The Deadliest Institution Collection

by Holly Copella

  “I’d better be,” she announced.

  “Going out for a ride?”

  “I’ve neglected my poor horse lately,” she replied and patted the horse’s thick neck. “He needs to stretch his legs.” She cast a serious look at her brother. “Marlene’s wake is this evening. Are you going?”

  Martin groaned and fidgeted while straightening. “You know how I feel about funerals and dead people on display,” he announced. “It creeps me out.”

  “Well, you’re in luck then,” Devon announced. “Marlene was cremated yesterday, so there won’t be a viewing; just a memorial.”

  He sighed softly. “Considering our brief romantic history, I should probably pay my respects,” Martin remarked. “If you’re taking the scenic ride, stay away from the hired men. They’ve been acting odd the past week. I think they’re up to something.”

  “When aren’t they?” she remarked then hesitated. “Remember that summer Marco had his girlfriend living in the bunkhouse for nearly two months?”

  Martin chuckled. “Best kept secret on the ranch,” he announced.

  Devon continued to brush her horse then sank into thought. She hesitated then turned toward her brother with a serious look on her face. “Tell me something, Martin. Do you remember Jamie being engaged?”

  “Jamie?” he asked with surprise. “No, I don’t recall ever hearing about that. Why do you ask?”

  “Ross and I were poking around in Jamie’s room after Dorothy’s death, and we found an engagement ring in a junk box in the closet,” Devon informed him. “Judging by the karat size, I’m guessing it was given to her by someone of limited means.”

  “Really?” Martin remarked then appeared momentarily surprised as he considered the comment. “It’s possible she may have been engaged to some guy briefly when she was younger then dumped him as usual. Not to speak ill of the dead, but you know how Jamie was.” He brushed it off with little interest. “I doubt she was murdered by some jilted lover from years ago. Forget about the murders for a while and enjoy your ride. I need to get some sleep.” His cheerful smile again returned. “I have a busy night ahead of me.”

  She laughed knowing exactly what sort of night he had ahead of him. “Pleasant dreams, lover boy.”

  §

  That night, a thunderstorm was heard in the distance. Despite the approaching storm, Devon slept peacefully as the curtains gently blew inward from the increasing winds. A shadow moved along the balcony past her open window. Just then, a floorboard creaked causing Devon to stir. She listened a moment. When she didn’t hear anything, she nuzzled her pillow. The shadow passed over her as a dark figure moved closer to her bed. Devon woke and shot up in bed with a gasp to see Brant sitting on the edge of the bed near her. He was wearing faded blue jeans, a cotton shirt, and cowboy boots.

  “Please, don’t scream,” he practically gasped. “I saw the assortment of shotguns your father keeps in the downstairs cabinet.”

  “Brant,” she softly cried out with surprise and looked him over.

  “I know I’m taking a chance coming here,” he announced timidly, “but I had to see you.”

  Devon threw her arms around Brant’s neck and clung to him. He uncertainly returned the embrace and buried his face in her neck.

  “I guess you aren’t as mad as I thought you’d be,” he muttered into her neck.

  Devon pulled away, gave him an angry glare, and repeatedly smacked him on the chest. “You’d better believe I’m mad,” she cried out in a whisper. “I was worried sick.”

  “I meant about the murder accusation,” he replied timidly and offered a concerned look. “I was afraid you might believe I killed those women.”

  “I know better,” she announced then grinned with enthusiasm. “Ross talked to that bartender. He’s agreed to testify that you were at the club all night.” She grabbed his hands and held them. “You should be cleared by Monday morning.”

  He gave her a confused look. “What bartender?” Brant asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “The one you told Ross about. The bartender at the Ruby Club,” she announced while holding back her laugh. “You were there the night of Jamie’s murder.”

  Brant stared at her and remained puzzled. “I haven’t spoken to Ross since the day they’d searched my house,” he remarked.

  She was momentarily stunned by his words. “That doesn’t make any sense,” Devon remarked. “Who would call Ross and tell him to check out that club and mention the bartender by name?”

  “Truthfully, that idea never even occurred to me,” he replied and appeared embarrassed. “I was pretty drunk that night. I don’t even remember calling a cab to take me home.”

  Devon brushed off the conversation then touched his shirt while giving him an approving once-over. “Look at you. You look like a cowboy,” she announced then met his gaze. “Where have you been hiding out?”

  “In the bunkhouse with your father’s ranch hands. I think they mostly felt sorry for me,” he announced. “I’ve been herding cattle with them the entire week.”

  She stared at him surprised to hear he’d been hanging out at her ranch all week. It was no wonder the ranch hands were acting strangely.

  Devon smiled and laughed. “You can be devious when you want to be.”

  He drew a deep breath while staring into her eyes. “Maybe,” he replied timidly, “but that’s not what brought me to your bedroom window.”

  Devon stared at Brant a moment then smiled warmly. She gently ran her hands along his chest and slipped her arms around his neck. He didn’t look away from her while anticipating her next move. Devon was almost humored by his shy nature. She leaned closer and kissed him warmly on the lips. Brant wasted little time returning the kiss and pulled her against him. The warm, tender kiss swiftly turned passionate and aggressive as both released pent-up desire. Devon finally broke off the kiss and affectionately caressed his face while staring into his eyes through the dim lighting.

  “This is the part where you throw me down to the bed and make love to me, cowboy,” she informed him then grinned slyly.

  Brant stared at her a moment with surprise then groaned with desire.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He practically tackled her to the bed, not wasting a moment. Thunder rumbled loudly as the rain poured down outside the window, but neither seemed to notice.

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Devon entered the doctor’s office waiting room Monday morning and approached the nurse seated at the front desk. Since they were a small town, the older nurse was also the secretary. To someone unfamiliar with their town, they may not have realized Gina was a registered nurse since she dressed in a flowered print shirt and polyester pants. Devon looked around the empty waiting room, surprised the office was empty.

  “Quiet today,” Devon remarked.

  “I like quiet,” the older nurse announced while smiling pleasantly.

  Gina was in her early sixties and had been Dr. Sherman’s nurse since he first opened his practice decades ago. Dr. Sherman delivered most of the babies in town straight through Devon’s generation. Gina was only a tick over five-foot and possibly shrinking. She was a round, stout woman with her long, gray hair worn in a granny bun. Well, she was a granny, so it was only fitting. The older woman leaned on the desk and smiled pleasantly at Devon.

  “How can I help you, dear?” Gina asked. “Doc had a house call, but if you’d like to wait, I’m sure he’ll see you when he gets back. His schedule is wide open.”

  “Yeah, that’d be great,” Devon announced then fidgeted. “I, uh, actually wanted to discuss birth control options with Dr. Sherman.”

  Gina suddenly grinned. “Oh, you’re seeing a young man? That’s wonderful.”

  Devon exhaled and relaxed slightly. “I didn’t expect much support,” she announced then fidgeted. “You know; since I’m not married.”

  Gina laughed while covering her mouth. She then waved off Devon. “Honey, I may be old, but I know what it’s l
ike to be young. Get out there. Test the waters!” She then stood and approached the filing cabinet behind her. “I have a few brochures you can look at while waiting for Doc.” She removed some brochures then returned to the desk. “Of course, he may recommend you see an OBGYN for that.”

  Devon accepted the brochures while staring at the older nurse. “Oh, yes. I hadn’t considered that. Ivy has a female doctor she sees in the city.”

  Gina threw her hands in the air while smiling cheerfully. “You can make an appointment with her doctor then. Cut out the middleman, so to speak.”

  “Thanks,” Devon replied with relief. “I’ll do that.”

  “Anytime, dear,” she announced then raised her brows. “So--who’s the young man? You know how I love good gossip.”

  “Oh,” Devon remarked and immediately fidgeted. Since Brant was still officially in hiding, it seemed a good idea not to mention him by name. “You haven’t met him yet. He’s not from around here.”

  “I understand,” she announced dramatically. “So many young people these days are spending a lot of time in the city. Half the young people in our town are engaged to guys and gals living in the city.” Gina sighed and appeared almost defeated. “I just hope some of them decide to stay in our little town. I so love seeing little ones running around the park.”

  Devon considered the comment and tilted her head. “You hear all the good gossip, Gina,” she remarked, playing on the woman’s ego.

  “Absolutely,” she announced with glee. “This is gossip central. Well, next to the tavern and the hair salon.”

  “Did you remember Jamie ever being engaged?” Devon asked.

  Gina straightened in her chair and gave the question serious consideration. “No, I don’t think so. If she had been, she didn’t tell anyone about it.” Her eyes then widened. “Dorothy would never have allowed it. She wasn’t exactly fond of men.”

  “I suppose she had reason to be protective,” Devon remarked and considered the comment. “With her husband running off like that.”

  “But there comes a time when a mother needs to step back and allow her daughters to make their own mistakes,” Gina announced firmly. “It’s part of growing up.”

  “I’m sure she felt some guilt about Chelsea,” Devon replied, almost surprised she was defending Dorothy on anything. It may have had something to do with seeing the brutality of the crime scene that made her sympathetic toward the woman.

  “Between us,” Gina announced while leaning forward on the desk. “Dorothy was a bit of a hypocrite. I mean, she claimed to be so religious then to even suggest aborting a healthy baby.” She shook her head. “Breaks my heart when I think about it. It’s a shame we can’t practice what we preach.”

  Devon allowed the comment to sink in then realized what Gina was saying. Had Jamie been pregnant and Dorothy insisted she have an abortion? Could that be the significance of the engagement ring? Now the jilted lover scenario seemed almost plausible. Unfortunately, nearly everyone who knew about Jamie’s secret life was already dead.

  §

  Devon got a ride home with Ivy later that afternoon. She waved to Ivy as she turned her jeep in the driveway and drove away from the farm. Devon headed for the house then paused on the porch and looked at the bunkhouse in the distance beyond the barn. She wondered if Brant was out working cattle with the rest of the hands. More importantly, she wondered if he would scale the balcony and slip into her room again tonight. Since he’d be going to the sheriff today to clear his name, she was uncertain what would happen tonight, but she couldn’t deny she was giddy with anticipation. Devon entered the house and paused by the hall table where the mail lay sorted in piles for her and her brother.

  She saw an envelope with her name scribbled across it. Oddly enough, it contained no return address and the stamp wasn’t canceled. She eyed it suspiciously, picked it up while looking around the quiet house, and then opened the envelope. It read, “Meet me at the museum seven o’clock tonight. Urgent. Come alone!” Devon stared at the note without a signature and sank into thought. The note seemed odd, considering Brant was working on clearing his name. He had already made plans to visit the sheriff’s office later that day armed with the bartender from the Ruby Club as his witness and his lawyer, so why the mystery? She couldn’t deny the recent rash of murders weighed on her mind.

  Is this how the murdered women were lured to their deaths? Or was it simply Brant attempting to be romantic? Did she dare show up alone as the note requested? Devon studied the strangely prepped envelope. The note was almost certainly hand delivered, which meant it had to come from Brant. He obviously added her address and the stamp to make it less suspicious if her parents found it first. It had to be Brant; didn’t it?

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Devon entered the museum just a little before seven o’clock that night with Ross directly behind her holding a baseball bat in his hand. He closed the front door behind them and gave her a serious look.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to go along?” he asked with concern.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” she replied. “Just stick with the plan.”

  “If something doesn’t seem right,” he announced. “Scream like hell and run for the dungeon stairs. I’ll clock anyone chasing you.”

  “Thank you, Ross,” she replied timidly. “I’m sure it’s just Brant, but I appreciate the backup.”

  Ross managed a weak smile then sat on the nearby bench in the lobby. Devon left Ross and headed along the walkway. She nervously looked at the displays as she walked toward the back then headed down the stairs to the basement and paused at the bottom of the steps. She looked around cautiously then continued past several horror displays. Despite having Ross as her backup, she was still feeling anxious. There was a light coming from the church display that still hadn’t been touched. Obviously, since it was the only lit display that was where she was meant to go.

  She approached the room with some apprehension after her last encounter with the church display. Devon eyed the fake candles and silk flower arrangements around the room. She was already having feelings of déjà vu. As she walked further into the display, she saw a beautiful blonde woman wearing a full, white, wedding gown and veil on top of the altar. She wasn’t sure when Ross or Tyler had completed the altar display, but it was beautiful.

  The woman’s wedding gown train was draped elegantly over the side of the altar, her veil cascaded along her body, and her hands were neatly clasped over her abdomen. She had a small bouquet of wildflowers grasped in her hands. Devon nervously looked around the room, but she didn’t see anyone. She slowly approached the display, marveling at the work someone had put into the scene. It certainly wasn’t Brant. Was Ross up to something? She suddenly stopped when she recognized the woman on the altar. It was Chelsea! Her hair was neatly pinned up, and her makeup was carefully applied. She was a vision of beauty. She was dead. Devon held back her gasp. Her eyes then strayed to the familiar, small diamond ring that was proudly displayed on her left, ring finger with a gold wedding band below it.

  She heard a door gently shut. Devon turned around with surprise. Martin stood by the door dressed in a black tuxedo and had a blank expression on his face. He walked toward her with a glass of champagne in his hand. Devon remained still and stared at him. Her brother walked past her and paused before the altar and the dead woman. He placed his hand on Chelsea’s, revealing the matching wedding band on his left hand. Martin stared at Chelsea a moment in silence.

  “Seven years ago, Chelsea and I were going to run away and get married after she’d graduated high school. I loved her more than life itself. She was the first woman I’d ever made love to.” He hesitated and drew a deep, labored breath. “And I haven’t been with another woman since.” Martin finally looked at Devon. “She was pregnant with our child.”

  Devon held back her gasp while staring at her brother, attempting to make sense of what he was telling her about his past.

  “Last month, after Joe was f
ired from the ranch, I had a few drinks with him in the tavern,” Martin announced in a solemn tone. “He was so drunk; he started talking about his sister’s feud with Jamie.” He stared into Devon’s eyes with a serious, frightening look. “Paula told him Jamie killed Christine in the woods that day. I had left Chelsea at the bridge less than half an hour before she witnessed her sister killing Christine. The three of them chased her to the bridge, and what started as a threat rapidly turned into Chelsea’s accident.”

  “Oh, my God,” Devon gasped.

  “I lied about my one-night-stand with Marlene. I overheard her saying something about Chelsea that concerned me, so I took her out, got her drunk, and encouraged her to gossip. Marlene told me that Dorothy terminated Chelsea’s pregnancy shortly after the accident,” he remarked in a calm tone although the anger could be seen in his moderately sedate eyes. “I had foolishly assumed she miscarried from the fall.”

  Martin finished his drink, set the glass on the floor, and turned to face Devon while straightening proudly.

  “I killed Jamie, Tamara, and Paula for robbing me of my one true love. The woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. When I found out Dorothy destroyed the only part of Chelsea I could have taken with me, I made her suffer for what she’d done.” He hesitated and drew a deep breath. “I swear on Chelsea’s soul; I didn’t kill Marlene. Someone must’ve had a score to settle with her and used my murder rampage to their advantage. It’s all in my journal. You’ll find it on your bedside table.”

  Devon was now down to tears. “Oh, Martin,” she gasped. “You could have told the police about Chelsea. It didn’t have to be this way.”

  “It wouldn’t have done any good,” he replied. “Maybe they could have persuaded her friends to point the finger at her for Christine, but there’s no proof Jamie intentionally threw Chelsea from the bridge. Honestly, I don’t care if it was intentional or accidental. I just wanted to see them pay.”