“It was about twelve-thirty, but she was drunk nearly to the point of passing out, and I had her jeep,” Devon informed him. “She couldn’t have gone anywhere even if she wanted to.”
“I have to follow up on every possible lead,” Sheriff Carter informed her. “Jamie and Tamara were Ivy’s only real competition for that acting job. Witnesses said Paula was bragging that she had the job after her earlier audition in the back seat of Burt’s sedan.”
“What about Burt?” Devon demanded. “Couldn’t he be killing off the women he’s been promising this job? According to Marlene and Ivy, he’s the one who lured them to that farmhouse.”
“No, Devon,” Sheriff Carter announced in a calm tone. “Someone claiming to be Burt Danson called and lured them to that farmhouse. Ivy confessed she wasn’t sure it was actually Burt’s voice on the phone.”
She practically lunged forward. “Well, what about Karl? Jamie broke up with him a few days earlier. He must have been pissed at her,” Devon exploded. “He could have been the one making phone calls and luring women to their deaths. Maybe Paula overheard something that got her killed.”
“We’re still looking for Karl. His roommate said he’d talked about taking off for a while after he’d lost his job with Larry’s Construction,” he announced then shifted in his chair. “Burt Danson doesn’t have an alibi for Jamie’s murder, but there weren’t any phone calls made to the bank or the diner from his cell phone or the phone in his hotel room. Although we haven’t ruled him out, his motive for actually killing women he auditioned would be hazy.” He hesitated a moment while staring at her then raised his brows. “As a more interesting theory; we suspect one of the applicants may be cutting out the competition. Permanent like.”
Devon was starting to feel overwhelmed by his questions and strange offering of information regarding the case. She wasn’t sure if he was attempting to get her to confess something that would put Ivy in a bad light, or if he was just incompetent as most of the town suspected. She didn’t believe he was incompetent, so she had to assume he was fishing for some reason and using her as the dangling worm on the hook.
“If that’s the case, Tamara hated both women,” Devon insisted in a defensive tone. “She’d be a more likely suspect than Ivy. Jamie and Paula were her friends back in high school. Tamara’s sudden disappearance could just be part of her plan to frame someone else and generate sympathy. This town loves a good victim.”
There was an awkward silence as the sheriff stared at her. He drew a deep breath. “Honestly, I’m not counting on finding Tamara alive.”
She stared at him a moment as her mouth fell open with surprise. Devon immediately fidgeted and her defensiveness returned. “Ivy was called to that farmhouse. She’d received a phone call from a man the same as Jamie had,” Devon informed him as her anxiety increased. “You know damned well she could have been the next intended victim.”
“I’m not ruling that out either.”
Devon was becoming frustrated with his line of questioning. It was possible that Sheriff Carter was after something, but she was certain he was enjoying watching her squirm.
“Why am I here, Sheriff Carter?” she finally demanded, becoming impatient.
He studied her a moment while remaining completely relaxed and showed little emotion. “Why?” he asked almost mocking her. “Because you know all the key players in this tale of murder and your mind is as sharp as a razor’s edge.” He leaned back in his chair while studying her. “I knew if I pissed you off just enough, you’d confirm or shoot down my theories.” His mocking smile returned. “Do you honestly think there’s anyone in this office who’s smart enough to give me that sort of feedback? They’re all one-trick ponies around here.”
She stared at him with surprise. “You just wanted to bounce ideas off me?” Devon practically gasped then shook her head. “Why didn’t you just ask?”
He suddenly snorted a laugh. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about your family,” Sheriff Carter announced almost humored, “it’s that you’re all a bunch of level-headed thinkers who are good at keeping your mouths shut. Light the fuse, and you’re a bunch of powder kegs waiting to explode. I appreciate your insights into the murders. I’ll be in touch.”
Devon stared at him in disbelief that she’d been played. He toyed with her emotions so she’d rattle off every theory regarding the murders. She wasn’t sure if she respected him more for his devious mind or if she wanted to scream and punch him in the face. Why did she suddenly feel like her father?
§
Devon entered the diner a little while later with an annoyed look on her face. She waved at Marlene and looked for an empty table, but the diner was pretty full. Brant sat alone in a booth toward the back of the diner. Devon smiled more naturally and approached his table. She paused before Brant’s booth and stared at him while he read the paper.
“Good evening.”
Brant peered over his paper, appeared surprised to see her, folded his paper, and slid out of the booth while offering a sympathetic smile.
“Devon,” he announced timidly. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m doing much better,” she insisted. “It’s been a rough day, but at least Sheriff Carter is letting Ivy go. I’m the first to admit that he’s smarter than most people think, but sometimes he can be a real idiot.” She groaned and ran her fingers through her hair. “I’d rather not talk about the murders anymore today.”
“Fair enough,” he announced while nodding then indicated the vacant seat across from him. “Care to join me for dinner?”
“I’d love to.”
She joined him at the table then fidgeted slightly while reliving the events of her traumatic day. She attempted to push those thoughts from her mind.
“So did the zombies survive?”
“Yes, they’ll live to frighten another day. Though I’m afraid the sets will need some major repairs,” he informed her with a defeated sigh. “But I did buy a generator. No more power outages. It should keep the new sump pump working if there’s another storm.”
“I could come back to the museum with you and help clean up,” Devon offered.
“I really appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid I have to attend a party at Tyler’s beach house tonight,” Brant announced then frowned. “He insisted.”
“Oh,” she groaned with disappointment.
“At least someone’s enthusiastic about their work,” Brant teased then studied her expression. “Wouldn’t you rather spend a quiet evening at home?”
“Not particularly. My parents are going to grill me all night about what happened today at the farmhouse,” she informed him. “I need to escape for a while. Honestly, I feel like I want to run away.”
“You could always come with me to Tyler’s party at his beach house,” he joked then chuckled in his throat. “That might make you appreciate being interrogated by your parents.”
She enthusiastically sat forward while staring at him. “Is that an actual offer?”
Brant was slightly surprised by the question then offered a sincere smile. “If you really want to go, but don’t get too excited,” he remarked. “Business parties are typically boring.”
Her expression suddenly dropped. “Oh, that has the sound of formal wear,” she remarked then frowned with defeat. “I don’t even own a dress.”
“The wardrobe closet at the museum is full of dresses,” he informed her then hesitated. He seemed to drift off a moment as if in another world then looked back at her and offered a pleasant smile. “I’m sure you could find something suitable in there if you really want to come along.”
She only took a moment to consider the thought then grinned with enthusiasm. “I’d love to,” she announced suddenly feeling relieved. “Take me away from this awful place, Dr. Sheffield.”
He chuckled at the comment. “Consider it done.”
Chapter Thirty-two
The two-story beach house was nestled against the sand and appeared to
be worth millions. It contained large windows and multi-tiered decks on the beachfront side. The beach was secluded, indicating Tyler owned most of the surrounding land as well. The house was well lit both inside and out for another lavish party. Wealthy couples socialized on the multi-level deck and within the large living room. Classical music could be heard even on the beach. Brant and Devon entered the house filled with neatly dressed men and women who were drinking fancy cocktails and socializing.
Devon looked stunning in the simple, black dress with a daring slit up the left side and matching high heels. She’d borrowed the dress from the museum’s vast wardrobe closet and had to hope it had been cleaned since last worn by an actual human. Devon linked onto Brant’s arm and looked around while feeling insecure.
“Do you know anyone?” she whispered close to his ear while leaning on his shoulder.
“Not a soul,” he replied and gave a polite nod to the people they passed.
She eyed him with surprise then laughed. As they walked across the crowded room, several men turned their heads and watched them pass.
Devon uncertainly clung to Brant’s arm and whispered, “They’re staring.”
“Men frequently stare at beautiful women,” he casually informed her while grinning.
She gave him a surprised look then smirked. “Stop,” she teased.
Tyler socialized with several of his guests on the far end of the room. When he saw them, he excused himself and approached while grinning deviously.
“I thought you abandoned me,” Tyler announced to Brant then eyed Devon and chuckled. “But I see you had a better reason to be late.”
“Don’t get too excited,” Brant announced casually. “Devon was bored, and I needed motivation to attend yet another party.”
“Sure, if you say so,” Tyler teased and chuckled. “Let’s get Devon a drink then I want to introduce you to some wealthy investors I’ve been schmoozing.” Tyler motioned for them to follow him.
Brant eyed Devon and drew a deep breath. “Welcome to my hell,” he announced and sighed. “The only thing missing from this trip to purgatory is the devil himself.” He then considered the comment and smiled at her. “But I’m sure you’ll meet my mother one day.”
§
Devon leaned on the balcony railing later that evening and watched the waves crash to shore as the wind whipped through her hair. She smiled contentedly and enjoyed the almost peaceful view. Several couples walked along the beach and stole kisses in the moonlight. She almost envied them, wishing she had someone to take on a romantic stroll. If she were honest with herself, she wanted someone to hold and kiss her. Her thoughts strayed to Brant and how handsome he looked in his expensive suit. She was suddenly thinking about more than a few stolen kisses.
“Dull party, huh?” a familiar male voice announced, interrupting her fantasy.
Devon spun toward the familiar voice and saw Martin standing on the balcony a few feet behind her. His expression immediately dropped when he realized it was his sister.
“Devon?” he practically gasped while staring at her. “What are you doing here?” His brows raised as he looked over her attire. “And dressed like that?” He suddenly cringed and looked away while shielding his eyes. “Talk about embarrassing. I can’t believe I was checking out my sister!”
“Martin,” she announced, just as surprised to see her brother. “I didn’t know you knew Tyler.”
“Tyler?” he asked and finally looked at her.
“He owns this house,” she informed him. “He’s Brant’s business partner.”
“I came with a friend. We’re party crashers,” he informed her in a slightly jovial tone. “The club pickens were a little stale tonight.”
She shook her head and withheld her laugh. “You’re amazing.”
His eyes suddenly narrowed as he stared at her. “Are you dating your creepy boss?”
“No, he just brought me along for the ride,” she insisted.
He cast a look at her in the dress. “I’d say he brought you along for his image,” he teased then looked around. “So where is he? I’d like to meet him.”
“He went for drinks,” she informed him. “He’ll be back shortly.”
“You wait for him,” Martin announced. “I’ll find my friend and introduce you.”
“Sounds great,” she replied.
Chapter Thirty-three
Devon stared at the ocean and enjoyed the view from Tyler’s balcony. She rarely got to the coast, although being without a car may have had something to do with that. She wasn’t sure how long she was preoccupied with the romantic view before a champagne flute was extended before her. She turned to see Brant holding the glass of champagne. She smiled warmly and accepted the drink.
“Sorry I took so long,” he announced with apprehension. “I ran into a guy I’d met last week, and I couldn’t get away.”
“That’s okay,” she replied then beamed enthusiastically. “You’ll never guess who I ran into tonight.”
“Who?”
“My brother. He’s here,” she insisted while laughing at how ironic running into him had been. “He said he’d meet us out here.”
“Good,” Brant announced cheerfully and casually leaned on the railing. “That means I don’t have to go back inside and socialize.”
“You really don’t like these formal parties, do you?” she teased.
“I’ve been to enough of them to know how they all end,” Brant informed her with a defeated sigh. “Drunk as hell or bored out of my mind.” He raised his brows. “Sometimes both.”
They remained on the balcony engaged in jovial conversation for nearly an hour. Brant told her stories about his rich, overbearing parents, and she told him stories about the ranch hands and their deviant behavior. She was having such a good time; she didn’t notice her brother hadn’t returned. When it finally dawned on her, she glanced at Brant’s watch then frowned.
“I get the strange feeling my brother’s met Miss Right-for-tonight and skipped out on the party,” Devon informed him.
“He shares that personal stuff with you?” Brant asked with some surprise.
“It’s a little-kept secret that he’s a major league stud,” she teased.
Brant looked at the beach then back at her with a pleasant smile. “Would you like to take a walk on the beach?”
“You don’t have to ask twice,” she replied and kicked off her shoes.
It was the invitation she’d been waiting for. They walked down the steps and into the soft sand. Devon took advantage of the moonlight and clung to Brant’s arm while they walked.
“I’ve had a wonderful time tonight,” she announced cheerfully.
“Sure you did,” Brant scoffed and chuckled.
“I did, seriously,” she insisted while subconsciously caressing his arm. “It’s a beautiful night, and the champagne went down easy.”
“So you’re drunk?”
“I am not. I’m just enjoying myself,” she insisted while grinning. “You seem to be having a fairly good time yourself.”
“I’ll admit, I enjoyed it more than I thought I would,” he replied then looked at her. “Perhaps it’s the company I’m keeping.”
Devon offered a warm smile. Brant almost immediately frowned and stopped her near a large rock that offered a shadowy area away from prying eyes. She looked at him and noted something was bothering him.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“Yesterday afternoon, we both had a little too much to drink at lunch during the power outage,” he remarked. “Do you remember our conversation in the dungeon stairwell?”
She stared at him a moment and attempted to recall the events leading up to the moment they’d found Jamie floating dead among the wax zombies. It all came rushing back to her, and she suddenly gasped while staring at him with horror on her face.
“Were we really going to dress like pirates and have pretend sword fights?” she gasped.
He stared at her a moment, fi
dgeted slightly, and then nodded. “I’m pretty sure that was the plan,” Brant remarked without taking his eyes off her.
Devon let out a relieved sigh and held her chest. “Thank God we didn’t go through with that,” she announced. “Could you imagine how embarrassing that would have been?”
Brant managed a tiny laugh and seemed to relax a little. “Yes, it could have been very embarrassing,” he remarked timidly while avoiding looking at her. “It’s probably best if we pretend that conversation never happened. We all say stupid things when we drink.”
“Definitely,” she agreed then heaved herself onto the large rock and hugged her knees to her chest.
Brant’s eyes strayed to the revealing slit on the side of her dress. He immediately looked away and hid his smile. Devon looked out to the ocean and felt her heart pounding at the rest of the conversation he politely chose not to bring up. With everything that had happened, she’d erased that entire seduction scene from her mind. As the details came flooding back in a tidal wave of lustful thoughts, Devon attempted to keep from blushing. She couldn’t believe the things she’d said and what she was willing to do. She finally looked at him when she thought she could contain her embarrassment. Their eyes met briefly. Her thoughts immediately strayed to the wild, sexual encounter she so badly wanted. Her sexual fantasies with her boss were becoming more frequent, wildly intense, and mildly disturbing.
Brant immediately fidgeted as if reading her thoughts and glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late,” he announced. “I’d better take you home.”
Her heart sank at his sudden urge to leave, but she certainly couldn’t protest. How would that look? Devon slid off the rock with Brant’s assistance. He helped steady her when she hit the sand, and she found herself momentarily in his arms with her hands pressed against his chest. She could almost hear her drunken seduction echoing from yesterday afternoon as images of a spontaneous sexual encounter with her boss flooded her senses. It wasn’t just a drunken sexual fantasy. She actually wanted to have wild sex with the strange, handsome man she barely knew.
The Deadliest Institution Collection Page 57
