“How many OxyContin pills do you take?” Beauvoir had a protest on his lips, but silenced it. “What the prescription says.” “And what’s that?” The Chief’s face was stern, his eyes sharp. “One pill every night.” “Do you take more?” “No.” The two men stared at each other, Gamache’s deep brown eyes unyielding. “Do you?” he repeated. “No,” said Beauvoir, adamant. “Listen, we deal with enough junkies, I don’t want to turn into that.” “And you think that’s what the junkies wanted?” demanded Gamache.
