The Deadliest Institution Collection

by Holly Copella

  Devon slowly moved out of his arms, although both were reluctant to release the other.

  “I’ll be back around six,” she gently informed him while offering a warm smile.

  “I’ll see you then,” he responded timidly.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Devon entered the dimly lit museum at five-thirty that evening and paused in the foyer. There were rose petals sporadically lining the walkway leading into the displays. Devon contained her eager smile and followed the petals through the museum. They continued down the dungeon stairs, scattered along the stone steps leading into the dungeon. Devon was overwhelmed with desire as she followed the rose petals through the horror displays and finally to the church display with its fake candles flickering their romantic glow. Brant was playing out their fantasy, and she had no intention to disappoint him. Devon paused just inside the display and took a moment to nervously adjust her hair as her heart pounded with anticipation of her first time.

  As she crossed the church display, she saw a red, satin comforter spread out over the altar. A bottle of champagne chilled in an ice bucket on the edge of the altar along with two crystal glasses. A dozen long-stemmed, red roses were tied with a red ribbon and lay on the altar alongside the champagne flutes. Devon couldn’t contain her childlike grin. She was swept away by the romantic gesture. She walked toward the altar with nervous anticipation then stopped when she saw Brant lying on the floor on the other side of the altar. Something felt wrong. She quickened her pace, stepped around the altar, and saw blood soaking through Brant’s white lab coat as his bloodied hand clutched his bleeding abdomen. He wasn’t moving! Devon stared frozen with horror then cried out as she ran for him.

  §

  The city hospital was moderately congested with mostly minor medical emergencies. Sprains and lacerations seemed to be the early evening theme. The waiting room was nearly filled with crying children and farmers who’d had disagreements with farm machinery. Martin held Devon to his shoulder where they sat in the waiting room and watched nurses and doctors pass in the hospital corridor. A doctor finally stepped out of the emergency room and approached them. Martin nudged Devon. She straightened, resisted springing to her feet, and looked at the doctor. She feared if she stood and received bad news her legs would give out beneath her.

  “Your friend’s going to be fine,” the doctor announced with a warm, tender smile.

  Devon’s eyes shut as she gasped a sigh of relief. Martin gave her a warm hug.

  “Thankfully, the knife went in on a slant.” The ­doctor held up the bloodstained remote control contained in a plastic bag. “Apparently hitting this first. Probably saved his life. He had it in his lab coat pocket.”

  Devon had never been so relieved to see that damned remote control. Martin released her as she stood on slightly weak legs.

  “Can I see him?”

  “We’ll be moving him up to ICU in a few minutes,” the doctor informed her, “but you can visit him before he’s transferred. I must warn you; he’s going to be groggy from the anesthetic and painkillers.”

  Devon nodded with understanding then followed the doctor into the emergency treatment room. He led her to one of the rooms and indicated the closed door. As the doctor walked away, Devon slowly opened the door and stepped into the room. Brant was motionless on the emergency room gurney with oxygen and IV lines sticking out of his arm. She approached, paused alongside the gurney, and gently touched his hand.

  “Brant?”

  Brant’s eyes rolled open then closed. He squeezed her hand and smiled. “Devon,” he gasped. “I had the worst dream.”

  “Everything’s going to be fine,” she gently assured him and sat on the edge of the gurney. “You’ll feel better in a couple of days.”

  Brant closed his eyes. “I dreamt the phantom tried to kill me.”

  She stared at him with surprise. “The phantom?”

  §

  The sun was setting over the old farmhouse. Blue and red lights flashed from the sheriff’s police cruiser while Sheriff Carter stood before the burned red sports car. There was still enough left of the vehicle to recognize it as Jamie’s car.

  Sheriff Carter shook his head with anger clearly on his face. “What the hell is going on in this town?” he demanded.

  Deputy Havens approached with a crowbar in his hand and eyed the sheriff. “Want me to pop the trunk?”

  Sheriff Carter reluctantly nodded. “May as well,” he announced with a sigh. “I know it won’t be good, so let’s get the unpleasantness over with.”

  He followed his deputy to the burned car and watched as he easily forced the trunk open with the crowbar. Both peered into the blackened trunk and stared at what was almost certainly the remains of a body. The body was so badly burned, there was little left beyond bone and some particles of flesh. Deputy Havens grimaced and looked away while Sheriff Carter just frowned.

  “Yep,” he announced with a sigh. “About what I expected.”

  “Do you know who it is?” Deputy Havens asked while casting peeks at the gruesome find.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s Joe Jarred,” Sheriff Carter replied. “Stan called and said he was concerned when Joe didn’t show up Friday night. He left the tavern early on Thursday. Well, early for him.” The sheriff looked around then indicated the barn. “Paula was found dead in the barn, so I’m almost positive that’s her brother.”

  “I’ll call the coroner,” Deputy Havens announced and hurried to the cruiser to get away from the gruesome scene in the trunk.

  Chapter Forty

  Monday morning. Ross’ clunker of a car was parked in front of the museum, being the only vehicle in the parking lot. Within the basement, Devon followed Ross around the werewolf set while he attempted to work. Devon had little interest in working that morning as her nerves were already frayed beyond repair. Ross refused to look at her and appeared unusually tense while working on the display.

  “I’m telling you, Ross,” she insisted. “He said the phantom attacked him.”

  “And now he doesn’t remember a thing,” Ross announced while casting a look at her. “I don’t think you can rely on what he’d said after coming out of surgery. The guy was on cloud nine.”

  “Why won’t you believe what I’m telling you?” she demanded.

  “Because it already looks like an inside job. The police don’t need any more help pointing the finger at one of us,” Ross insisted then finally turned to face her. “But, of course, you’re not worried, because you came to the museum for a romantic rendezvous. They’d never suspect you.”

  “I’m just as much a suspect as anyone,” she insisted. “They could easily think I planted the entire thing after the fact.”

  “They’ll discover Brant purchased the flowers himself just a few hours earlier,” Ross informed her. “Face it; you’re completely exonerated.”

  “They’ll go after Tyler’s alibi first,” she insisted. “He’s his business partner.”

  “He also has an alibi,” Ross interjected with some annoyance. “He left early, picked up a female companion at four o’clock, and drove with her to the city. They were in each other’s company the entire evening. Sheriff Carter says Brant was stabbed no earlier than five o’clock.” He eyed her. “You probably just missed the killer on your way in. Any earlier and you would have been a witness; possibly a dead one.”

  “You must have been somewhere between five and five-thirty.”

  “Yeah, I took my motorcycle out for a ride along the coast,” he informed her. “I was gone from three until six o’clock with no witnesses. Plenty of time for me to have come here and stabbed Brant.”

  “Stop being so dramatic,” she announced. “You have absolutely no motive to want Brant dead.”

  “I’m sure they’d come up with something if they tried hard enough,” Ross remarked.

  “Anyone in the basement could’ve taken the mask and cloak from the wardrobe closet,” she reminded him. “Aren’t there multiple costumes?�
��

  “Yeah,” Ross remarked while raising his brows. “And we’re suddenly lite two.”

  “Two are missing?”

  Ross nodded with some irritation.

  “If he saw someone in the phantom costume, it could have been just about anyone,” she insisted.

  “Yes, but there aren’t many people in town who know Brant,” he insisted. “Out of those few people, who’d really want him dead?”

  “Maybe he saw something he shouldn’t have,” she deducted. “Someone slipped Jamie’s body in the basement. Perhaps the killer came back for some reason, and Brant caught him.”

  “Let the phantom thing go,” Ross firmly insisted while glaring at her. “Brant doesn’t remember anything that happened about the attack. The police will come up with their own information.” He indicated the display. “Can we get back to work?”

  Ross returned to his work and refused to comment further. Devon stared at him with some surprise, uncertain what to make of his reaction. Why was he so defensive? Why did he think he’d be the prime suspect? It didn’t make any sense.

  §

  The dark jungle display had an almost romantic rainforest appeal. Devon turned on the speakers for the jungle sound effects as mood music while she worked. At first glance, the display appeared void of life. She used the wall controls to begin the animatronic sequence. The tall grass moved from several directions as something stalked the walkway, which would contain visitors. Several creatures leaped out of the tall grass, which would hopefully scare the visitors. Devon pressed a button on the wall panel and stopped the creatures, so they were exposed. The four-foot tall, nearly black creatures were a cross between a velociraptor and a sea monster. They had reptile eyes, sharp teeth, and long claws. Devon approached the exposed creatures while attaching her tool belt. She paused before one of the amazingly lifelike creatures and held up a long, pointy tooth.

  “Don’t worry,” she announced. “The dentist has arrived. Just say ah.” Devon was about to replace the wax creature’s tooth when she hesitated and gave it a serious look. “And no biting.”

  She placed a little cement glue on the end of the tooth and stuck it into the creature’s mouth where the tooth had broken off. Devon held the tooth in place while waiting for the glue to set.

  “Honestly,” she announced. “How did you break your tooth in the first place?”

  She eyed the creature then considered the question. How had it happened? The display was actually the one scene that didn’t involve wax men or women. In this scene, the visitors were the intended victims. A cheap scare, perhaps, but it was actually rather ingenious. Since the displays weren’t set to motion detection mode, it was unlikely the frightening alien creature somehow managed to take a bite from Brant’s attacker while passing through. Although impossible, if that had been the case, it certainly would have been karma at its finest.

  §

  Monday afternoon. Ross and Devon stood by the back counter within the workshop and watched Tyler apply paint to the male wax head. Tyler appeared to be enjoying himself while whistling a lively tune. Ross and Devon looked from the unrealistic wax head to each other and raised their brows in silent question.

  “Someone has to tell this guy his work sucks,” Ross muttered.

  “You go right ahead.”

  The phone rang near where Ross stood. He was quick to snatch it from the wall.

  “Hello, Wax Motel,” Ross announced cheerfully into the phone.

  “Ross,” Tyler scolded.

  They heard someone outside the workshop. Both Devon and Tyler turned toward the door as it opened to see Sheriff Carter within the doorway.

  “I’m sorry to intrude, but I knocked upstairs, and no one answered,” Sheriff Carter announced. “I guess you didn’t hear me down here.”

  “Good afternoon, Sheriff Carter,” Tyler announced as he stood. He wiped his hands on a rag and approached the sheriff. “How can we help you?”

  “We’re looking for your partner, Brant Sheffield,” he announced while showing little emotion.

  “Brant?” Tyler practically gasped with surprise. “He’s still in the hospital.”

  “His parents took him home yesterday, but they told us he’d left this morning without saying anything to them,” Sheriff Carter replied then raised a skeptical brow. “We tried his house next door, but there was no answer. Had he returned here?”

  Devon stared in silence, concerned as to why the sheriff was looking for Brant. They’d questioned him extensively about his attack, but this felt different. Ross remained on the phone but listened to the conversation with Sheriff Carter.

  “No,” Tyler replied and appeared curious. “What’s this about, Sheriff?”

  “We found some new evidence,” Sheriff Carter announced. “We’ll need to search his house and the museum.” He extended a paper. “We have a search warrant.”

  “New evidence?” Tyler asked with surprise. “If you remember correctly, someone tried to kill him Friday night. Surely you don’t think Brant had anything to do with killing those women.”

  Devon held back her horrified gasp. Ross stared at Sheriff Carter as well and nearly dropped the phone. He turned, cut his phone conversation short, and immediately hung up.

  “Brant picked up dinner at the diner the night Marlene disappeared. Annie said Marlene was flirting with Brant from the moment he walked into the diner,” Sheriff Carter informed them. “Just before closing time, a witness claimed to have seen the phantom running through the alley near the diner. If I’m not mistaken, this museum has a phantom display.”

  “That’s not much to go on, Sheriff,” Tyler informed him.

  Sheriff Carter cocked his head and glared at Tyler. “That’s because I wasn’t finished,” he announced while placing his thumbs in his gun holster. “Marlene’s car was found stashed in the cornfield not far from here. We found a paint pen like those you use here in the museum with a bunch of fingerprints on it. I’m willing to bet they belong to Brant.”

  “We all use those paint pens,” Tyler insisted. “I’m sure you’ll find all our prints on it.”

  The comment didn’t sway Sheriff Carter’s opinion. His expression remained emotionless. “We’ll start with Brant’s house next door,” he informed them.

  All three watched Carter leave the workshop.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Ross proclaimed. “Brant couldn’t have murdered those women.”

  “He certainly didn’t stab himself,” Devon remarked and insecurely rubbed her chilled shoulders when she thought about the way she found Brant in the church display.

  Brant’s wound was nearly critical. The plan was for her to return at six o’clock that night. Had she been on time rather than early, Brant would have died from his injury, so it certainly hadn’t been self-inflicted.

  “Of course, he didn’t kill those women,” Tyler insisted while attempting to hide his irritation. “They won’t find anything to support that outrageous theory.” He shook his head and sneered. “Pompous sheriff wouldn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground. Blame the outsider. All these small towns are the same.” He frowned and shook his head in disgust. “Let’s break for lunch. I need a drink.”

  Chapter Forty-one

  Sheriff Carter and his two deputies had been searching Brant’s house for a better part of the afternoon with little to show for their effort. It was starting to look like a witch-hunt. Deputy Havens stepped out of one of the second-floor bedrooms and looked down the hall where Sheriff Carter was jotting notes on his tablet.

  “Sheriff, you’ll want to see this,” the deputy announced.

  Sheriff Carter approached the bedroom and stepped inside. The bedroom was void of furniture and was mostly empty except for a few boxes on the floor. To Sheriff Carter’s surprise, black and white, 8x10 glossy photos were taped to the wall, lending a creepy mood to the room. They were professional headshot photos of the women who had applied for the acting job with Burt Danson. On each of the dead women’s pho
tos was a bold, red ‘x’, possibly drawn with a paint pen. The deputy handed Sheriff Carter the empty, leather folder containing the initials B.D. embossed in gold. Sheriff Carter accepted the folder and stared at it.

  “This belongs to Burt Danson. He reported it missing when I questioned him about the murders,” Sheriff Carter remarked then immediately frowned.

  “I also found this in the closet,” Deputy Havens announced and picked up a plastic bag containing the phantom cloak, mask, and hat. He held a second bag in his other hand containing the bloodstained hunting knife. “The knife has blood on it.”

  The sheriff frowned. “Get that to the boys in forensics after we finish searching the house,” the sheriff ordered then shook his head. “We’ll need to put out a warrant for Brant’s arrest.”

  Sheriff Carter left the room already in a foul mood and headed down the main stairs. As he reached the bottom, his second deputy appeared from the basement stairs looking flustered.

  “Sheriff, down here!”

  As the deputy ran back into the basement, Sheriff Carter ran after him. He thundered down the rickety steps and reached the old, dimly lit basement containing a low ceiling and a dirt floor. The deputy led him across the basement to the old coal furnace with a coal storage stall alongside it. The stall was now being used for split wood for the fireplace. The old coal chute was big enough to dump the firewood into the stall from the outside. The deputy had already removed several pieces of wood to reveal Marlene’s decomposing body with a single knife wound to her midsection.

  The sheriff shut his eyes and shook his head in disgust. “I was really hoping we’d find Marlene alive,” he remarked.

  “Looks like she’s been dead a couple of days,” the deputy reported.

  “Probably killed shortly after she disappeared,” the sheriff remarked.

  The deputy shined his flashlight a few feet away to an old, wooden chair. There was dried blood on the chair and a small dark stain on the dirt floor beneath it.