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“I’ll come with you,” said Chernin, knowing what he had to do now.

“No, you stay here and coordinate the scene of crime. I’ll meet you at the station after I’ve broken the news to the children.”

Though Armand Gamache knew it would be more than news he’d be breaking. Fortunately, he supposed, Captain Dagenais would have found someone to stay with Clotilde’s children for the past few days. Someone who could now comfort them.

Armand Gamache needed to get to them quickly before word leaked out, though news of a body was probably already spreading through the community.

He looked across the lake, past the relative protection of the cove, past the whitecaps roiling farther out, until his gaze stopped at the thick old-growth forest. It had seen its share of violent death.

Most wild animals did not die of old age. They were killed but not murdered. There was premeditation, yes. One animal stalking another, with intent to kill. But no mens rea. No malice aforethought. No evil intent.

He was reminded again what Abbie Hoffman had said: We must eat what we kill. That would put an end to war. And, thought Gamache, an end to murder. Or most.

Inspector Chernin accompanied him as he walked toward his car. Their heads together, they discussed the practicalities of the investigation, including where to set up a command center and where to stay.

“What do you think of him?” Gamache asked as they neared the vehicle.

“Beauvoir? Well, patron, you sure know how to find the biggest piece of shit around.”

“It’s a gift, and”—he stopped and smiled at her—“my track record is unbroken. He should fit right in.”

“You’re not—”

“I haven’t yet, but I’m considering it. There’s something about him.”

“It’s called insubordination. He hasn’t got a chip on his shoulder, he’s got a boulder. With those anger issues, he becomes unpredictable, and that could be dangerous.”

“His station chief agrees with you.”

“And yet—” said Chernin.

Gamache studied the woman who’d been his second-in-command for several years. He said nothing. Just watched her. Inviting her to consider.

This habit of his of just waiting, quietly, she’d found unnerving for the first few years of her posting in homicide. But now she was used to it. Kind of. Most senior officers could not wait to impose their ideas. Gamache insisted his agents think for themselves.

“And yet,” she continued, “he saw the shape of the wound and recognized the murder weapon. I saw it too. You saw it. But none of the other agents, not even the coroner, realized the significance and knew a brick had killed her. Knew it was murder.”

“He not just saw that, he spoke up. To a senior officer. He’s not afraid to speak his mind.”

“The trick is getting him to shut up.”

Gamache smiled. “True. That might take some work. But the point is, he put the truth ahead of his career.”

“The truth or his ego?” she asked. Linda Chernin too was not afraid to challenge her boss.

“Good question.” They looked over at Agent Beauvoir, who was pretending not to be watching them. “I guess we’ll find out. When you’re done here, have them taken to the station.” Gamache nodded toward the two hikers. “Let them stew for a while. There’s something, maybe quite a lot, they aren’t telling us. Have you applied for a warrant?”

“To search their vehicle? Yes. I’ve also applied for one for Madame Arsenault’s home. Both should come through soon. I’ll let you know.” She looked again at the hikers. “You think they did it?”

“I don’t know.”

Chernin returned to the shore and Gamache returned to his car. He could hear a vehicle approaching over the rutted road. No doubt the ambulance to take the body to the morgue and the news back to the community.

He’d have to hurry. And yet, his hand on the car door, the Chief Inspector hesitated. He stood very still and listened to the rustle and scramble of small creatures in the forest.

Then he closed his eyes, escaping into the peace of the moment. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the cool, fresh air and with it the scent of pine needles and musky earth and rotting leaves. It was somehow comforting. Familiar. Natural.

He paused. Paused. Even as the sound of the ambulance got louder and louder, Armand Gamache held on to the peace and quietude for as long as he could. Before …