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“The letter is dated 1862. That’s more than a hundred and fifty years ago.”

“It’s also the same as the date on the brick Harriet gave Myrna.”

“Come on,” said Sam. “They’ll never know.”

“I’ve heard that before,” said Fiona. “Monsieur Gamache specifically told me you’re not allowed in their house.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. What’s wrong with the guy? What did I ever do to him?”

Fiona had no answer to that.

“Well, fuck him,” said Sam. “Come on. A quick look around.”

She looked at his lopsided grin. The puppy dog eyes. Not for the first time, she wondered how, after all he’d done, she could still love him. But she did.

How she could forgive him. But she had. As he’d forgiven her. At least, she thought so.

He was all the family she had. And while Reine-Marie and Armand had become a sort of family substitute, it wasn’t the same thing. She and Sam were not just connected, they were bound in ways that went beyond blood.

“Look, let’s just get some food and hang out here.” She glanced around the B&B.

He shifted in his seat. “I’m bored.”

Fiona said nothing. She knew what could happen when Sam got bored.

“Look,” he said. “You owe him nothing. He arrested us. We were just kids and he arrested us. He fucked up our lives.”

“We fucked them up. He just found out. And he never arrested you.”

Sam stared at her, that penetrating gaze she knew so well.

He knew what she was really like.

And she knew what he was really like.

“Okay,” she said. “Come on.”

CHAPTER 14

“Come on,” said Fiona. “Enough, Sam. They’ll be home soon. We have to get out.”

But Sam was wandering around the Gamaches’ living room as though he owned it, picking up objects and putting them back slightly askew. Moving furniture just a few inches this way or that, Fiona following behind, putting everything back the way it was.

The dogs, used to Fiona, hadn’t protested when she’d let herself and Sam in.

He was filming as he went along, opening drawers and cupboards. Examining books and mementos and family photographs. Picking one up, he recognized Jean-Guy Beauvoir. Older now, with two children. But unmistakable. He’d seen him at the graduation, of course, the first time they’d met in years.

Sam took a photo of that photo, then replaced it. But not quite as he’d found it.

He scanned the books on the shelves, then went into the study and sat at the computer. Tapping the keyboard, he woke it up. It was locked, of course, but he stared at the screen saver photo of the four grandchildren.

“Sam, enough.” Fiona stood at the threshold to the study.

But it was not enough.

He went upstairs while she returned to the kitchen, where she had a good view of Clara’s home. All was quiet. But if they returned and discovered what she’d done, the whole thing could be blown. She could probably explain and Madame Gamache might believe it, but she was far from sure Monsieur Gamache would.

A few minutes later she found Sam lying on Armand and Reine-Marie’s bed.