Page 94 of A Better Man

“Why not?”

“Where’re the sweaters? The heavy shirts? The socks?”

“There’re shirts and jeans.”

“Summer weight. It’s freezing out. Why take those?”

“Maybe she planned to go south. Florida.”

“Maybe,” said Lacoste.

“Or…?”

“Or maybe she packed in a hurry. Just grabbing things. Or—”

“Maybe she didn’t pack the bag,” said Beauvoir. “Maybe he did.”

Lacoste nodded. “To make it look like she’d gone away. No woman in her right mind would take those clothes in early April.”

“The problem we’re going to have,” he said, “is proving that Tracey packed the bag. Even if we find his DNA and fingerprints on the items, his defense would argue they were there because they lived together.”

“Oui,” said Lacoste. “But if his prints are on that”—she pointed to the pill bottle—“we might have something. I think he tossed it in not knowing what it was.”

“Not exactly a smoking gun,” said Beauvoir, but he could feel hope rising, if not faith and charity. This might be the first nail.

Lysette Cloutier sat in the Sûreté detachment. She’d chosen a desk with direct line of sight into the cells. Where she could watch Homer.

The sandwiches and coffee she’d taken in were untouched.

Lysette had stayed with him for a while, but he seemed lost in his own world. Oblivious to her presence. Even, she felt, a little annoyed by it.

He clearly wanted just to be left alone.

If she couldn’t comfort him, there was one thing she could do.

Glancing around, making sure she wasn’t being watched, she went online. Found Carl Tracey’s Instagram feed. And typed.

Reviewing it, going over each word. Changing one, adjusting another. Until it was just right.

Then she hit send and tapped the pen on the desk, waiting for a reply.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

@NouveauGalerie: Hello @CarlTracey Love your ceramic pieces. Am a gallery owner looking for exciting new talent. Can we meet?

The phone woke Armand with a start. He was instantly alert and grabbed it before it could wake up Reine-Marie.

“Oui, allô?”

“Sorry to disturb you,” said Beauvoir.

“Not at all,” said Armand, rubbing his hand across his face and feeling the stubble. “You have news?”

“The search warrant has come through.”

“Excellent. I’ll meet you at the car in…” He checked the bedside clock. It was 9:40 in the morning. He’d been asleep for just over an hour, but felt refreshed. “Twenty minutes.”

Armand quickly and quietly showered and shaved, not wanting to wake up Reine-Marie, though he did check and make sure she was okay.