The Deadliest Institution Collection

by Holly Copella

  She playfully slapped his arm as he laughed. “I’m starving,” Devon announced. “I was so upset about the interview; I didn’t eat this morning. Let’s go to the diner for some breakfast.”

  Martin made a face. “Why don’t we go to the resort and have breakfast at one of their restaurants?”

  “That’s fifteen minutes away,” Devon protested. “The diner is right in town.”

  “Yeah, I know, but Marlene is working this morning,” he remarked.

  “So?” Devon squawked. “What does that matter? You like Marlene.”

  “Well, I’m not sure Marlene likes me right now,” he informed her then grimaced. “We sort of went out last weekend.”

  “You took Marlene out?” Devon asked with surprise then raised her brows. “Or you did Marlene?”

  “Uh, possibly the second one.”

  Devon rolled her eyes then glared at him. “I thought you said you wouldn’t go out with her. You know she has a temper.” She then considered the comment and cringed. “Not to mention her brother’s temper.”

  “I know,” Martin groaned and allowed his head to fall back against the seat. “I was weak.” He turned his head and eyed her while cringing. “I was having a dry spell and gave in to the temptation.” He managed a tiny smile. “I’m only human, Devon.”

  Devon rolled her eyes. “How many times can you use that excuse? It’s starting to wear thin,” she remarked then shook her head. “So now we can’t go to the diner whenever Marlene’s working in fear of gourmet condiments on our burgers.”

  “Just until she finds a new man to piss her off,” Martin replied. “Two weeks tops.”

  Devon shook her head. “Drive, lover boy,” she scoffed. “I’m starving.” She then eyed him as he put the car into gear. “Oh, and try not to sleep with our waitress at the restaurant.”

  Martin grinned slyly. “I’ll try, but I won’t make any promises.”

  Chapter Seven

  Devon’s family owned a cattle ranch that had been in her family for generations. The old, large plantation style farmhouse had been restored to its original grandeur, which contained two floors, many windows, and multiple balconies. The ranch had several large barns nestled on more than two hundred acres of land. In addition to several other outer buildings, there was a long cabin of sorts, which was the bunkhouse for the ranch hands. A dozen horses and a few head of cattle grazed within a paddock near the barn. The larger herd was still out in the lush pasture further from the house.

  Devon, now changed into jeans and an old shirt, left the house and headed for the paddock. She approached the tall, wooden fence and was immediately greeted by an excited black and white pinto gelding. Devon climbed onto the fence and affectionately patted the horse.

  “Hey, boy,” she announced cheerfully. “Did you miss me?”

  The horse snickered lowly as if answering her. An older cowboy rode up to the fence and stopped his horse near her. Devon’s father, Jack, was tall and built solid like her brother. Years of working the ranch had made him strong with an impressive build. There was no doubt that Martin got his good looks from their father. Although his dark hair was grey on the sides and starting to thin, he was still a handsome man. Her father leaned forward in the saddle and grinned at her while tilting the brim of his cowboy hat.

  “I’ve missed you too,” she informed the horse while playing with its nose. “No ride tonight though. I have a new job, and I can’t be late.”

  “Do you honestly think he understands what you’re saying?” her father teased.

  “Every word,” she announced in a moderately cold tone without looking at him.

  “Martin said you got the job at the museum,” he announced and put on a false smile. “I’m glad you found something to keep you busy.”

  Devon frowned and barely glanced at her father. “Yes, it should keep me far away from the wranglers,” she scoffed and climbed off the fence.

  Her father immediately frowned at the subject. “We discussed why you can’t work the cattle,” her father announced firmly.

  “Yes, I know,” she remarked in a snarky tone. “They’re men, and I’m just a girl. I belong barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen like a good, little housewife.”

  Devon turned and headed back toward the house without giving him a second glance.

  “Devon,” he called after her. “That’s not fair.”

  She ignored him and continued toward the porch. Martin approached from the house wearing dress pants, a neatly ironed shirt, and a jacket. He looked like the handsome devil he was. Devon looked him over and smiled her approval.

  “Hmm. Dressed to kill,” she announced cheerfully. “Someone’s anticipating a good evening.”

  “If I’m lucky--right through to a good morning,” Martin teased.

  “You’re such a dog.”

  Martin nodded to their father who dismounted his horse and headed into the barn. “Piss off the old man again?” he asked.

  “As usual.”

  “So now probably isn’t a good time to tell him I won’t be helping out this weekend, huh? Good to know.” He cast a look at her. “Ivy’s on the phone,” Martin informed her. “She says it’s important. Sounded upset.”

  “Oh, no,” Devon moaned as her expression dropped. “The audition.”

  “If you need a ride to Ivy’s house, the bus leaves in fifteen minutes,” Martin informed her.

  §

  Devon sat on the porch railing and watched Ivy where she sat slumped on the wooden swing looking sedate. Ivy’s house was close to town, although still surrounded by cornfields. It was possibly the same cornfield that surrounded the museum and funeral home. Devon had never explored the farmland surrounding her friend’s home, so she wasn’t sure what property it touched.

  “I know Jamie got the job,” Ivy moaned. “She was so giggly and flirtatious coming out of the conference room at the hotel.” She frowned and gently rocked the swing with her foot. “Do you have any idea what that job would mean?”

  “Long hours surrounded by exceptionally large egos?” Devon teased.

  “You’re funny,” Ivy snarled.

  “I’ll be honest, Ivy,” she remarked. “I don’t know much about this acting job or why every woman in town is fawning over it.”

  “Burt Danson, an actual producer from Hollywood, is holding auditions for a long-term role in a soap opera,” Ivy informed her. “They’re going to be filming a few episodes at the resorts, and they want some local talent to play the part.”

  “Again,” Devon announced. “I don’t understand the attraction. It’s a part-time gig. A few weeks and it’s back to Ivy, bank teller.”

  “You understand nothing about the industry,” Ivy announced with a groan.

  Devon raised a skeptical brow. “And you do?”

  Ivy rolled her eyes and shook her head at her friend’s lack of interest. “If it goes well, the part could turn into a permanent role. It’s a way into the industry.” She leaned back on the porch swing and groaned. “My first real chance to be someone and that bitch Jamie is going to snatch that job out from under me.”

  “You don’t know she got the job,” Devon reminded her. “I mean, she’s not exactly talented. You can act circles around her. You were always the lead in the school plays.”

  “Not always,” Ivy scoffed. “Jamie had her share.” She groaned with irritation. “I wish she’d fall off the face of the earth.”

  “No, we’re not going back into that dark hole,” Devon announced. “I can’t go through that voodoo curse book again.”

  “I’ll behave,” Ivy muttered.

  “Speaking of Jamie--”

  Ivy groaned.

  “I ran into Karl at the museum today,” she announced boldly. “He said he broke it off with her.”

  Ivy snorted a laugh. “I overheard Jamie telling Paula she’d dumped him.”

  “Paula Jarred?” she gasped with surprise. “I didn’t even know those two were on speaking terms anymore. I thought t
hey had some falling out a few years back after graduation.”

  “They aren’t friends. I think Jamie was just trying to get under Paula’s skin,” Ivy reported.

  “When did you see those two together?” Devon finally asked.

  “At the audition. I can’t believe Paula, of all people, was auditioning for that acting job,” Ivy muttered and shook her head. “I mean, really? The role isn’t the part of a hooker. She has zero chance of getting that part.”

  “Hmm?” Devon remarked while sinking into thought. “So she’s actually willing to give up her full-time job as town lush?”

  Ivy laughed for the first time and sat up straight on the swing. “Her brother will give her a run for that title.” She then eyed her friend. “Did you eat before you came over?”

  “No,” Devon replied and sighed with defeat. “I wanted to get out of there and avoid another confrontation with my father.”

  “You should stay for dinner,” Ivy announced. “I’ll be able to get you to the museum in time.”

  “I am hungry,” Devon replied.

  Ivy stared at her friend and sighed. “Don’t let your father get to you, Devon,” she announced. “He’s stubborn and set in his caveman ways.”

  “It just pisses me off that if I want to work, I have to find a job in town,” Devon practically lashed out. “I grew up around the cattle and the wranglers. I can do the job better than most of the men. I should be able to work the ranch.”

  “I think some of your dad’s problems come from Martin refusing to work the ranch,” Ivy informed her. “His own son wouldn’t do it, so he doesn’t want his daughter filling that spot.”

  “No, that’s not it,” Devon snapped. “It’s because of Jamie’s perverted brother, Joe.”

  “Because he harassed you?” Ivy suddenly demanded. “That seems like a stupid reason to disqualify you from working the cattle.”

  “My father liked Joe,” Devon remarked. “He was going to replace the foreman one day. Then I report him for what he did, he fires him, and I’m forbidden from working the ranch. You know, because the guys might realize I’m a girl and get all hot and bothered.”

  “Your father’s concerned for your safety,” Ivy announced. “I don’t think he’s worried about the boys getting a hard-on around his daughter and acting out their uncontrollable desire.”

  “It’s actually the same difference,” Devon remarked. “He’s not so much worried about me. He doesn’t want to risk losing more hard working perverts. Keeping me away from them is his best solution to avoiding a future problem.”

  “You’ve never had a problem with them before,” Ivy announced. “You’re not exactly a china doll. I’ve seen you handle those guys on their own level. I don’t understand the problem.”

  “I’ve given up trying to understand it myself,” she muttered.

  “You can handle a little harmless flirting from the guys. What Joe did was reprehensible on every level,” Ivy announced. “He should have been fired. Your father should realize the difference.”

  “You can’t explain anything to my father,” she remarked. “He thinks I should get married, pop out a few kids, and be a housewife.” Devon shifted uncomfortably. “Not that I knock my mother for the life she chose, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life being maid and cook to everyone else.”

  Ivy drew a deep breath and sighed. “Sadly, that’s the reality for most women in this town,” she remarked. “If I don’t get that part in the soap opera, I know I’m going to end up working at the bank the rest of my life. I can get a head start waiting on others before moving on to waiting on a husband and kids.” Ivy sneered at the thought. “I have to get out of this one-horse town before that happens.”

  “You and me both,” Devon muttered.

  Chapter Eight

  That evening, Devon walked through the museum dungeon and past the phantom display on her way to the workshop. She paused to study the partially finished exhibit. She found it surprising that the phantom was already finished and set in place since she didn’t recall seeing the menacing, disfigured killer even started. The life-like wax phantom was seated before the old pipe organ, which was possibly an antique they’d purchased along the way. She nervously approached the display with a curious look and walked around the side of the phantom with its back to her.

  The phantom was dressed mostly in black, including black boots and fedora boldly tilted on its head. The purple cape with black liner was elegantly positioned over its shoulder, giving the phantom an almost regal appearance. According to legend, the phantom was more or less a refined killer, suavely stalking its prey. As she got closer, she looked at the phantom’s profile and the white mask covering nearly three-quarters of its face. It was a terrifying image. Devon was curious if Brant had made his face disfigured beneath the mask. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt curious enough to take a peek. Devon hesitated and reached for the mask just to see if it could be removed and what lie beneath.

  The phantom suddenly turned and lunged for her. Devon jumped backward with a loud, startled scream. The phantom removed the white mask, revealing the man beneath it. Her friend, Ross, laughed at her expense. Devon’s expression dropped as she stared at her friend in the costume. She angrily slapped him on the shoulder, causing him to yelp.

  “Damn it,” she cried out in a shrill tone. “You scared me!”

  “That was the whole idea,” Ross teased while adding an evil chuckle.

  Ross Conners was a tall, slightly round man just a year older than Devon. With his dark, moderately wavy hair, he had the look of a practical joker. He wasn’t the most handsome man, but he had enough personality to make friends with nearly everyone. He definitely gave the impression of a big kid, especially with his lack of maturity and non-existence seriousness. Ross looked past Devon, fidgeted slightly, and offered a nervous smile.

  “Uh, hey, Mr. Brook.”

  Devon turned to see Tyler Brook standing not far from the scene. Brant’s business partner, Tyler, was a serious, sophisticated looking man in his late forties. His sandy brown hair was kept businessman short, he was meticulously clean-shaven, and he wore an expensive suit. Tyler was by no means unattractive, but he had a definite snob appeal about him. Brant, dressed in his finest paint speckled lab coat, stood a few feet behind his business partner and wiped his hands on a dirty rag.

  Tyler, seeming more like a high school principal, glared his disapproval over Ross’ behavior. “Are you finished fooling around?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ross announced with his head lowered like a whipped dog.

  “Then remove that costume before you ruin it and put it back in the wardrobe closet,” Tyler ordered. “There’s plenty of work to be done.”

  Ross removed the cloak, flashed a tiny smirk at Devon, and hurried away. Despite being yelled at, his sly grin revealed it had been worth it to see the look on Devon’s face.

  Tyler turned toward Devon and smiled more cheerfully. “I hope Ross didn’t give you too much of a scare,” he announced then sighed shamefully. “He can be a bit over-the-top.”

  “I’m used to it,” she replied while hiding her smile. “We’ve been friends a long time.”

  “Sorry I missed our interview this morning,” he announced then nodded to Brant. “You’ve already met my business partner, Brant.”

  “Yes.”

  “Brant’s more of the artist than I am, so he’ll be instructing you on what he wants you to do,” Tyler announced then fidgeted and looked at his watch with disappointment. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I must return to the city tonight.”

  “I understand,” she replied. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Brook.”

  “It’s Tyler,” he informed her and smiled pleasantly. “Despite what Ross says, we aren’t formal around here.” He then looked at Brant. “Did you mention our field trip on Thursday?”

  “No, I was getting to that,” Brant replied.

  “Good,” Tyler announced then smiled at Devon. “I’ll s
ee you Thursday morning.”

  She watched as Tyler hurried off to his important business in the city. Brant’s eyes followed him until he was gone and showed little emotion. He briefly glanced back at Devon then turned and walked away from the phantom display.

  “I’ll get you started in the back,” Brant announced as he walked away.

  Devon realized she was supposed to be following him and hurried after him. She caught up to him and walked alongside him, although he didn’t look at her.

  “What field trip on Thursday?” Devon asked now curious.

  “Tyler has been tirelessly seeking props and furniture for the displays,” Brant informed her. “He found an old wax museum a few hours from here and arranged to buy most of their inventory, including some wax people. We’re renting a moving truck to bring whatever we find back with us. We’ll need you and Ross to assist with the move.” He finally glanced at her and managed a smile. “Don’t worry; we have movers for the heavy lifting. We’re mostly responsible for crating the wax figures, so they aren’t destroyed before we get them back here. Even if they’re only in semi-decent shape, refurbishing them will save us a lot of time and work on creating all new wax figures. The process is a long undertaking, and he’s anxious to get the museum up and running on schedule.”

  “Hmm, sounds like fun,” she announced cheerfully while observing Brant’s profile.

  Brant gave her a humored look and flashed a smile. It was the first time she’d actually seen him smile since he seemed reluctant to look at her. She hadn’t realized how handsome he actually was. In her opinion, he needed to smile more often.

  “I’m glad you think so,” he announced as if holding back some secret as to why she shouldn’t be excited about their field trip. “You’ll be in charge of bubble wrap.”

  “Bubble wrap?” She raised a skeptical brow. It didn’t sound like much of a challenge. “What exactly does that entail?” she asked not sure she understood her bizarre assignment.

  “Just the way it sounds,” he replied simply. “Your job is to keep Ross away from the bubble wrap. It’s to be used for packing; not popping.”