The Rules for Breaking Page 10

  “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.

  “What are you doing?” Teeny asks.

  “Looking for a weapon.”

  I can get my hands around one of the boards but when I pull, nothing happens except that I feel like I’m about to fly off this table. I glance around the floor searching for anything that may help.

  There’s nothing.

  And then I hear it. It’s faint, but there…a scratching noise.

  I run to the wall next to the mattress, pressing my ear against it.

  “What are you doing now?” Teeny asks.

  “Do you hear it? That noise?”

  She gets up from the bed and squats down next to me on the floor.

  We both hear the noise this time and Teeny’s eyes get wide.

  “Is it like a mouse or something?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not.”

  Knocking on the wall, I shout Ethan’s name again. Just a few scraping noises answer me back.

  Teeny gets bored quickly and moves back to the mattress. Using my fingers, I dig into the plaster wall. It feels good doing something. As much as I hate not having Ethan here with me, I’m so glad he gave me something to do. I work until my nails are broken and my fingers are on the verge of bleeding, yet I’ve only removed about a square inch of wall. How can an entire piece fall by banging on a door but still be strong enough to withstand direct force?

  Scratch, scratch, scratch.

  There it is again.

  And then I hear something…a muffled sound. Words, but I can’t make them out.

  “What was that?” Teeny asks.

  I shrug and then lie on my back with my feet against the wall. I line both feet up where I’ve made the small dent. Using all my strength, I pound both feet against the wall one good time. Vibrations run up my legs and the wall shakes but nothing else happens. I brace myself and kick again. The plaster caves in a bit and a layer of dust floats over me.

  Moving in front of it to hide the damage, I wait to see if I’ve alerted Vader again. Teeny looks from me to the door and back again a dozen times. Not sure how much time goes by but I feel like if he’s coming, he’d have gotten here by now.

  “Sissy, what if there’s a mouse in there and you let it out? What if it comes in here?” Teeny asks in a panicked voice. How can she be cool with being a hostage, but the idea of a mouse getting in here makes her nervous?

  “I don’t think it’s a mouse. I’m hoping it’s Ethan on the other side of this wall.”

  I chip away at the wall until I finally break through the plaster and even a small piece of the wood. It’s not a big hole, but it is a hole.

  The opening is triangular, and when I pull a loose piece of plaster out of the way, I can just make out one eye, part of a cheek, and half of a nose.

  It’s not a face I recognize.

  “Is it a mouse?” Teeny asks.

  “No. It’s a person.”

  Teeny springs up from the bed and squeezes her head next to mine so she can see.

  “Is it Ethan?” Teeny whispers.

  I shake my head. “Hello?” I call through the wall. “Can you hear me?”

  “Yes.” The voice answers back. It’s a young boy. “Who’s there?”

  “My name is Anna. I’m here with my sister, Elena. Who are you?”

  Part of me is devastated it’s not Ethan, but hopefully this person will know where we are.

  “Noah. Noah Barnes.”

  He’s trying to get a better look inside our room. I stare at him, but it’s hard to get a good idea of what he looks like when you can only see bits and pieces at a time.

  “What happened to your face?” Noah asks.

  My hand flies to my cheek and I realize I still haven’t seen how bad the damage is. There’s no mirror in our small bathroom.

  “It’s fine. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he answers.

  He doesn’t sound fine. He sounds scared. I can’t see anything wrong with him, but my view only shows about ten percent of his face at a time.

  “Do you have food?” Teeny asks.

  “Yeah, some water and bread. A little turkey.”

  I’m guessing he doesn’t have the same little buffet we’ve got. I turn to Teeny and say, “Find some food small enough to fit through the hole.”

  She scurries over to the card table and grabs a banana and a honey bun. It takes us a few minutes but we finally get the food through to the other side.

  It really makes
me nervous there’s another kid here. There is obviously way more going on than Thomas is saying.

  While he eats, I ask, “What are you doing here?”

  His eye fills the hole again and his eyebrow scrunches up. “I don’t know. That guy won’t tell me anything no matter how many times I ask.”

  “What’s the guy look like?”

  “I don’t know. He’s always wearing a ski mask.”

  I take a deep breath and try to force down the rising anxiety. “You haven’t seen the tall, dark-haired guy? He may have been dressed like a priest.”

  “You two are the only other people I’ve seen since I’ve been here.” Noah backs away from the hole. He’s gone for a while and I have a crazy fear he won’t come back. Finally, his brown eye fills the space again.

  What the hell is going on? Who is this boy and what does he have to do with any of this?

  “Have you ever heard of a guy named Daniel Sanders?” I ask.

  He’s quiet a moment while he thinks. “No. That name’s not familiar.”

  “Where are you from?” There has to be some sort of connection.

  “El Paso, Texas.”

  Okay. We never had a placement in Texas, but Ethan and I did drive through there on our way to Scottsdale.

  “How old are you?” I ask.

  “Twelve.”

  Teeny’s head pops up. He’s only a year older than she is.

  “Have you ever been to Natchitoches, Louisiana?”

  “No. Is that close to New Orleans? The only place I’ve been to in Louisiana is New Orleans,” he answers.

  “No, it’s like four or five hours away.”

  I tick through all of my identities from when we were in the program: Hillsboro, Springfield, Naples, Conway, Bardstown. Noah has never been to any of those places.

  “Does your mom or dad work for the government? Maybe the U.S. Marshals Service?” I’m reaching now. Trying to find some sort of connection.

  “No. But my granddad does.”

  Oh. Shit.

  I’m almost afraid to ask the next question. There’s only one agent I think of when the word grandfather comes to mind.

  “Is his name Greg Williams?”

  His brown eye gets big. “Yeah. How’d you know that?”

  Rules for disappearing

  by Witness Protection prisoner #18A7R04M:

  Remember your old life is dead and gone….

  New rule by Anna Boyd:

  Hell, no. If you love the life you have—fight for it.

  turn away from the hole in the wall. Noah calls for me, but I don’t get up. Why in the world is Agent Williams’s grandson being held captive in the next room?

  My mind spins with accusations. Agent Parker told us she was the one who told Thomas where we were. How is Agent Williams involved with this?

  The lock on the door turns and I sit up quickly. I whisper through the hole for Noah to be quiet and then lean against the wall, blocking the hole with my back.

  The door opens slowly and Thomas sticks his head in.

  He looks at Teeny on the mattress and then at me sitting on the floor. “I heard there’s a problem in here.”

  Oh, crap. Vader told on me for banging on the walls. “No, everything’s fine. It’s fine.”

  Thomas stands straight, arms by his sides. “You didn’t ask for a shower and toiletry items?”

  I sit up straighter. “Oh…yes. Yes, we want a shower and to brush our teeth.”

  Thomas enters the room and walks to the card table. He’s still dressed as a priest, his long black robes picking up the white powder that covers the floor. He runs his finger over the surface of the table, coating the tip in plaster, and holds it up to me.

  “Will it become necessary for me to separate you to ensure good behavior?”

  This is one of the strongest threats Thomas has against me right now. I’m worried about Ethan, but he is strong and resourceful. Teeny is another story. I can’t imagine what it will be like for her if she’s stuck in a room like this by herself. And as much as I hate to admit it, I don’t want to be by myself either.

  “No,” I answer.

  “Anna, I know how your mind works. There’s nowhere to go.”

  I can almost hear Ethan’s voice in my head—get him talking.

  “Why would I believe anything you say? You’re a murderer. And a kidnapper. And God knows what else.”

  I worry for a moment that maybe I took the wrong approach.

  He doesn’t move or answer me. Teeny pulls the sheet on top of her, trying to hide underneath it. I’ve scared her and regret that.

  But I can’t lose this opportunity.

  “I know you have some plan that includes us. Please tell me what it is. We should all work together on this.” I hate the begging tone that creeps in my voice.

  Not even a flicker of emotion crosses his face. “Would you like to know about the man who has been hired to kill you?”

  Um…hell no.

  “I guess,” I squeak out.

  “I mentioned he’s trying to take my place. And I’ve mentioned he’s eager to make a name for himself. That’s not all of it. He’s brutal when he fulfills a contract.” He pauses, then repeats, “Brutal.”

  I try to swallow the lump in my throat but it won’t go down.

  “Mateo likes to mark his victims to ensure that he gets credit for the kill. He burns a cross onto their chest until the skin all but melts around it. It’s just a shame he does it while they’re still alive.” His left eyebrow arches slightly when he asks, “Would you like for me to tell you what he does just before he burns them?”

  “No!” Teeny and I both yell at the same time.

  “Does he know you have us?” I ask. I never thought I’d feel safe with Thomas, but he seems to be the better of two evils.

  “I’m certain he knows by now.”

  Teeny’s head pokes out of the sheet and she has tears in her eyes. “Why can’t Ethan be with us right now?” she asks.

  Thomas’s expression doesn’t change a fraction. “You are easier to control separated.”

  I want to ask how Noah fits in but I’m not ready to show all my cards right now.

  “What’s your exact plan?” I ask.

  He shakes his head, but doesn’t answer.

  “You owe us that.” I wait a moment, debating what to say next, then decide to push him, bringing up the one thing he told me not to mention. “We’re only back in this because of those stupid flowers and my journal. And I don’t think you’re the one who sent them. Who was it? The least you can do is tell me that. Is it that guy Daniel Sanders who Agent Williams caught?”

  His left cheek twitches and I know I’m on to something.

  “If you want a shower, I’ll take you one at a time. I’ve no problem affording you the basic necessities. Who wants to go first?”

  He’s not biting. But at least I’m cracking that shell.

  Teeny shakes her head. It might be better for me to go first so I can at least tell her what to expect.

  But how do I move away from the wall without him seeing the hole? I don’t want him to know that I know about Noah.

  By the way Teeny’s looking between me and the wall, I can tell she’s worried about the same thing.

  She hops away from me to the other side of the room. Thomas follows her with his eyes and I stand slowly, keeping my legs together to hide the damage.

  “Do you promise she’ll be okay?” Teeny asks.

  He stares at her. “If she doesn’t do anything stupid, she will be fine.”

  I move to the door and turn to Teeny just before I step out of the room. “I won’t be gone long.”

  We’re in a narrow hall with a row of closed doors on each side.

  “Can I see Ethan just
so I know he’s okay?” I ask.

  “No.”

  Following Thomas, it takes everything in me not to knock him in the head or kick him in the butt. I want to hurt him. But that would be stupid and Ethan told me to be smart. I can’t do anything until I have some sort of plan. And know where we are. Or exactly what we’re up against. I can’t forget he’s a cold-blooded killer.

  We turn into the last door on the left. It’s another small room, very similar to ours, but this room is furnished: a real bed, nightstand, and a small desk cluttered with papers.

  Thomas points to another door inside the room. “There is a full bath in there. Towels are under the sink. You have ten minutes.”

  I sprint to the door, not wanting to waste a second. Sure enough, the bathroom looks just like the one in our room, but this one has a small shower stall. And a mirror.

  I look like crap. My cheek is dark purple rimmed in a really gross brown. My blond hair looks brown from the amount of grease in it. And I’m pale. Too pale.

  On the edge of the sink, there are a couple of toothbrushes still in the package and a brand-new tube of toothpaste. I’ve never been so happy to see toiletry items in my entire life. I waste no time cranking up the hot water and jumping inside.

  Nothing can make you feel human again like a hot shower and clean teeth. I hate having to put on the same clothes again, but they’re my only option.

  Thomas leads me back to our room and I quickly glance at the hole in the wall. It doesn’t look as noticeable as I thought it would. With the big piece of plaster missing above it, the hole seems rather insignificant.

  It takes a few minutes to convince Teeny that it’ll be okay to go with Thomas, and promises of clean teeth and non-greasy hair seem to do the trick.

  Once Thomas is gone, I scurry to the hole in the wall.

  “Noah.”

  Nothing.

  I peek into the hole but can’t really see anything.

  “Noah,” I say a little louder.

  A big brown eye appears in the opening.

  “You’re back. That other girl wouldn’t come to the wall.”

  That doesn’t surprise me. She’s chewed her fingernails down to the quick and now she’s doing that thing where she ties a small section of her hair in a knot then unties it…over and over. Teeny looks fine on the outside, but I know she’s hanging on by a thread.