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Elizabeth struggled to breathe as Franklin explained, “There is no art show. I set the whole thing up to get Amy alone in my car. Sure, we were going to head to Los Angeles, but we were going to drive. I was going to tell her about an art show in Las Vegas I wanted her to see on the way.” Franklin released his grip on Elizabeth’s throat as he continued. “There’s a lot of desert between here and Las Vegas; lots of places for cars to break down and people to wander off.”
Elizabeth finally understood. It wasn’t her Franklin had been watching all this time. It was Amy. She stared at him with a sudden clarity and said, “It wasn’t Charlie you were trying to kill that day. It was me. I was getting in the way of your plans for Amy.” Franklin’s face showed the slightest hint of a smile. Elizabeth added, “And it wasn’t Josh you were after in the woods. It was Randy, because he had what you wanted.” Franklin watched as Elizabeth’s face filled with horror. “How many people have you killed?” Elizabeth asked in as calm a voice as she could muster.
Franklin suddenly looked bored. He stepped back from her and glanced up at the sky. He said, “The sun is gone, and the stars are coming out.” Franklin glanced down at his watch and then turned his gaze back to Elizabeth. “Where is she?”
“I’m sure she’s on her way. You know Amy, she’s never in a hurry.” Elizabeth forced herself to answer him. Her sudden realization that Franklin had killed before sent ripples of terror surging through her. When his eyes wandered away from her, Elizabeth glanced desperately around for anything she could use as a weapon.
Franklin walked the few paces away to the front door and with one vicious kick broke it open. He spun, pointed the pistol at Elizabeth and said, “Get in the house.”
Elizabeth walked slowly toward the door. Where were the police? Why hadn’t they come? She was running out of time. She had to keep Franklin focused on himself and away from killing her. She knew better than to challenge Franklin on his decision to hide from Amy; it would only infuriate him. She had taken a submissive stance with him, and she was still alive. She would continue with it until he became enraged again.
“The basement,” Was all Franklin said as he followed her inside.
She searched the hallway with her eyes, but found nothing to use as a weapon. Elizabeth moved to the basement door, opened it, and started down the steps at a quicker pace, hoping to catch him off guard and find a weapon when she reached the bottom. Franklin kept pace with her, only a step behind.
When they reached the bottom, he placed his hand on her shoulder and shoved her toward the back of the basement. “Keep moving.”
Elizabeth’s heart raced. Searching desperately for anything to fight with, Elizabeth’s heart sank. The basement was empty except for the large standing freezer at the far end of the room. Franklin shoved her toward it.
Elizabeth stopped in front of the freezer. Was he going to force her inside to suffocate? Franklin ordered, “Open it.”
She pulled open the door, and the room filled with bright light. Elizabeth sighed with relief. It was full of meat. Franklin pointed to a large bundle of paper wrapped meat. He ordered, “Pick it up.”
Elizabeth grabbed the meat. Franklin forced her back upstairs. She moved quickly up the stairs, grateful he didn’t kill her and stuff her body in the freezer. When they reached the kitchen, Franklin ordered, “Put the meat in the microwave and hit ten minutes.”
Elizabeth frowned; her hands were shaking. His actions confused her, but she did as he said. The bundle of meat weighed nearly five pounds; five minutes on high would partially cook it, and yet still leave a portion of it frozen. She turned to face him. She desperately wanted to dig into his psyche and discover if he had a dark past. She wanted to help him bring out his demons so he could deal with them, but she knew it would only upset him. He needed to feel superior. He wouldn’t easily admit to his faults.
“Who taught you to hunt?” Elizabeth asked, trying to keep him focused.
“My uncle,” Franklin answered quietly, “He came back from Vietnam with a thirst for blood. He taught me everything I needed to know about setting traps that would kill.” Franklin turned to gaze at her with his icy eyes. “He had a bad temper, and he loved knives. It was a deadly combination.”
“Where is he now?” Elizabeth asked, not wanting to hear the answer.
“Early one morning he woke up with a terrible hangover. He hit me so hard I thought I was going to die. He kept hitting me even after I lost consciousness. I think the worst of it happened then. I woke up with broken ribs and a broken leg. My aunt told the doctor I fell out of the barn onto a pile of firewood. I remember looking at the doctor. She knew; I could see it in her eyes. She knew, but she didn’t say a word. She didn’t do a thing. She was just like my mom. I knew then, there was no one to help me.”
Franklin continued to gaze at the cooking meat. He added, “When I was well enough to get out of bed, I stole my uncle’s favorite hunting knife from his bedroom. He’d passed out in the living room. He didn’t see me coming. His eyes opened wide as the blade slid across his throat, but he didn’t make a sound. He stared at me as he clutched the wound. I remember being surprised at how long it took him to die and how much blood there was. There was so much blood.” Franklin turned back to stare at the meat. “I had to chop his body into pieces, so I could throw him down a dry well not far from the house. Mom cleaned up the mess. No one ever asked where he went. No one missed him. No one cared.”
Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears. He blamed the women in his life for not protecting him, and he was right. She stared at him. In his mind, all women were to blame. All women were heartless, and he was punishing them.
He sensed her gaze and turned to stare blankly at her. “Take off your jacket.” He ordered. He pointed the gun at her, and then moved to the far end of the counter. Opening a drawer full of miscellaneous items, he pulled out a roll of twine.
The microwave dinged. Franklin moved back to her with the twine and said, “Pull out the meat and unwrap it. We’re going for a little walk.”
Three-Year Rule Page 33
