THIRTY-SEVENGamache turned the car and gunned it toward Williamsburg, making straight for a cantine on rue Principale.
‘I need help,’ he said at the door of the restaurant. All eyes turned to him, a large stranger covered in snow and making demands. ‘I’m Chief Inspector Gamache of the Sûreté. Three women are trapped on Lac Brume. We need snowmobiles to get them.’
After a moment’s pause a man rose from the crowd and said, ‘Em are ducks.’ It was Billy Williams.
‘I’m with you.’ Another man stood up. Soon the place was emptying and within minutes Gamache found himself clinging to Billy as the fleet of snowmobiles screeched along rue Principale and out onto Lac Brume.
The storm was howling and Gamache strained to see, to guide Billy to the fallen women. He prayed they hadn’t been buried by
