Page 91 of A Better Man

“Merci.”

“I think you feel the same way,” said Gamache. “About Vivienne and Annie.”

“Not really.”

Gamache stared at his son-in-law, frankly and openly amazed. “I beg your pardon?”

“This is a terrible case, absolutely. But I haven’t personalized it.”

There was silence as Gamache watched him. And then spoke.

“You almost killed yourself trying to get to her body,” he pointed out. “I’ve seen you desperate to stop a murderer, but I’ve never seen you take it so personally.”

“I’m not.” Then he relented. “Okay, maybe a little. It’s hard not to. But I have my feelings well under control. Don’t worry.”

Isabelle Lacoste looked from one to the other. Both, she knew, were personalizing this. Far more than she’d ever seen. Far more than was healthy.

If they weren’t worried, she was.

“Bon,” said Gamache. “I’m happy to hand over the case. May I act as your second-in-command, patron?”

“For the first time?”

“And, with luck, the last.”

Beauvoir gave a small laugh and put out his hand. “Welcome aboard. I’ll try to go easy on you, son. Just don’t screw up.”

“You inspire me already, Chief Inspector.”

“Now, isn’t it your nap time?”

“You might want to consider grabbing some sleep yourself,” said Gamache. “Long day behind us and long day ahead.”

“Work still to be done. I need to set up an incident room.”

“I’m sure your second-in-command can do that.”

“You’re my second-in-command.”

Gamache gave a short grunt of laughter and clapped Beauvoir on the arm. “Well, good luck.”

But as he walked away, Armand’s smile faded. Replaced by a slight frown.

He called his RCMP colleague as soon as he got back home.

It rang. And rang. Finally clicking over to voice mail.

Gamache looked at his watch. The sun had been up for slightly over an hour.

The floodgates at the mighty dams had been open for slightly under an hour.

What was happening up there?

He left a message, then went upstairs, suspecting he wouldn’t be able to sleep. But the moment his head hit the cool, fresh pillow, he was out.

Reine-Marie, also exhausted, had joined him, and in their sleep they moved to the middle until their warm bodies touched.

Beauvoir and Lacoste walked past the thick wall of sandbags, pausing to consider them.