All the Devils Are Here (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #16)(14)

“Get back,” her father commanded. “Get off the road.”

And she did.

“Armand?”

Reine-Marie knelt beside them as drivers got out of cars and gaped. A few honked. Not realizing what was happening.

“An ambulance,” Armand repeated, not taking his eyes off his godfather.

“On its way,” said Annie and Roslyn together.

Reine-Marie reached out and picked up Stephen’s shattered glasses and keys and put them into her handbag. His shoes she left.

Armand held Stephen’s hand and bent close, as close as two people could be, and whispered, “I love you. Hold on. Help is on the way. I love you.”

“What can I do?” Daniel asked, joining them.

“Nothing,” said his father, not bothering to look at him.





CHAPTER 4




The paramedics arrived within minutes and quickly assessed the situation.

Armand stepped aside but remained close. Watching as they took Stephen’s vitals. Carefully turning him over. Fitting an oxygen mask on the bloody face.

Reine-Marie slipped her hand into Armand’s, feeling it sticky.

There was no sign of life from the elderly man. He was completely limp.

“He’s alive?” she whispered.

Armand nodded, but couldn’t yet speak.

He just stared at Stephen as the medics, who were communicating with the emergency doctor back at the hospital, used words both Armand and Jean-Guy had heard too often. About wounds too grave.

“Shock.” “Hemorrhaging.” “Probable skull fracture.”

Had this been a battlefield, Stephen Horowitz wouldn’t have passed the triage. He’d have been left on the ground. To die.

It would not have taken long.

The police arrived. Without leaving Stephen’s side, Armand quickly introduced himself and said, “This was no accident.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“The vehicle, a delivery van for a boulangerie, hit him deliberately. I saw it.”

The officer paused in his note-taking. “That’s quite an accusation.”

“I saw it, too,” said Reine-Marie.

“And you?” The agent turned to Annie, Daniel, Roslyn, and Jean-Guy, who was still catching his breath after sprinting after the truck, then running back.

“It didn’t stop,” said Annie. “Did you get the plates?”

“I got a photo,” Jean-Guy said, and showed it to the cop while the paramedics lifted Stephen carefully onto a gurney.

“That makes it a hit-and-run,” said the cop, leaning close to Jean-Guy’s phone. “But not attempted murder. This’s unusable, sir. I can’t make out anything.”

Jean-Guy looked at it himself and had to agree. It was just a blur.

“I’m a police officer in Québec,” said Armand. “This was a clear attempt on his life.”

“Québec,” said the cop, and lifted his brows. No need to ask what he was thinking.

“Yes, we’re senior homicide investigators with the S?reté du Québec,” said Jean-Guy. “You have a problem with that?”

“Not at all, sir.” The cop made a note, then looked at Beauvoir. “Did you actually see the vehicle hit the man?”

Jean-Guy bristled, but shook his head.

“Bon. Did any of you?”

Annie hesitated, then shook her head. As did the others.

“I told you. I saw it,” said Reine-Maire. “And so did my husband. You have two witnesses.”

“Your name?”

She gave it.

“It’s Friday night, it’s dark,” said the cop. “The man’s in a black overcoat. The driver might’ve had too much to drink. Don’t you think it’s possible—”

“It was deliberate.” Armand took out his card, scribbled his Paris mobile number on the back, and handed it to the gendarme. “I’m going with him.”

Armand followed Stephen into the back of the ambulance, and after a very brief argument, the paramedics relented, realizing there was no way they’d be able to get the man out.

“I’ll let you know which hospital,” Armand shouted to Reine-Marie as the door slammed closed.

“Will he be okay?” asked Annie.

Did she mean Stephen or her father?

As the ambulance sped off, Reine-Marie took her daughter’s hand while Daniel put his arm around his mother’s shoulder.

All emergency waiting rooms looked the same, smelled the same, felt the same.

They’d taken Stephen to the h?pital H?tel-Dieu, on ?le de la Cité. Almost in the shadow of Notre-Dame.

Armand stared at the swinging doors, where the paramedics had rushed Stephen. And which now separated Armand from his godfather.

He could have been anywhere. In any hospital in any city. Time, place, did not exist here. Did not matter here.

The others in the room, waiting for news of their loved ones, looked gaunt with anxiety and exhaustion. And boredom.

Armand had washed the blood from his hands and face. But couldn’t get it off his clothes. They’d be thrown away, he knew. He never wanted to see them again.

It was ridiculous to blame the shirt and tie, the jacket and slacks, for what had happened. But even the socks would be tossed out.