The Deadliest Institution Collection

by Holly Copella

  Sidney turned and met his stare with some surprise. She didn’t know what to say, having been caught in her lie.

  “So why are you really here?” he asked sternly with an arched, raised brow.

  She fidgeted and fumbled with a response that at least sounded plausible. “I heard you were in California, so I decided to look you up.”

  He snorted a laugh and shook his head with disbelief. “That’s bullshit, and you know it,” he remarked lowly as his look turned cold. “You wrote that note, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I sent the note with the waitress,” she informed him reluctantly and stared into his green eyes.

  “Why?”

  Sidney stared at him then looked past him toward her only escape.

  “Just get it out of your head, Sidney,” he growled coldly. “You won’t even make it to the door.”

  She looked back at him with some concern then raised a cocky brow. “Trisha’s expecting a phone call from me any minute now,” Sidney remarked. “If I don’t check in, the police will be knocking at your door.”

  “Oh, spare me the dramatics,” he snapped lowly and folded his arms across his chest. “I want to know what you’re doing here, and you’d better tell me now.”

  Sidney drew a deep breath and stared at him a long moment. The truth seemed to be the easiest lie. “I’m looking for some answers to the murder of Emily Fisher.”

  Harlan’s brows knitted with confusion. “What does that have to do with me?” His head then tilted to the side as his eyes narrowed. “Unless you think I had something to do with it.”

  Sidney didn’t respond.

  Harlan rolled his eyes with a groan then shook his head as he glared at her. “I don’t understand any of this,” he remarked with annoyance. “Eight years ago you were convinced I wasn’t involved. Now you show up on my doorstep and practically accuse me of murder.”

  “I was stupid enough to believe anything I was told,” she remarked sternly. “You ran off one week after the murder. Do you have any idea how that looked?”

  “I had personal reasons for leaving. It had nothing to do with the murder,” he remarked firmly.

  “So you’re not going to tell me why you left?”

  “No,” he snapped then appeared curious. “How did you know about that poem? I didn’t show it to anyone.”

  Sidney bit her lower lip nervously and looked away. “Because I wrote the first one eight years ago,” she said then looked back at him. “I was a teenage girl with a crush on an older man.”

  Harlan stared at her with some surprise as his arms fell to his sides. He was silent a moment then sighed and shook his head. “I know what happened was hard on you, Sidney, but the police put her killer behind bars. I had nothing to do with her death.”

  “If that’s true then you shouldn’t mind discussing the day of the murder with me,” she announced with a renewed arrogance.

  Harlan raked his fingers through his hair and groaned. “I’ll tell you what I can if that’s what you want.”

  She cast a look around his bedroom then hesitated. “Could we talk somewhere else?”

  “Yeah, sure,” he announced then removed his jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair. “I think I’m going to need another drink for this conversation anyway.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sidney sat on the sofa while Harlan sat in a plush chair in the living room and discussed in great detail the day Emily Fisher was murdered. Harlan was surprisingly accommodating and volunteered information without any prompting. After the first hour, Sidney looked at her watch and gasped.

  Harlan sat forward in his chair. “Is something wrong?”

  She sprang from the sofa. “Can I use your phone?” she asked with concern. “I have to call Trisha before she calls the SWAT team.”

  “Sure, it’s on the end table.”

  Sidney lunged for the phone and dialed the hotel number from the piece of paper she had on her.

  Harlan stood and approached the bar with his empty glass. “Can I get you a drink?”

  She nodded then listened to the operator. “Could you connect me with room 302?”

  “May I ask who’s calling, please?” the operator asked in a dull tone.

  “Sidney McBride,” she replied.

  “I have a message for you from Trisha Allister,” the woman announced.

  “What’s the message?”

  “She can be reached at 555-7021,” the operator informed her.

  Sidney wrote the number down with a pen she’d found and repeated it for accuracy. She thanked the operator and hung up the phone. She collapsed on the sofa with confusion.

  Harlan handed her the glass and smiled deviously. “Problem with the cavalry?”

  Sidney stared at the number and shook her head. “She’s not there,” she remarked. “The lady at the front desk gave me another number.”

  “So I heard,” he remarked and sat on the sofa near her. “It would appear Trisha is spending some time getting to know Lyle.” He offered a sly grin. “That’s his phone number.”

  Sidney’s expression dropped as she stared at him where he sat beside her. “You can’t be serious,” she gasped.

  “She abandoned you for Lyle, that horny bastard,” he remarked with a humored chuckle then drank from his glass.

  “It’s not funny,” Sidney growled and turned to face him. “She hasn’t been right since the murder. There’s no telling what will happen to her if she has another traumatic experience.” Sidney grabbed the phone and dialed Lyle’s number. She groaned when she got his answering machine. “I got his machine.”

  “Hang up,” Harlan announced simply. “He always puts the machine on when he’s entertaining.”

  Sidney slammed the phone down and glared at him. “You think this is amusing, don’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t put it that way,” he replied with a timid smile. “But you can’t do much about it anymore tonight. Let them enjoy themselves. Would you like to finish our conversation?”

  Sidney couldn’t believe Trisha abandoned her for a fling with some handsome playboy. She reluctantly sighed and nodded. “I believe you were telling me what happened when Miss Fisher came into the press.”

  “It was right after school left out. She must have come directly from class,” he announced. “The teachers were always out by three-thirty. She brought her film for developing, talked to me for a minute or two, and then left.”

  She found it hard to believe that was the extent of their interaction. “When did you decide to go into the woods to take photos?”

  “I wanted to take pictures of that house since the day before when you took me there,” he informed her. “I had your father’s permission to leave early from the press. I intended to wait for you since I wasn’t sure where I was going, but you didn’t show up after school. I had to go when I did, or I’d lose the lighting.”

  “What time did you get to the stone house?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe around four-thirty,” he replied. “It was a long time ago.”

  “You left the press at ten of four but didn’t reach the stone house until nearly four-thirty?” she suddenly questioned. “That walk should have taken ten minutes. You must have done something else in between.”

  “No,” he replied sternly. “There were so many paths, and I wasn’t sure where I was going. I must have taken the wrong trail.” Harlan casually shrugged. “I eventually got there, but it wasn’t the way you had gone.”

  “I suppose it can be difficult to find if you’re not familiar with the area,” she agreed. “How long were you there?”

  He appeared to consider the question a moment. “I’d say about forty-five minutes. I was walking back when I heard Trisha screaming. That’s when I ran into you.”

  Sidney considered the times then took a deep breath and sighed. “So what had Miss Fisher photographed? I was told you developed the film and gave the photos to the police.”

  “Yes, but I kept a copy for myself,” he infor
med her simply then stood and entered the bedroom.

  “Why?” she called after him.

  “I suppose so I wouldn’t forget,” he replied from the bedroom.

  She could hear him opening and closing drawers. Sidney noticed a stack of photo albums under the coffee table. She slid onto the floor and flipped through the one on top.

  “Do you still have the pictures you took that day?” she called to him without looking toward the bedroom area.

  “They’re in there somewhere,” he replied from where he now stood over her, startling her.

  He joined her on the floor and handed her the pack of pictures. She accepted the photos and sorted through them. Miss Fisher had taken pictures of her boyfriend, a face Sidney would never forget, some of the school, some of the senior boys tossing football, and one of herself with Trisha. Sidney was surprised to see them in the photo together. Despite spending the last two days with Trisha, she really missed the girl in the photo. The best friend she used to know was possibly gone forever. The rest of the photos were scenery from the woods and around the school. Harlan sorted through the photo albums and handed her a thin one.

  “This contains all the photos I took while in Marilina.”

  He retrieved his empty glass and returned to the bar for another drink. She could tell the alcohol was starting to affect him by the way he walked. He wasn’t intoxicated, but he was somewhere near it. Sidney paged through the thin album, then set it down and retrieved the one she had been flipping through previously. They were pictures from his childhood. She recognized England in most of the photos.

  “Harlan,” she asked almost timidly. “What did you think when you got that letter?”

  He laughed softly from the bar while pouring his drink. “Naturally, I assumed it was from Emily. She was always a bit of a flirt.” He chuckled. “I suppose when a woman looks like that, she’s entitled to be.”

  When he returned from the bar, she exchanged albums once more then looked up at him. He sat alongside her with his back against the sofa. Sidney looked through the familiar pictures of her hometown.

  “Were you attracted to her?” Sidney asked simply without looking at him, though she felt a jealous pang.

  “I noticed her,” he remarked with a slightly dirty smile. “It would have been difficult not to.”

  “Yes, she was rather beautiful,” Sidney remarked softly. “Did you say anything to her about the letter?”

  “Nah,” he announced simply.

  “Why not?”

  “That would have taken all the fun out of it. Women like to pursue,” he replied. “Why spoil it?”

  “I don’t pursue,” she snapped lowly without looking at him.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of a secret admirer,” he remarked then chuckled. “Although, with the way your father acted, I’m surprised you even date.”

  Sidney sharply turned her head and stared at him with some surprise. The irony of his statement was almost frightening. He caught her look.

  “What’s that look about?”

  She looked back at the photos and shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t date,” she replied firmly.

  Harlan was silent a moment, but she could feel his eyes on her. “Ever?” he practically gasped.

  “Emotional scars run deep,” she said timidly and tensed. “Miss Fisher was murdered by her boyfriend, a man who supposedly loved her.”

  “That’s just an excuse, Sidney,” he announced. “Your father was overly protective. He’s turned you against men.”

  She glared at him. “Leave my father out of this, Harlan. You wouldn’t know what I went through after Miss Fisher’s death. You ran away,” she snapped. “My father’s always been there when I’ve needed him.”

  He stared at her only a moment then shifted uncomfortably. “I suppose I deserved that,” he remarked and finished his drink without looking at her.

  Sidney pointed to one of the pictures. “Are these in order?”

  “They should be. Those were the ones taken on the day of the murder,” he informed her.

  She looked at one of the pictures of the stone house. In the woods to the side, she could see something but couldn’t make out whether it was an animal or human.

  “What’s this in the woods?” She pointed to the shadow in the background.

  Harlan leaned closer and studied the picture. “Just shadowing, I guess.”

  Sidney removed the picture and held it at a different angle. “Are you sure?”

  Harlan leaned over her shoulder and examined it more closely. “I can’t be positive, but I keep all my negatives. I could enhance it for you. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

  Sidney could smell the fading scent of Harlan’s cologne then realized how close he was to her. She turned her head and looked at him. His eyes met hers and her heart pounded in response.

  “Would it be much trouble?” she managed to ask.

  “None at all. I just need to find the negative. They’re all in order according to dates. I have a darkroom just to the side of the bathroom. You can help look for the negative.”

  He stood and extended his hand to her. Sidney uncertainly placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her to her feet.

  §

  Sidney peered over Harlan’s shoulder while he enlarged the image in the background. He was skilled at his work. The darkroom was fairly small, but she couldn’t say she minded the closeness. She watched him enlarge the picture then put it through the tray of chemicals. Once the picture developed, he turned the light on and studied it more closely.

  “I can’t tell what it is,” he said with a sigh. “Enlarging it further will just distort it.”

  Sidney studied the picture a moment and was certain what she saw. “It’s a person, Harlan,” she said firmly while holding the eight by ten photo by the corners. “I’m sure of it.”

  He squinted at the photo. “How do you get a person out of that blob? Looks a little like bigfoot to me. Maybe I can sell this to one of the rag sheets,” he muttered lowly, tossed it aside, and walked out of the darkroom.

  Sidney followed him from the small room. He washed his hands and poured himself another drink. Sidney collapsed on the sofa and sighed with defeat. Harlan joined her on the sofa.

  She frowned and cast a look at him. “Trisha thinks someone saw Miss Fisher and Alex together at the old stone house, became enraged, and killed her out of jealousy.”

  Harlan snorted a laugh although he obviously wasn’t humored. “And Trisha thinks that person was me, huh?”

  “She has a couple of theories going,” Sidney replied simply.

  Harlan turned to face her. “I’m going to tell you this only once,” he announced firmly with a moderately serious look on his mostly drunken face. “I had no interest in Emily Fisher, apart from the fact that we both enjoyed photography. Several times, she tried to persuade me to photograph her in the nude, and I turned her down each time. She just wasn’t my type.”

  Sidney stared at him with some confusion. It would seem the alcohol was making him more defensive. “But you said you were attracted to her.”

  “I never said I was attracted to her,” he announced defensively. “I said I noticed her. What man wouldn’t look twice at a woman with a body like that,” he replied simply. “But she had a terrible personality and an even worse disposition.”

  “I thought she was a lot of fun,” Sidney remarked.

  Harlan drew a deep breath and stared at her. “She was different outside the classroom, Sidney.” He frowned and shifted uncomfortably. “She was a slut, okay,” he blurted out. “She’d go to Sam’s while Alex tended bar, get pissed up, and beg for it from every man there. She played around on Alex all the time. The woman had no shame.”

  Sidney stared at him with a look of horror. “Not Miss Fisher!”

  “I’d seen her in action,” he said firmly. “I went to Sam’s on occasion. I heard the things she’d say to the guys. I’d seen her drink herself under the bar.
I swear the woman had eight hands. I had a difficult time keeping her off me on more than one occasion.” He held his breath then shook his head. “She even had an affair with that teacher, Malcolm.”

  Sidney’s eyes widened at the suggestion. “Mr. Malcolm? But they hated each other!”

  “Of course they did,” he proclaimed. “The guy was married. He was probably terrified she’d tell his wife about the affair.”

  Sidney looked away and raked her fingers through her hair. “Everyone knew she went home that way,” she whispered. She closed her eyes then groaned. “This is terrible.”

  “Are you all right?”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Please, Harlan, tell me where Lyle lives. I have to get Trisha. We really have to go home. I’ve had enough of this detective bullshit.”

  Harlan stared at her a long moment without a word then finally spoke. “I’m sorry, love. You wanted to know the truth. Now I’ve told you. There’s no reason to disturb Lyle and Trisha tonight.” He looked at his watch. “It’s three o’clock in the morning. Why don’t you take the bed, and I’ll sleep on the sofa. I’ll call Lyle tomorrow morning and take you and Trisha to the airport.”

  Sidney felt ill from her new discoveries but remained polite. “That’s kind of you, but I’ll sleep on the sofa,” she replied. “It’s your bed.”

  “Don’t argue with me, Sidney. I’m tired and half smashed,” he insisted. “It’s not going to matter much where I collapse. If you want something more comfortable to sleep in, you can help yourself to a shirt.”

  She smiled warmly and stood. “Thank you, Harlan.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sidney woke to sunlight on her face then moaned softly as she glanced around the unfamiliar bedroom then looked at the clock. It was ten o’clock. Sidney shot up in bed with a gasp and threw the covers off her. She hurried into the living area wearing one of Harlan’s dress shirts as a nightgown. Harlan was sleeping peacefully on the sofa. She rushed to his side and shook him firmly.