‘No, thank you. I’d rather walk down here in a storm than drive three hours to Batlow,’ he said.

‘I’ll walk back to the car with you,’ Ethan said. ‘The trail can get icy in this weather.’

‘That’s okay, I’ll be fine,’ said Flowers, with a sudden burst of mountaineering confidence. Then it struck him that Ethan might want to speak to him privately. ‘But if you’d feel better coming along . . .’

‘I would.’ Ethan shoved an arm the size of a small tree trunk into his jacket. ‘I don’t want to be responsible for a member of the police force going missing in the back country.’

Ethan was using snowshoes as well—though he had proper walking poles—so they took the path back to the main trail at an easy walking pace.

‘How are the funeral arrangements going?’ asked Flowers, hanging on to his branch as a gust of wind ripped through the trees and showered them with leaves and snow.

‘We’re getting there. It’ll just be a simple service, and then we’ll go on to the local cemetery where our parents are buried.’

‘Oh, they aren’t in the cemetery at White Winter Station?’

‘No. That cemetery caused our family a lot of problems. I don’t think my parents wanted to be buried there.’

‘What kind of problems? Sorry, but it’s the first private cemetery I’ve seen, and I’m curious.’

They had reached the exposed main trail where the wind was stronger. Ethan had to raise his voice to be heard.

‘It was all to do with Cate’s grandmother. Her husband is buried in the cemetery, and she was always coming over to put flowers on his grave.’

‘Right,’ said Flowers, wondering why that would have caused such a headache for Arthur Lorrimer Senior.

‘It went on for ten years,’ Ethan said. ‘I can’t even remember where I heard the story, but as Cate’s grandmother aged, Wendy began driving her mother over and, apparently, my mother became jealous. She thought Dad was developing feelings for Wendy, who of course was a lot younger than my mother. That’s when my mother put a stop to them visiting.’

‘Oh.’ Flowers recalled Cate’s words from the other day. Yes, Grandma and my father were very bitter. To add insult to injury, the Lorrimers refused to let Grandma visit the family cemetery at White Winter Station.

‘That wouldn’t have improved the situation,’ Flowers said eventually.

They walked on in silence, stopping only when a particularly ferocious gust came hurtling across the range.

As they neared the carpark, it started to rain. Flowers looked at Ethan through Ryder’s goggles. ‘I saw you working around the cemetery the other day. I assumed you were getting it ready for Art’s interment.’

‘No.’ Ethan stopped at the foot of the small rise that led up to the carpark. ‘I’m doing it for Cate.’