The Rules for Breaking (13 page)

Teeny’s head pops up. “How far are we from Dad?”

“Well, I’m not exactly sure what part of Arkansas we were in, but it’s at least five or six hours away.”

Teeny goes back to the letters and I go back to the window. My mind spins, trying to absorb all of this. Even if we get out of here, what do we do about Mateo? I probably shouldn’t have asked what he does to his victims because my mind has been running with horrible thoughts of burning flesh and melting skin ever since Thomas said the word
brutal
.

I work on the window until the room is almost dark, using a splintered piece of wood to pry at the hinges. Teeny has positioned herself underneath the small light and her fingers are delicately trying to pry one of the letters from the envelope. It’s slow work for us both. If this was Francesca’s room, I feel a little sorry for her, and I wonder if it felt like a prison for her as well.

Noah called for me a few times but I told him to get working on his window. It won’t hurt to keep him busy either.

What may be the hardest thing about being stuck in this room is not knowing how much time has passed. Is it midnight yet? Or three in the morning? The time thing is really starting to mess with me.

Teeny finally falls asleep and I haven’t heard from Noah in a while. I’m determined to get these shutters open and look outside. I get as far away from the window as I can, then barrel toward them.

A loud
thump
vibrates through the room the second I hit the shutters, then I fall back on my butt.

The shutters hold firm, but a searing pain radiates down my arm. I wait a moment to see if I’ve alerted anyone, but the room stays eerily quiet.

One more try. I massage my sore arm, wincing. If I’m going to do this, I have to ignore the pain. This time I crouch like a football player, turn to the side, and drop my shoulder.

I nail the shutters again, and again nothing but pain. Are there bars behind the shutter that I can’t see?

“Ugh!”

I’m so tired, and pissed. And completely done with this. I stomp around the room, muttering to myself.

I kick the door and pound on the wall before collapsing on the floor, not caring if someone hears me or not.

Why does everything have to been so damn hard?

Noah’s big brown eye peeks at me from the hole in the wall, and I crawl to where he is.

“Anna, are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m just sick of being in this room,” I answer.

“Tell me about it. Did you get the hinges off?”

“No, I need a tool or something. This room looks like it’s going to fall apart around us, but that stupid shutter will still be in place.”

His eye closes for a long minute. “Do you think he’s gonna let us go?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Noah disappears from the hole, and I’m sorry I had to be so blunt, but I’ve learned that being prepared for the worst possible scenario is sometimes the best way to avoid the worst possible scenario.

Rules for disappearing
by Witness Protection prisoner #18A7R04M:

Be forgettable. No name brand clothes or anything remotely cute….

New rule by Anna Boyd:

Be unforgettable and high maintenance. It’s surprising how well this can work for you if done in the right way.

door pops open and Vader sticks his masked head inside. I’ve been waiting for this moment all morning.

“Do you need anything?” Vader asks.

“Yes. I need tampons. And Advil. And possibly a heating pad. And a change of clothes and new underwear.”

I may not know what he looks like but I know he’s a guy and not a very old one. If there’s anything that freaks a guy out, it’s talking about your period and actually asking for them to buy supplies. A girl’s menstrual cycle is a guy’s kryptonite.

Even with the mask, I can see the panic in his eyes.

“I’ll probably need another shower, too.”

My plan is to get out of this room again and I hope faking a period will do it. I was so focused on taking a shower last time that I completely forgot to scope out that other bathroom for something that could help me. And what are all those papers on the desk? Thomas’s plans? I need to get back to that room.

He mumbles something I can’t understand and quickly slams the door then turns the lock.

It doesn’t take as long as I thought it would before Thomas sticks his head back in the room. It’s the first time since we’ve been here that he’s not dressed as a priest.

“I understand you have some feminine issues this morning.”

Luckily, I was already in the fetal position on the mattress so I look the part. “I have really bad cramps. I’m going to need a change of clothes and some tampons.”

“I don’t believe you.” This doesn’t faze him like it did Vader.

Oh, crap. He’s calling me on this.

“What do you hope to gain by this?” he asks.

Staring at him for a few seconds, I try to figure out how to handle this.

“Look, do you need to see proof?” I raise my eyebrows. “I’m not exactly thrilled about this either. Show me you’re just a little bit human.”

The door shuts and the lock turns.

“What are you doing now?” Teeny asks.

“I need to get back to that room with the shower. It’s full of stuff. Maybe something we can use.”

“I don’t know if that’s the way to get back in there. I think you pissed him off.” She looks a little nervous. “I know what Ethan said, but I’m really worried about this Mateo guy. He wants to kill us. I know Thomas isn’t saying he won’t kill us later but he’s not saying it right now and I think we stay with the guy who is not saying he will kill us.”

I love Teeny’s ability to whittle this down to the simplest issue, but she doesn’t know about Agent Parker. And she also doesn’t know he will most likely dispose of us just as easily. But I look at her face and that misleading calm still etched all over it and decide I can’t shatter her completely right now.

“I know, Teeny. I’m more than willing to let Thomas take care of Mateo. But what happens after that? It won’t hurt if we have some way to take care of ourselves, too. I won’t do anything until we both agree to it.” She doesn’t look like she believes me. “Tell me the latest on Francesca. Did you get one of the letters out?” I need to distract her.

She picks up a single page. “I got the one that was returned to her out but it’s hard to read. The writing is so small. I think it’s written to the guy in the picture, Henry, although the name is smudged pretty bad at the top. And from what I can get it’s really horrible. She’s telling him what happened to her—why she disappeared. She got tricked into getting on the wrong ship in La Rochelle—
Les Deux Frères
—but she doesn’t know who did it. And she says she’s living in a convent right now. And she gets paraded around in front of these really gross old guys to see if any of them want to marry her. And the other girls are really mean to her. And she’s scared. She’s worried that by the time this letter gets to Henry and he comes to get her it will be weeks and weeks and probably too late.”

“Weeks? Where does Henry live?”

She flips the page over. “She’s from France. She got on a boat thinking she was going to England. But she came to the Vieux Carré instead. Maybe he lives in England and that’s who she was going to see.”

“You said she lived in a convent? If you think this is her room, does that mean we’re in a convent?”

Teeny shrugs and I stare at the wood beams crossing the ceiling, thinking about Thomas in the priest outfit. For some reason, he’s dressed like a religious person. That would make sense.

I read the letter for myself—the parts that are legible—and Teeny’s right. It is pretty horrible. When Thomas opens the door, I slide the paper back to Teeny. He’s got a plain white plastic bag and motions for me to follow him. I’m hoping he lets me have the whole room to myself, not just the bathroom.

When we get to the room, I stop in the middle and hold my hand out for the bag. He passes it to me but doesn’t move.

“Uh…I need some privacy.”

He motions to the bathroom but doesn’t say anything. I open the plastic bag, trying to stall for some time. There’s a box of tampons, Advil, a black pair of exercise pants, and a three-pack of panties. Even though I asked for the panties, I’m a little grossed out that Thomas or Vader picked underwear out for me.

“This is the last
errand
we’ll be running for you.”

Great. I’ll have to make the most of my time in this room since I might not make it back in here. With my head turned down like I’m
looking in the bag, I eye the room for anything that could be of help.

The bed…nothing.

The nightstand…small lamp, book, newspaper. It’s folded and too far away to read what it says.

The desk…laptop, lots of papers, pens, books, more papers…that’s it.

Thomas clears his throat, loudly, and I move to the bathroom. There’s no doubt he’s waiting on the other side for me to finish.

Glancing around the bathroom, there’s just the usual stuff. Nothing that could be a weapon or a tool. I start the water and undress. No sense in wasting this opportunity.

It was probably overkill asking for all this stuff, but he got everything on my list. Maybe I shouldn’t have used my only
favor
on this. I wad some wrapper paper from a tampon in the trash can just in case, and then I see it. It’s a wooden handled plunger tucked behind the toilet. Once I pull the rubber part off, I’ve got a pretty thick solid piece of wood, almost like one of the clubs cops use.

I roll it up in my dirty jeans and smile to myself—I now have a weapon.

Rules for disappearing
by Witness Protection prisoner #18A7R04M:

Don’t be afraid to get down and dirty.

New rule by Anna Boyd:

Maybe you should be just a little afraid of this.

decide it’s best not to tell Teeny about the plunger just yet. She’s been so weird since all this started—barely upset, hardly any tears. I plan on using it to bash the padlock on the shutter door until the damn thing comes off, but I’m going to wait until nighttime. I made a lot of noise last night and no one checked it out, so I’m assuming they can’t hear what’s going on in here from that far down the hall. If I do manage to get out of this building, I don’t want to run into Thomas right outside. I haven’t seen Vader all day, maybe because he’s scared of what I’ll ask for next, or what other female problems I might drop on him.

I’m so worried about Ethan. Every time my mind drifts to him, my confidence shakes, but then I remember his instructions. Be smart. Get him talking. Find a weapon. God, if I could just talk to him once—see if he’s made any progress.

Noah is driving me crazy. I really feel bad for him, but I can’t sit at that wall and small talk with him all day. I finally convince Teeny to talk to him; he’s closer to her age anyway. She’s sitting on the floor, telling him all about Francesca and the letters. She’s completely obsessed with her and has invented this whole star-crossed-lovers thing between Francesca and Henry. I think she has lost herself in their world so she doesn’t have to think about ours. I can’t hear Noah’s side of the conversation but I’m sure he’ll listen to Teeny talk about a girl who’s been dead for a couple of hundred years all day just to have something to do.

God, I wish I could talk to Ethan.

Teeny finally falls asleep not long after the room gets dark, so I dig the plunger out of my jeans. There is a small gap between the shutters and the padlock, just enough to get a small slice of view, but not wide enough to get the thick wooden part in there.

I stare at the shutters a while. I need to get it open, but it can’t be obvious to Vader and Thomas what I’m doing.

I whack the lock a few times, but all I manage to accomplish is a lot of noise. Louder than the night before. It’s a miracle I haven’t woken Teeny, but she’s sleeping like the dead right now. I can’t risk them hearing me, so I change tactics. Positioning the stick above the small padlock, I push down with all my weight. The wood creaks, and that’s all I need to keep going. It takes several tries, but the latch from one of the shutter doors finally pops off.

I want to scream with joy. Instead I do a silent victory dance around the room. I push the small shutters apart and the night opens up in front of me. It’s dark and really quiet. The window is small but there’s a good view of the grounds in front of the building we’re in as well as the buildings across the street.

There’s some sort of courtyard below my window with maze-like shrubbery. From what I can see in the darkness, it looks beautiful. And far away. We’re at least three stories up and the roof tiles look slick. I debate climbing out of the window. I’m not sure there’s any way down, but maybe I can get to the next window over. If Noah is on one side, Ethan has to be on the other. Unless Thomas lied—which is totally possible.

I stick a leg out and test the tiles. Smooth. I glance back at Teeny and she’s fast asleep. I have to try this. Once both feet are out of the window, I stick my head out so I’m sitting on the ledge. It is a long. Way. Down.

I stand but hold on to the window frame with a death grip. I feel like I could slide down the roof and off the edge any second. Looking around, it doesn’t look like the roof connects with another building or any other structure, so this is a dead end as far as exits go. But I do get a bird’s-eye view of the street.

If every movie and picture I’ve seen of the French Quarter is right, we’re definitely in New Orleans. It’s hard to make out many of the details since it’s so dark out, but it’s hard to miss the narrow streets and different-color buildings, the iron balconies and old lampposts. Instantly I miss Front Street in Natchitoches, which so resembles this area.

I hear the clip-clop of hooves and see a horse-drawn carriage heading away from us down a side street. This section of the Quarter is quiet, but I can make out lights and hear the faint sounds of music a few streets over.

Looking down, I see that this building and a few others near it seem to take up most of the block. The courtyard creates a nice distance between this building and the street. I can see the outline of what looks like a church next door once I’m on my tiptoes. Several statues on the ground below look religious, like angels and other…religious-y things. I’m starting to think maybe this really was Francesca’s room and we actually may be in some sort of convent.

I glance toward the window where I think Ethan is. These windows jut out from the roof a little, but there are still quite a few feet between them. I step away from my window but each movement feels uncertain. I get far enough that I’m only holding on to the shutter by one hand and I’m still not anywhere close to Ethan’s window. And I’m too chicken to let go. Retracing my steps, I crawl back inside. Defeated, I inch into the bed next to Teeny and pray sleep finds me.

Early the next morning, Vader pops his head in but won’t look at me. He’s got a bag, probably with more food, and a few more books for Teeny.

I feel around for the stick I’ve hidden in the sheets and think really hard about beating him with it then making a run for it. The only thing that stops me is, what then? I don’t know where Ethan is for sure or if I can even get to him. I don’t trust the suits since Agent Williams’s grandson is next door. I don’t trust the local police against Mateo. We’re pretty much screwed.

“Do you need anything else?” Vader asks, still looking at the floor.

That voice. I look at the food he set on the card table and realize it’s full of Teeny’s favorites: double-stuffed Oreos, sour-cream-and-onion chips, and dry-roasted peanuts.

A sick sensation forms in the pit of my stomach. He knows us well.

I hop up from the mattress and stop about a foot from him. His eyes dart to mine, almost challenging me.

“Why do you wear the mask? I know you, don’t I?” I step in just a bit closer.

Vader tries to leave, but I run to the door and slam it closed, leaning my back against it.

“Move out of the way. I will hurt you if I have to.” He grabs for my arms but I push him away.

“No, tell me who you are.” I shove at him again.

Teeny scoots to the edge of the mattress and says with her voice full of warning, “Sissy.”

Vader stands up straighter and throws his shoulders back. His voice gets deep and firm, sounding older than it usually does, and he says, “You’re about to screw up. Move out of the way.”

He reaches for me again and I throw myself at him. He’s trying to push me away from the door and I’m doing everything in my power to hold my ground. It doesn’t help when Teeny starts pulling on me, too.

“Sissy, stop. Please, stop,” she whines.

The closer I get to Vader, the more I know he’s no stranger to us. Teeny’s scared but I can’t let go of him. He jerks me hard and I fall to the ground, but I hold my grip and he tumbles to the floor with me. Teeny is sobbing loudly.

Vader gets up on one knee and drags me from the door. He ducks his head down and he’s close enough that I’m able to grab the back of the mask with one hand. He freezes and I yank.

The mask comes off.

I stare at his face and fall back to the ground. Teeny’s cries stop as we both try to process what we’re seeing.

“Oh. My. God. What are you doing here?”