To Disappear by Natasha Rostova Page A

system stood against one wall, complete with a large television, stereo and speakers.
    It was Preston’s bedroom, Lydia knew. She went further inside, pleased to think she was invading his personal space without his knowledge. The scent of his cologne lingered like a whisper in the air.
    She walked slowly through the room, examining the toiletries on his dressing table, the shirts and jackets hung neatly in the closet, the videos and CDs stacked on a shelf. Then as she moved back to the door her gaze fell on a worn photograph tucked into a mirror frame.
    She looked at it for a moment before plucking it out, and the truth took a moment to penetrate her shocked brain as she realized she was staring at a photograph of herself as a younger woman.
    The photographer had captured her without her knowledge as she walked along the street. She was wearing a white shirt unbuttoned enough to reveal a hint of cleavage, and a short pink skirt that fell to mid-thigh. Her dark hair was long, falling almost to her waist in a shiny waterfall.
    With a trembling hand Lydia replaced the photograph. Preston had taken it, of that she had no doubt, and the fact that he had kept it during the interim years was enough to make her feel ill.
    She remembered what Gabriel had revealed to her last night, when her emotions and strength had been entirely depleted. Just how long had Preston been obsessed with her? And how else would he exact penance for what he thought were wrongs she had committed against him? Despite what Gabriel said, Lydia knew that Preston’s fascination with her was interlaced with malice.
    She knew Gabriel had been correct, that she must be grateful for the fact that Preston had provided her with a sanctuary where no one could find or punish her, where the investigators and lawyers could not touch her… as long as she yielded to the dark trinity of men who lived in the plantation, of course.
    Lydia hurried from the bedroom, pressing a hand against her tummy in a futile attempt to stop it churning. It would be all right, she told herself. It would be all right. She was safe here; no matter what Preston did or said, she knew he would keep his word. That’s what mattered. That’s all that mattered.
    She opened another door; it was Kruin’s bedroom. Although as large as Preston’s, Kruin lived in a much sparser environment. His bed was covered with a dark blue, utilitarian coverpane, the shelves only contained a few non-fiction books, and the counter of the adjoining bathroom held just a comb, toothpaste and a razor. Yet even those meager belongings served to humanize Kruin somewhat in her thinking, for she had begun to wonder if he possessed any mortal qualities at all.
    She checked the other rooms on the third floor, but they were only several spare bedrooms and a storage room. She returned to the second floor and opened the door of the bedroom next to hers, and was surprised to realize it was Gabriel’s, not having known he slept so close to her.
    Slightly unnerved by the thought, she looked around the room with its colors of deep blues and greens, the large bed covered with a rumpled, feather comforter, the shelf of paperbacks and magazines, and the comfortable easy chairs near the window. A desk was near the window, upon which was a computer and scattered sheets of paper.
    Lydia touched the hairbrush on the bathroom counter, trailed her fingers over a discarded shirt, and moved a few pieces on the chessboard. When she had finally satisfied her curiosity, she returned to her bedroom and closed the door, her newfound familiarity with her surroundings giving her an odd feeling of calm.
    The bizarre happenings within the old plantation were so unsettling that obtaining a basic understanding of the house’s blueprint seemed to balance her equilibrium. So she curled up in a chair by the window, opened the book and sank her teeth into the juicy peach.
Chapter 7
    Lydia woke to the touch of a hand on her hip. She started, fearing for