Identity Crisis - Pt 2

For part 1 go to the following link: https://vocal.media/fiction/identity-crisis-yb14r02l5

*************************************************************

Identity Crisis

Chapter 2

Pulling his SUV behind the squad car, Detective Randall Perkins looked at the house. Checking the mailbox, he verified the address - 221 Foxmoor Dr. The house was a pleasant beige color, single story with a two-car garage – probably three bedrooms, two bath, he thought. There was a rose bush in the neatly trimmed front yard and hedges under the front windows. In the driveway was a newer model dark blue Nissan Rogue. It looked like a typical upper middle-class home for the area. The street was quiet at 10 a.m. on a Monday morning except for one neighbor across the street watering his lawn. The detective clambered out of his vehicle and gestured for the two uniformed officers to join him.

“The son is safe at school. There shouldn’t be anybody here but the adoptive parents, Clark and Alicia Marcellus. Remember, the most likely scenario is that these two are basically innocent and have no idea their adopted son was the victim a kidnapping. But,” he looked at the two patrol officers, “there is always the possibility that they are actually kidnappers. Be careful and keep your eyes open.”

“Sure thing Randy,” Officer Denkins replied. The detective gestured for the two officers to precede him to the front door.

In the house, Alicia Marcellus had just finished prepping the chicken she planned to cook for dinner when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it dear.” Alicia dried her hands on a dish towel and went to the front door.

“Thanks hon,” responded her husband, Clark, from the den where he was engrossed in working out a technical software issue for a client.

“It’s probably Tina. She wanted to get together today to dish about the girls.” Alicia chuckled. Opening the door, expecting to see her frumpy friend, Alicia was surprised to see police officers standing there. One officer, the one closest to the door, was a black woman about 5’6” with creamy mocha-toned skin. Behind her was a white officer, a man about 5’10” who looked to be in his early thirties. There was a third person, a blondish haired white man about forty with the beginnings of a paunch around the middle. He was wearing black slacks and a white button-down shirt, holding a clipboard in one hand.

Confused, but assuming it was maybe a charity drive for the police union or some such, Alicia Marcellus addressed the female officer. “Can I help you officers?”

“I’m Officer Rodriguez,” the cop said. “This is Officer Denkins,” nodding toward the second officer. “And This is Detective Perkins,” she said nodding to the man in the plain clothes. “Is your husband home?”

“Yes. He’s in the den working. Is there something we can help you with officers?”

“We need to talk with you about something regarding your son, Quentin,” the officer said. “May we come in?”

“Quentin? Is everything okay? He’s at school.” Alicia Marcellus began to feel nervous. “He’s all right, isn’t he?”

“Your son is fine ma’am. There’s just something we need to discuss. May we come inside?”

Flustered, Alicia stepped back. “Of course. I’m sorry,” she said, gesturing for the officers to come inside.

“Thank you ma’am,” Officer Rodriguez said as the three stepped inside. She had what sounded like a creole accent that rolled off her tongue.

Alicia glanced outside. Mr. Wilkins was watering his lawn across the street while pretending not to watch what was going on. Other than a car passing by on the cross street a block up there was nothing else around except the police cruiser parked on the street in front of the house and a dark SUV she assumed belonged to the detective. Closing the door, she turned to the police officers with a questioning look.

Pulling a photo from a clipboard, the detective showed it to the flustered woman. “Is this your son? Quentin?”

Glancing at the picture, Alicia Marcellus nodded. “Yes. That’s Quentin.”

Detective Perkins gave a significant look to the two uniformed officers there with him. Mrs. Marcellus had just identified Anthony Trilby as her son Quentin Marcellus.

As Detective Perkins and Officer Denkins looked around the room, taking in the furnishings and such, Officer Glenda Rodriguez took in the woman standing there. Alicia Marcellus looked confused, but not frightened like she probably would have been were she a kidnapper. The white woman had brown hair tied back with a hair tie and was wearing a basic yellow sun dress. “Is there anyone else home besides you and your husband ma’am?”

“No. He works from home as an I.T. technician. He’s in the den.” Turning, the woman called, “Honey, it’s the police. Something about Quentin.”

“Be right there.” Clark Marcellus saved his progress on the project he was working on and, exiting the den, walked into the living room. His wife, looking worried, was standing by the door. In front of her, perusing the room, stood two police officers and a white man in dress pants and shirt. “Can we help you officers? Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine sir. We just needed to speak with you about your son, Quentin,” the detective said. “Like Officer Rodriguez told your wife, he’s okay. But we needed to ask you some questions. Is it possible for the two of you to come to the station?”

“Come to the station? I don’t understand. You said everything was fine.” Clark was getting worried. Something was obviously going on and Quentin was involved. “Did our son do something wrong at school?”

“It is about an incident that occurred at the high school this morning sir, ma’am. Your son’s not in any trouble. There’s just a bit of confusion.” The stern looking detective looked Clark Marcellus in the eye as he spoke.

“Okay. I guess we can come to the station. Can you give us some idea of what this is about though?”

“We just need to ask you some questions pertaining to Quentin. He’s going to meet us at the station.”

“All right. Just let me lock up the back door and we’ll follow you to the station.” Clark looked at his wife, who shrugged, as much at a loss as he was.”

“Oh, one other thing,” Detective Perkins said. “Your son is adopted, isn’t he?”

“Yes. We adopted him fifteen years ago when he was just a year old.” Alicia wrung her hands, blinking. “We couldn’t have kids of our own.”

Glancing back at the worried woman, the detective gave what he hoped was a comforting look. “I understand. It’s nice when good people are willing to take in and adopt children in need.” The detective smiled, putting the photo back on his clipboard. “Mr. Marcellus, would you mind getting any paperwork you have surrounding the adoption of your son, Quentin? We may need to take a look at them.”

Clark and Alicia looked at each other. Now they were beginning to get scared. The adoption papers? Is there a problem there? After fifteen years. “Sure, I’ll get them. They’re in the bedroom.”

As Clark turned to head to the bedroom Officer Denkins, stepped forward. “I’ll go with you if you don’t mind sir.”

“Of course, Officer.” Clark looked again at his wife. He was truly worried now. Followed by the cop, Clark retrieved his briefcase and pulled out the folder with their copies of Quentin’s adoption paperwork.

“Thank you, sir. Do you mind if I hold those?”

“No problem.” Clark handed the papers to the officer and, followed closely by Officer Denkins, returned to the living room. Then, locking up the house, the two worried parents followed the squad car to the local precinct.

----------

Quentin was feeling more and more trepidation as he walked down the school hallway with his newly discovered twin. His eyes were blinking and his pulse raced. As the four – the two boys and the police officers – approached the Dean’s office, he slowed, hanging back. Jason looked at him, a question in his eyes.

“Jason? You okay?”

“Quinn. My name is Quinn. I don’t know,” Quinn said, swallowing the lump in his throat. The two officers stood about two feet away, trying to give the teens space.

“Your name is Jason,” Anthony said quietly. “And you’re my brother.”

Quinn looked at his supposed brother. The teen standing there calling himself his brother was certainly a twin to himself. “So…, I was kidnapped as a baby? My real name is Jason Trilby?” Shaking his head, Quinn rubbed his temples. “This is crazy. I’m Quentin Marcellus. My mom and dad are Clark and Alicia Marcellus.” His voice quavered. Turning to the two officers, Quentin asked, “Are my parents here?”

“Yes,” three voices replied in tandem. The voices had a slight echo in the school corridor which was empty with classes currently in session.

The two police officers looked sheepish. “Sorry. Your real parents, your biological ones, are here.”

Anthony swallowed the lump in his throat. Even though he had wanted his whole life to find his missing twin, he was scared. He knew it had to be worse for Jason. “Sorry Jason…, Quinn. Our parents are in there. Waiting to meet the son they have been looking for for fifteen years. Not to mention the brother I always knew I had somewhere. They love you, Jason.” Anthony struggled to hold back his own tears. “Please man.”

One of the police officers, a kind looking black man, stepped forward. Placing one hand lightly on the scared teen’s shoulder, he spoke softly. “Son. It’ll be okay. I know you’re confused and scared; but those two people in there are your actual biological parents. We have all the reports from fifteen years ago and the follow-ups faxed over from Indianapolis.” Nodding at Anthony, he continued, “Is there really any doubt that this young man is your brother?”

“I guess not,” Quinn replied. “But…”

“I get it son. But your real parents have been looking for you for fifteen years. Won’t you at least meet them? Your mother is frantic.”

Turning to Anthony, who stood there looking at him, Quinn shuddered. It was like looking into a mirror to an alternate reality. Straightening, he tried to steel himself. “Okay. Let’s go meet Mom and Dad.”

----------

After a moment of almost stunned silence punctuated by a flurry of hushed whispers, Sophomore English began to settle down. Wayne Jennings looked over the room. These young people thought of themselves as adults, or nearly so, but, at fifteen and sixteen, they were really still children. His heart went out to Quentin …, Jason. That was a situation that anyone, even a full-grown adult, would have a very hard time coming to grips with. How does someone deal with having their entire core identity ripped out by the seams like that?

Sighing, he addressed the room. “All right class. Let’s settle down. I know that was a shock for all of you. Try to imagine how it must have felt to …, uhm, Jason. When he comes back to school, if he does, try to be compassionate or at least understanding. In the meantime, those essays you all had to write. Please pass them to the left end of your row where I can collect them. I think we’ve had enough out loud readings today.”

Dan picked up the essay that his best friend had left sitting on his desk. He looked at it for a moment before passing it along with his own down the row.

As the students shuffled their papers around, Wayne leaned back, taking a deep breath. Wayne Jennings, English teacher extraordinaire, he thought. I am so glad that Principal Williams told me what was going to be done here today. Wow. What a dramatic scene. Looking up for a moment he silently prayed that Quentin Marcellus, aka Jason Trilby, would be okay.

In his seat, Daniel Rigby was in a turmoil. If he comes back? Holy crap. Quentin may actually have to move away. Jesus! What a shit show. When the bell finally rang for the end of the period, Dan hung back as the other teens headed out for their next classes. “Mr. Jennings?”

Wayne looked up at the young man standing there. The boy looked worried and nervous. “Yes Dan?”

“Uhm, what’s going to happen to Quinn?”

“I don’t really know Dan. I would guess there’ll be a big investigation surrounding how he came to be adopted by the Marcellus’.”

“But, will he be back?”

The boy sounded almost plaintive. Wayne felt his heart going out to the young man. Jason Trilby wasn’t the only one going through an emotional whirlpool today. Sighing, he replied, “To be truthful Dan, I don’t know. My assumption is that when the dust settles, he’ll go to live with his real family.”

**********************************************

Stay tuned for part 3. Thank you so much for reading. Any comments - positive or negative - greatly appreciated.