A Better Man (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #15) - Louise Penny Page 0,131

Godin, it’s Jean-Guy Beauvoir. I’m afraid we have some more questions.”

There was silence.

Armand and Isabelle looked at each other, then started up the stairs. But only got halfway before Jean-Guy appeared on the landing.

“It’s empty. He’s not there.”

“Bathroom?” asked Gamache, taking the stairs two at a time.

They searched the upstairs, but there was no Homer.

“When was the last time you saw him?” Armand asked Reine-Marie.

“Right after you left. He went straight to his room.”

Gamache looked at his watch. “Over an hour ago.”

“Cloutier! Cameron!” Beauvoir shouted as he walked quickly toward the kitchen. The two agents came out. “Where’s Monsieur Godin?”

“In his bedroom,” said Cloutier.

“He’s not.”

“Could he have slipped out?” said Gamache. “Taken Fred for a walk? There’s a heavy fog, so we might not have seen him.”

But on hearing his name, the dog appeared at the kitchen door. His tail slowly swishing back and forth.

“I’m sorry,” said Reine-Marie. “I thought he was in his bedroom.”

“It’s not your fault at all,” said Armand. “Your—”

Anticipating the question, she put her hand in the pocket of her cardigan and brought out her car keys. “I made sure I had them on me.”

“Well done,” he said with a smile. “That’s a relief. That means he’s on foot.”

Beauvoir was in the study, using the landline to warn the agents guarding Carl Tracey’s home.

“How long will it take him to get there?” asked Cloutier.

“At least half an hour, walking along the road, in good conditions,” said Gamache, going to the kitchen as he spoke.

The others followed him.

“He’s not there, patron,” said Cameron.

But Gamache didn’t answer him, choosing to answer Cloutier instead.

“He probably took the woods at first, so we wouldn’t see him, then cut back onto the road. Once he sees the Sûreté car at Tracey’s place, he’ll head into the forest, to avoid being seen.”

As he spoke, he opened and closed drawers.

“I’ve been through those woods—it’s not easy going. I’d think it’ll take him a good hour or more.” Once again he looked at his watch.

Homer would be arriving right about now.

“Damn.” Armand turned to Reine-Marie. “The carving knife’s gone.”

She paled, visualizing the large, sharp knife.

“I just called Tracey’s home,” Lacoste reported. “No answer.”

“We’ve gotta go,” said Beauvoir.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

“Anything?” asked Beauvoir.

He’d slammed the car door, not trying to be discreet. Just the opposite. He wanted to make noise. Let Homer know they were there.

“Nothing,” said one of the agents.

“Did you speak to Tracey?” asked Beauvoir. “Warn him?”

“We knocked on the door, but there was no answer,” said the other agent. “Without a warrant, we didn’t think we should break in. But we’ve been watching closely, and no one’s approached the house.”

He looked at his colleague, who nodded agreement.

“You did the right thing,” said Beauvoir.

Homer had been gone for just under an hour and a half. He should be there soon. If he wasn’t already.

Beauvoir looked around and considered the options.

They could go into the woods and hope to find Homer.

They could go into the house and take Tracey into protective custody.

They could leave him there as bait, stake out the house, and arrest Homer when he appeared.

Or they could do nothing. And let Homer do what he came to do.

Jean-Guy Beauvoir knew he’d never do that. But still …

“I’m going to get Tracey,” he said. “Bring him into protective custody. We’ll knock down the door if we have to.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Lacoste. “You two come with us.” She indicated the agents who’d been on duty. “You two”—she pointed to Cloutier and Cameron—“stay here and watch the road.”

While clearly not happy about being left behind, they had no choice.

Beauvoir looked at Gamache, who was scanning the tree line. “Patron?”

“I’ll stay out here.”

His eyes returned to Beauvoir, briefly, before coming to rest on the two officers. Cloutier and Cameron.

Beauvoir couldn’t make out what Gamache was thinking.

“Monsieur Godin isn’t armed, is he?” asked one of the agents.

“He has a kitchen knife,” said Gamache.

She gave a snort. An old man with a kitchen knife.

“Not much good against…” The agent placed her hand on her gun.

“You’re not to use that,” said Beauvoir. “Unless there’s absolutely no other option. Understand?”

“Oui, patron,” she said, immediately dropping her hand to her side.

“And don’t be fooled by his weapon,” said Gamache.

The agent looked unconvinced. But she was young and didn’t understand that Homer Godin wasn’t an old man with a kitchen knife. He was a father with nothing to lose.

Isabelle Lacoste studied Gamache as he scanned the terrain, his eyes narrow as he tried to penetrate the mist rising from the snow