Trisha again went into great detail about everything they saw, heard, and even smelled. She wrote her experience while running back to town. How she stopped at Mrs. Randall’s house, thinking she saw a vehicle in the garage even though she was certain she hadn’t been home earlier. No one was home. She went to the house between Mrs. Randall and Mrs. Cooper’s houses. A boy they knew from school lived there. They called the police, her mother at the diner, and Sidney’s father at the press. Sidney and Trisha never actually discussed the events following the murder. They barely discussed the murder at all.
The last paper was dated last week. Trisha spoke to Mrs. Randall about the day of the murder. Mrs. Randall hadn’t been home from four-thirty until nearly seven o’clock the day of the murder, but she did remember seeing a man with a camera enter the woods around four o’clock. She was almost positive it was Harlan. Sidney set the papers down and stared across the room. If Alex really hadn’t murdered Miss Fisher, it would look bad for Harlan. Sidney frowned. She knew what she saw eight years ago. It was a long time ago, and second-guessing now would only cause confusion. Her brows knitted in spite of her insistence what they saw was accurate. Why had Harlan left without saying goodbye?
§
After dinner, Sidney and her father took a walk along the ever-expanding neighborhood. Sidney couldn’t believe how the development had grown since she’d left. They talked about current events, the press, the hotel in New York, and about some relatives. After a moment of silence, Sidney glanced at her father with a curious look.
“Dad,” she said boldly. “Why did Harlan Brendan leave town eight years ago?”
Her father looked at her with some surprise then looked back at the area they passed through. “No one really knows. He just up and left.”
“He never gave a reason?” she pressed.
Herb placed his hands in his pockets and drew a deep breath without looking at her. “I really don’t want to discuss Harlan. That’s in the past,” he said curtly.
Sidney was slightly surprised by his tone. She wondered if something transpired between him and Harlan.
“Would you prefer to discuss Emily Fisher?”
“No,” he snapped coldly. He stopped on the sidewalk and turned to face her. “That’s over. It’s already caused enough strain on this family.”
Sidney folded her arms across her chest and studied her father. “I realize you’re trying to spare me some pain, but I’m an adult now. I need to talk about it.”
Her father’s expression was stern and bothered. “Talk about it? Sidney, have you seen what had happened to Trisha?” he practically demanded. “She’s a basket case. I don’t want you becoming obsessed with this as well.”
“I’m not becoming obsessed with this,” she insisted. “I just want some things answered, that’s all. Miss Fisher was a well-loved teacher. It was a difficult thing finding her like that. The scars will always be there.”
He frowned and continued to walk. “I know how traumatic it was for you, baby. Your mother and I felt all the pain you did. We were grief-stricken that you’d never be right again. Thankfully, you recovered. We thought Trisha was finally getting over it when she went to college. About two years ago, she went off the deep end. No one really knows what set her off.”
Sidney lowered her head with sadness to her dear friend. “There’s something I’m curious about, Dad.”
“I don’t want to discuss Harlan,” he said lowly without looking at her.
“What about the film she dropped off that afternoon? Whatever happened to that roll of film? What was on it?”
Herb shook his head. “I don’t know what she photographed. Harlan developed the film and turned it over to the police. He never said a word to me.” He was silent a moment. He didn't look at her when he spoke. “Don’t let her get to you, Sid.”
Sidney looked at him with some confusion. “Who?”
“Trisha,” he replied and turned his head. “The entire town knows that she’s borderline psychotic. It’s no secret that she believes Alex didn’t kill Emily Fisher. But when she went to see him in prison, a lot of people became very angry.”
Sidney nodded. “And I know why too.”
“Because she’s causing trouble, Sidney. She’s practically accused Paul Malcolm of murder.”
“That’s not it, and you know it,” Sidney remarked simply. “This is a small town. No one here wants an unsolved murder in their happy little community. Their feathers get ruffled when they hear talk about a man being falsely sentenced, and the possibility of a murderer running free all these years.”
“As far as I’m concerned, Alex Trexler killed Emily Fisher. He’s in jail, and nothing’s going to change that,” her father insisted. “They’ve got the right man.”
Sidney stared across the development and sank into her own thoughts. “I hope so.”
Chapter Eleven
Sidney tossed under the covers of her childhood bed. She woke with a gasp and felt her heart pound from the nightmare she’d had. She looked at the clock. It was nearly four in the morning. Sleep wasn’t worth the nightmares. She got out of bed, changed, and went for a walk in the cool, early morning air. Sidney hadn’t realized how much she missed the quietness of a small town and the fresh air. Before she even knew it, she was standing on the old, stone bridge. She shivered slightly while watching the dark stream. She looked beyond the stream and stared at the bank. She could still see Miss Fisher lying face down with dirt and leaves in her mussed, braided hair.
She took a deep breath and rubbed her chilled arms. She then heard a faint voice behind her. Sidney spun around and looked into the dark woods. There wasn’t anyone there. Sidney held her breath and stared at the path that led to town. She crossed the bridge and turned onto the path that eventually led to the stone house. Sidney walked at a leisurely pace then entered the clearing and stared at the familiar house and the old well. She hadn’t returned to this spot, not after what Alex had done to Miss Fisher. It was a disturbing thought. Sidney approached the old well and walked around it. There were so many fond memories attached to this place, yet the few bad ones seemed to taint the good. She looked down the well and stared at the water that now filled it.
“Hello, love,” came a familiar voice from behind her. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”
Sidney spun around and stared helplessly at Harlan as her heart pounded with excitement and fright. He looked just as she had remembered him. His handsome face was still baby smooth, and his dark hair just nearly touched his collar. He didn’t appear to have aged at all.
“Harlan,” she gasped breathlessly as her heart pounded. “What are you doing here?”
His dark brows raised as he approached her. “Since you went to all the trouble of having a private detective locate me, I thought I may as well see what you wanted in person.”
She shook her head and hid her enthusiasm. “It wasn’t me. Trisha hired him to find you.”
Harlan smiled warmly as his eyes traveled her body. “I’m disappointed.”
Sidney stared at him as he paused a couple of feet before her. “I didn’t think you’d even remember me.”
“It would be difficult to forget after all that’s happened here.” His smile brightened considerably. “I’m really glad to see you again, Sidney.”
He gathered her into his arms and held her against him. Sidney melted in his warm embrace and clung to him.
“I missed you, Harlan,” she whispered near his ear while feeling his body against hers. “I’d never admit it to anyone, but I never stopped thinking about you.”
She pulled away from him and met his gaze then saw the knife in his hand. Sidney gasped as he thrust it forward and into her abdomen.
Sidney shot up in bed, clutched her stomach, and felt the sweat drench her body. She breathed heavily for several minutes and looked around her dark bedroom. The shadows of her nightmares still filled the room. It was difficult to convince herself it was just a dream. She could still see
Harlan standing before her with a knife in his hand. Is that what Emily saw right before the knife was driven into her body? Had she felt that horror before the agonizing pain? When her mind cleared, she realized the phone was ringing. Sidney grabbed the phone by her bedside.
“Hello?” she practically gasped into the phone and felt her heart pounding from her nightmare.
“I found him, Sidney,” came Trisha’s enthusiastic voice.
“Found who?” Sidney asked and raked her fingers through her mussed hair, damp with sweat.
“Harlan Brendan. The detective called me just ten minutes ago,” she announced through the phone. “I’m going to California to question him.”
It took a moment for Sidney to rationalize what her friend was saying. “Trisha, you’re out of your mind,” she remarked sternly as her entire body tensed.
“Are you coming or not?”
“No, I’m not going to California in the middle of the night,” Sidney snapped lowly.
“Suit yourself. Gotta go. My flight leaves in an hour,” Trisha said simply and hung up.
Sidney groaned and slammed down the phone. There was a faint knock on her door.
“Everything okay, Sidney?” came her mother’s weary, concerned voice through the door.
Sidney ran her trembling fingers through her hair while leaning forward and sighed. She gingerly rubbed her abdomen and the phantom pain from her nightmare.
“I’m fine, Mom.”
§
Sidney entered the skyway just before the gates closed, practically running the entire way. She boarded the plane while attempting to catch her breath then headed down the aisle and paused beside Trisha’s seat. Trisha looked up at her with innocent blue eyes. Sidney glared back at her.
“I was afraid you’d miss the flight,” Trisha said smugly.
“You knew I’d show, huh?” Sidney asked and tossed her overnight bag into the overhead storage then collapsed in the seat alongside her.
Trisha nodded and didn’t give it a second thought.
“This is absolutely insane,” Sidney snapped lowly, attempting to keep from raising her voice. “Traipsing completely across the country to talk to a man about a murder that took place eight years ago. I can’t believe I’m going. But someone has to keep you from making a fool of yourself.”
Trisha laughed softly and placed a piece of candy in her mouth. “Admit it,” she announced cheerfully. “You’re curious to see him after all these years.”
Sidney frowned. “That was a long time ago. I won’t allow you to start accusing him of something.”
“The detective said that Harlan’s been living in California for the past six years. Apparently, Brendan isn’t his real last name,” she informed her friend. “It’s his middle name. His real last name is Vassily. The bastard’s Russian.”
“He’s English, not Russian,” Sidney pointed out then shook her head and snatched a piece of candy from her. “You’ve gone a little too far, Trisha. What do you really expect? A confession? Be serious. You can’t just storm into his life and accuse him of killing someone.” She placed the candy in her mouth and glared at her friend. “Judging by your recent behavior, I assume that’s your big plan.”
“That’s where you come in,” Trisha announced and looked at her with a smile. “You were friends with him. He’ll talk to you. Picture this. An accidental meeting, a joyful reunion, and some old conversation.”
“I don’t know,” Sidney said with some concern.
“Someone has to ask him what he knows, or this trip will be for nothing,” Trisha proclaimed softly and turned in her seat. “You have to do it.”
“What else did this detective tell you? Did he give you a home address?”
“His home address and his usual hangout,” Trisha replied casually. “He goes to the same club every Friday and Saturday night. If we don’t catch him at his home, we can find him at the club tonight.”
Sidney drew a deep breath and sighed. She was annoyed with her friend, but she only had herself to blame for hopping on the plane with her.
“It’ll be about five in the morning when we land,” Sidney remarked. “What do we do when we get there?”
“Go to his house, of course,” Trisha replied.
“At five in the morning?” she exploded while glaring at her friend. “Are you demented?”
“Yes, or so I’ve been told,” Trisha replied with a soft laugh.
§
They had to switch planes in Chicago, but their connecting flight was laid over for four hours due to a thunderstorm. By the time they finally reached California, it was nine o’clock in the morning. The duo went straight to the detective’s office. Detective Bruber was a pleasant, heavyset, older man with a thin mustache and graying hair. He shook their hands and offered them a seat in his small, cluttered office.
“I have to admit; he was a bugger to track. You gave me his middle name as his last. When I discovered that wasn’t his real name, he wasn’t as hard to find. I took the liberty to check his police record for you,” Detective Bruber said and located a piece of paper on his cluttered desk. “He was arrested once for trespassing and disorderly conduct, which was related to his profession, but the charges were dropped.”
“Do you know where he is now?” Sidney asked and wondered if she should ask about his current profession.
“Well, when you said you were coming out here, I checked on his home address,” he informed them. “He left early this morning, so there’s no telling when he’ll be back.”
“Couldn’t we go to his place of work?” Trisha asked while practically wiggling out of her seat.
“He splits his time between writing articles as an investigative journalist and freelance photography,” Bruber told her. “He could be anywhere.”
“So we have to wait for him to return?” Trisha asked impatiently. “What if he’s gone the entire weekend?”
Bruber shook his head. “Not a chance. He has reservations at the Starlight Club for tonight with his usual crowd,” he informed her. “It’s a classy club and restaurant. The reservations are for dinner at seven with access to the club. Without reservations, one could wait outside all night and never set foot in the club.”
“Is it too late to get reservations?” Trisha asked while wringing her fingers together.
He leaned back in the chair. “Under normal circumstances, it would be too late.” He then smiled cheaply. “But I have friends all over the city. I can pull some strings to get you into the restaurant.” His look turned serious. “I will warn you, though. It’s an expensive, classy place.” He looked them up and down. “They probably won’t even let you in the door without the proper attire. If you don’t have anything suitable to wear, you’ll just be wasting your time.”
Sidney sighed and looked at her friend. “I suppose we’d better do a little clothing shopping before tonight. You’re lucky I have a lot of room on my credit card.”
Bruber smiled cheerfully and chuckled in his throat. “You’re going to need it if you intend to order anything to eat. I’ll arrange the reservations with Michael, the host. Make certain you ask for him and mention my name. Don’t be late or they’ll cancel your reservations.”
Chapter Twelve
Sidney and Trisha arrived at the Starlight Club at six forty-five after a grueling afternoon of dress shopping. Sidney bought a black dress that went just below her knees. It was rather simple with thin straps, a low cut neckline, and a long slit up the right leg. She paid two hundred dollars for the dress and another fifty for the shoes. It wouldn’t have bothered her so much if she didn’t already own similar dresses collecting dust in her New York apartment. Trisha wore a short teal colored dress that only went halfway down her thighs. It was a light, satin dress with thin straps and a matching jacket. Her dress tipped the scales at a little more than two hundred dollars, which was the topic of conversation the entire ride to the restaurant.
Trisha looked spectacular with some make-up to cover her pal
e skin and dark circles. Sidney helped her do her hair in the hotel room, which cost another two hundred dollars for one night. Sidney was used to the inflated cost of living since she’d moved to New York, but Trisha couldn’t get over the prices of everything.
“I really appreciate your putting the room and my dress on your charge card,” Trisha said softly while they waited outside the restaurant. They had to wait just to get in the door to ask about their reservations. “I’ll pay you back just as soon as we get home.”
“There’s no rush, Trish,” Sidney announced, knowing her friend didn’t have enough money for the dress let alone to contribute toward the room. “Let’s just get a little enjoyment out of this dinner, for what it’s costing.”
They entered the restaurant section of the club and watched several spectacularly dressed people being turned away. Trisha was already nervous that Bruber hadn’t been able to get them reservations. They approached the middle-aged man at the podium dressed in a tuxedo. With his size, he could easily double as a bouncer. Trisha fidgeted and seemed to lose her nerve in the ritzy atmosphere. She was uncomfortable outside her small town.
“I believe we have reservations for seven o’clock,” Sidney said with an air of confidence, being used to dealing with wealthy city dwellers. “Detective Bruber made the reservation with the host, Michael.”
The Deadliest Institution Collection Page 72
