Going Home

I’ve been in Quebec for five days. It feels like forever. I made time with Sandy Rinaldo in Sherbrooke. I visited my sister’s dump site with my brother. I dined with the Boisvenus.

I attended the victim conference in Montreal. I watched the Sox win the World Series. It was goooood.

This morning I had breakfast with the new investigator on my sister’s case (more on him later). He’s also in charge of Julie Surprenant’s file. We keep getting shuffled around like a deck of cards. Allore to Camirand / Dube… Allore to Bureau… Bureau’s a bust. Allore off to Surprenant. I’ve never met the Surprenants. I hear they’re a lot like me. At Christmas they cry.

I’ve got to go to the airport soon. I hate this part. Dorval looks like it’s made of Legos. I hate clearing Customs. I hate sitting in the bar waiting for the plane to board. There’s nothing to do but think about what a great place Montreal is, and the rotten reason why you’re here.


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