James Carol - The Quiet Man

Cathy lived near the edge of the lake. Her house was half the size of the one she’d shared with Gifford. There was more land, though, maybe twice as much, the boundary marked with trees. Like Gifford’s house, this one was made from wood that was so dark the building was almost invisible. There was a Dodge Ram parked out front. The side panels of the truck were streaked with mud and dirt and the tyres had deep treads. It was the sort of vehicle you’d want if you were living this far into the middle of nowhere. The weather was pleasant enough today, but three or four months from now it would be a different story. When the snow started falling you’d want a vehicle like this.

Anderton turned to the driver. ‘Can you wait here, please?’

‘Sure.’

By the time they’d got out and closed the back doors, the driver already had his cell phone out and was checking for a signal. He’d kept the engine running so he could take advantage of the air conditioning. Winter followed Anderton up to the front door. She knocked and stepped back. No one answered. There was no answer the second time. Or the third. She frowned. Winter glanced over his shoulder at the Dodge.

‘The car’s here, which means that someone’s got to be in.’

‘What if she’s got a second car? What if after she got the call from the Vancouver police she decided that she had pressing business that need to be tended to in Texas? Or Rio? Or somewhere else that’s a thousand miles away from here?’

Winter shook his head. ‘Look at the house. The wood needs retreating and the paint on the window frames is peeling. This isn’t a two-car household.’

‘So where is she?’

‘Maybe she heard us arrive and she’s hiding in the cellar.’

‘In that case, you’d best get to work with your picks.’

‘Before I do that, maybe we should take a look out back. You don’t live out here in the boonies because you want to spend your life stuck indoors. A day as beautiful as this, it would be a crime to stay inside.’

There was a well-trodden dirt path that led all the way around the perimeter of the house. The land at the back of the property dropped away gently toward the lake. A line of tall Douglas firs partially blocked the view, and beyond that there were glimpses of the water sparkling in the sunlight.

One part of the yard had been cultivated to create a large vegetable garden. The vegetables were grouped according to type. There were beans on long sticks, lettuces, potatoes, cauliflowers. The chicken run was made from offcuts of wood. The wire was bent and misshapen. There were seven well-fed chickens scrabbling around in the dirt and pecking for corn. Another area had been cordoned off to create a sty. Two piglets were lounging in the cool mud.

The dirt path carried on down to a gap in the treeline. A golden retriever suddenly bounced out from between the trees. It spotted Winter and Anderton and came skidding to a halt. Every muscle was taut as though it was getting ready to attack or retreat. Cathy appeared on the path a second later. She saw them and stopped dead. She looked ready to run as well. She was dressed in worn, ripped jeans and a red plaid shirt. Her hair was tied back in a single braid that reached just below her shoulders. She was slim, fit and tanned.

‘Who are you and what do you want?’ she called out.

‘We just want to talk to you’ Anderton called back. ‘We’re investigating the murders in Vancouver.’

‘I already spoke to the police there. I told them I couldn’t help.’

‘Couldn’t or wouldn’t?’ Winter called out.

She looked at him. Her eyes were suspicious and a little fearful. ‘I want you to get off my property.’

Winter walked over to the dog and told her to sit. She glanced uncertainly at Cathy, confused about what was happening. Winter ordered her to sit again. This time she obeyed. He crouched down and gave her a scratch behind the ears. To start with she wasn’t sure, but it didn’t take long to win her over.

‘What’s her name?’ he asked.

Cathy hesitated. ‘Roxy.’

‘She’s beautiful.’

Cathy said nothing.

‘She looks young,’ he said. ‘What is she? Three? Four?’

‘She’s almost four.’

‘So you got her just after you moved here. It was part of your new start, right? How long had you been planning on leaving your husband?’

Cathy stiffened and all the suspicion left her eyes. There was just fear there now. Winter stayed crouched down to make himself as small and unthreatening as possible.

‘Cathy, we just want to talk. That’s all.’

‘I don’t want to do this. I can’t do this.’

‘I understand how hard this must be, but if it wasn’t important we wouldn’t be here.’

‘I can’t,’ she whispered.

‘Billy has already murdered four women,’ Winter said. ‘If we don’t stop him then he’s going to kill again and again and again. Now I realise how upsetting this must be, us just turning up like this. All you want to do is forget and move on, and here we are dragging you back into the past. But here’s the thing, no matter how bad you’re feeling right now, it’s nothing to how you’ll feel when Billy kills again. Because when that happens you’re going to have the guilt to deal with as well. It doesn’t matter what you tell yourself, a part of you will always be wondering if they died because you refused to help us.’

Cathy still hadn’t moved. She was staring at Winter like she wanted him to disappear. She’d be going over everything he’d just said, projecting into the future and not liking what she saw. He reckoned it would take thirty seconds to come to a decision. In the end it took twenty. Without a word she started walking toward the house. Halfway along the path she gave a whistle. Roxy gave him a quick I-gotta-go look, then stood up and bounded after her. Cathy didn’t say anything as she walked past Anderton. She wouldn’t even glance at her. Head down, she marched toward the house, Roxy trailing at her heel. Winter walked over to Anderton.

‘Well, she hasn’t told us to leave,’ she said. ‘On that basis, I’m figuring she’s going to talk.’

‘And I’m figuring that we should go after her before she changes her mind.’

They caught up with Cathy on the back porch. The table she was sitting at was made from weatherworn wood. There were four chairs around it, all made from the same wood. Winter sat down opposite Cathy and Anderton took the seat on the left. Roxy was curled up in a tight ball in a shady spot beneath the table. There were two pairs of rubber boots standing by the back door, one large, one small. The small ones looked to be Cathy’s size, which got Winter wondering about who owned the larger pair.

Cathy was gazing at the trees at the far end of the yard, and the glimpses of water beyond. The air here was so much cleaner than in the city, the light sharper, the colours brighter. The whole scene was tinged with golden sunlight. If those long-ago settlers had passed through here at this time of the year, then their decision to stay suddenly made a whole lot more sense. There was no offer of a drink. No nod toward hospitality of any sort. Cathy just wanted them to say what they needed to say, and for them to get the hell out of her life.

‘How certain are you that Billy killed those women?’ she asked.

‘There’s no doubt whatsoever,’ Winter replied. ‘He did it.’

She didn’t say anything for a while, just stared at the trees while she tried to process this. ‘You’re probably wondering why I stayed with him so long? I mean, how could I? He’s a monster.’

‘Except he wasn’t a monster, was he?’

‘Not really. And definitely not at the start. This might surprise you, but Billy has a great sense of humour. That was one of the things that attracted me to him. He seemed to know exactly what to say to make me laugh. And it wasn’t just me. I saw him do this with other people, too. It helped with his work. He could put anyone at ease.’