Masquerade (Swept Away #2.5)(22)

I leaned against the door and closed my eyes. What was going on here? Today was turning into one mysterious day. First the note, and then the police showing up. I didn’t know: who sent the note, why they sent the note, who called the police, how he had gotten into my building, and how he knew my name. I chewed my bottom lip as I tried to figure out what was going on. I stared around my apartment, and suddenly the coziness of the room felt claustrophobic. I’d always loved living in New York City, but today my small one-bedroom felt like a cell. That the building had seemed so safe when I moved in suddenly felt like a fallacy. I didn’t know my neighbors, and I had no one to talk to about how the policeman had gotten into the building or the mysterious letter that had arrived.

The dirty, peeling walls directly opposite seemed to be closing in on me as I stood there hoping for clarity to hit and questions to be answered miraculously. I walked to my tan leather couch and sat down, leaning back into the plushness of the cushions. It was the only nice piece of furniture I owned. And even then it had been a gift from my best friend, Rosie. I could barely afford the rent in my apartment as it was, and I wasn’t living in Trump Tower either.

I picked up the bright red-and-orange-patterned cushions that my father had gotten me in India when I was a teenager and then froze as my cell phone rang. The noise was jarring in my eerily quiet living room. I normally always had the TV on or music playing; I didn’t like being in quiet spaces for too long. It reminded me of how alone I was. I grabbed my cell phone and dropped it when I saw the screen. My father’s phone number flashed on the screen. My dead father’s phone number. I stared at it before reaching down and picking it up again.

“Hello?” I answered softly, my voice cracking as I wondered who was calling me from my dad’s phone. I was pretty sure I still had it in a box in my bedroom. I took a deep breath to stop myself from freaking out and jumped off the couch. “Hello,” I spoke into the phone again with my voice trembling, this time unable to hide how freaked out I was by the call.

“You should be more careful, Bianca,” a deep male voice spoke into the phone. I couldn’t make his voice out clearly, as the phone had a lot of static.

My voice rose. “Who is this?”

“You shouldn’t let strangers into your apartment.”

“I haven’t let any strangers into my apartment.”

“Anyone can be anyone. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

“What are you talking about?” My face started to feel hot as I sat there in fear.

“Be careful of those who seek to help you. They may do more harm than good.” Then he hung up.

I stared at the phone in my hand and ran to my bedroom to find my dad’s phone. The box of my father’s things was on the bed, and the lid was off. I ran over to it and saw that the phone was gone. Who could have taken it? No one had been in my apartment in weeks. No one except the policeman, but why would a policeman go through my things? Unless he hadn’t been there to help protect me from an intruder—perhaps he was there to find something to protect someone else.

I looked down at the business card he had given me and froze. It was blank. All he had given me was a piece of white card stock. It was then that I knew this was the next step in whatever was going on. I knew then that the policeman had been looking for my father’s papers. The papers that he’d left me were full of clues. It didn’t matter that I didn’t fully understand them yet. Obviously someone else wanted them.

I walked to the window in my living room and looked down to the street. I stared at the homeless woman who’d settled into the block directly across the street a couple of weeks ago. The woman I gave a couple of dollars to once a week as I passed by her. The woman who quoted a different Bible verse to me every time she saw me. The woman who shivered even when the days were warm. The woman who wore a Cartier watch and had freshly dyed highlights. The woman who knew exactly when I left and entered the building. I didn’t know who she was, friend or foe, but I knew that she was watching me.

I walked back to my bedroom and stared at my father’s box for a few minutes before closing it carefully and placing it back in my closet. I was grateful that I had removed my father’s papers from the box several weeks ago. I hadn’t known why at the time, but I’m someone who always listens to her first instincts. I then went to my dirty-clothes basket, pulled out my clothes, and threw them onto the floor. I instinctively looked around the room again to make sure it was empty, even though I knew there was no one in there with me. I pulled out my mother’s old cedar jewelry box that I’d hidden under the clothes and slowly opened it. I let out a huge sigh of relief when I saw the stack of papers hidden under the cheap costume necklaces I had bought at Goodwill. I carefully closed it again, carried it with me to the kitchen, and placed it in a plastic bag. Then I pulled my cell phone out again and made a call.



It had been four days since the note arrived. Four days that I’d been on tenterhooks wondering what was going to happen next. I’d never felt this anxious before. Or scared. However, I tried to continue living my life as I normally did. There was nothing I could do but wait and see what was going to happen next. I also knew what the next step of the plan was. I could do nothing but wait for my ex-boyfriend David to come through for me. He was my only access to more information. I hadn’t wanted to trust him, but I knew that in a game of cat and mouse the one who got the cheese was the one who took the most risks. I just had to be patient. Though it was hard. Even watching shows on the History Channel didn’t capture my attention for long.