Page 181

“What did he figure out?” Fiona demanded.

“He sent a text to his entire team telling them that I’m Fleming. They’ll have alerted the local Sûreté.”

“Shit,” she said, heading for the door. “They’ll be here any minute.”

“Where’re you going?” demanded Sam.

“To look out for them, where do you think?”

They both looked at Fleming, who nodded to her. “Go. Warn us when you see them.”

This was unexpected. The first wrench in the works. And the meticulous Fleming hated wrenches. He had very little ability, or need, to pivot.

Until now.

Gamache’s body tingled, every nerve jangling. How would Fleming react? Would he slaughter them all now and run, like any sensible lunatic? Or stick to the plan?

“Fuck,” said Sam. “We have to do it now. Then get out.”

“No,” shouted Fleming. “Not yet. Four minutes. But”—he stared at Gamache—“we can make a start. I believe you have those photographs in your pocket. Take them out, Armand.”

When he hesitated, Fleming screamed, “Take them out!”

Armand took a deep breath, then put his hand in his pocket and brought out the pictures. Used in court. The ones that, like Medusa, changed anyone who looked at them forever.

“Put them on the table.”

Armand did.

“Back up. Further.”

Armand did.

Fleming nodded to Sam. “Give them each one.”

Reine-Marie took it but didn’t look. Instead, she kept her eyes on her husband. She saw in him a profound sadness, and apology.

“Look at it!” Fleming screamed, tightening his grip until she could barely breathe.

“Fleming,” shouted Armand.

“Stay where you are. Look at the photograph. Look at what’s about to happen to you.”

And Reine-Marie did. And Jean-Guy did.

Armand watched their faces pale. Watched fear turn to terror turn to horror. Watched as the size of the monster in the room with them became clear.

Agent Choquet and Harriet stopped, gasping for breath, at the top of the hill that overlooked Three Pines. A message had come through.

“Gamache’s phone is in the Old Train Station,” said Amelia.

Harriet took off. Maybe this, she thought, was why she’d spent her adult life running. She’d thought it was to get away, but maybe she’d been in training to run toward.

Amelia chased after the wild woman, who was still clinging to the tree branch as though it were a club. It looked like Amelia had stumbled across the missing link in the forest outside Three Pines. There was something primal not just in Harriet’s appearance, but in her being.

Her lifelong flight response had turned to fight.

“Three minutes. I, of course, will be the one to finish what you started, Armand, so many years ago. When you broke your promise to me. But I promised young Sam here that he could help. And I keep my word.”