A. Renee Art

“Mind if I smoke,” Scott asked, taking out his pack. “It’s gonna be a long story and it’ll take a while for police and a coroner to get here.”

No one minded, as they were all outside. He sat down, the teens around him, and lit up a cigarette. Connor began recording before asking if it was okay. Scott was fine with it, so Connor aimed his camera at him.

“I thought I could just disappear into the noise and color of the city and get away from anyone connected to Painscreek,” Scott began as he smoked. “Get away from the past. I even go by a different name now—Vincent Scott. Vincent’s my real name, after all, and I wasn’t really a Brooks, but I didn’t feel like a Roberts and I no longer wanted anything to do with that name either, for obvious reasons, even if I did have it for a short time.

Two years ago in early February, Dorothy Patterson found me at my job at a grocery store. Said she needed something she couldn’t find at her usual store that was closer to her house. Just lucky, I guess. As far as finding out who killed Vivian, it turned out to be a good thing. She invited me for a meal, saying I could use a good home-cooked dinner. The last time she called me over to her place for anything, my world ended, but I didn’t tell her that. I accepted because I was feeling lonely…and she was the closest person I ever had to a mother figure. And I needed to tell someone…everything.

I told her everything I told Father Matthew—about my true parentage, what happened to my mother, my connection to Trisha. Also, she was the first person I ever told the truth of who really tried to kill me. She was shocked, realizing the things that finally made sense to her. I also told her everything I could remember about my own investigations into Vivian’s death. Then we decided to find an investigator to help us.”

“Steve Moss,” Lydia said.

Vincent nodded. “Dorothy wrote to him on my behalf, promising to not name me. She didn’t mention the things I told her for the same reason, that I was basically an exonerated suspect that ran from town after he was questioned multiple times and let go. We were hoping that Steve would find the same things I found out and have better luck with the case. But we haven’t heard from him since. I called around and it was the same story—no one had heard from him. Until now, of course. Back then, I was still hesitant about coming back to Painscreek despite hearing that people were moving out.”

“What finally changed your mind,” Caylix asked.

“When the coast was clear,” Vincent continued. “Earlier this spring, I heard that Painscreek was about to be completely demolished. At first, I thought ‘Good riddance to awful memories. To pain. To tragedy.’ But I remembered that Steve was still missing. And my mother, still buried under an unmarked wooden cross, would never have her full story be known, except by three people—me, Dorothy…and Father Matthew.

A month ago, for the first time, Dorothy and I came back and laid a bouquet of flowers at my mother’s grave. She also laid some for Vivian and Magdalene. Magdalene, I understood. At least she tried to find my mother and me. Andrew told me some things about her death. After I discovered the truth about my origins, her death made sense. If it weren’t for Vivian…Her case deserves closure, but that bitch sure as hell doesn’t deserve flowers! Excuse me.”

He took another inhale from his cigarette.

“Flowers on your mom’s grave,” Lydia asked. She remembered the flowers atop Sofia’s grave. “In a vase?”

“No vase, just a wrapped bouquet. Why?”

“Never mind, go on.”

“Umm, then as we were driving back, Dorothy told me that my mother was an orphan, which I already knew from when she first told me about her, but she added that she was from the same orphanage I was adopted from, St. Patrick’s. I reminded Dorothy that Father Matthew was an orphan too, just as he once told me. And then she happened to add that Father Matthew came from the same place and was later taken in by Father Calvin when he was an adult.”

The group started.

“He was an orphan too,” Merc asked.

Vincent nodded. “Or I guess, to her it wasn’t random. Back in the ‘70s, Father Matthew told her that he and Sofia were cousins. He said that to help her get a job at the mansion. I then thought it strange that two cousins would both be orphans and at the same place. Turns out, good intentions or not, he was a liar back then too.”

He took a final drag, threw the butt on the ground and put it out before proceeding to another cig.

“We learned from Sofia’s things at Dorothy’s house that they weren’t related,” Lydia said. “Seems they were close friends.”

“Yes, and as I was about to discover, perhaps a bit more.”

The group sat waiting for what was no doubt going to be the next major drop.

“Out of curiosity for wanting to know my mother’s origins,” he continued, “I went back to St. Patrick’s. It was abandoned, just like Painscreek and the surrounding area. I found my mother’s records…and Matthew’s. That’s when I decided to come back to this town on my own. I needed a refresher on my investigation and remembered my notes were still here. I came back last week.”

“How’d you get to them,” Connor asked. “We found the cross key in Trisha’s room. You told her to hang onto it.”

“I heard she had moved out with her father—my father. I knew she would not have taken it with her. Her memories of this town are just as bad as mine, in one way worse. Why keep any reminders? She even left her diaries behind. Besides, where would I find her if she still had it? I wouldn’t be able to tell her everything if I didn’t know where she moved to. And I had already ran away to who knows where, so what was really the point in taking it with her?

So last week, I came back for the second time and went back over my notes here at the cabin, hoping that would trigger something new, but it didn’t. Thinking I had failed to find anything new, I decided to put the cross key back in Trisha’s old room and leave Painscreek. On my way back to my car outside the gate, I saw Father Matthew heading for the playground.”

“Father Matthew came back too,” Lydia asked.

“He didn’t come back. He still lives here.”

“What,” the others, except Maddie exclaimed.

“The vase of flowers on Sofia’s grave,” Lydia said. “That was him!”

“Wait, what,” Merc and the twins yelled.

“I saw him at a hollowed-out tree stump looking at some objects,” Vincent continued. “He was shocked by my presence, seemed jittery. In hindsight…Anyway, we talked for the first time in years. I asked him what he was holding. He told me it was a birthday present meant for my mother. Putting them back, he reminded me that he was away on a missionary trip in Indonesia for a year when my mother conceived me and died later. Said he came here sometimes to just look at the present he never had the chance to give her. We talked near the bank of the creek. I asked him how he was occupying himself without a congregation to preach to and if he was still making wood carvings like he used to.”

“I just listen to the old sermon tapes. Lost my attic key two years ago, unfortunately, so no chance of getting to my tools.”

“I mentioned Dorothy and me coming here and asked him why he still lived here. He said…”

“Penance.”

“I told him he didn’t kill my mother. He said he felt guilty about being away when she died. I told him I knew that they were cousins and that I should begin reconciling with him, thinking that technically he was my family. He invited me back to the church for tea. I said I would catch up. Really, I just wanted to see what type of present he kept in that stump. Don’t know what pulled me toward it. A few minutes after he left, I saw the box. I saw the number combo and recognized them as the numbers carved outside the entrance of the church. Inside was the last birthday card my mother would receive, along with a final unsent letter from Matthew to her hoping he’d see her again, written on Valentine’s Day in 1982, and an engagement ring.”

The box of items in question now sat closed right next to Vincent. He had retrieved it before the teens arrived back at the cabin. He continued.

“I was appalled at the thought that he would have such feelings for his cousin and his hypocrisy, especially because of Trish—Anyway, I took a shortcut to the church with the items. Passing by Andrew Reed’s old burnt house on my way to him, I thought of Andrew and Dr. Johnson. I thought of how close their deaths were to Vivian’s. The three people who were present at the time and place of my mother’s death, had all died within weeks of each other months after I told Father Matthew about my mother. And he had a close relationship with her…”

“We eliminated him from our suspect list,” Lydia said. “He was away for a religious conference when Vivian died.”

“I called him a liar earlier, didn’t I? I found him standing in front of the entrance to his woodworking attic in his office. I told him, ‘You two weren’t cousins’ and held up the letter and ring. He admitted that they were just friends who grew up at St. Patrick’s. I never accused him of anything. I simply asked him how much he loved my mother. He spoke the rest. I guess he just needed someone to finally confess his other sins to.”

Another long drag. The teens sat waiting, bracing themselves. Another lit cig.

“When you first told me about Sofia…and that Vivian, Andrew, and Dr. Johnson…I—I was so livid. I couldn’t believe it.”

“But you did believe me?”

“Of course I did! You were crying. No one would ever make up a story like that just to upset themselves.”

“Why didn’t you go to the police?”

“For the same reason you didn’t. I had no evidence and even if I did, having the mayor’s wife arrested for murder would have turned your father and sister against you, along with the entire town.”

“Everyone ended up hating me anyway.”

“Exactly! You were damned the moment you found out.”

“I was damned the day you adopted me!”

…

“We could argue all day whether or not you would have been better off in the city orphanage or a foster home there, but Father Calvin’s last request was for me to take you in. And so, here we are, Scott.”

“My name’s Vincent!”

“Right…right.”

…

“Vincent. I…I wanted so much to forget I even heard you that day. That you never said anything. But I kept seeing them at church mass, praising the Lord as if nothing happened! As if they were so innocent! A part of me…I needed to…I needed to hear it from one of them. Just—just one of them. So, I talked to Andrew…”

Janet pushed the “Play” button on the tape recorder and listened to Father Matthew’s voice.

June 7, 1995.

I met Andrew last night at his house. He was hallucinating when we met, saying that he’s seeing Sofia everywhere, that he’s a sinner, and that he should die. I granted him his wish, but I didn’t mean to kill him. I had to improvise with a fire. My hands are still shaking.

Next recording:

July 1, 1995

Dr. Johnson came to the well at midnight last night. He was surprised to see me, saying he was expecting Charles. He tried to justify what happened, saying it wasn’t his fault, that he was only carrying the baby and had nothing to do with Sofia’s death. When I revealed the truth about Magdalene, his face turned white. He didn’t expect anyone to know the truth. He deserved to die.

“The letter from the confessional,” Janet remembered. The next recording played.

July 20, 1995

Just like the doctor, Vivian came alone. I gave her time to express herself. Instead of feeling guilty, she called Sofia a bitch who destroyed her marriage and was about to take everything she built with Charles. I didn’t see any sign of remorse, feeling of guilt, or repentance from her. None at all. So I killed her. She deserved it most of all.

She heard his heavy breathing in the next recording:

It’s all over now. Why am I not at peace?

The next recording:

September 1, 1995

I took Charles’s confession today. He blamed himself for Vivian’s death, saying that his affair with my “cousin” Sofia was the start of it. Like he told Father Calvin years ago, he admitted that Sofia gave birth to a boy from the affair. He then mentioned recently hiring someone to investigate her disappearance years after Magdalene launched an initial search for her and Scott. I then realized that he had nothing to do with her death and that he had no idea that his wife was involved. But it was still his fault that Sofia was eventually killed. At least he tried as much as I did to look for her. He said that since I was Sofia’s cousin, he would update me if anything turned up in this latest investigation. I couldn’t kill him even if I wanted to, so I let the guilt of his adultery eat at him as his punishment.

“When Father Matthew was done with his story,” Vincent continued, “I dropped the letter and ring. For a while, we both stood neither looking at each other nor talking, though I happened to notice that he wasn’t shaking anymore. Then I told him that I wouldn’t tell anyone, not even Dorothy. That Painscreek was being bulldozed soon, along with all its secrets, and any proof that…that…” After another drag, he broke down and sobbed, “I guess I’m a liar too for telling you.”

After the revelation, Scott spoke again to Matthew.

“If God decides to let you go for this, that’s His decision. But should the truth be known outside of this forsaken place at the eleventh hour, with you facing justice…then…know that it won’t be because of me. I don’t know how my mother felt about you, but she saw you as a friend, at least. You tried to help her settle here and you did adopt me, knowing I was her son. Or maybe because of it, Father Calvin’s request or no. Penance…for not being here when she needed her best friend the most. That’s why…you’re still here. Why you’re afraid to leave. And a part of her lives on in me. Perhaps that’s why, after confessing to me just now, you don’t want to kill me like you killed Steve.”

Janet listened as the end of the confession played out.

“There’s this nosy investigator in town. I thought that if I led him to believe that Bernard killed Vivian, he just might…believe it. But I made the mistake of trying to mislead him. Now he’s suspecting me. He must die.”

Vincent Scott waited for a response, but Father Matthew gave none. Vincent took one last look at the man who adopted him and before leaving him for good, he simply said, “Goodbye Father…Matthew.”