Page 137 of The Instruments of Darkness

“If he did,” I said, “he’d have contacted his wife before checking into that motel, but he didn’t do either of those things. I don’t think he ever left here, unless we choose to accept that he dumped the car and walked all the way to someplace else, and Reggio didn’t even like walking to the curb.”

I leaned against the door. I ached, but some part of me always ached these days.

“We also found out more about the Michauds.”

Another good turn drawn from Moxie’s list of creditors, this time a local lawyer, Curtis Cobbold, who was working for the Hickmans, or had been until Antoine Pinette showed up, at which point Cobbold decided that discretion was the better part of not going to jail.

“They’re hardly the lifeblood of the community,” I continued, “and you won’t find them selling jam at the county fair. There are apparently two houses out on their property, but one is all boarded up, or was the last time anyone but the Michauds saw it. They don’t bother people, and people don’t bother them, except for their neighbour, Hickman, with whom the Michauds are in dispute over a boundary line. That dispute has escalated with the arrival on the Hickman land of some outsiders, a bunch of far-right extremists, except these aren’t the usual sad incels and conspiracy freaks. They’re led by a man named Antoine Pinette. I know Pinette. We had a run-in with him after his brother threw a firebomb at the Clark house. Pinette is up here as well. He might even be the one who nearly ran you over earlier.”

Sabine looked confused. “How do they fit into all this? Could they be involved in the abduction of Henry Clark?”

“I don’t see how or why. Their presence may be a coincidence, or bad luck. It might even bear out something you told me down in Portland when we first met at the Bear.”

“Evil finds its own,” said Sabine.

“Pinette’s objectionable, not evil,” I said, “but the principle still holds.”

“So when are you going to confront the Michauds?”

“Not until we have a better idea of what’s going on in there. We’re going to wait until the dead hours, when they’re sleeping, before we start sniffing around.”

“But we’re also considering paying a visit to Pinette afterward,” said Louis, speaking at last.

“Why?”

“Because Antoine is smart,” I answered. “If he’s chosen to establish himself with Hickman, you can be sure that he’s taken an interest in his neighbors. Right now, he may know more about the Michauds than anyone else in Gretton. But we’ll take a look at the Michaud house along the way. No point in approaching Antoine from a position of total ignorance.”

“Will he help us?”

“Only one way to find out,” I said. “We just came back to make sure you were okay, and to let you know the lay of the land.”

“That’s very thoughtful, but I’ll be coming with you.”

“Ms. Drew,” said Louis, “none of this qualifies as a Sunday social.”

“You know,” said Sabine, “you can be quite patronizing when you choose.”

“He can be quite patronizing even when he doesn’t choose,” said Angel.

“I want to be there at the close,” said Sabine. “If Henry Clark is on the Michaud property, I don’t want it to be cadaver dogs that find him. If you try to go without me, I’ll find a way to follow.”

I gave up arguing.

“Then get some rest,” I said. “We’ll be leaving before dawn.”

She pulled up a footstool, settled into her chair, and wrapped a blanket around herself.

“I’ll sleep here just in case you were thinking of forgetting to wake me.”

“Huh,” said Louis, “you know us so well, it’s like you’re psychic.”

He was almost smiling, although it might also have been a grimace.

“I know enough to be frightened,” she said.

“That’s not being psychic,” said Louis. “That’s just being smart.”

CHAPTER XCII