James Carol - The Quiet Man

Winter stopped talking and looked at Anderton. She nodded for him to continue.

‘Look at it from the point of view of the ten-year-old version of Gifford. For his whole life there had been someone there to make sure that all his basic needs were met. His parents fed him and clothed him and put a roof over his head. The fact that they did this meant that he didn’t have to worry about doing those things for himself. Then one day he wakes up and both his parents are dead and all of those things he’d taken for granted aren’t being done for him any more. That’s going to be a huge inconvenience.’

Anderton’s eyes narrowed. ‘You were about the same age when your father was arrested.’

‘So?’

‘So, it sounds like you’re talking from personal experience.’

‘Maybe,’ he admitted. ‘Okay, let’s fast forward. Gifford meets Cathy and they get married. What does he get out of the transaction?

‘Sex. Companionship.’

‘Sex would have been a part of it. The companionship wouldn’t really mean anything to him. He’s a psychopath. He just doesn’t need that sort of social interaction.’

‘So, what do you think he gets out of the deal?’

‘A support system. Remember, Gifford is pathologically pragmatic. If Cathy hadn’t enhanced his life in some way then he wouldn’t have married her. She dealt with his books and appointments. Right there you have evidence of one of the ways that she made herself useful to him. Judging by the food in his kitchen, it’s a safe bet that she did the cooking, so that’s another way. I’d also bet that she did the housekeeping and the laundry. That would have been the deal they had. He earns the money. She looks after the house.’

‘It sounds like something from the 1950s,’ Anderton said.

‘Doesn’t it? Okay, so fast forward a little further. Cathy wakes up one day and decides to leave. At this stage we don’t know exactly what happened, but what we do know is that Gifford was furious about it.’

‘We do?’

‘We do. You saw the house. After Cathy left, Gifford erased every last trace of her. It was like he sanitised the place. He didn’t want anything left behind that might remind him of her. All the pictures were taken down and he arranged for a moving company to come in and take away her belongings.’

‘Maybe Cathy arranged that.’

Winter shook his head. ‘No way. Gifford’s neighbour said that Cathy was nowhere to be seen when the movers came in. But usually if you’re moving out you arrange for your ex to make themselves scarce while you retrieve your belongings. These are your prized possessions. You’re going to want to make sure they’re safe.’

‘Why do you think he was so angry? I mean, it’s not like he loved her.’

‘Again, you need to look at this from Gifford’s perspective. Cathy’s dealing with all his basic needs. When she left that must have been a massive inconvenience for him.’

‘Like when he was a kid and his parents died.’

‘Exactly. And that’s the second reason. All of a sudden he’s ten years old again. He’s basically being forced to live through his parents’ death for a second time. That’s where this whole series of events started. That’s Ground Zero. Revisiting it is not a place he wants to go. He was unstable before this happened, but this pushes him over the edge.’

‘And he starts killing.’

‘And he starts killing,’ Winter agreed.

‘I keep thinking about those pairs of photographs in the attic. He’s clearly fascinated by emotions. Where does that fit into things?’

‘I think that goes back to when his parents died, too. Ten is the no-man’s land of childhood. You’re not quite a child any more, but you’re still a few years away from being a teenager. It’s an age where adulthood has never seemed further away. Imagine how much worse it was for Gifford. His father’s dead and his mom’s in a coma. Day after day, he’s sat by her bed with well-meaning people continually asking if he’s all right. He knows that they expect him to feel sad, but he just doesn’t get it. And he’s in a hospital. Wherever he looks there’s grief and despair and this confuses him even more. He knows that the nursing staff are talking about him behind his back. He knows that his lack of emotion makes him stand out. This would frustrate him but there’s nothing he can do. He can fake the happier emotions, but these new darker emotions leave him puzzled.’

‘And when Cathy walks out all of this comes back to haunt him. Only this time he’s older and that puts him in a position where he can go and find answers.’

‘That’s the theory I’m working on.’

They both went quiet. For a time the only sound was the low, continuous thrum of the Cessna’s engine. Winter looked out the window at the blue sky stretching all the way to the horizon. His thoughts were chasing each other and getting nowhere. In a situation like this, it was best to stop chasing. He turned to Anderton.

‘What?’ she asked.

‘I’m going to take a nap. Wake me when we get there.’

A sharp finger poked into Winter’s arm and his eyes sprang open. For a brief moment he couldn’t work out where he was. Then he got it. He was in Sobek’s Cessna, heading to Idaho. He peered out the window. There were still plenty of trees down there, but there were also signs of civilisation. Houses were grouped together to form small towns and villages. Roads cut through the landscape like long grey scars. From nine and a half thousand feet Idaho looked vast and uninviting. He put his headset back on and repositioned the microphone.

‘We’ll be landing soon,’ Anderton said.

Winter glanced at his watch. ‘An hour and fifty minutes. We’re ahead of schedule.’

They started the final descent. Ahead and to the east, a large lake shimmered in the sunlight. The further the Cessna descended, the bigger the lake got until they were flying right over the top of it. They banked to starboard, kept turning and turning until they were back over land. The runway was straight ahead. A large, long area of trees had been cleared away and the ground flattened out to create a crude landing strip.

The plane dropped lower and the landing strip grew until it seemed to fill the whole windshield. And then the wheels hit the ground and the plane was bumping and jostling and bouncing. Winter gripped the edge of the seat to steady himself. Anderton gripped his arm. The plane slowed some more then came almost to a standstill. Dan taxied over to where a row of planes were parked up and cut the engines. Winter took off his headset. His ears were still buzzing, his bones still vibrating.

‘We’ll be about an hour,’ Anderton said to Dan.

‘No problem. I’ll be here waiting.’

They climbed down from the Cessna and walked over to the admin building. The border agent who’d been called in to process their paperwork was as serious and efficient as the woman who’d checked their passports at Boundary Bay. He looked at everything twice, then welcomed them to the United States and wished them a good day.

Anderton had phoned ahead and there was a car waiting when they got back outside. The car had come in from Coolin, a small town down on the bottom tip of the lake. They drove out of the lot onto Highway 57, a two-lane road that ran south to north, following the shoreline. Coolin was to the south. Nordman was north. It only took five minutes to drive there. During that time they saw only two vehicles. A car and a truck, both going south.

They turned off the highway and were back in civilisation again. Or as close to civilisation as they were going to get. There was a small general store and a scattering of homes. Two centuries earlier a group of settlers had decided to call this home. The place was picturesque enough but Winter had to wonder what they were thinking.