Inside Room 913 by Bruce A. Borders

Author:Bruce A. Borders [Borders, Bruce A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: 18-year-old, new job, Marsburg Virus, Adulthood, clean read mystery books, Insane Asylum, any age, what is inside, 40 years, Family, clean read, Assisted Living, mystery books hotel, Suspense, sanitarium, teen, clean read mystery, teenager, YA, forbidden room, mystery books for teens, Young Adult
Publisher: Borders Publishing
Published: 2013-12-13T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Her moment of panic was short-lived. With nowhere to hide, Cynthia stood motionless, watching helplessly as the door swung open wide. Even knowing who it was coming in the door, she had to consciously stifle a scream.

And then, she was looking the man in the eye.

Mr. Jacobson pulled up short at the sight of her, pausing halfway through the doorway. Staring hard for a moment, he seemed bewildered by Cynthia’s presence. Then recognizing the intruder, his surprise gave way to anger. “What ever are you doing in my room?” he demanded.

“I’m sorry. I...”

The old man cut her off. “I did not ask for an apology. You can save that for Mrs. Kirkwood when she fires you—and you can be certain she will when she hears about this. Why are you in my room?”

Cynthia could see the man was in no mood to discuss things with her. But, she noticed he hadn’t threatened to call the police—yet. The only way out of this, she decided, was to tell him the truth.

With a confident tone, she said, “I was worried about the man in Room 913. Concerned that he’d been locked up and held against his will for all these years, so I thought I’d try to help, if I could. I tried talking to him through the serving window and when I got no answer, I let myself into the room. When I found no one there, I eventually discovered the door through the bookshelf. I’d just figured it all out when you came home.”

“And what exactly do you think you have figured out?”

“That you are Conrad Williams,” Cynthia declared, as if it were some great revelation.

The old man smiled, almost amused. The anger he’d shown at finding her in his room was all but gone. “I can see how perhaps it would look that way,” he said. “But no, I am not. My name, as previously disclosed, is William Jacobson.”

Cynthia raised her eyebrows with a skeptical look. “And why should I believe you?” Looking pointedly to the opened doorway that led to Room 913, she said, “I have some pretty good evidence that suggests otherwise.”

“Purely circumstantial,” the man said.

“Perhaps,” Cynthia agreed. “But if you are not Conrad Williams, where is he?”

Mr. Jacobson eyed her a moment. Then, motioning for her to have a seat, he closed the door and shuffled over to one of the dining room chairs. “I realize this must all be a little confusing, so allow me a moment to explain.”

Cynthia chose to not take the offer to sit. Standing somehow made her feel less vulnerable. Less defenseless. She still wore a suspicious expression but very much wanted to hear what the man had to say. “I’m listening,” she said.

Mr. Jacobson wet his lips with his tongue. It was plain to see he didn’t quite know where to start. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Years ago, I too had a few concerns about the man in Room 913, Conrad Williams, as I later learned was his name.

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