah, hi," He replied awkwardly, she laughed and they hugged, "Just what are you doing here?" He asked, taking a step back. She was dressed casually, jeans and jacket, so not here on business.
"I heard what was going on down here, so I took a couple of days off and flew over." She answered, Art looked between the two of them before interjecting:
"Excuse me, Tim, who is this?"
The woman stepped forward, holding her hand out, "Erica Andrews, CIA off-duty," He shook her hand and opened his mouth but she beat him to it, "Art Mullen, Chief, I know. We're keen on having our info." She smiled.
"Yeah, that's about the only thing they're good for. Take away the fancy electronics and they're just smart ass liars in suits," Snarked Tim, Art was surprised but noticed Erica smiling back.
"Take away a Ranger's riffle and you have a monkey in tactical gear," She shot back.
"So you're saying you evolved from Rangers?" She raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged, "I'm out of practice, give me a few days," He then turned to Art, who suggested they all get in the car.
"We worked together in Afghanistan when CIA and Military were cooperating. Inter-agency never works so well so everyone would continuously make digs at each other to ease the tension. We even kept a score board until it got blown up." Explained Tim, happy to keep his mind away from reality for a bit.
Erica didn't seem so happy about it, "The feds should have been down here by now, but I told them there was something shiny in Texas. Lucky too, you would have got Rousseau, he gets off on 'dirty cops' and wouldn't even have looked the other way. Williamson's on his way, but it'll take him a few days to get here, plus he's manageable."
"You can do that? Just distract the Feds? Shit, you need to come home for dinner, meet the wife and consider yourself part of the family," Said Art, she laughed.
"We going back to the office?" Asked Tim, sounding hopeful. Art shook his head.
"Can't have you anywhere near there, they'll take us all down if they think we're covering for you." Art looked in the mirror at Erica, typing something on her phone in the backseat then back to Tim, "Any idea who might frame you? Why anyone would frame you?"
Tim just shrugged, Erica called out from the back "Working on it."
Art dropped the both of them off at Tim's apartment, promising to drop by again later with alcohol if not helpful evidence. Once they were inside , they exchanged a look before going over the the whole place for hidden microphones or cameras whilst chatting of menial things.
Once they decided the place was clean, she turned to Tim, "I don't see this. I mean there's no reason to frame you. None at all, you don't have any particular enemies, nor would your disgrace help anyone in anyway."
"You think I did this?" Asked Tim, this time some hurt was heard in his voice.
Erica gave him a signature 'don't be stupid look', "No. I think there's a bigger picture here. We just need to work out what that is." She paused, studying his face for a moment, "You know, for someone who may well end up in jail, you seem awfully calm."
"Well I figure, should it happen, ain't gonna be in there long, just until you lot get your act together and prove 'em wrong. I sure as hell won't be anyone's bitch, it'll be like Afghanistan without weapons, sand or Taliban."
"Or me," She added, he rolled his eyes.
"You'll visit."
I already have parts of the next chapter written, so please let me know if you are interested! Also this works a lot better if you read it with a Kentucky accent in your head!