The Rules for Breaking (11 page)

Air in through my nose. Air out through my mouth.

Ethan takes my hands, pulls me in, and kisses me. Soft lips, just enough pressure. It makes me feel warm. And safe.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but my body eventually stops shaking. My breathing returns to normal, and I don’t have that clammy, about-to-throw-up feeling.

I hold on to the mental image a little longer, pulling every piece of strength I can from it. We’re still on that blanket, sitting cross-legged, facing each other. My hands in his. Our faces close.

We are strong together. We are smart together. Ethan will protect me and I will protect him. We will both protect Teeny.

Opening my eyes, Thomas is in front of me, watching. Staring. The one thing I know about him is he always has a plan. Agent Parker died because she wasn’t useful any more. Right now he needs us alive. And as long as he needs us, we’re not in immediate danger.

But now he is. And not just from the unknown assassin out to get us all. If hurting Thomas saves us, I will not hesitate a second.

Rules for disappearing
by Witness Protection prisoner #18A7R04M:

Always stay one step ahead….

New rule by Anna Boyd:

Sometimes it’s all you can do to stop yourself from falling behind.

rest of the ride is excruciating. Ethan’s hands and feet are bound together in one clump, or as they would say on the farm: hog-tied. He struggles for a while but I have to turn away, it’s too hard to watch.

Not long after we’re back on the road, Teeny wakes up and crawls to me. Thomas only tied one of my hands to the wall of the van, so luckily I can curl the other one around her when she gets to me.

She burrows in close and asks in a surprisingly clear voice, “Is Thomas going to kill us?”

I tell her no.

I’m not sure she believes me.

I’m so relieved she never knew Agent Parker was here or what happened to her in the woods. I promised never to lie to another member of my family again, but now is not the time to tell Teeny just how much danger we’re in.

Teeny and I lay together inside the van for a long time. She doesn’t ask anything, not how we got here or where we’re going. Doesn’t ask for Dad. Or Mom. Doesn’t cry. Nothing. Her level of calm is scary. And wrong.

Just as dawn breaks through the front van windows, Thomas pulls inside some structure—whether a garage or warehouse, I don’t know. It’s pitch-black and strangely quiet.

As soon as the van stops, both men jump from the vehicle and are gone.

There is no sound except the occasional ping from the cooling engine.

“Are y’all okay?” Ethan asks.

“I guess. Are you okay?”

Ethan grunts and struggles to free himself again.

“Do you know where we are?” Teeny asks.

“No,” I whisper.

Ethan struggles to raise his head off the van floor. “Look, I’m not sure what’s about to happen but we have to be smart about this. Anna, try to get him talking. He wants to lure in the Mateo guy—we need to find out how he plans on doing that. Information is vital—the more of it we have, the better chance we have to figure a way out of this. And look for a weapon. But don’t use it unless it becomes absolutely necessary. There may be a time where we need to be able to protect ourselves. Do not blindly do what he asks. Make him explain why he wants you to do it. Hound the shit out of him. And Teeny, stay strong. You’re a brave girl and I know we
will
get through this.”

“You’re talking like you won’t be with us!” I say, panicked.

“I don’t know what he’s going to do, but I won’t be surprised if he separates us. It will be the best way to keep us all in line.”

Teeny buries her head in my chest and lets out a muffled cry.

I look over her head to Ethan and mouth the words
I love you
. He sends a tiny smile back my way and says, “Me, too. More than you know.”

Ethan finally goes limp. Teeny is quiet. We’re all waiting for what’s next.

Shocked is the only thought that comes to mind when light finally floods the interior of the van. It’s Thomas…dressed as a priest. He’s wearing long black robes, a funny little hat, and that white collar thing.

What the hell?

He pushes a large hotel-style laundry cart to the back of the van.

“Anna, you and your sister go first. My associate will stay with Ethan. Once we’ve quietly gotten to our destination, we’ll bring him up. Do you understand?”

I squeeze Teeny tight and nod.

Thomas pulls out the familiar knife and removes the zip tie from around my wrist, leaving a ring of red skin. After removing Teeny’s bindings, he motions for her to climb inside the cart. She hesitates for just a second or two before jumping in.

Ethan looks defeated and I try to not let that scare me to death. He was right, we’re being separated. I give him a small smile before climbing into the cart. Vader moves closer to the cart and I can see through the hole in the mask that he wants to say something. Thomas puts a hand on his arm and squeezes, silencing anything he might have said. I may have just found the weak spot of this situation.

Thomas covers us with several layers of sheets and I say a little prayer that this isn’t the last time I’ll see Ethan’s face.

The trip is bumpy and includes what feels like a short elevator ride. The second the sheet covering us is yanked away, a gross smell fills my nose.

Old. And mildewy.

Peeking over the rim of the cart, I take in my surroundings. The ceiling of the small room is short with rough wooden beams running like stripes from one side to the other, and the faded plaster walls are missing big chunks. The floors are old, scuffed wood, a minefield of splinters, and coated in dust. The only furniture in the room is a bare mattress and the only source of light is an old sconce with one of those little pull cords. A few stray rays of light make their way through the closed wood shutters covering the only window and making it too dark to see what’s on the other side of the interior door.

Thomas pulls Teeny out of the laundry cart and she sprints to the other side of the room, as far as she can get from him, the second her feet touch the ground. He tries to help me out but I knock his hands away.

It takes me a few minutes to get out of the cart on my own. My body is battered and exhausted and not cooperating at all. Thomas doesn’t offer to help me again.

I nearly collapse when I finally make it out of the cart. Thomas takes the sheets we hid under and throws them on the mattress.

“There is a bathroom through that door,” Thomas says as he points to the small opening.

He steps out of the room long enough to retrieve a small ice chest and a brown paper bag.

“This should be enough for now.”

Finally, he shuts the door and we hear the turn of the lock.

Teeny goes straight for the food while I throw the sheet over the old mattress and eye the room. Door: locked. Shutters: locked. Ethan’s instructions play on repeat through my head. I’m looking for something, anything that I can use against Thomas. The room is bare.

Teeny pulls out a long, skinny loaf of bread and a package of lunch meat.

“I guess we can make a sandwich with this.” She turns toward me and asks, “You want one?”

“Sure.”

I don’t know if I could actually eat right now but I’m happy for anything that will keep her busy. Truthfully, I’m waiting for her meltdown. I know there’s one brewing.

I get the bed made, as much as you can with just a couple of sheets, and crawl toward the food. Teeny breaks the bread in half and then pries it open. Since there’s no knife, the bread is pretty butchered by the time she piles the meat inside.

I hug my knees to my chest and try to process what’s happened. This feels wrong on so many levels. Why the priest costume? Does he pull that off as well as he did the U.S. Marshals act?

“Maybe let’s not use all the turkey. We don’t know how often he’ll feed us,” I say. I don’t trust him, no matter what. We’ve got to be smart about this—just like Ethan said.

Teeny looks at her sandwich, then removes half of the meat, returning it to the container. I do the same with my half and open the ice chest. It’s full of bottled water and I want to cry at the sight of it.

We both grab a bottle and drain them in seconds. Opening and closing my jaw to eat sends waves of pain through my face, so I give up and crawl to the mattress.

Teeny finishes and follows me to the bed.

We lay there for a while.

At some point, Thomas opens the door and says, “Ethan’s in the room next door. I don’t trust you together. Everyone will be fine as long as you don’t do anything stupid.”

The door shuts and locks again.

My confidence shakes but it doesn’t shatter. Ethan warned me this might happen, and even if I hate that we’re not together, it doesn’t mean Thomas wins in the end.

Be smart.

Get him talking.

Find a weapon.

I repeat this simple list to myself over and over, hoping it will help me find the strength to handle what’s next.

Rules for disappearing
by Witness Protection prisoner #18A7R04M:

Don’t make eye contact or strike up conversations with random people….

New rule by Anna Boyd:

Random people may not be so random after all.

feel like I’ve been asleep for days. I have vague memories of downing more water and crawling to the bathroom, but that’s it. My body is disgusting, my hair greasy, my breath foul, and every move I make hurts like hell. Teeny’s twisted up at my side, but springs to life after I stretch around.

She sits up quickly and asks, “Are you awake now?” Her voice sounds panicked.

“I think so. How long have I been out?”

“A whole day, I think. I only know that the room got really dark and then not so dark. We got more food. I ate without you.” Her head hangs.

I pull her in close. “I’m glad you did.”

She buries her face into my shoulder. “I didn’t think you were ever gonna wake up.”

“I’m better now.” A small lie. I feel like I could sleep for a week more. But I’m starving too and that right now is overriding the urge to crawl back underneath the sheet. And Teeny’s pitiful face.

“What’s there to eat?” I ask.

Teeny pops up and runs across the room. There is now a small card table full of snacks, fruit, bread, and soft drinks. It’s almost a ridiculous amount of food for just Teeny and me.

The small ice chest is tucked underneath the table. Teeny fixes me a plate with a banana, a honey bun, and a handful of grapes. “Did Thomas or the guy in the mask bring all this food in?” I ask with a mouth full of grapes.

“The guy in the mask. And he brought me some books.”

This is freaking me out. Who in the hell is the dude in the mask and why is he going out of his way to be so accommodating?

Teeny sinks back down on the mattress with a sudoku book while I check out the shuttered window where a draft of cool air blows in from the outside. It’s an odd shape, arched on top, and no glass—just the old wood shutter tucked back in the wall. The space is small; I can barely fit in front of it. The latch is locked with a small brass padlock.

Squinting through the crack I see another building. We’re only about three or four stories up and the building across from the window is yellow. Bright yellow. But the position of the window doesn’t allow me to see what’s below it.

The sound of a lock turning makes us both jump.

Vader sticks his black ski-masked face inside. “You’re awake.”

No kidding.

Neither of us says anything to him. He steps inside and glances toward the food.

“Do you need anything?” It’s a nice enough question but delivered in the same sharp tone he used earlier.

I’m listening to his voice and again there is a pang of recognition. I scroll through the countless suits who rolled through our placements in my mind. A sea of ordinary men parade through my memory. I’m sure I’ve met him before.

“We could use a shower. The bathroom only has a toilet and sink,” I say.

“And a toothbrush and toothpaste,” Teeny adds.

“Um…yes. Can I see Ethan?” I ask. “I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“No. He should be the least of your worries.”

“I won’t try anything, I promise. It would make me feel better just to see him. Please.”

This seems to piss him off.

“You know, it would make me feel better if there wasn’t an assassin out there trying to end my life. I couldn’t care less if you want to check on your boyfriend. He’s lucky to even be here.”

It’s the way he says lucky that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

He turns and leaves the room, locking us back in.

I drop to the floor and think about Ethan. Vader’s entire demeanor instantly changed the second I mentioned him. Oh God…what if they did something to him? Thomas could have lied to me when he said Ethan was next door. My head pops up—next door. I run to the side of the room opposite the bathroom and knock on the wall.

“Ethan.”

Knock, knock.

“Ethan.”

Knock, knock.

Nothing.

Teeny watches me from the mattress but doesn’t say anything.

I run to the small bathroom. There is barely any space but I knock on the wall behind the toilet.

“Ethan.”

I repeat this over and over, back and forth, from one wall to the next.

Nothing.

I crumple to the floor near the toilet. Teeny comes in and hunches down next to me.

“Maybe he’s sleeping. Or the walls are too thick,” she says.

Or maybe Thomas was lying to me.

I run from the bathroom to the locked door and use both fists to pound on the wood, screaming Thomas’s name. Horrible thoughts are flying through my head and visions of Brandon’s dead body and my blood-covered hands flood my brain. I hate getting sucked back into the horrible memories I kept buried for so long, but I feel the same now that I did in that room. Helpless. Scared. Almost a year later, I’m still suffering the consequences of witnessing their murders. I don’t know that I will ever get to a point where that night doesn’t haunt me.

I have a sinking fear that Ethan’s gone. Really gone, like Brandon. I need to see him and there’s only one person who can make that happen.

Little bits of plaster fly off the wall and little puffs of fine dust float through the room. The beams in the ceiling vibrate. I bang and scream until my voice is hoarse.

My hands throb, but I beat on that door for what feels like forever. A huge piece of plaster separates from the wall in a sheet and crashes to the floor. A cloud of dust forms and threatens to overtake the room, so I grab the sheet off the bed and throw it over the food.

All I’ve managed to do is make our conditions worse.

The door flies open. Vader is back.

“What in the hell are you doing?”

I launch myself at him, hitting him in the head, the stomach, and pretty much any other spot I can. I hate him—both of them for doing this to us. For killing Agent Parker. I want to hurt Thomas, too, but Vader’s the only one in front of me right now.

He pins my arms and holds me tight. Teeny rushes to my side and starts kicking him and yelling, “Don’t touch her! Leave her alone!”

Vader pushes Teeny away and she falls back on the mattress. “Stop fighting me or someone could get hurt. I won’t hit a girl but I will go rough your boyfriend up instead. Maybe that will make you think twice before you attack me,” he says.

I stop fighting him immediately.

His grip on my arms remains strong. His face is close. I search through the opening of the mask around the eyes and mouth. I know this person. I’ve met him before.

“Who are you?” I ask.

He shoves me back and I land next to Teeny.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop banging on these walls. I may not be the one to come check what’s going on next time.” He turns away and pulls the door shut.

“Teeny, did you recognize that guy’s voice? Do you think he’s one of the suits?”

Thomas told him to call Hammond so I know it’s not him. For the second time, I wonder if there could be more than one mole.

Teeny pulls her knees in close and props her chin on top of them. “Maybe. He scares me with that mask on.”

I nudge her arm and say, “He didn’t seem to scare you too bad. You were pretty awesome with those kicks.”

She smiles and I feel a little lighter inside. I throw an arm around her shoulder and pull her in close. “I shouldn’t have attacked him. I’m just really worried about Ethan.”

“Well, Ethan said to be smart about this and I don’t think that was very smart.” She’s got a little bit of the bratty tone to her voice and I love hearing it. It’s normal Teeny—not scary calm Teeny.

“I know. We both need to be careful and use our heads.” I pause a moment then ask, “Do you want to know what Thomas told me? About why we’re here?”

She picks at her thumbnail and creases race across her forehead as she studies her cuticle. “Ummm…I guess.”

I repeat what I told Ethan, leaving out what Thomas said about her, as simply as I can.

“So there’s another assassin looking for us. Because that’s what Thomas is, right? An assassin.”

“Yes, I think that’s what he is.”

“And this other assassin is trying to take Thomas’s place. And to do that he has to kill you and Ethan and Thomas and the guy in the mask?”

“Vader.”

She looks at me for the first time since we started talking, letting out a small laugh. “Yeah, I guess he looks a little bit like Darth Vader.”

“Well, I figured he needed a name. Thomas isn’t Thomas’s real name but we have to call him something, so why not give masked man a name, too?”

“Who do you think is going to win? Thomas or the other guy?”

I don’t want to say that I think whoever wins probably won’t let us live in the end, so I say, “I’m betting on us. I think in the end, we’ll win and go back home.”

She smiles again and I shake the sheets out, remaking the bed.

“What’s that?” Teeny asks.

She’s pointing to the ceiling where rough boards are now visible.

“Just some old boards that are behind the walls,” I answer.

“No, what’s that between those two boards?”

I stop making the bed and look up to where she’s pointing. There is something wedged in there.

I kneel down. “Here, get on my shoulders and see if you can grab it.”

Once she’s sitting on top of me, she can reach it but just barely. Tugging away a few random pieces of plaster, she manages to pull it out.

“It’s a box!” Teeny sounds like she’s won a prize.

Teeny hops down so fast we both almost fall over and my sore muscles scream. It is a box. A very small box. And it’s old and covered in dust.

Teeny cracks open the lid. There are a few envelopes bound by a faded, yellow ribbon, an old pocket watch–type thing, a piece of fabric, and a small framed picture. Teeny goes for the envelopes while I pick up the frame. It’s tarnished but you can still see the intricate scrollwork that surrounds the image. I flip the small latch on the back and pry the door open, pulling the picture out. It’s faded. It looks like a boy but it’s too damaged to make out any details. On the other side is a single word: Henry.

I glance at Teeny, who is trying very carefully to separate the envelopes. She’s gotten the ribbon off but every time she tugs at a piece of the paper it rips apart.

“I don’t think I can open these without ruining them,” she says.

I hold my hand out and she gently lays the stack of envelopes inside. The front is yellowed with age and the writing is smeared like maybe it’s gotten wet.

The name and address on the top envelope are barely legible. In fancy cursive is the name Henry, but all you can tell from the last name is that it starts with S-t-a. Underneath there is only one word you can read: Rye.

“What does Rye mean?” Teeny asks.

“I’m not sure. It’s probably just some street name or name of a town. No telling how long this has been up there.”

“What kind of weirdo is Henry that he’s got a frame with his own picture in it?”

I giggle and say, “I don’t think this box is Henry’s. It’s got to be a girl’s box of things. Maybe she never got around to mailing the letters.”

Teeny rummages through the rest of the box. The pocket watch stopped working at 6:17—but who knows how many years ago—and the fabric is blue and thick with a raised pattern on it.

“Can I keep this stuff?” she asks.

“I don’t see why not.” I put the photograph back in the frame and close the back. It’s small, barely fitting in my palm, so I take the yellow ribbon and thread it through the scrollwork on the top of the frame.

“Turn around,” I tell her, and then drape it around her neck, tying the ribbon in a knot. “Now it’s a necklace.”

She lies back on the mattress and stares at it in her hand. While Teeny’s interests are with what’s in the box, mine are more on where the box came from.

The boards near the ceiling are old and half rotten. Maybe if I could pry one out, it could be useful. Like beat-Vader-until-he’s-unconscious useful. But how do I get up there?

The card table!

Once everything on the card table is on the floor, I gingerly climb on top of it. It’s wobbly but if I space my feet just right, the table holds still. The ceiling is low enough that I can reach the wood with no problem.