“Wasn’t Edgar at the house peeping through the kitchen window the night that Brandon got killed?” I asked.
Sylvester leaned forward, narrowed his eyes. “Why, I do remember something about that. Yes, yes, it’s quite possible. The neighbors had called the police that night because they heard a lot of noise coming from our house. My lawyer told me that when the police showed up at our house, they found Edgar peeping through the kitchen window. That lunatic was dressed in women’s clothing. Yes, now I remember,” Sylvester nodded his head. “When the authorities charged me with Brandon’s murder, my lawyer was able to convince the jury that perhaps it was Edgar, and not me, who killed Brandon. That’s why my trial resulted in a hung jury, and I was set free. Of course, the prosecutor refused to bring charges against Edgar. He said that there was no evidence that he ever even went into the house.”
Mark and I glanced at each other and then back at Sylvester.
“What was your relationship like with Catherine?” I asked.
Sylvester rolled his eyes. “Not good. Catherine was looking for a fool, and I was a fool. You know there’s one born every minute,” he said.
Mark did not seem amused. He met Sylvester’s gaze.
“What do you mean by that? How were you a fool?” Mark asked.
“Catherine knows what trick she played on me,” Sylvester said. “Go ask Catherine. Ask her how I fell into her trap.” His voice rose a pitch.
I threw Mark a searching look.
Sylvester was busy waving to a nurse’s aide to catch her attention. When the assistant, a short, thin blond woman in her early twenties, approached us, Sylvester told her that he was tired and wanted to go inside and rest. She smiled at us politely as she clutched the handles of the wheel chair and began rolling Sylvester toward the building.
Mark and I followed.
As we moved toward the rear entrance, Mark leaned down, put his hand gently on Sylvester’s back, and said, “Please tell me what awful trick Catherine played on you. I promise I will never tell a soul.”
Sylvester frowned for a brief moment, turned his head to one side, and sighed. Then he narrowed his eyes and whispered, “Catherine was two months pregnant when I met her. Peter isn’t my child.”
Chapter 35
We followed the nurse as she rolled Sylvester through the double doors and into the lobby. Then she veered off to the left corridor and headed toward the patients’ rooms.
Bewildered and confused by Sylvester’s last remark, Mark and I just stood there in the lobby, not wanting to leave. I knew that Sylvester had valuable information, even more than he had revealed to us. Deep down, I realized that in a few months, maybe even a few weeks, Sylvester would no longer be around to give us any more information. And Catherine, who possibly had the most valuable knowledge about Amber’s fate, was already gone.
“If Peter was not Sylvester’s child, then whose child was he?” I asked.
Mark gave a perplexed look. “Well, he could be Edgar’s child. Or maybe Catherine met someone else. Who knows who Catherine had a relationship with when she moved to Ohio?”
Two nurses walked past us and went toward the narrow corridor.
The commercial playing on the overhead television in the lobby was interrupted by an announcement from the Crawford County Sheriff’s office. A spokesman revealed that the department was holding a briefing about the latest developments regarding Amber’s abduction. Mark went over to the television and turned up the volume.
While we waited for the Sheriff to make the announcement, I leaned toward Mark and whispered, “Do you think Edgar would have had a motive to kill Brandon because he was jealous that Catherine had married Sylvester? Do you think that Edgar might have had knowledge that Peter could have been his child and killed Brandon out of jealousy?”
Mark’s expression became puzzled. “All of this doesn’t make any sense. I guess Catherine and Sylvester kept up the charade pretty well since even Peter was under the impression that Sylvester was his father. Remember, it was Peter who moved Sylvester to the nursing home in Gaylord so that he could be close to him.”
“Is it possible that Sylvester is confused about Peter not being his son?” I asked.
“I’m not sure, Celia. But Sylvester clearly said Catherine was already pregnant when he met her. I can tell you one thing for sure, with each passing hour, I am getting more and more confused and worried that time is running short. I don’t know why, but I feel that we are missing something,” Mark said. “Anyway, Sylvester sounded pretty upset with Catherine. The issue about Peter must have been gnawing at him for a long time. He seems to think that Catherine tricked him in some way, not telling him that she was already pregnant when they got married. Maybe he thought that she was trying to save face by coaxing him into marriage so that she would not have a baby out of wedlock. That type of situation is very touchy. And on top of that, Sylvester may not even know who the father is. Perhaps Catherine never revealed to Sylvester the father’s identity.”
“I think Sylvester and Catherine had a pretty bizarre relationship with Edgar stalking them and all. It must have put a huge strain on their marriage,” I said.
“I bet it did, and then when Brandon was killed, that was probably the last straw.” Mark pressed his lips into a hard line and shook his head from side to side.
“If we can figure out who killed Brandon, then we would probably be safe to argue that that very person abducted Amber,” I said.
“It’s possible. It seems that Catherine was thinking about Amber’s abduction in that way, that she had always known who the perpetrator was, known his eyes. And she thought of him as being a male, not a female. Catherine believed that it was a male with makeup smeared all over his face. If it was Edgar who did this, then he would have probably done it when his female personality emerged,” Mark explained. “Edgar is the only person we have not talked to. We need to find out where he is.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be easy,” I replied. “Edgar, as I understand, is a strange man who wanders the streets. He does not have a home. Where would we find him?”
Mark shrugged his shoulders. “Beats me. And our other problem is that even if we locate him, would he even know what is going on? I mean, since he has at least two personalities that we know about, will he know if the other personality kidnapped Amber or killed Brandon? Does one personality know what the other personality is doing? That’s a tough question. So I suggest that we search for Edgar and then follow him around. That way we will see what he and his other personality are doing,” Mark said.
I weighed Mark’s suggestion and nodded my acceptance. If Edgar was not in a position to tell us what his other personality was doing, then we would just have to observe him, keep a close eye on him.
The television broadcast interrupted my thoughts.
The Crawford County Sheriff stood at the podium. “A couple of hours ago Catherine Singleton, perhaps the only witness to Amber Lawrence’s abduction, was taken off of life support. The doctors treating her concluded that she had no cognitive capabilities and would never regain consciousness,” he announced.
“That’s not true. Catherine was regaining consciousness,” Mark said under his breath.
The Sheriff continued talking. “At this time, police are searching for Edgar Humphries. They want to take him in for questioning regarding Amber’s abduction. I need to make it clear that he is only being sought for questioning and is not considered a suspect at this time. Edgar is a person of interest. If anyone has information regarding Edgar’s whereabouts, please call the Grayling Police Department or the Crawford County Sheriff.”
A photograph of Edgar was displayed on the television screen. Edgar looked like an elderly man who was grubby, frazzled. His thick brown hair was unkempt and greasy. He had a matching mustache and rumpled beard, and his round eyes were hollow, weary looking. There was an unsettled look on his face, but I could not tell if it was just the appearance of a lunatic or if he was truly startled.
“Wow, that’s some photograph,” I said. “Looks like a police mug shot, doesn’t it?”
“Sure does,” Mark said.
Edgar’s photo vanished, and a live shot of my house was flashed across the screen.
The reporter, a thin, blond woman in her late twenties, was walking toward the rear of my house. “With Catherine gone and no other information available to the investigative authorities, police are asking anyone with information to come forward. Amber’s abduction has taken the small town of Grayling by surprise as it is rare here that such crimes are committed,” the reporter said.
Then the television camera focused on my house. “Just last night at about this time, Amber was with her family here in this house,” the reporter continued. “She has been missing since yesterday evening.”
“Mark!” I screamed.
“What?”
“Look,” I said, pointing to the image on the television screen. “That’s Tally’s bedroom. Her window is open.”
“So?”
“So she never opens her window. Something’s wrong. She can’t open the window herself. It’s too heavy,” I said.
“Do you think Eleanor opened it?” Mark asked.
“I don’t know, but I don’t have a good feeling about this,” I replied.
Mark grabbed my hand, and we ran past the information desk, out the front door, and to the pickup.
As Mark drove out of the parking lot, I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. Surely, I should have known that Tally would be in some type of danger in light of what had happened to Mom and Amber. It was careless of me to leave Tally home with Eleanor. Although Eleanor was nice and considerate, she could not appreciate the danger that haunted our family. I should have taken Tally out of that house, away from Grayling altogether. What would I do if I got home and she was not there? I could never forgive myself. My heart raced as Mark turned the corner and sped down the dirt road.
With Mom gone and Aunt Phyllis in the hospital, it was my responsibility to take care of my sisters, to make sure that they were fed, clothed, and safe. For at least the last year, I had dropped them both off every weekday at school in the morning before heading to my own class. Then Phyllis had picked them up after school. This had gone on ever since Mom left. And now Amber was missing, Tally’s window was opened, and I felt a pang of panic jolt my insides.
Something had been tugging at my subconscious when I saw the first news briefing on the overhead television in the bar near the beach house. It was as if a tiny window opened in my mind, and I recalled that newscast, focusing specifically on the shot of the rear of my house that the camera had taken. The window to Tally’s bedroom was half open even at that time. But I had been so busy focusing on the announcements about Catherine that my mind had skipped over that important image. That was hours ago, I thought. A lot could have happened in those precious few hours.
Chapter 36
When we reached my house, Mark quickly parked the pickup near the front entrance. I bolted out of the vehicle and ran up the porch with Mark trailing close behind. With a sinking feeling gnawing at my stomach, I pounded on the door. No one answered.
I snatched the key out of my jean pocket, stuck it in the door, and turned the knob.
Just as we were half way through the entrance, Eleanor appeared in the hallway.
“Oh, hi, Honey. I was in the kitchen and did not quite hear you knocking,” Eleanor said, apologetically.
“Where’s Tally?” I asked. My voice was abrupt, curt.
“Why she’s in her room taking a nap,” Eleanor explained. “I made her a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch and gave her a glass of milk and some yogurt and raspberries, and then she sat around watching cartoons on television. When she got bored, she went to her room to play with her dollhouse. I checked on her shortly after that and she was sound asleep.” Eleanor’s voice trailed off.
“How long has she been there?” Mark asked.
“In her room?” Eleanor asked.
“Yes.”
“Oh, at least a couple of hours, Sweetheart. I was about to go and fetch her and offer her a snack. I just cut up some watermelon and kiwi. Would you like to sit down and have a bite? You two have been gone for some time,” Eleanor said. She sounded polite.
Without answering, Mark and I sprinted toward the bedroom that Tally shared with Amber. It was on the first floor because Mom had liked the girls to be near her room, which was just down the hall. Mom had said that if she ever needed to reach the girls in a hurry, she would be close by.
I flung open the door. Tally was not in her room. The window was wide open, with the wind whipping at the pink sheer curtains. I scanned the room. The white comforter on one of the beds was neat and unruffled. That was Amber’s bed. The comforter on Tally’s bed was disheveled, with half of it draped over the edge. A lamp sat on top of the nightstand between the twin beds. Directly in front of the beds was a sturdy dresser made of dark cherry wood. The doll house occupied most of the corner on the opposite side, and there were various toys around the room. Nothing looked out of the ordinary with the exception of the open window.
“Where did Tally go?” I shrieked.
“I’m sure she’s around somewhere,” Eleanor said, feigning a smile.
I pointed to the window. “Did you open that window, Eleanor?” I asked.
“No,” Eleanor said, shaking her head from side to side.
“Then who did?”
Eleanor said nothing. She was standing near the door.
“Tally can’t lift this window open,” I said. “It’s too heavy.”
Eleanor’s expression changed, became concerned.
Mark and I ran through the house calling out Tally’s name. I searched in my bedroom upstairs while Mark went down to the basement. There was no sign of Tally.
Eleanor was still in Tally’s room. “It’s my fault,” she said. “It’s my fault. I should have kept a closer eye on her.” She moved toward the open window in the room and peered outside. I joined her.
Mark was in the kitchen calling the police on the telephone.
“Tally’s missing. She’s gone.” My crackling voice became hoarse and shrill.
As the idea of Tally being missing began to sink into my mind, I felt that I needed to be out there searching. I could not count on the police to find her. How could the police determine what happened to Tally when they have not even found anything concrete about Amber’s or Mom’s whereabouts? The authorities could not be trusted to do any job competently. All they knew how to do was to hold news conferences. But where would I search for Tally?
A ripple of thunder rocked the house.
As alarm started to blast through every vein in my body, I stood frozen with fear. What if I never found my sisters or Mom? Phyllis was in the hospital. My life was a complete mess.
As I ran past Eleanor and made it into the living room, I tripped over one of Tally’s toys and knocked my head against the small, round curio cabinet, its glass shattering into a million pieces. I sensed myself falling, slowly, unsteadily, and I tried to grab hold of the door. A jolt of pain shot through my body when I hit my head on something hard as I sank downward. I felt the wooden floor beneath me, cold and hard and indifferent.
A voice was calling my name from far away, telling me to open my eyes. It was Mark. He was bending over me, lifting my head up, wiping my brow with his hand.
“Hurry, get some ice,” Mark’s voice was saying, and then I heard the sound of scurrying footsteps running toward the kitchen and back again. Mark was putting ice on my forehead. I wanted to tell him that I was fine, that we needed to go find Tally and Amber and Mom. Hurry, I thought. Time is running out. But my lips could not form words, could not move. When I opened my mouth, a thin, babbling sound forced its way out of my throat.
A massive headache gripped me and a few seconds later, I felt a tingling sensation in my toes and fingers. My whole body was numb, and I began drifting away, sinking into darkness.
&n
bsp; “Call an ambulance!” Mark was yelling. There was a sound of desperation in his voice.
No, no, no. I don’t need an ambulance, I thought. We need to look for Tally right now. We must go find Edgar and follow him around. Remember what you said in the hospice about locating Edgar and spying on him to see where he goes, what he does? Well, the time has come for us to do that. We don’t have a minute to lose. Please don’t call an ambulance. We will waste precious time if they take me to the hospital. I can’t afford to be tucked away somewhere in an emergency room while Tally and Amber are waiting for me, hoping that I am searching for them. I mustn’t fail my sisters. They are waiting for me. Do you hear that? My sisters are waiting for me!
Mark was sitting on the floor next to me, rubbing an ice pack on my forehead. Surely, he must have known that I was fine, that I would wake up at any moment, and that I would be ready to go looking for Amber and Tally.
I was able to open my eyes slightly. At the periphery of my vision, I saw Mark moving his mouth. He was talking to me, but I could not understand him. The immense pain in my head prevented me from comprehending his words.
Then other sounds filled the room, sounds of paramedics rushing around, noises of them communicating with the hospital, with Mark, with Eleanor. The paramedics’ voices were thin and distant. I had to tell them that I did not want to be taken to the hospital.
I felt myself being lifted onto a stretcher and the stretcher being rolled outside into the chilly breeze. The wind whispered mournfully through the trees. The alternating blue and red flashing lights of the ambulance lit up the dim evening sky.
The paramedics lifted me up and slid the stretcher into the ambulance. Where is Mark? I thought. Surely, he must know how important it is for me not to be taken away. He must realize that precious time is wasting. How could he not know?
Hand Me Down Evil (Hand Me Down Trilogy) Page 10