Deadly Institution

by Holly Copella

  There was another male moan and the covers moved from the man’s head as he sat up. He scratched his mussed hair.

  “I’ve told you before, Jacey,” he announced with a sigh. “There are no wolves around here.”

  Jacey eyed him with a scathing look that conveyed her distaste. “Daddy wouldn’t like you sleeping in his bed with Mommy, Uncle Russell.” She looked back at her mother. “Can we put Patches in the barn tonight?”

  Her mother looked down at the sheets, appeared ashamed, and slowly nodded. She raked her trembling fingers through her hair. “Russell, would you mind?”

  Russell frowned and nodded slowly while sharing the guilt. It wasn’t easy on any of them being he married his deceased brother’s wife. “Yeah, I’ll get the pony.”

  Jacey ran from the room and into her own bedroom. She slipped into her shoes and crawled through the open bedroom window.

  “What are you doing?” Russell’s voice demanded to know from the doorway.

  Jacey looked back at her Uncle Russell with surprise to his question. “Going out the back door,” she said matter-of-fact. “Meet you outside.”

  “Jacey,” he growled firmly.

  Jacey scaled the porch roof, jumped into the big tree, and climbed down to the porch railing. She teetered a moment on the railing then jumped onto the porch and waited impatiently. The front lights came on, lighting the area between the house and the barn. The excited pony ran around the fence. Something moved in the woods near the barn. Jacey stared into the dark woods with great interest. The front door opened. Jacey looked at Russell with some disapproval.

  “Daddy always brought the big gun,” she informed him.

  Russell groaned and rolled his eyes. “We don’t need the big gun. Besides, there aren’t any bullets.”

  They walked off the porch together and approached the paddock and barn where the excited pony watching them and the woods.

  “They’re on the closet shelf on the right behind the dirty magazines,” Jacey replied simply.

  He glared at her but didn’t comment.

  “I could show you how to load it, if you’d like,” she added.

  Russell groaned and rubbed his eyes. Something rustled in the woods. Patches snorted and ran along the fence while watching the woods with great interest. The pony’s head was high, and he remained motionless. Jacey approached the fence and climbed on top of it.

  “Here boy,” she called to her pony.

  The pony didn’t respond but, instead, stood perfectly still with its eyes on the woods. Russell studied the dark, wooded area and appeared almost motionless. He turned his head slightly to the little girl.

  “Jacey,” he said faintly. “Go get the big gun.”

  She stood straight on the fence and stared into the woods with big eyes. The brush moved causing the pony to snort. She clutched the fence with alarm.

  “Is it a wolf?” she gasped softly.

  Russell didn’t look at her but nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he replied nervously. “Go--now.”.

  Jacey jumped from the fence.

  “Russell!” Jacey’s mother suddenly cried from the bedroom window. The sound of terror in her voice was chilling.

  Russell spun and ran a couple of steps closer to the house. “What’s wrong?” he called back.

  Patches bolted across the fence and snorted fiercely. Jacey looked back at her pony and gasped. She grabbed the lead rope on the fence, climbed over the wooden rail, and jumped into the paddock, oblivious to the grown-up conversation. She approached the frightened pony. The pony squealed and bolted past her, nearly knocking her down. There was rustling from the woods, causing her to look with surprise. She anticipated a wolf. A creepy man in a white lab coat took a step toward the fence from the tree line. Jacey cried out with surprise. He darted behind a large tree. Jacey was grabbed around the waist from behind. She screamed as Russell plucked her from the paddock and ran while carrying her through the open gate. The pony ran from the corral and across the large field.

  “Patches,” she cried out. “Patches! Come back!”

  She kicked and fought Russell as he ran with her to the well-lit house and into the kitchen. Her mother slammed the door behind them and bolted it. She clutched her head then sank to one knee and hugged Jacey as Russell set her down. Jacey wiggled away from her mother, who immediately straightened and looked at Russell.

  “Someone saw one of them leaving the hospital grounds,” her mother gasped nervously.

  “Is he dangerous?” Russell asked with concern in his tone.

  “You let Patches get away,” Jacey cried out at her uncle.

  Russell pointed to the stairs beyond the kitchen in an authoritative manner. “Jacey, go to your room!”

  She glared at him with hatred in her eyes. “You aren’t my Daddy!”

  “Jacey, please,” her mother shouted as her body trembled.

  She looked at her mother with surprise. She couldn’t believe her mother was acting this way. It was all Uncle Russell’s fault. Her father never would’ve allowed this. Tears filled her eyes, and she ran from the room.

  †

  Saturday, 7:00 A.M.

  Deputy Monroe, now dressed officially in his police uniform, approached the nurse’s station at the county hospital. A plump nurse in her late forties looked at the stocky, sturdy man in uniform, appeared to approve, and smiled warmly.

  “Can I help you, officer?” she asked politely.

  “Yes, I’m looking for a man who was brought here late last night. Konrad Asher,” Deputy Monroe said simply.

  There was a loud metallic crash from one of the rooms at the opposite end of the hall, which startled Monroe. The nurse didn’t even react and smiled bitterly.

  “Yes,” she replied dryly. “That would be him now. Take him with you--please.”

  Deputy Monroe inhaled deeply and continued down the hall toward the familiar, raised male voice at the end of the hall. He entered the now silent room. Asher lie reclined on his elevated hospital bed and stared out the window without a word as the young nurse cleaned up the meal tray on the floor. Whatever happened ended in silence.

  “Asher,” Deputy Monroe announced as he paused in the private room doorway.

  The nurse straightened and sighed with relief. “I hope you’re here to take him away.”

  Asher turned his head to the mention of his name. He stared at Monroe with little expression. “Get this insufferable woman from my sight,” he scoffed lowly.

  “I was just leaving,” she said and took the tray from the room.

  Asher once again looked out the window. Deputy Monroe approached the bedside and stood there several minutes without being acknowledged. He finally cleared his throat. Asher still didn’t look at him.

  “I know you’ve been through a lot, Asher,” Monroe said gently. “But you don’t need to take it out on the hospital staff.”

  Asher’s head sharply turned toward Monroe with narrow, evil eyes. “Been through a lot?” he questioned lowly. “Katie’s dead. My life ended. Don’t come here and attempt to downplay what occurred last night. You haven’t a fucking clue what I’ve been through.” His head once more turned toward the window and he was again silent.

  Monroe inhaled deeply then sat in the chair alongside the bed. “That’s what we need to talk about,” he said firmly. “One of the guards at the institution reported a patient had escaped his room just before the fire. He found Kate shortly after that. He was ambushed but never saw the man’s face.”

  Asher slowly looked at Monroe and squinted. “This monster; it has a name?”

  Monroe nodded. “Hal Burgess,” he replied. “Odd part is the patient was strapped to his bed in a locked room just twenty minutes before your wife’s murder.”

  Asher turned his head, stared at the sheets, and appeared to sink deep into thought. Something occurred to him, and he looked back at Monroe. “How do they know it was this particular patient if the guard hadn’t seen his face?”

  “He left h
is usual calling card,” Monroe replied.

  “Calling card?” Asher asked and appeared unusually calm for the first time.

  “He carves a symbol into his victim’s body,” Monroe replied softly. He gently cleared his throat. “You were found with your wife in the file room by a firefighter. Did you happen to see anything? Do you remember anything unusual occurring just before you found her?”

  Asher tilted his head and slowly nodded in response. “Yes, as a matter-of-fact,” he replied dryly then suddenly exploded. “The entire building was on fire! The whole fucking situation was a fucking nightmare!”

  Monroe inhaled deeply and attempted to remain calm despite his friend’s outburst and colorful language. “Please, Asher,” he said gently. “I’m trying to find Kate’s killer.”

  All emotion drained from Asher’s face as he stared at the deputy. “He got away?” he asked softly.

  Monroe nodded. “Shortly after the fire trucks arrived. He attacked a guard and ran from the grounds through the woods. He was wearing a green scrub suit and a white lab coat. Russell McMurray reportedly spotted him at their place a little after one.”

  Asher’s interest appeared to increase. “He’s somewhere in Stony Ridge?”

  “It’s quite possible he’s still there,” Monroe informed him. “Let’s just concentrate on your wife’s attack right now. You were in the second floor lounge on the east wing at approximately eleven thirty-five.”

  “Yes,” he replied. “I was early for Kate. She was making rounds, so I went for a cigarette.”

  Monroe jotted notes in a small notebook. “What time did you leave the lounge? What made you leave?”

  “I heard voices in the hallway. I thought it may have been Katie, so I took a walk,” he replied. “While I was walking along the hallway, I heard the fire alert.”

  “The guard was attacked after finding your wife’s body in the archives,” Monroe explained. “Roseanne reported Kate was upset just before she’d gone out for her last patient check. She was very eager to speak to you as soon as you arrived.”

  Asher stared at Monroe a long moment and appeared confused. “Rosy said that?” he suddenly asked. “Why didn’t she tell me Kate wanted to see me?”

  “I’m not sure,” Monroe replied. “Had you and Kate been fighting that day?”

  Asher’s eyes remained fixed on Deputy Monroe. His head tilted slightly. “Why do you ask?” he asked as his eyes narrowed. “Are you getting at something?”

  “Just asking the standard questions,” Monroe explained and began to fidget. He avoided looking at Asher. “We’re not accustomed to murders in this town.”

  “Are you suggesting that I possibly murdered Katie and set the institution on fire to cover it,” Asher snapped hotly as his hostility rose. “I’ve known you for three years, Monroe. You know how much I love my wife.” He was oddly silent. “I think you’d better leave before I say something you’ll regret.”

  Monroe nervously stood. “It’s my job to investigate your wife’s death. It’s because I know you, Asher, that I’m here and not the sheriff. He doesn’t believe that it’s possible for Hal to have escaped his bed and the room on his own. I don’t believe you were involved.”

  “Get out,” Asher growled and pointed toward the door.

  Monroe slowly nodded and left the room. Asher stared at the blank television screen. His eyes narrowed and a strange look crossed his face.

  †

  Deputy Monroe approached the police blazer in the hospital parking lot, shook his head with disgust, and placed his cowboy hat firmly on his head. Derek appeared between the two parked vehicles and forced Monroe to stop mid-stride.

  “Derek?” Monroe announced with a look of confusion. “What are you doing here?”

  “Are you going to arrest him?” Derek demanded to know. His eyes were narrow and fixed on the deputy.

  “Arrest who? Asher?”

  “You’re damned right Asher,” Derek snapped. “He killed Kate last night--”

  “Now wait a minute,” Monroe interrupted and held up his hand. “We don’t know that. We had an escaped serial killer in that building last night. I don’t understand why everyone’s so quick to point the finger at Asher.”

  “Because he did it,” Derek shouted. “Kate’s mother told me just last week that Kate and Asher had some sort of argument. If she would divorce him, he’d lose everything.”

  Monroe folded his arms across his chest and glared at Derek. “Uh, huh. What about the jealous, jilted boyfriend?” he asked simply with a raised brow. “How do I know you didn’t seek revenge last night?”

  Derek’s eyes widened. “Revenge? After three years? If I had wanted revenge, I would’ve taken it when she first dumped me, and it’d have been Asher who’d be dead.”

  “So you say,” Monroe remarked. “But you were drunk last night. There was no guard at the main door of the institution. You could’ve gone there to get Kate back and killed her when she laughed in your face.”

  Derek’s lips twisted in anger. “I would never kill Kate. I loved her.”

  “And so did Asher,” Monroe snapped. “I suggest you go home, before I start checking into your alibi.”

  He pushed Derek aside and climbed into the police blazer. Derek stared after him and watched the police cruiser as it drove away. He sneered and looked at the hospital.

  Chapter Four

  Saturday, 7:00 P.M.

  Roseanne sat at the old-fashioned kitchen table across from her friend and stared into her cup of coffee with a frown. Her friend, Bonnie, a bubbling blonde woman in her mid-twenties, studied her in silence. She finally sat forward and sighed.

  “Come on, Roseanne,” Bonnie chirped with a tiny smile. “You don’t have to work tonight. They gave you a free pass. Let’s go out and do something. Get your mind off what happened last night.”

  Roseanne slowly shook her head and didn’t look up from her coffee cup. “I don’t want to do anything,” she remarked sadly. “All those people dead.” She finally looked up. “How can I forget that? And Kate,” she almost whispered. “I can’t believe what happened to her. Despite it all, I really liked her.”

  Bonnie tilted her head and appeared curious. “Do you think Asher killed her?”

  Roseanne looked at her friend with wide, startled eyes and immediately appeared offended. “Of course he didn’t kill her. He’s not like that,” she said defensively.

  “Even after the way he treated you at the hospital this morning?” Bonnie asked with a raised brow.

  Roseanne shrugged and stared back at her coffee cup. “He’s been through a traumatic experience. He’s going to be angry for some time.” She then looked up and smiled timidly. “But I’ll be there for him when he’s ready.”

  “I’m sure you will be,” Bonnie replied with a slightly evil laugh. “Kate’s death came at a convenient time for you. Your boyfriend is out of the picture, and Asher’s suddenly available.”

  Roseanne glared at Bonnie with a shocked expression. “You’re horrible,” she suddenly snapped. “How can you even say something like that?”

  “Oh, come on,” Bonnie said with annoyance in her voice. “You’ve wanted Asher ever since you laid eyes on him. Don’t pretend you’re not secretly happy Kate’s gone.”

  Roseanne shot up from her chair. “You’re sick, Bonnie,” she snapped and shook her head. “I’m going home.” She hurried to the kitchen door and walked onto the porch.

  Bonnie followed and stood in the kitchen doorway. “You know it’s true though,” she called after Roseanne.

  She smiled smugly then allowed the door to slam shut. Roseanne’s car could be heard burning out in the driveway. Bonnie began cleaning the cups from the table. A woman in her late forties entered the kitchen and shook her head.

  “You’re simply amazing,” Bonnie’s mother scolded. “I can’t believe you’d upset your best friend like that.”

  Bonnie frowned and waved her hand carelessly. “She’ll get over it, because it�
�s true.” She then laughed softly. “I wouldn’t doubt if Roseanne considered killing Kate herself once or twice.”

  “Oh, come now,” her mother snapped with a look of disbelief and shamed her daughter. “Roseanne wouldn’t think of such a thing. She’s a nice girl.”

  “Whatever you say, Mother,” Bonnie said with a mocking smile.

  “I’d better get the sheets off the line before it rains,” her mother said and walked toward the kitchen door.

  “Did you wash my pink skirt?” Bonnie asked casually while wiping the table. “I want to go out tonight.”

  “It’s washed,” her mother replied and stood in the doorway. “But I didn’t have a chance to iron it. It’s in the basement.”

  Bonnie sulked. “I hate ironing.” She then smiled sweetly. “Do you think you could iron it for me?”

  Her mother nodded with a displeased look. “Sure. I’ll do it just as soon as I get the sheets off the line.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Bonnie chirped. “I have to get ready.”

  She turned and ran through the living room and up the stairs to her bedroom. Bonnie’s mother shook her head and walked onto the porch. The clouds were becoming darker in the distance. She walked down the steps and approached the wash line strung between two large trees. She paused before the bedsheet and stared at the long slit in the center of it. Her brows knitted. She tilted her head and touched the slit.

  †

  Bonnie stood before her full-length mirror in her lacy bra and panties as she finished fixing her hair. She checked herself out in her mirror then applied some final touches to her make-up. She approached her closet, removed a white, lacy blouse, slipped into it, and buttoned it as she left her room. She trotted down the stairs and into the kitchen. She opened the basement door.

  “Mom, is my skirt finished?” she called down the steps to the dimly lit basement.

  The basement was dreary looking with its old wood, stone walls, and cobwebs. There was no response. Bonnie looked toward the kitchen window and saw one of the sheets still flapping in the breeze. She groaned and walked down the rickety steps to the basement. The stench of mildew was overpowering. She stopped at the bottom and saw the ironing board next to a table of clothing still waiting to be ironed. Bonnie walked past the dangling lightbulb and sorted through the clothing until she found her pink skirt. There was a dull thump from the outer basement door. She sighed, tossed the skirt on the ironing board, and walked across the basement.