Page 95

The bruise now spread across the left side of her face, but there was little swelling. Still, it hurt him to see it.

She roused and opened her eyes, giving a start on seeing his face so close to hers.

“Everything all right?” she mumbled, still half asleep.

“I’m just going out. You okay? That must hurt.”

He reached out but didn’t touch it. Not wanting to add to the pain he knew she must be feeling.

“Well, I now have a much better idea, mon coeur, what you’ve gone through.”

“Me? Oh, no,” he said with a smile. “Anytime a fist comes even close, I drop to the ground and play dead. Let Jean-Guy sort it out.”

“Belly up, feet and hands to the ceiling, like a bug. Yes, I’ve seen that. You also do it when Ruth enters a room.”

“I’ll get you a Tylenol,” he said, smiling, and returned a minute later with a couple of pills and a glass of water. She was sitting up in bed now, and he sat beside her.

They talked about Annie and Jean-Guy’s news. A brother or sister for Honoré. Another grandchild for them. Yet one, neither said but both knew, who would grow up a continent away.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” He did up his tie as he spoke. “I arrested Homer Godin.”

“Yes, I know. You think he killed his daughter?”

“No, but I need to keep him from Tracey. I charged him with assault. For that.”

He pointed to her face.

“But—” she began, bringing her own hand to her face.

“I know. I won’t follow through. I just needed to get him off the streets, so he won’t go after Tracey.”

“So this might’ve been a good thing.” She touched the bruise.

“Non.” He kissed her before getting up. “Jean-Guy’s waiting for me.”

“What will you do without him, Armand?”

He opened his mouth, but there was no answer.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No. It’s good to talk about it. Jean-Guy reminded me it’s less than two weeks away.”

It wasn’t, of course, just losing Beauvoir as a colleague and friend, it was losing Annie and Honoré. And now the new baby. With their son, Daniel, and his wife and two daughters already in Paris, it meant they had no children or grandchildren close by.

But, for Reine-Marie, the dread went deeper. Something she’d never admitted to Armand. For many years she’d felt that as long as Jean-Guy was close by, he’d protect Armand.

They were meant to be together. Had been, in her opinion, for many lifetimes. As colleagues, as father and son. As brothers. As long as they were together, both would be safe.

Once downstairs, Armand flicked on the television to cable news and placed a call.

As Radio Canada interviewed an increasingly agitated Deputy Premier about the terrible flooding, Armand waited for the phone to be answered.

The phone rang, as the politician tried to explain that it could have been worse.

The phone rang, as the journalist tried to explain that it was pretty damn catastrophic for those towns that were underwater.

Both, Gamache knew, were right.