Unmasked (New Adult Romance) (The Unmasked Series) (13 page)

Alyssa tried to get up, to explore more of the
house, but her attention was absolutely stuck to these letters. Thumbing
through another and then another of them, she read of how the elder Webb not
only survived Midway, but excelled. He seemed to have saved a number of people,
and when the crew was forced into combat for the first time, he saw some
terrible things, but pulled through with an injury so minimal he wasn't
recalled home, but taken off the carrier to convalesce in Hawaii for some time
before going back to Japan.

The photos continued, but instead of a shirtless,
working seaman, they were all of ocean scenery, or islands off in the distance.
One of them had "wish you were here" scratched into the back, and on the 'i'
the pen dropped a healthy blob of ink.

Another letter, in the middle of the bundle,
caught her attention. It was the first she'd found from Marissa to Preston
instead of the other way around, and it was a short one. "Dear P.," she read,
"G acting very strange. I know he's your man and all, but in your next letter,
could you give me something to tell him that'll get him to back up some? He's
become amorous of late. Love Always, M – 4/18/56."

"Well now isn't that a funny thing? A letter out
of place, way out of place time-wise, and complaining about Gadsen."

When Alyssa finally looked up from the scrapbook,
she had all but forgotten the first one, the empty one, and tucked both of the
books under her arm.

"Oh my God!" She said, looking out the window to
see dusk looming. "I hope no one's gone looking for me. Forgetful, Lys! It's
shameful."

There was enough caution in her to avoid running
straight out into the hall before checking both ways. Lucky, too, because when
she stuck her head out of the door she heard the creaking of Gadsen ascending
the stairs. At the sight of his bald head ringed in silver hair, she pulled
back, closed the door as softly as she could, and gathered herself behind it in
case he went looking.

"Miss Barton? Are you ready? Mr. Webb would like
you to appear in a half an hour." He knocked again, and called her name. "Miss
Barton? Are you in there?" Gadsen tried the door and grunted through his nose
when he opened, then closed the door.

"Why is it so hard for young people to remember
appointments?" He tromped back down the stairs.

That was her cue to beat a hasty retreat. When she
was relatively sure that he wasn't coming back, Alyssa slipped into the hallway
that was then drenched in shadow. A look in either direction confirmed that she
was alone, and she silently closed the door, and scampered back to her room on
the balls of her feet.

"Well, that was close," she exhaled as she sat on
her bed and thoughtlessly pulled a pair of socks on her feet, without realizing
they had not been there when she left. She yanked off her old shorts, and had a
brief crisis before figuring out how the incredibly complicated but very
beautiful dress was supposed to go on.

Quickly, she threw herself together, and turned
for the door before remembering everything she left lying around. After she
tucked the scrapbook between the mattress and bed skirt, she turned again to
leave, and remembered the two letters she had wanted so badly to get Gadsen
away from before.

"Two? I thought there was just the one?"

Thirty seconds later, the door was closing and
Alyssa was halfway down the stairs.

"I can't imagine what was in those letters." She
said under her breath. "Doesn't matter. Okay, Alyssa, put on a huge smile! You
don't know anything at all. You spent a day wandering the gardens. Hopefully no
one noticed you didn't actually do that."

As soon as her feet hit the bottom of the
stairwell and touched cold marble, she realized she had no shoes on.
Then
again, there weren't any in the room. I think. Too late now.

The smell of spices, roasted vegetables, and
something vaguely pumpkin-like struck her. She turned in the direction of all
the nice smells and saw Gadsen facing her and another man with his back turned.

Gadsen stepped forward.

"Oh good evening, Miss Barton. Glad you could join
us. Please, come this way. Mr. Webb has asked me to give you the normal
accoutrement before you dine."

In his hands, he cradled a three foot long swatch
of black velvet.

"Please, Miss Barton, this way."

"You know what all those television chefs say about
vision being an important part of a meal?" Alyssa swirled her spoon in the soup
that Gadsen put before her, lifted it to her nose and took a whiff. "I never
believed it before now."

Across the wide table, Preston chuckled softly and
stirred his soup. "If it helps at all, it's pumpkin. And it's pretty good."

He had a slight twist on the end of his words that
only became apparent when he spoke above a whisper. It tilted upward, in a
vaguely New England way, but the undertone in his voice was deep Texas.

"Yeah, it tastes good, but I'm half afraid I'm
gonna end up with an orange chin from jabbing myself with the spoon."

"You're funny, Alyssa," he said. "I don't remember
the last time someone made me laugh. Or relax, really."

"When's the last time you had a guest?"
If
that's what you want to call me, anyway.

"The last time...? Gadsen? I know you're back
there. When was the last person here?"

"We had the party on your parent's anniversary.
That was two days ago."

Two days? I was out longer than I thought. Or
was I?

After hearing Preston's gentle slurping, Lys took
another spoonful of soup that bobbled against her lip before going inside.
Preston's hand fell on top of hers, and his fingers wrapped around.

"Oh, hello there." She said with a soft gasp.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Preston
recoiled, but Lys held on.

"No, no, don't apologize. Just startled me.
Y'know, blindfold." Without thinking about it, she smiled her easy, disarming
grin that normally only came out around people she knew very well, and for a
long time. Much longer than two days – or was it three – stuck in a room
against her will.

"Really?"

"Yeah, of course. It's nice to feel another
person. I feel like I'm in a weird sensory deprivation chamber or something.
I'm not used to talking to a person I can't see."

"I'm not used to talking to people much at all."

She opened her mouth and then, thinking about what
he said, snapped it shut.

"I don't know why things have to be this way.
There are a lot of things I can't explain, Alyssa, no matter how much I want
to. There's a lot of history in this house. A lot behind the things I do that I
can't talk about." He sighed, heavily. There was a weight on his chest, but it
wasn't going anywhere. "But, soon, I promise I'll-"

"Main course is served, sir." Gadsen's voice
emerged from the kitchen. "Miss Barton, do you take heavy sauce on your
salmon?"

"I, uh..."

"I recommend it," Preston stepped in, "it's very
good. And maybe heavier flavors carry better when you're blindfolded."

"Okay, sure, yeah," she said. "Heavy on the sauce,
then."

"Fine. You've barely touched your soup, is
something wrong with it?"

"No, I liked what I had." She paused for a moment.
"Just saving room."

"Hmm. Can I take your bowl?" Before she replied,
the butler replaced her bowl with a plate that smelled of lemongrass and spice.

Alyssa furrowed her brow, but stayed quiet.

"What was I saying?" Preston said when Gadsen had
gone back to the kitchen.

"I don't like him. He creeps me out." Lys
whispered quickly, quietly. "It feels like he's watching me. All the time. I
don't know how to explain it, but-"

Preston squeezed her hand and she shut up.

"Gadsen," he called, "could you go down to the
cellar and get a different bottle? I think I'm in the mood for a sweeter red.

"Yes sir, of course."

"Wait," Preston hissed, still squeezing Alyssa's
hand. "Wait for the door."

As soon as the cellar thudded shut, Preston
started talking again, low and fast.

"Did you read the letters I left you?"

"No, I forgot them. I-"

"Read them as soon as you get back to your room.
While you were reading my parents' love letters, some things changed. There's
not much I can say right now to clarify, but
please
read those letters
and follow them exactly. There's to be a short window tomorrow where you won't
be under any scrutiny."

"Scrutiny? What do you mean?"

"You were right. He is watching you. He knows
exactly what you're doing all the time. But, for a few minutes tomorrow, the
network is going down for maintenance. It's all in the letters. There's no time
to explain right now."

Alyssa's breath stuck in her throat.

"Do you understand?"

She nodded, unable to say anything useful.

"I – why am I here?"

"It's in the letters. The letters have everything
you need to know. Please, please trust me. There isn't much time until...No,
doesn't matter. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said. "The bruises don't hurt
anywhere near as much as they should. But I'm terrified, damn it! I've been
locked in a room for two days – three? I don't even know anymore. I'm just a
normal girl from a normal family in a normal town and here I am swept up into a
wild story that's hard to believe. How do I know I'm not dreaming? What's going
on?"

At the end of her inquisition, Alyssa's lip began
to tremble. For the first time since arriving, the pressure had finally got to
her. The strangeness, the alien feeling of being shut away in what may as well
be a prison cell with no reason for it, not a single clue, drilled into her
head.

"What did I do to deserve this? I'm a good person,
Preston. I really am. I just take care of my little brother and sister and
help. On Saturday night I was to go to the old folks' home and play bingo. On
Sundays I sit around and play checkers with my dad. Why am I here? Please!"

"Lower your voice," he hissed. "You're not safe
and I'm not either. As to why you're here, read the letters." He paused between
each word, his strange accent giving each syllable urgency. "I can't talk about
it now because I have no idea whether or not Gadsen is going to come back at
any moment."

Behind the blindfold, Alyssa wept tears that
soaked into the velvet as soon as she cried them. Her chest quivered, and she
let out a shudder that wracked her entire body. Just one. Preston squeezed her
hand.

The cellar clanged again.

"Eat your food, at least a little." He whispered.
"You're going to need the energy."

"Is something the matter sir? Oh goodness, Miss
Barton, is everything okay?"

Before she could respond, Preston told the butler
that she was just having a hard time adjusting to her sore ribs, that she got a
sting when she breathed and it had her scared. That seemed to disarm the bomb.

"I'll be sure to give you some medicine for the
pain this evening."

Right I'm sure you will. And I'll be sure to
toss it straight out the damn window.

"I think she'll be okay, Gadsen. Just a little
upset is all. The salmon is delicious." Preston's fork slid across the plate with
a little scraping sound. He chewed, swallowed, and moaned a dramatic "mmm!"

Lys spent a few seconds finding the fish on her
plate then did the same. The instant her lips touched the food, her stomach
rumbled violently.

"You might want to bring her another one, Gadsen."
Preston chuckled at the ferocity with which Alyssa ravaged her fish. "Would you
like more potatoes too?"

She shook her head, "just fish," she mumbled. "And
sauce."

Five minutes later, she destroyed another
sauce-drenched fillet.

Ten minutes later, Alyssa was somehow sipping
scalding hot coffee, and managed not to spill any of it.

By eight-thirty, she was back in her room, the
deadbolt was shut, and she fished the letters from the mattress, and settled
into the chair. A quick glance around the room didn't reveal any obvious
cameras, but that didn't mean they weren't there.

––––––––

The first letter was hastily crammed into an
envelope and sealed. She pried up the flap and three rose petals fell out when
she pulled the letter free. Picking one up, she rubbed it between her fingers
as she read:

"Alyssa,

There is something you need to know about this
place. Things are not what they seem. The butler, who seems very friendly, is
not. Don't trust him. Peter, the man who brought you to me, is the head of my
security team, and is trying currently to figure out a way to get us out of
here. I've been a prisoner of this place since I was born. There is too much to
tell, but you will find, in a room nearly adjacent to yours, and in the east
wing of the up-stairs, a book containing letters between my parents which may
give you some insight. Please find that book.

"For most of my life, I was convinced that my
mother died giving birth to me, as a result of my condition. I'm now not so
sure. If you have time, and you find the letters, they might provide some
clues, but that's not your battle. That's not your purpose.

"Without explaining everything in far too much
detail, for which I do not have time before he returns, you need to know that
Gadsen watches everything you do. He has a network of security cameras that are
hidden all over the house, and somewhere – I'm not sure where – has a room from
where he can watch."

Reading what she already had been told made
Alyssa's heart thump in her chest. "So he
did
know I wasn't where he
told me to be. He knew I was in those rooms. But if that's true, why didn't he
come get me? Unless..." Shaking her head, Lys read further. Preston's
handwriting got a bit shaky in the middle of the letter, as though he was
either in a tremendous hurry or he, like she, had something to fear if
discovered.

"There will be a short window tomorrow where the
cameras are off. This does not happen very often, in fact, I don't remember the
last time that it did. He's having something done to the network. I can ably
run an oil business and manipulate my board members to do whatever I want, but
for the life of me, network administration does not work with my brain."

She giggled a little at his joke before
continuing:

"Tomorrow, sometime before noon, the network will
go down. I don't know how I will signal this to you, but be ready for anything
that seems to be a sign. I might have Peter sing a song under your window. It
might be a gunshot. I just don't know. Anything out of the ordinary, you must
be ready to move. Once you hear or see the signal, you need to find Gadsen's
nerve center, and re-route three of the cameras. One of them films the cellar.
Another camera films the back of the foyer, and the third records what happens
in Gadsen's own quarters out back of the estate. With Peter's help, I figured
out that some kind of record is held in one of those places. I will wait for
you to accomplish what I need from you, then signal me somehow before I
search."

"I'm a spy?" Alyssa crinkled her eyebrows at the
letter. "How the hell am I supposed to accomplish all this?" Lys's heart
pounded harder and faster. She tried to read further, but had to put the letter
down for a second. "Alright, get yourself together, Alyssa."

"But, whatever I find will, I believe, show me
exactly whatreally happened to my parents, and how I came to be in this
strange situation. If I can find those answers, then I'll also know how you fit
into the whole picture and what we can do, if anything, to save ourselves. Now,
burn this letter. Do not keep it, no matter how badly you want to. I have left
a packet of matches in your drawer. Hold it out the window, burn it and let the
wind carry the ashes. I'll see them from my window. I'll be watching until you
do."

The letter closed with a cryptic 'thank you for
everything you've already done, and will do. You have no idea what this means
to me' and a sweeping, script-like letter P.

She sat back and took a deep breath that rattled
in her chest when it exited. She opened the second letter, barely able to keep
her hands from shaking long enough to read the brief note.

"Sorry for a second letter. Very quick. I don't
know where you've gone off to, but I suspect it has something to do with a
scrapbook and sneaking. Very quickly – there are two places to check for
Gadsen's monitor room – the kitchen and an office off the foyer. You'll have to
be quick and you'll have to be sneaky, but I believe in you. You're the last
hope I have." The P at the end of that letter was smaller, much more rushed.

You believe in me? Why? Why would he believe I
could manage this ridiculous stunt? Who does he think I am?

She put the letter on the table. Lys stood up,
pushed back the chair and did as she was told with the letters. Hanging out the
window, the ashes fell for a half-second straight down, then caught a wind and
blew up and to the left. Looking down, she saw that there was a huge air
conditioner unit right below her and grinned.

"He knew that was going to happen. You've really
got yourself in deep this time, Alyssa. How do you do this?"

With a heavy sigh, she let the curtains fall
closed so that only a sliver of silver came through them. The rest of the room
was completely dark when she turned off the reading lamp beside her chair and
flopped down on the bed, exhausted from all the worrying and confusion.

"Who is this man who has decided I'm a spy?"
Sticking her hand between the mattress and the bedframe, Lys pulled the blank
scrapbook out and ran her hand over the marbled cover. "Did someone buy this
thing with every intention of keeping a record of a new baby in it, and then
get forget?" She shook her head. "No, not forget. Someone bought this and then
died."

She stretched her arms above her head, grimacing a
little when her shoulder throbbed at the extreme. "Well, nothing much to do
about it right now. May as well try to get a little sleep. Or more likely, lay
here for eight hours and stare at a ceiling."

And then, with almost impeccable timing, a knock
broke the silence and almost shocked her out of her nervousness.