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“This’s a plane,” said the pilot, “not a boat. If you want to fly, you have to go—” He pointed up.

Now Isabelle leaned forward and, placing her hand on the pilot’s shoulder, she spoke directly into his ear.

“Take it down or I’ll—”

She tightened her grip in a gesture far more eloquent than words. They descended so that they were essentially skimming the tops of the waves.

When the pressure eased and Armand opened his eyes again, they widened. He was practically making eye contact with equally surprised trout. An hour later, after almost clipping the trees, the plane made a steep turn and landed on a lake, bouncing along the tops of the waves.

Lacoste guided the pilot to the site. He stayed with his plane while Armand and Isabelle paddled the small dinghy to the pebble shore, stepping into the water and dragging the boat onto land.

It was far colder that far north. There was a light layer of snow on the ground. Their breaths came out in puffs of warm vapor. Gamache paused on the rocky shore and stared out across the lake, taking in the beauty. Absorbing the peace of the unspoiled landscape.

He drew his elbows tighter into his sides and hunched his shoulders to conserve warmth. Looking out at the lake, he brought his hand up to his brow to cut out the glare from the dazzling sun bouncing off the water. It looked to Isabelle as though he was saluting Mother Nature. And he might have been.

“It’s over here, patron.”

Isabelle had walked a short distance into the forest and now pointed to the base of the tree.

“How in the world did you find it?” Armand looked around.

The forest was dense, untouched, uncut. Filled with old growth, mostly evergreens that only died of extreme old age. Or, he thought, a fire.

He knew if they flew a little farther north, they’d see the charred remains of millions of trees. It was a national tragedy. An epic failure.

Canada’s great good fortune was in being rich in natural resources. Its shame was in not being better custodians.

And it was now obvious to the entire world that Canada had failed in its responsibility. Any moral superiority, any higher ground Canada might claim, had been burned to a crisp.

The results of the water samples Vivienne had taken had come back. The biologist was right. The pH levels of this lake, and no doubt others, were affected by potassium. Potash. Ash. From those wildfires.

Many more fires, and the lake would die. And, with it, all the wildlife that depended on it.

And if it was this bad here, God only knew what lasting damage was done farther south, when the plume of ash had descended on American soil and water. On American cities and citizens.

“I was searching,” said Lacoste, answering his question, “and noticed the rock looked odd, up against the tree like that. When I looked closer, it was a river rock, smooth. There’s no way it could get from there”—she pointed to the shore—“to here without help. We lifted partial prints from it. They look like Charles’s.”

Armand picked up the stone and leaned down to examine the arrow Charles had carved into the tree along with his initials.

“Vivienne and I followed the arrow into the forest”—she pointed—“in that direction.”

“And where was Frederick’s body?”

“Over there.” She pointed in a whole other direction.

“Huh,” he grunted. “Odd. I wonder what Frederick was doing over there?”

He followed her about fifty meters in, to the crime scene tape. Armand again knelt.

They’d heard from Dr. Harris that Frederick Castonguay had almost certainly been killed where he’d been buried, and it had happened less than two months earlier, though she couldn’t be more precise.

He stood up, and after brushing dirt from his slacks, he looked around, then behind them toward the tree and the stone. Both were invisible, hidden by the thick forest in between. Still …

Armand turned full circle, then walked back and looked down at the base of the tree. Then over to where the body had been.

“So if the arrow points in one direction, why did Frederick go in the other?”

“It’s possible Frederick didn’t find the arrow, otherwise he’d have followed it, non?” said Isabelle.