*
An accident just off the bridge had backed up the traffic. A little fender-bender had caused a massive tie-up.
But Gamache cleared it, and watched as Danny, his sister and parents peeled off the highway, toward Brossard. Safe.
But other Dannys were just approaching the bridge. Other parents and grandparents and happy holiday children. He hoped Isabelle Lacoste would arrive soon.
Chief Inspector Gamache pressed down on the gas. He was an hour away from Three Pines, even on dry pavement. He went as fast as he dared. And then some.
*
Francoeur and Tessier searched the B and B. There was evidence of only one guest, and that was Chief Inspector Gamache. They found toiletries in his bathroom. The walls of the shower and the soap were still damp and clothes were hung in the closet and folded in the drawer. The room smelled slightly of sandalwood.
Francoeur looked out the window to the village green and the road that circled it. A few cars were parked, but not Chief Inspector Gamache’s Volvo. But they knew that already. He’d been tracked to the penitentiary, then the Villeneuve home in Montréal. And then came word he’d emailed a large file to Inspector Lacoste, from the home next to Villeneuve.
Agents were on their way, to Lacoste’s home, and to Villeneuve and his neighbor. And the search was on to find Gamache. They had his cell phone and the tracking device in his car, and they’d have him any moment now.
Francoeur turned to Beauvoir, who was standing in the middle of the room like a mannequin.
“Was the owner of the bistro lying?” Francoeur asked.
The direct question roused Beauvoir. “He might’ve been. He lies about a lot of things.”
They heard swearing and turned to see Tessier punching his finger at his device.
“It’s a fucking dead zone,” he said, grabbing for the landline.
While Tessier called S?reté headquarters, Francoeur turned to Beauvoir.
“Gamache was here, but where’re the others?”
Beauvoir looked blank. “What others?”
“We’re also looking for Superintendent Brunel and her husband. I think that man in the bistro was lying.” Francoeur’s voice was pleasant, reasonable. “Gamache might have left, but I think they’re still here. We need to convince him to tell us the truth.”
“The squads are closing in,” Tessier whispered to Francoeur as they walked down the stairs toward the front door. “They have Gamache’s signal. They’ll get him in the next few minutes.”
“They know what to do?”
Tessier nodded.
“That last message Gamache sent, in reply to the Granby Zoo,” Francoeur asked, once they were on the porch. “What was it again?”
“See Emilie.”
“Right.” Francoeur looked at Beauvoir and demanded, “Who’s Emilie?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then what did Gamache mean when he told the Brunels to see Emilie?” snapped Francoeur. “Is there an Emilie in this village?”
Beauvoir’s brows drew together. “There was one, but she’s been dead for a few years.”
“Where did she live?”
Beauvoir pointed to the right. There, just across the Old Stage Road, was Emilie Longpré’s home, with its wide front verandah, wood cladding, mullioned windows, and brick chimney.
And the shoveled front path.
Last time Beauvoir had been in Three Pines, Emilie Longpré’s home had been empty. Now it was not.
*
“Christ,” said Jér?me, standing to the side of Myrna’s upstairs window and peering out. “He’s leading them right to Emilie’s place.”
“Who is?” Gabri asked. He was seated by the woodstove with Agent Nichol, while the Brunels looked out the window and reported back.
“Inspector Beauvoir,” said Thérèse. “He’s with Francoeur.”
“Impossible.” Gabri got to his feet and went over to see for himself.
Glancing quickly out the frosted window, Gabri saw large men entering Emilie’s home. Jean-Guy Beauvoir did not. Instead he stood on the snowy steps and looked around the village. Gabri swung away from the window a moment before Beauvoir’s eyes reached him.
“I don’t believe it,” he whispered.
“Inspector Beauvoir’s an addict,” said Thérèse from the other side of the window. “Has been for a while.”
“Since the factory,” said Gabri quietly. “I know. But I’d thought…”
“Yes, we all thought,” said Thérèse. “Hoped. Addiction’s a terrible thing. It’ll steal your health, your friends, family, careers. Judgment. It’ll steal your soul. And when there’s nothing left, it takes your life.”
Gabri dared a quick glance out the window. Beauvoir was still on the porch, staring straight ahead. He looked like he had nothing left to steal.
“He’d never turn on Gamache.”
“Jean-Guy Beauvoir wouldn’t, you’re right,” said Jér?me. “But drugs have no friends, no loyalty. They’ll do anything.”
“Inspector Beauvoir may very well be the most dangerous person out there,” said Superintendent Brunel.
*
“They were here,” said Francoeur, coming out of Emilie’s home. “But they’ve gone. We need to get the truth out of the owner of the bistro.”
“I know where they are.”
Beauvoir stepped off Emilie Longpré’s porch and pointed.