“It was just the other side of the bridge. In the woods.” Laurent pointed with his stick and almost hit Gamache in the face.

“Where is it now?” she asked. “Al, should we go and see?”

“Wait for it, Evie,” her husband said in his deep, patient voice.

“It’s huge, Mom. Bigger than the house. And there’s a monster on it. With wings.”

“Ahhh,” said Evelyn. “Thanks for bringing him back, Armand. Are you sure you don’t want to keep him for a while?”

“Mom.”

“Go inside and wash up. We’re having squirrel for dinner.”

“Again?”

Gamache smiled. He was never sure if what they claimed to eat was the truth. He actually thought they were vegetarians. He did know they were as self-sufficient as possible, selling their organic produce in panniers to subscribers. He and Reine-Marie among them.

In the winter they made ends meet by teaching courses on how to live a sustainable lifestyle. It was one of the great miracles that these two should find each other. Like Henri and Rosa. And then that Al and Evie should, later in life, have a child. One miracle begetting another. A wild child.

“Why’s it always guns?” Al asked.

“Well, you’re the one who gave him that stick for his birthday,” said Evie. “Now all he does is dive behind furniture shooting at monsters. I can’t tell you how often I’ve been mowed down,” she confided in Armand.

“It’s meant to be a magic wand,” said Al. “At most a sword. Not a gun. I’d never give him a gun. I hate them.”

“You gave him a stick and an imagination,” said Evie. “What did you think a nine-year-old boy was going to do with it?”

“It’s a wand,” said Al to Gamache.

Armand smiled. If he’d given his son, Daniel, a stick for his ninth birthday there’d still be tears twenty years later. What kid not only accepts the stick, but cherishes it?

“Say hi to Reine-Marie,” said Evie. “The next pannier’s almost ready, we’re just finishing the harvest. In the meantime, take this.”

She handed him the sack of McIntosh apples.

“Merci,” he’d said, trying to sound sincere, and surprised.

Evie went inside and Al followed her, turning to Gamache at the door. “Thank you for bringing him home.”

“Always. He’s a great kid.”

“He’s crazy, but we love him.” Al shook his head. “A gun.”

A monster, thought Armand as he got in the car and drove home.

But the monster he was thinking of wasn’t from Laurent’s imagination. This one was very real. And had a name and a pulse, though not, Gamache suspected, a heartbeat.

*   *   *

“Why don’t you like Laurent’s parents, Ruth?” Reine-Marie asked, putting the chicken stew with fresh herb dumplings on the table.