Page 13 of All the Devils Are Here

“Well, the final safety tests are next week. Maybe you’d like to be there for that?”

“I don’t see why. Would you like to go? Is that why you’re here?”

“No, no. That’s okay.”

It was, even by Séverine Arbour standards, an odd and off-putting exchange.

“Is there something you want to say, Séverine, about Luxembourg?”

“No.”

As she left his office, Jean-Guy considered looking at the Luxembourg report. Again. But it was past five. He had to get home and help feed Honoré, let Annie nap before their dinner out.

Luxembourg would wait.

Grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair, he walked next door to Arbour’s office and said, “I’m going home. Have a good weekend.”

She glanced up, then back down to her screen. Without a word.

When she was alone in the office, Arbour looked around. She was about, she knew, to pass what pilots called the point of no return. One more keystroke and she’d be totally committed to this course of action.

Through the window she could see the Tour Eiffel in the distance.

A marvel of French engineering. A monument to innovation and audacity. Something to be proud of.

Then, returning to her laptop, she pressed send.

Gathering her Chanel handbag, she left, pausing only to sign out.

“Bon weekend,” said the guard, after he’d searched her bag.

She smiled, wished him a good weekend, too. Then headed to the métro.

There was no turning back now.

CHAPTER 3

Reine-Marie Gamache slipped her arm through her husband’s as they walked along rue des Archives to the bus stop on rue des Quatre-Fils.

Armand had suggested he flag down a taxi to take them from their apartment in the Marais to the restaurant, but Reine-Marie preferred the bus. It was a route she knew well. One that always confirmed for her that she was in Paris.

“Do you remember the first time we took this bus?” she asked.

He heard her words but was thinking about the first time Reine-Marie had taken his arm. Like this.

It was their third date, and they were walking along the slippery winter sidewalk in Montréal after dinner.

He’d reached out for her, to keep her steady, just as Reine-Marie had reached for him.

To keep him steady.

She’d put her arm through his. So that their fates would be intertwined. If one lost their balance, the other would right them. Or they’d fall together.

“You had on that blue cape your mother loaned you,” he said, remembering that chilly night.

“I had on the polka dot dress I’d borrowed from my sister,” she said, remembering that warm day.

“It was winter,” he said.