FOURTEENJean Guy Beauvoir reached for his Tim Horton’s Double Double coffee, cradling it in his hands to keep them warm. The huge black wood stove in the center of the room was trying its best, but so far it hadn’t managed to throw much heat.
It was ten o’clock on a snowy morning, almost exactly twenty-four hours after the murder, and the Sûreté team had assembled in their situation room in Three Pines. They shared it with a large red fire truck. The white walls above the dark wood wainscoting were plastered with detailed maps of the area, diagrams of firefighting strategies and a huge poster commemorating past winners of the Governor-General’s Awards for Literature.
This was the home of the Three Pines Volunteer Fire Department, under the baton of Ruth Zardo.
‘Tabernacle. She’s a senil
