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He saw Agent Cloutier bristle a bit. Perhaps annoyed that it was not she who was comforting Homer.
But that’s why Gamache had asked her to drive Homer down to Three Pines, so that Homer would have the company of someone he knew and trusted. Someone he felt comfortable with. It might even be the bonding experience they both needed.
“I can leave your place whenever I want?” Homer asked. “And go home?”
“Yes, of course,” said Armand. “Lysette will stay with you until I get there.”
That served several purposes. It kept Homer company, kept him there, and kept Reine-Marie safe. Armand doubted Homer would lash out again, but he wasn’t going to take that chance.
“You’re going to arrest him?”
It was the third time Homer had asked and the third time Armand had said yes. And he was happy to say it all day and into the night.
Yes. Yes. Carl Tracey would face a judge and jury for what he did to Vivienne. Carl Tracey would spend the rest of his life in prison.
“And he’ll be convicted. You promise?”
Gamache hesitated for a moment. “There’s one more piece of evidence that will seal it. Someone’s testimony.”
Godin’s eyes widened in surprise. “Someone was there? They saw what happened?”
“No. There’re no actual witnesses. Though there rarely are. A case is built from evidence. And we have plenty. But this last piece would guarantee a conviction.”
“You promise?”
Annie’s father stood up and put out his hand to Vivienne’s father. “I promise.”
Homer took it, then leaned forward very slowly. As did Armand. Until their foreheads touched.
They stayed there for the briefest of moments, eyes closed.
Then Homer pulled back and caught his breath, wiping his face with his sleeve.
“Sorry. Out of Kleenex.”
“Here,” said Lysette, offering a box she’d plucked from a nearby desk.
Homer took it without really noticing who was attached to the offering. “Merci.”
“Ready?” asked Armand.
Homer blew his nose, then stooped to pick up all the balled-up tissues he’d dropped on the floor.
“Leave them,” said Armand.
But the large man would not, could not, leave a mess for someone else to clean up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Jean-Guy Beauvoir sat behind the wheel of the unmarked car.
By tradition, the senior officer rode in the passenger seat. But Beauvoir could not bring himself to do that while Gamache was in the vehicle. Except that once, when he was too exhausted to drive.
Now they sat side by side. As they had for years. Watching the home of a murder suspect. Waiting for word from Lacoste. Waiting to give the word to go.
“What do you mean you’re staying the night?” demanded Clara.
“Sorry, but my flight from Burlington to New York was canceled,” Dominica Oddly said.
