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“What is it? The baby?” His voice rose on the last two words.

“No. I think someone’s watching the apartment, Jean-Guy.”

He took three quick strides over to the window. There was no one there. But it was getting dark, and the shadows between the buildings hid all sorts of things. And people.

“A cop has been assigned to protect you. It’s probably them. But I’m going to make sure.”

From the window, Annie saw her husband run across the narrow street, darting in and out of alleys and looking into doorways.

Then he looked up at her and shook his head.

“Nothing,” he confirmed when he got back. “Not even the god-damned flic.”

“Why would one be protecting us?”

“Just to be extra safe. You’re kinda important, you know.”

She smiled. “I’m sorry. I must’ve been imagining things.”

“Well, you’re not the only one,” he said, holding her close.

Her next words came to him muffled by his jacket.

“There’s something else. Something I didn’t imagine.”

CHAPTER 23

A hostess gift?” Reine-Marie asked, eyeing the familiar hospital box Claude Dussault held. “Too kind.”

“Yes, Madame, but I need it back,” said Dussault.

“That’s the gift part,” said Monique Dussault, who was standing just behind her husband.

Armand took the box from Claude as Reine-Marie laughed.

She kissed Monique, who was carefully holding a much smaller box. This one had the familiar logo of Pâtisserie Pierre Hermé.

“Is it … ?” she began.

“An Ispahan? Oui.”

Both women sighed.

“You’d have thought George Clooney was in the box,” said Claude.

“Better,” said Monique. “Oh, something smells delicious.”

The Gamaches’ small apartment, with its wooden beams, fresh white walls, and large windows, was already welcoming, but the scent of garlic and basil made it even more so.

“Just a simple pasta dinner,” said Reine-Marie. “As I said, en famille.”

“I also brought these, Madame.” The Prefect of Police pulled two wine bottles wrapped in brown paper out of his deep pockets.

“Ahhh,” said Reine-Marie. In a regal voice she pronounced, “You may stay.”

Claude laughed, then turned to his wife. “Just wait until she realizes the pastry box is empty. Sauve qui peut.”

Now it was Reine-Marie’s turn to smile. They didn’t see the Dussaults socially all that often, and now she wondered why not. She liked them. A lot. And so did Armand.