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Gamache spoke clearly. And slowly. Choosing his words carefully and swallowing the ones that were screaming to get out. Though his outrage was evident. In his extreme stillness. And in each tightly. Controlled. Word.

“Threats of violence will not be tolerated. You’re an officer in the Sûreté du Québec, not a thug. You set the tone, the atmosphere. You act as a role model, either consciously or unconsciously.”

“My concern was for a vulnerable woman, a pregnant woman and her unborn child. Not for the entire population of Québec.”

“The two are the same. No citizen is safe in a state where police feel free to beat those they don’t like. Who take the law into their own hands.”

“And you didn’t?” asked Cameron.

“Agent Cameron!” snapped Commander Flaubert.

It was too late. The words were out, the line had been crossed.

Cloutier’s mouth dropped open, but she said nothing. Just stared at the two men, staring at each other.

“I did,” said Gamache. “And paid the price. Knew I would. Knew I should. You seem to think you’re perfectly within your rights to threaten assault. To maybe even do it. Without censure.”

Cameron couldn’t deny that.

“At what stage did you think a threat of violence was appropriate?”

“At the stage, sir, when I realized the law could not protect Vivienne Godin.”

“So you would? By piling violence on violence?”

“If you’d seen her—”

“I’ve seen worse.”

The truth of that, the horror of that, pressed up against them in the tiny room.

“I’m not saying what was happening to Vivienne Godin was all right,” Gamache went on. More gently. “Of course it wasn’t. Of course it’s tempting to do something, anything, to stop it. It’s horrific when, as people sworn to protect, we cannot. When someone we know to be guilty is beyond our reach. When they can keep doing it and we can’t stop it. But it’s even worse if the cops become criminals, too. Do you understand?”

“Yessir.”

“Do you really?” asked Gamache.

There was a pause as Agent Cameron considered, then finally nodded.

“There’s one other thing,” said Gamache, his voice now back to normal. “Did you consider what a threat like that would do to a man like Carl Tracey? Did you really think it would stop him from abusing his wife? Or would it, could it, enrage him even more? And who would he take it out on? You—or her?”

There was silence as Cameron considered a question he hadn’t thought of before.

“Consequences,” said Gamache. “We must always consider the consequences of our actions. Or inaction. It won’t necessarily change what we do, but we need to be aware of the effect. That’s the contract we have with the people of Québec. That those who have an ID card and a gun also have self-control.”

“Yessir.”

“Bon.”

He at least now understood why Cameron hadn’t gone to the farmhouse himself yesterday.

Gamache sat down again. “Go on, Agent Cloutier.”

The room, still tingling, settled back to near normal.

“Do you know if Vivienne has any friends we can contact?” Cloutier asked. “Anyone she might be with?”

Cameron shook his head. “Tracey didn’t provide any names, and no one’s come forward or shown concern.”