A patrol car met them at the quay on Cap aux Meules. It was less than a ten-minute drive to the Sûreté. The sun was higher in the sky now, and the wind had dropped to a whisper. It was going to be a fine fall day. When they stepped into the hall, Aucoin caught his arm. ‘I guess you’ll want to do this?’ he said. He was clearly embarrassed and wanted no part of it. Sime nodded.
*
Kirsty looked up as he came into her cell. She had a jacket on over her T-shirt, all her belongings packed into a sports holdall that someone in the station must have loaned her. Her hair was not dry yet after her shower, and hung in damp, dark strands over her shoulders. She stood up. ‘You’re early. I thought the flight wasn’t until midday.’
He wanted to put his arms around her and tell her it was over. But all he said was, ‘They’re dropping the charges.’
He saw the shock on her face. ‘How? Why?’
‘We’ve got your husband’s killer in custody.’
She stared at him in disbelief, and it was several moments before she found her voice. ‘Who?’
He hesitated. ‘Your cousin Jack.’
She turned deathly pale. ‘Jack? Are you sure?’
He nodded. ‘Let’s go and get a coffee, Kirsty. And if you’ll give me the time, I’ve got a very long story to tell you.’