Page 31
He looked down at the slimy tissue, then at Sam, and made an exaggerated grimace.
Sam gave a grunt of laughter.
It took less time than Chief Inspector Gamache expected.
The old desktop computer was on a crate in Clotilde’s bedroom, her passwords “hidden” in one of her dresser drawers in a jumble of underwear.
The keyboard yielded no prints. Any that had been there were wiped.
Gamache stood behind his agent. It took slightly over a minute to find what Gamache had known, from the moment he’d looked at the photograph in Clotilde’s wallet, would be there.
But still, it was a shock. Was always a shock when he and his agents came face-to-face with how truly abhorrent some people were.
He tasted bile and felt a burning in the stomach, and wanted to turn away. Seeing the images felt itself like a violation.
Gendron went from file to saved file. Clicking. Resting just long enough to know what was happening on the videos. Then moving on to the next, and the next. And …
Gamache’s jaw tightened, and he took a ragged breath. He leaned forward and hit pause. He couldn’t take any more.
“That’s enough. Get a copy of everything. And I want names. I want to know who these…” He gestured to the screen, trying to find the word. But no appropriate one existed. “… are.”
Gamache forced himself to stare at the picture frozen on the screen. Then he looked toward the living room. His heart pounded. He was overcome with the need to act. To do something, to burn off this surge of rage. He felt, for a moment, unable to breathe. As though he’d fallen into a cesspool and was drowning.
Who did this to children? To their own children?
He forced himself to stay calm. He needed to keep his eye on the long view. If he was going to help Fiona and Sam, he had to shove his own feelings, his revulsion, down. When he’d made sure the children were safe and would get the help they needed, then he’d go after each and every one of these … these … creatures.
He was about to leave when he turned to the unfortunate Agent Gendron. “Someone was here after Clotilde disappeared and before we arrived. Otherwise, we’d have found her prints on the keys. If that person wasn’t here to erase that”—he gestured toward the image on the screen—“then why?”
“I’ll find out,” said Gendron.
“Merci.” He held the agent’s eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry, Pierre.”
He’d have to get this man counseling. And time off, after this. Of all the caves they had to enter, this one was the darkest.
He turned to another agent in the room. “Find out, please, where in the house those videos were shot.”
“Oui, patron.”
“Still no sign of her car?” he asked Chernin when he found her.
“We’re looking. If it was used to move her body, then the killer must’ve ditched it.”
“And walked back?” said Gamache, more to himself than anyone there. This crime had all the markings of a two-person job.
“The videos could’ve been shot somewhere else,” said Chernin.
“Maybe, but I doubt it. These things are kept close to home. Is there a basement?”
“Not that we’ve found. The garage is too full of junk. They weren’t shot there.”
Gamache needed some fresh air, needed to try to clear his mind and slow his heart before going back into the living room to face those children. Knowing what had happened to them was one thing, seeing it was something else.
The air outside was bracing. He took several deep breaths and pulled his coat tighter around him. Flashlights were bobbing as officers searched the backyard. Calling one of the lights over, he saw it was Agent Beauvoir.
“What’ve you found?”
“No bricks.”
