Page 168 of A Better Man

“Okay, I get it. You know what you’re doing. But you can’t keep him there, even with his consent, forever. He’ll want to leave eventually. And I doubt time will blunt his desire to kill the man who killed his daughter.”

“I doubt it, too,” said Gamache. He took a deep breath, then sighed. “I’d hate to have to arrest him for that.”

“And I’d hate to have to prosecute him,” said Zalmanowitz.

“What would he get?” asked Beauvoir. “Out of interest’s sake.”

The prosecutor thought about that. “He’d be charged with murder. His defense would probably say that he was not criminally responsible. Diminished capacity, brought on by extreme grief. If they’re smart, his lawyers will try the case in front of a jury. He’d be convicted, probably of manslaughter, but wouldn’t serve much time. A year, probably less. Maybe time served.”

“That’s not so bad,” said Beauvoir.

Gamache was staring at him. He wasn’t considering taking the protection away from Tracey? Leaving the path clear for Godin to kill the man.

Surely Jean-Guy’s last act as head of homicide would not be as an accessory to a homicide.

They’d have to talk.

Chief Inspector Beauvoir looked at Lacoste, then over to Gamache. And finally back to the prosecutor.

“We don’t have enough evidence, untainted by the poisonous tree or the social-media fiasco, to convict Tracey. Do we.”

“No,” said Zalmanowitz. “Not even close. Unless you can find something else, we’re screwed.”

“And Carl Tracey gets away with murder,” said Lacoste.

Beauvoir got up, and the others rose. “Merci. I’m sorry about this.”

“So’m I. I’ll put in the appeals. Even Judge Pelletier asked me to. She feels awful about it. I think she’s more than half hoping she’ll be overturned.”

He walked them to the door and shook their hands. When it came to Gamache, he leaned in and whispered, “I’m sorry about the videos. Shitty day. I don’t know if dumbass has done you a favor or not. Releasing the real video.”

“I know the answer to that,” said Gamache.

Zalmanowitz nodded. “There is one more thing, Armand.”

“Oui?”

“Did you steal Tracey’s dog?”

Now both Beauvoir and Lacoste turned and stared, first at the prosecutor, then at Gamache.

“I took Fred, yes. But I paid Tracey for him.”

“Apparently not enough. He wants the dog back. He’s filed a complaint.”

“You stole the dog?” Beauvoir asked. “I thought he came with Homer.”

“No. He was Vivienne’s dog. Tracey was going to shoot him, so I took him. And I’m not giving him back.”

On this day of blurred boundaries, one clear line had to be drawn, and it seemed to have been drawn at the dog. They couldn’t save Vivienne, they might not even be able to save Homer. But they could save Fred.

Barry Zalmanowitz stared at Gamache, then nodded. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”

“Merci.”

Now the prosecutor watched as the three of them, Gamache flanked by the two younger officers, walked down the corridor.

And he remembered the images on the real video. Gamache, amid ferocious gunfire, dragging a critically wounded Beauvoir to safety. Stanching the wound. Then having to leave him there and head back into the battle.