The remains

Chapter 26

As I stood before Francis inside a studio filled with easels, unfinished paintings, clay sculptures and sketches, and not a soul around to work on them, I found myself alone not with a man but a different creature altogether. But then I also knew that this creature had to know something about me; about my past; about Molly’s past. Even more frightening, he might also know something about my future. In either case, I was determined to get the whole story out of him.

A metal work table was set only a few feet away from Franny’s stool. I sat down on top of it, letting my legs dangle off the side.

“I need to ask you a few questions, Fran.”

He rolled his eyes. I recognized the reaction. It meant he was receiving me loud and crystal clear.

“Questions,” he mumbled. “Questions, answers, questions…”

I inhaled.

“Why did you paint Molly and me, Franny? Why did you paint the woods in back of my mom and dad’s home? Why are you putting words in the paintings?”

His eyes, still rolling in their sockets, never stopping to focus on anything, let alone me, for more than a couple of second at a time.

“Molly and Rebecca,” he said after a long beat. “Molly and Rebecca go into the woods. Molly and Rebecca go into the woods where they don’t belong.”

My stomach dropped. Pulse picked up inside my chest and temples.

“What do you know about Molly and me and those woods?”

Eyes rolling rapidly inside their sockets, Franny rocked back and forth on his stool. Chubby face grew redder and redder, like a red balloon about to burst. I recalled what Caroline had said about his heart. But it didn’t matter. Didn’t matter enough.

“Molly and Rebecca,” he chanted, voice growing louder. “Molly and Rebecca go into the woods where they don’t belong. Monster man is in the woods. Monster man does bad things to Molly and Rebecca.”

Body trembling, my blood shot through the veins.

“Franny how do you know this?” I screamed. “How can you possibly know?”

I was standing now, in the middle of the studio floor. I stood over him, where he was seated on the stool, left hand clutching his red T-shirt. I pulled the black and white photograph from my jeans pocket, held it only inches from his nose. I screamed in his face. “Did you put this on my parents’ porch? How did you know I was going there? How did you know?”

But that’s when something stopped me. Something invisible reached out for me, pulled me back. I let go of him, collapsed onto my knees. Franny had been right here at the art center studio while I made my stop-over at Caroline’s. Franny could not have known that I would be visiting my childhood home. That is, unless somehow he was able to intuit it.

What have I done?

I looked up at Franny, looked at him rocking. I stood up and wrapped my arms around his barrel chest. When I released him, I saw that his eyes were no longer rolling but focused up at the ceiling. He was crying.

I whispered, “Franny were you there when it happened all those years ago? Did you see Joseph Whalen attack Molly and me?”