How the Light Gets In (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #9) - Louise Penny Page 0,130
were barely visible before they disappeared.
The Chief’s eyes widened and he took a moment to absorb the information.
“Why?” he finally asked.
Tears made warm tracks down her face, and the more she tried to stop them the more they came. “I’m sorry. I didn’t do it to hurt. I felt so bad…”
She couldn’t talk. Her throat closed around the words.
“… my fault…” she managed. “… I told you there were six. I only heard…”
And now she sobbed.
Armand Gamache took her in his arms and held her. She heaved, and shook. And sobbed. She cried and cried, until there was nothing left. No sound, no tears, no words. Until she could barely stand. And still he held her and held her up.
When she pulled away, her face was streaked and her nose thick with slime. Gamache opened his parka and handed her his handkerchief.
“I told you there were only six gunmen in the factory,” she finally managed, the words coming in hiccups and gasps. “I only heard four, but I added some. In case. You taught me that. To be careful. I thought I was. But there were…” The tears began again, but this time they flowed freely, with no effort to stop them. “… more.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Yvette,” said Gamache. “You weren’t to blame for what happened.”
And he knew that was true. He remembered the moments in that factory. But not anything any video could capture. Armand Gamache remembered not the sights, nor the sounds. But how it felt. Seeing his young agents gunned down.
Holding Jean-Guy. Calling for the medics. Kissing him good-bye.
I love you, he’d whispered in Jean-Guy’s ear, before leaving him on the cold, bloody concrete floor.
The images might one day fade, but the feelings would live forever.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he repeated.
“And it wasn’t yours, sir,” she said. “I wanted people to know. But I never stopped to think … The families … the other officers. I wanted to do it…”
She looked at him, her eyes begging him to understand.
“For me?” asked the Chief.
She nodded. “I was afraid you’d be blamed. I wanted them to know it wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry.”
He took her slimy hands and looked at her little face, blotched and wet with tears and mucus.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. “We all make mistakes. And yours might not have been a mistake at all.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you hadn’t released that video we never would’ve found out what Superintendent Francoeur was doing. It might turn out to be a blessing.”
“Some fucking blessing,” she said. “Sir.”
“Yes.” He smiled and got into his car. “While I’m gone I want you to research Premier Renard. His background, his history. See if you can find anything linking him with Pierre Arnot or Chief Superintendent Francoeur.”
“Yessir. You know they’re probably tracking your car and your cell. Shouldn’t you leave your phone here and use someone else’s car?”
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Let me know what you find.”
“If you get a message from the zoo, you’ll know who it is.”
It seemed about right to the Chief. He drove out of the village, aware that he’d be detected as soon as he left, and counting on it.
THIRTY-SIX
For the second time in two days, Armand Gamache pulled into the parking lot of the penitentiary, but this time he got out, slamming the car door. He wanted there to be no question that he was there. He meant to be seen and he meant to get inside. At the gate he showed his credentials.
“I need to see one of your prisoners.”
A buzzer sounded and the Chief Inspector was admitted but shown no further than the waiting room. The officer on duty came out of a side room.
“Chief Inspector? I’m Captain Monette, the head guard. I wasn’t told you’d be coming.”
“I didn’t know until half an hour ago myself,” said Gamache, his voice friendly, examining the surprisingly young man standing in front of him. Monette could not have been thirty yet, and was solidly built. A linebacker.
“Something’s come up in a case I’m investigating,” Gamache explained, “and I need to see one of your high-security prisoners. He’s in the Special Handling Unit, I believe.”
Monette’s brow rose. “You’ll have to leave your weapon here.”
Gamache had expected that, though he’d hoped his seniority would give him a pass. Apparently not. The Chief took out his Glock and glanced around. Cameras were trained on him from every corner of the sterile room.
Could the alarm have already been raised? If so, he’d know in a moment.