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“Oh, shit. Get off. They’ll know someone’s been here.”

But he continued to lie there. “Which side is his, do you think? I think this one. He’s reading something called What Might Have Been. It’s alternative history. Looks interesting.”

He put the book down, then picked it up again and moved the bookmark. Then he went into the bathroom and sprayed some cologne onto himself.

“Mmmm,” he said. “Sandalwood. Nice.”

“Oh, God,” she moaned, and opened the window to air out the scent. With Sam she always felt like the character in the circus cartoon, cleaning up the shit.

Before leaving, he found the door into the basement.

“Merde,” said Fiona, her voice rising. “They’re coming.”

“Is that where it is?” he asked, pointing down into the darkness. “The room you told me about?”

She hustled him to the French doors from the living room onto the back patio. “You’ve got to go.”

A minute later the front door opened.

“We’re home,” called Reine-Marie, in a singsong voice.

“I’ll take the dogs out,” said Armand.

“No, let me,” said Fiona.

“It’s all right. I can.”

“Please. I’d like the air.”

He stepped aside, though he stood at the open door and watched, wondering why she’d been so insistent.

Fiona tossed the ratty old tennis ball on the village green and watched Henri race and Fred lumber after it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sam come around the B&B. From the side garden. A direct line from the Gamache home.

“May I join you?”

Fiona started and realized Monsieur Gamache was walking across the road toward her.

“Of course.”

Did he notice? Does he know? She couldn’t help but look toward the B&B, but there was no sign of Sam.

“I heard about the hidden room in Myrna’s loft,” he said, and noticed her relax, though he didn’t know why she’d been stressed. “You might’ve solved a problem.”

“Might not be there,” she said, throwing the ball again. “But I thought I should mention it, in case.”

They strolled along through the dusk. The sun set late as they approached the summer solstice, but when it did, a chill set in.

“Do you know what you’ll do with your degree?” he asked.

“Well, it’s a little difficult, but I’m sure I’ll find something. I have some nibbles. Can I run them by you?”

“Absolutely.”

It was Monsieur Gamache who’d encouraged her to consider engineering. She’d never heard of the profession and thought, understandably, it had something to do with trains.

But when he explained and took books to her in prison on the subject, she got very excited. It was as though her world suddenly made sense. Those intricate models in Sam’s room, which Chief Inspector Gamache thought the boy had made, had actually been put together by Fiona and given to her brother.

Once Monsieur Gamache realized his mistake, he began to take the girl models and puzzles of increasing difficulty and intricacy.