The rain was coming down in torrents, hitting them sideways. Everyone was anonymous in the orange covers, slick with rain.
“Colleen?” he shouted, knowing with their hoods up all they’d hear was the din of the rain pelting their heads. “Colleen!”
He grabbed a promising shoulder. A young man Gamache recognized as a porter turned round. He looked frightened and uncertain. Water dribbled down Gamache’s face, into his eyes and down his cheeks. He smiled reassuringly at the young man.
“You’ll do fine,” he shouted. “Just stick close to them.” Gamache pointed to two large orange coats with bold duct tape X’s on their backs. “And if you get tired, tell them. You’re not to hurt yourself, d’accord?”
The young man nodded. “Are you coming with us, sir?”
“I can’t. I’m needed somewhere else.”
“I understand.”
But Gamache saw the disappointment. And he saw fear lick the boy. And he felt horrible. But he was needed elsewhere, though he needed to find the young gardener first. “Is Colleen in your group?”
The young man shook his head then ran off to catch up with the others.
“Sacré,” whispered Gamache, standing alone now on the soaked lawn, his own clothes unprotected and wet through. “Idiot.”
He spent the next few minutes striding into the woods, asking each group he found whether the gardener was with them. He knew the standard search pattern, had coordinated enough searches himself not to be worried about losing the searchers. He was worried about something else. About Elliot, missing. About Elliot, whose clothing was still in his modest wooden cupboard in the small bunkroom.
“Colleen?” He touched another orange shoulder and saw another little leap as some poor kid’s movie nightmare came momentarily true. As they turned he knew they expected to see Freddy Krueger or Hannibal Lecter or the Blair Witch. Huge, terrified eyes met his.
“Colleen?”
She nodded, relieved.
“Come with me.” He shouted to the team leader he was taking the young gardener from the search, and while the others trudged deeper into the woods Gamache and Colleen emerged onto the lawn and jogged toward the refuge of the lodge.
Once inside with towels to dry off Gamache spoke.
“I need to know a few things, and I need you to be honest.”
Colleen looked well beyond being able to lie.
“Who do you have the crush on?”
“Elliot.”