Page 81 of A Better Man

Dr. Harris bent over the body. Glancing at Gamache and Beauvoir, she shook her head. Confirming what was painfully obvious.

“I need to see her,” said her father.

Dr. Harris whispered to Gamache. “It isn’t good. She’s been in the water at least two days.”

“We need an identification,” said Beauvoir.

Lysette Cloutier, who’d just arrived, said, “I’ll do it.”

“Me,” said Vivienne’s father. “Me.”

“I’ll take you over,” said Armand quietly. “But you must promise not to touch her. If we’re going to get enough evidence to convict, no one but the investigators must touch Vivienne. Do you understand?”

Homer’s heavy head bobbed up and down.

“Are you ready?” Armand asked.

He nodded again.

They escorted Vivienne’s father to Vivienne’s body.

He stared down at her. With the eyes of a man who’d reached the end of a long tunnel and realized there was no light there.

He gave one curt nod. And mouthed, “That’s Vivienne.” Then, with more effort, he said it out loud. “That’s Vivienne.”

He brought his hand up to his face, covering his mouth, in a grotesque imitation of Reine-Marie’s joy just hours earlier.

Gamache looked down at the body.

Her blue eyes were open, not in fear but in that surprise they often saw in those suddenly, prematurely meeting Death. He wondered if Death had been just as surprised.

Gamache swiftly, expertly took in the condition of her body before meeting Beauvoir’s eyes. And nodding.

“Come away.” He spoke softly to Homer. “We’ll let the officers do their job.”

“No,” said Homer. “I need to stay. With her. Until … Please. I won’t make trouble. I promise.”

He motioned toward a tree stump, and Gamache nodded. “Of course.” Then turned to Cloutier. “Stay with him, please.”

Gamache noticed then a uniformed agent walking down the path toward them.

“What’re you doing here?” Gamache asked. “You’re supposed to be guarding Carl Tracey.”

“I was relieved.”

“By whom?”

“Agent Cameron.”

“He’s there with Tracey? Alone?”

“Well, there’re others. The owners of the bistro—”

“Come with me.”

Through the windows of the bistro, Gamache could see Bob Cameron. He was standing within feet of Carl Tracey, who was crammed into a corner. His chair overturned at his feet.

Cameron held something in his right hand. Something black.