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She was flushed, and her eyes were moist. And when she met Armand’s, his, too, began to burn. She brought her hands to her mouth, and he embraced her.

“I just spoke to Annie. A baby,” she whispered, words meant only for Armand.

Homer did not need to know that they were living his dream, while he lived their nightmare.

Excusing himself now, Armand went into his study and, picking up his phone, tapped in a familiar number.

“I’m sorry,” he heard the polite young receptionist say, “but Chief Superintendent Toussaint can’t take your call right now.”

“Tell her it’s Armand Gamache.”

There was a pause. “She knows.”

Now it was his turn to pause. “Merci.”

Then he called the senior RCMP commissioner who’d been in the meeting the day before.

“Armand, what is it?” He sounded weary.

“I wanted an update on the flooding.”

“Did you call Toussaint?”

“I tried.”

Again there was a pause. Gamache could feel the embarrassment down the line.

“It’s a hectic time,” the officer said.

“Oui. Can you tell me what’s happening?”

“The dynamiting on the St. Lawrence worked, but it looks like a temporary reprieve. The thaw’s moving north.”

“The dams?”

“Holding. Barely. The pressure’s building. And they still can’t decide whether or not to open the floodgates.”

“Go on.” Gamache, who knew the man well, could hear the hesitation.

“I’ve consulted with the armed forces engineer and Hydro-Québec. We’re not waiting for approval. Hydro’s going to open the gates.”

Gamache took a deep breath. “You know that what you’re doing could be considered insubordination.”

“You think? Well, you’re the expert, I guess,” the Mountie said with a laugh. He sounded drained. “Once the floodgates are open, we’ll pull the machinery from all but the most vulnerable dams and move it south. The corps of engineers will then begin digging trenches along rivers that’re threatening communities. More insubordination. I don’t think they’re going to let us play together anymore, Armand. You’re a bad influence.”

Gamache gave a small sound of amusement. It was all he could muster.

“Armand?”

“Oui?”

“Be careful of Toussaint.”

“She’s doing well,” Gamache said. “These are difficult decisions. She’ll grow into the job.”

“But what job? She has political aspirations.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”