Hand Me Down Evil (Hand Me Down Trilogy)

by Allison James

  Edgar sat in silence. There was a look of confusion on his face.

  “The next thing I knew, the staff informed me that Travis had hung himself to death with his bed sheets,” Dr. Foster said.

  Edgar grimaced.

  “What I don’t understand is that if Travis thought that you had not committed any crimes, then why did he say that he had unleashed his evil genes out into the universe?”

  Edgar looked at the pile of police incident reports that Dr. Foster had plopped down on the coffee table.

  “So this book that you’re writing about multiple personality disorder obviously focuses on my father and me?”

  Dr. Foster scratched his head. “I just need a signed consent from you so that I can reveal any confidential information in the book about you. I already had your father sign one. To be more specific, the book is about multiple personality disorder as an inherited genetic defect. If a person has such a disease, what is the likelihood of him passing it down to his offspring? Does the inherited trait skip a generation or does it surface in a hundred percent of the cases? You and your father are perfect examples of this subject, and that is why I want to use you as a case study. Your participation in this project is even more important now since your father is dead.”

  “And what is the title of your book?” Edgar asked wearily.

  “It’s called Hand Me Down Evil.”

  Chapter 45

  Edgar stood up, inadvertently knocking the coffee cup off the table. “How dare you call me and my father evil,” he screamed. “How dare you treat us like a bunch of murderers. You’re all in on this together, you and the police, aren’t you? You want to lock me up in a hole like this hospital so you can study me and make millions off your book. Well, I’m not giving you the chance. Go study someone else.” Edgar pushed the door open. I could hear him racing down the hallway.

  “But wait,” Dr. Foster yelled. “It’s not like that, I promise you. Don’t be fooled by the title of the book. I can change the title if it offends you.”

  I heard the sound of fading footsteps.

  The doctor was running after Edgar.

  “Someone call the police, call security at once,” Dr. Foster was yelling.

  When I was sure that the both of them had gone, I exited the closet and trotted out of the office. As I turned the corner with the intention of running down the staircase, I saw the door close at the opposite end of the hallway. I stopped in my tracks. There would be no way for me to get to the main hospital if I took the stairway closest to Dr. Foster’s office, I thought. I would have to go down the staircase at the opposite end of the hall. With my heart pounding in my chest, I turned on my heels and sprinted through the corridor and down the stairs. Then I dashed out of the door at the bottom of the staircase and raced down the narrow hallway that led to the main hospital area. It was there that a guard, a bulky, stern looking man in his mid-sixties spotted me and asked me what I was doing in a restricted area of the hospital.

  I stopped, took a deep breath, and faced the guard who was blocking the door that lead to the emergency room lobby. Apparently, he had been watching me all along the moment that I snuck out of the staircase enclosure.

  I had to think of something, any excuse, fast. Had the guard not stopped me, I would have made my way home and searched for Mark. Surely, Mark needed to hear all of the things that Edgar had told Dr. Foster. It was important for Mark to understand what Edgar’s other personality thought happened to Brandon. With his good intuitive skills, Mark would definitely figure out who killed Brandon.

  While the guard looked severely at me from above his thin rectangular glasses, I cleared my throat and held my breath.

  “I was trying to visit my Aunt Phyllis,” I told him. “She was admitted to this hospital yesterday evening.”

  “Young lady, you did not hear my question,” the guard said. He sounded impatient. “I didn’t ask who you were visiting. I questioned why you were in a restricted area of the hospital.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I replied. “I must have made the wrong turn and got lost. I am looking for the area where my aunt would be.”

  The guard rolled his eyes.

  “Sure, you are. The patient rooms are on the other side of the hospital on the second floor,” he said motioning toward the emergency room door. “You’ve got to go through the emergency area and take the staircase or elevators at the other end. But visiting hours are over, and you should have checked with the information desk before wandering around by yourself,” he said. His expression softened a bit.

  “I’m sorry. I meant no harm,” I responded.

  The guard gazed sheepishly at me. “Come on, kid. If you promise to make it short, I’ll take you to see your aunt.”

  I smiled politely and accepted his offer.

  During all of the commotion of the day’s events, I had not even thought to visit Aunt Phyllis, and a feeling of guilt set in. I did not even bother to call her. Now I was just going to see her to find out what she could remember of the explosion and what happened to Amber.

  I felt a sense of relief as the guard led me through a long corridor instead of the emergency room. It would be a disaster if the clerk at the triage desk recognized me and told the guard that I was actually a patient, not a visitor. After we exited the employee elevator on the second floor, the guard led me to room 210, where I caught a glimpse of my aunt in bed. She had bags under her eyes. The nasty bruise on her forehead was still there, red and bulging, a stark reminder of what had happened to her and Amber the night before.

  “Oh, darling, come in. I’ve been thinking about you and your sisters all day. I called the house so many times just yet, but there was no answer,” Phyllis said, as I sat down beside her.

  The guard stood outside the room waiting for me.

  “I really should have called you, but so many things have been happening. I have not even had a chance to catch my breath since yesterday,” I confessed.

  “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. This nasty bump on my head had the doctors concerned. I told them I was fine, but they did not believe me. They admitted me just so I could get an MRI,” she explained.

  I bent over and gave Aunt Phyllis a big hug.

  “And will you be all right?” I asked.

  “Of course I will. I had a slight concussion. That’s all. They might discharge me tonight. I’ll let you know when the doctor comes later. But how have you and Amber and Tally been managing without me?” she asked, trying to lift her head up. Grimacing in pain, she sank back down on her pillow and bit her lip.

  Obviously, Aunt Phyllis had not heard about Amber, and she certainly did not know that Tally was missing, as well. I debated whether or not to tell her about my sisters and decided against the idea. The last thing I wanted to do was to make her sicker than she was. Besides, what could she possibly do but worry about Amber and Tally? The knot on Phyllis’ forehead did not look any better than it had yesterday.

  “Everyone is fine,” I said, not meeting her gaze. How could I tell my aunt that Mom was not the only person missing in the Lawrence family? How could I explain that Amber and Tally had disappeared as well? My aunt was not in a position to help me find my siblings anyway.

  “Oh, I’m so glad to hear that,” Phyllis said, turning her head slightly toward me. “With Victoria gone, I would not want to think I failed in my responsibility to take care of you girls, now would I?” She smiled.

  I gave a fake grin.

  “Aunt Phyllis, I have to get back home real quick, but I want to ask you something before I go,” I said.

  “What?”

  “It’s about the night of the explosion.”

  “Sure, what is it?”

  “Do you remember exactly what happened?”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “What do you recall?”

  Phyllis took a deep breath. “I heard a loud bang, and then there was this awful pain in my head. I think I had knocked my head against the steering wheel or dashboa
rd or something. I felt so dizzy, but I managed to stop the car.”

  “What about Amber?” I asked.

  Phyllis rolled her eyes and chuckled. “The entire time we were heading toward Michael’s Market, Amber was squirming in the back seat, looking out the window and saying that the bad lady was following us in a white car. That poor child is paranoid.”

  I gasped without intending to do so as I leaned forward in my chair.

  “What happened next?”

  Phyllis tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. “Then I heard the explosion. Something caught fire.”

  “Then what?” I asked.

  “That’s when I must have hit my head. I don’t remember anything else, only the sound of sirens screaming, like the wailing of an ambulance. That’s all.”

  “Oh,” I said, sinking back in my chair.

  “Do you remember anything else that Amber said?” I asked.

  Phyllis shrugged her shoulders and shook her head in denial. “No, not really. I was thankful that a nice lady came to help us right after the explosion. She was assisting Amber in the back seat. I think Amber had hit her head. Your sister is all right, isn’t she? I figured that if something was wrong, the ambulance would have taken her as well.”

  “What woman was helping Amber?” I asked, trying not to sound alarmed.

  “She was in a car traveling behind us, and she rushed out to help right after the explosion,” Phyllis said.

  “What did the woman look like?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she replied softly.

  Unconsciously, I rose from my chair and started pacing around the small room.

  The guard peeked inside and told me that I only had two minutes left since he had to go back downstairs to his post.

  “Aunt, Phyllis, I’ve been trying not to cause you too much stress in your condition, but I’ve got some awful news to tell you,” I said. I figured that I would have to explain what happened to Amber sooner or later. If Phyllis is released from the hospital tonight, she would find out that Amber was missing.

  “What?” Phyllis asked. “Is Amber all right? Is she sick?”

  I shook my head. “No, nothing like that. I don’t know if she’s sick or well because we have not been able to find her since the explosion.”

  Phyllis gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes were wide.

  Chapter 46

  “You’ve got to try to remember everything about the woman who helped Amber right after the explosion. Try to remember. I think Amber was abducted, and the woman may have something to do with it,” I pleaded.

  The guard entered the room. “Come on. I’ve got to go back downstairs,” he said. “Visiting hours are over, and I can’t leave you up here by yourself.”

  “Oh, give me a minute, please,” I begged.

  The guard sighed out loud and said, “One minute exactly.” Then he stepped back into the hallway.

  I clasped Phyllis’ hand. “Please, try to remember. What did the woman look like?”

  “Well, I just recall her wearing an orange scarf with fringe,” Phyllis said. “I really did not get a good look at her face. I was so dizzy and shook up.”

  “An orange scarf?” I asked.

  “Yes, the crocheted kind with threads of silver sparkle yarn woven throughout,” she replied. She rubbed her head with her hand. “I’m getting a headache. Please go find Amber. There must be an explanation,” Phyllis said. “This can’t be happening. No, this can’t be. I was responsible for Amber. It’s all my fault.”

  The impatient guard entered the room with his hands folded across his chest. “Time’s up. Let’s go,” he said.

  As Phyllis buried her head in her pillow while mumbling that it was all her fault, I followed the guard down the hall and into the employee elevator.

  Peculiar thoughts raced through my mind. The orange scarf that Phyllis had described was actually mine. Mom had crocheted it for me for Christmas several years ago. She and I had gone to the craft store together that year, and I had chosen the bright orange yarn and silver thread. It was around Halloween time, and the color had reminded me of bright pumpkins. Then I lost the scarf just last year. Or maybe someone had stolen it. I bit my lip as I thought of other articles of clothing that were missing from my house. Back then, I had thought that my room was just too cluttered for me to keep track of where I put my things.

  We exited the elevator, and the guard led me to the emergency room. “Just go out that entrance. And next time, instead of wandering into restricted areas of a hospital, ask for directions. That’s what we have an information desk for,” he said pointing to the front desk.

  I smiled politely and thanked him for having taken me to see my aunt.

  At least ten more patients were in the emergency room lobby, waiting for their turn to see the physician. A curly haired nurse in her mid-thirties who held a file in her hand entered the lobby and called my name. She did not notice me as I stole behind her and slipped out the door into the parking lot.

  Furious drops of rain pounded the pavement, and the wind made a mournful hiss as it rustled through the trees that hovered over the parking lot. I stood under the canopy at the entranceway, trying to collect my thoughts. From where I stood, I could see that Edgar’s car was no longer in the parking lot. He had apparently left as hastily as he had arrived.

  The sound of police sirens grew fainter. Maybe the police were chasing after Edgar.

  I had to find a way to get home. I needed Mark. He would be eager to hear of all of the things I had learned today. Mark would help me piece my thoughts together, if only I could find him. It didn’t make sense that he did not follow me to the hospital. Where could he have gone?

  With Amber’s and Tally’s lives hanging in the balance, I had to maintain my composure. Mark had suggested that we follow Edgar around to see what his female personality did. But chasing after Edgar was out of the question since I did not have an automobile, and I had no clue as to where the old, strange man had gone.

  I felt that time was running short, ticking away. Every minute lost was a minute that my sisters’ lives could be in danger. I scanned the parking lot and saw a taxi cab parked at the far end of the entranceway. Without hesitating, I sprinted through the rain toward the cab, and the driver agreed to give me a ride home.

  Chapter 47

  After the cab dropped me off at home, I ran to the kitchen and flipped on the light. The house was empty. Amber was gone. Tally was gone.

  Mark was nowhere to be found. I had no idea as to where he could have possibly gone after the ambulance rushed me off to the hospital. He had seemed so concerned. It all didn’t make sense. If it were not for him, I would not have known what was in Catherine’s mind. I would not have thought to go and pay Sylvester a visit. And now Mark had abandoned me after all that we had been through together. Perhaps he really did not care, I thought. But he had seemed so genuine at the beach house.

  Had Eleanor deserted me, too? I grabbed the phone and punched in her number.

  “Eleanor, it’s me, Celia,” I said.

  “Oh, I have been worried sick about you. I called the hospital five times, but they could not locate you in the emergency waiting room. They said you had checked in, but when they went to look for you, you were not there,” Eleanor said. “I figured they must have rushed you to another department for an MRI.”

  “I’m fine. Honestly, I am. Have you heard anything about Tally?” I asked, closing my eyes and hoping that she would somehow answer in the positive.

  “No. But the police arrived right after you left and took fingerprints. They believe there is a connection between the disappearance of your sisters and your mother’s disappearance.”

  “I could have told the police that,” I said. “Where is Mark? Do you know where he went?”

  “Yeah,” Eleanor replied. “He said he wanted to hurry over to the public library before it closed. He mumbled something about wanting to review the archives for newspapers that were pu
blished in Ohio decades ago. He wanted to check on some dates.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “He said something about wanting to try to determine how long after Catherine broke off her engagement to Edgar that she met Sylvester,” Eleanor said. “He said that if his hunch turned out right, then Peter is Edgar’s child. He wanted to make sure that I told you that if I talked to you. He said that this piece of information is very important and that it makes all the difference in the world. Mark also wanted me to let you know that as soon as he found what he was looking for in the library, he would meet up with you at the hospital.”

  The voice on the other end of the receiver paused for a brief moment.

  “Did Mark say anything else?” I asked.

  “No,” Eleanor replied. “But he sounded so peculiar. He kept repeating himself, telling me to inform you that he has a very strong hunch that Peter is Edgar’s child. He was enunciating the word hunch very distinctively, like hunch meant something.”

  As Eleanor’s words began to sink in, a sudden surge of alarm pulsed through my body.

  “Oh, no,” I screamed, dropping the telephone receiver. It was as if a window opened up in my mind at that moment, and everything started to fall into place. I started to piece together all of the jagged pieces of the puzzle.

  Sylvester had said that Peter was not his child. I recalled what Catherine was thinking just before they discontinued life support. She had remembered that she recognized the kidnapper’s eyes, the eyes of a child. The kidnapper was a child to her, her child, who was Peter. Peter was the kidnapper, I thought. Then Edgar’s alter personality, Shelly, had said that she saw the boy kill Brandon. The boy was Peter. Edgar was Peter’s father. Travis was Peter’s grandfather.