The Rules for Breaking

by Elston, Ashley

  And then he’ll go after Ethan and Teeny.

  First, I need to find the tracker. I grab every single item I brought with me from Ursuline and throw it into a heap on the floor. Starting with my clothes, I inspect every inch of them, paying close attention to the thicker areas like collars and pockets.

  Nothing.

  I grab my tennis shoes. They are the only shoes I’ve had since the island. Taking the soles out, I dig around the inside of the shoe until my finger runs across a hard part in the toe of the left one. It takes forever to get it out but once I do, I know I’ve found it.

  It’s small, not even as big as the tip of my pinkie finger, and looks almost like a button battery.

  So this is how Mateo followed us to that souvenir shop. This is how Thomas has known every single thing we’ve done since we left the convent.

  I stare at the tiny thing in my hand. What to do with it? For now, I’m going to keep it on me so I don’t alert him as to what I know, but at some point I’ll have to figure out the perfect way for it to help me disappear.

  Thomas is sending Tyler away but I’ve got to get to him first.

  I checked the doors in my room and they’re not locked. That doesn’t mean I can make it out of this compound, though—there are still the double wooden doors that lead to the street and the small door Mateo came through the night before. I’m not sure if there’s any other way out of here.

  I need to find Tyler.

  I retrace the steps that lead me downstairs. Searching the rooms I’ve found him in before, I come up empty. I don’t know where he sleeps in this place but that doesn’t stop me from looking.

  The fifth door I open is a jackpot. Tyler is there, throwing clothes in a bag, and doesn’t seem very happy about it.

  He looks up when I open the door and I say, “You can’t leave.”

  “I have to. It’s part of the plan. The plan to make everything right.”

  I inch inside the room and shut the door behind me. I need to do this just right. To say what I need to say just right.

  “So you just blindly follow whatever he tells you to do, and you believe everything he tells you no matter what? I’ll be right in the middle of a confrontation between him and Vega and Mateo and you really think I’m walking out of there alive? Excuse me if I think that’s the stupidest shit ever.”

  “The only reason I’m going along with this plan is because he promised me that this is the only way to keep you alive.” He drops his hand and looks toward his bag. “You have no idea how much I hate that I had any part of drawing you back into this with the journal and flowers.”

  “Why did you do that? You knew I would think it was Thomas the way you signed it. You knew there was a good chance the suits would find out about it. What were you thinking?”

  “When Thomas came home with the journal, he threw it on the table and said, ‘I guess you did make an impression on her after all. She feels bad for leaving you behind in Florida.’ I know it was wrong but I wanted to read what you wrote.” He finally looks up at me and says, “I missed you.”

  “So you and Thomas both read it,” I say it more as a statement than a question.

  “Yes. I read it. And then I felt terrible. I’d been checking in on you after you left Florida.” He holds his hands up when he realizes how bad that sounds. “Not in a creepy way. Everything looked fine on the outside. I had no idea how it was for you, or how bad things really were. That’s when I decided you needed it back. I could tell how important it was to you.”

  I don’t say anything so he keeps talking, swaying back and forth. “The note was a mistake, I know that now. But at the time, I just wanted to tell you in some way that I hoped things were better for you. That I hoped the nightmares were gone. I know I couldn’t sign it with my name and even if it was left unsigned, you’d assume it was from him. In some way, leaving it with just a T meant it was possible you might think of me. I know that sounds stupid.”

  “But why the flowers?” I ask.

  He gives me a crooked little smile and says, “Because they’re your favorite.”

  I can’t look at him without my stomach turning. Something is so very wrong with him that he can’t see this for what it really is. But I truly believe he is the only reason I am still alive.

  “If you leave, there won’t be anyone here to make sure I survive what’s happening this afternoon. He plans on killing me. And my family.”

  This gets his attention.

  “No. He promised me you would be safe and he promised he would let you go when it’s over.”

  “I think there’s a lot about this plan that you don’t know. I was on the balcony early this morning when you brought Thomas the phone. There was a man, hiding in the shadows. Then Thomas sent you away.”

  The pair of jeans he’s holding fall back to the pile of clothes he just picked them up from.

  “He sent you away so you wouldn’t see who he was meeting with. It was the assassin, Mateo. The one ‘after us.’ The same man who shot Ethan in the arm. The one Thomas is supposedly trying to kill. He was here and they weren’t acting like enemies. Not at all.”

  He’s shaking his head, looking confused. “No. That’s not possible. All this that we’ve done is to stop him from killing us. And you. He wouldn’t lie to me.” He storms toward me, grabbing me by my upper arms, lifting me off the ground. “You’re just saying this to turn me against him. But you can’t. We’re all we have. We only have each other.”

  “Is that what he told you? Is that how he talked you into going along with such horrible things?”

  He drops me to the ground and I fall on my butt. He returns to his packing just like before.

  “Tyler, listen to me. I heard him talking to the other man. Did you know he put a tracker on us?” I pull the small round device out of my pocket and hold it out in my hand for him to see.

  He glances over but is still quiet.

  “He told Mateo that you were pathetic for keeping the same number just in case I called. He said you were stupid for freaking out like a five-year-old girl when the crowd formed at the convent. He said he was getting you out of town before any of this starts just in case I get caught in a little cross fire. Maybe if I got killed, it would toughen you up.”

  His eyes pop to mine and I know I nailed it. He’s heard this before.

  “And I’m not the only innocent person who will get hurt by all this. He said they would go after Teeny and Ethan when this was over. Clean up the loose ends. Did you know that? And Hammond isn’t the mole. Thomas is setting him up. Do you know who the real mole is?” I ease down on the bed next to him. “Tyler, you’re better than this. Help me. Be on my side.”

  He drops his head in his hands and starts crying. It’s so incredibly awkward, I’m not sure what to do, so I put an arm around his shoulder and give him a there, there, kind of pat on the back.

  He sits up abruptly, wiping his eyes quickly. “We need to get back to Ursuline. There’s something there I want to see.”

  He grabs a dark hoodie and baseball cap out of his bag and throws it at me. “Put this on.”

  There’s no car or ducking in the backseat this time. No, this time we’re on foot as we slip out a side door that puts us in a narrow alley that dumps out on a narrow street.

  I’m afraid to push Tyler too hard right now because I think he could flip either way. We left the tracker inside the house, buried under some clothes. From what it sounded like when they were talking, the tracker gives a general area of where it is, but not the specific location.

  “What’s at Ursuline?”

  We’re walking fast. I wasn’t wrong when I thought the Quarter felt small. In the few times I’ve been out of these streets, I keep seeing the same groups of people walking around. The bride-to-be from the first night, the group of guys Ethan nearly puked on. We all seem to be roaming the same
streets over and over.

  “Thomas tries not to keep any records. Nothing to prove what he is or where he goes or anything that can be used against him. But sometimes there’s just no way around it. He fell in love with New Orleans, the French Quarter especially, years ago. This is one of his favorite spots to hide out in. He loves the craziness of this town and the history.

  “Anyway, there’s a room on the third floor of Ursuline with nothing but filing cabinets. I saw him walk in there with a large envelope and come out empty-handed just after we arrived. It was something he didn’t want me to see. And he’s been going over there a lot in the last two days. Something is going on over there.”

  We walk two blocks to the convent. I didn’t realize just how close the house was to Ursuline. It’s so different seeing it in the light of day. It looks nice. And harmless. It’s hard to believe that’s where he was keeping us.

  “Come on, we can get in through the back.”

  It’s not empty inside like the night we fled. There are two tourists here, being led around by an elderly guide.

  “I can’t believe he held us here when there are random people coming in and out.”

  Tyler walks to the end of the hall to a narrow staircase. “He says the best place to hide is where no one will think to look. The second floor is nothing but storage and no one ever goes up to the third floor. And with an old building like this, you can’t hear anything down here.”

  “So do they think he’s a priest?” I ask.

  Tyler lets out a laugh. “Yes. And they love him here. This is where they keep records for this whole area and any priest can come in for research but none of them ever do. He talks to them in a French accent. He tells them what they want to hear and they do whatever he wants no matter how stupid it is.”

  And then he stops. We’re halfway up and he leans against the wall.

  “Just like me. He talks to me like a brother because he knows being part of a family is what I want more than anything. And I do whatever he wants, no matter how stupid.”

  It’s almost like I can see the lightbulb going off over his head.

  “At least you know now. At least it’s not too late to change things. You can help me and my family and that means something. You mean something to me. No matter what, you protected me and for that I will always be grateful.” I may still think he’s crazy, but I’d rather he be crazy on my side.

  He grabs my hand and squeezes it softly. “Thank you for that. And thank you for being here with me now. I don’t think I could stand up to him alone.”

  “You can. You’re way stronger than you think.”

  “Let’s hope so.” And then we’re bounding up the rest of the stairs.

  He flips the lights to the room with the shower and I stagger back.

  The bed is gone, as is the nightstand, but the desk remains. Above the desk is a large corkboard—and it’s what’s on the corkboard that makes me want to vomit. It’s the last year of my life played out in pictures and maps and notes.

  “What is this?” I ask.

  “It’s how he tracked you while you were in the program, using the information he got from his sources. He must have printed everything out and brought it here.” He pauses a moment before saying, “This must be how he’s framing Hammond.” He points to a stack of correspondence, notes with Hammond’s name all over it. “There’s a lot he hasn’t told me. I never knew he had so much information until now.”

  I walk to the wall slowly. There’s so much stuff there my eyes have trouble focusing.

  Then I realize there is some sort of pattern. The grouping at the top are pictures of us in our first placement—Hillsboro, Ohio. There is a picture of Teeny and me in the small backyard, a picture of Mom coming out of the front door of the small house, and one of Dad and Agent Williams talking through the window. There’s also a sheet of typed paper, just like the one the suits gave us when we got to a new placement, summing up our new identity.

  I read the familiar words:

  Family name: Holmes.

  Parents: Charles and Elizabeth

  Children: Madeline and Hayden

  My eyes follow a small line drawn to the next grouping—our second placement: Springfield, Missouri. A few more pictures here since our stay there was longer. Same typed sheet. But there is also a grainy black-and-white image of the suits picking me up from Charlotte’s house the night I got on Facebook and screwed up our placement there.

  My stomach drops to think he was just outside. Or if not him, someone working for him. Right there, the whole time.

  I glance back at Tyler and he’s watching me nervously, the way you watch an animal you’re not sure about and that you’re hoping isn’t about to attack you.

  I turn back to the board. It’s sickening to see, but I can’t ignore it, either. I leave Springfield and follow the line to Florida.

  The images there are much closer. More intimate. There are even a few of me and Tyler on the beach the first night we kissed. What I thought was a sweet, romantic night on the beach, under the stars, just me and Tyler, was a total lie.

  “I didn’t know until after you left that those pictures were taken.” He’s behind me now and it’s disgusting, standing here in this room with him, seeing this.

  “That doesn’t make any of this okay. At all.”

  He takes a step closer and I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. “I took you to the beach that night, to the most secluded part, thinking we would be alone. I swear, I never knew exactly when he was watching. Thomas doesn’t tell me everything. Still doesn’t. He believes the only way for a plan to work is to make sure no one knows the entire plan.”

  He thinks we’re having a moment, me and him, looking at these pictures of us making out on the beach. And in this moment I know Tyler is seriously sick in the head. And it’s probably Thomas’s fault.

  “So something will tip off the suits to come here and they will find all of this. But Hammond will be dead and there will be no way for him to defend himself and they won’t even look for the real mole.”

  “He’s a genius,” Tyler says, his voice full of awe.

  I move away from the Florida pictures and the images get more and more painful. Mom at the liquor store buying bottles and bottles of gin. She’s out in public, hair a mess, and no makeup at all. And Teeny. She looks physically different in these pictures than she did two placements ago: slumped shoulders, pale complexion, sad eyes. God, I remember those sad eyes. They ate at my soul.

  I skim over the pictures from Kentucky and South Carolina, instead wanting to see us in Natchitoches.

  And there we are in that crappy little cottage. There is image after image of me going back and forth to Pearl’s, sometimes walking with Teeny and sometimes riding in Ethan’s truck. I take a step closer so I can make out the grainy black-and-white images: the house in the country where the party we were at got busted, me running from the laundry room, and Ethan and me on that dock down by Cane River.

  “I can’t even tell you how sickened I am by this,” I say.

  “Would you believe me if I told you I am too?”

  No, the voice inside me says.

  I turn away from the wall and look at the desk. It’s covered in papers. It looks like reports from the people watching us—everything about us all laid out. And other things, too. Bank statements and ledger forms. Stuff that reminds me about the ledgers we found in Arizona that Thomas was desperate to recover. I pick up another sheet of paper; it’s a phone number, and then written above it: Hammond. I shove it in my pocket.

  “Come with me to the other room,” Tyler says. “There’s something else I’m looking for.”

  Going down the hall, I peek inside the room where Teeny and I were kept just a few days earlier and it’s empty. Completely empty. No mattress. No card table of snacks. And the shutter and wall have both been repa
ired. You would have never known we were here.

  Now we’re in the room with all the filing cabinets that I saw from the air conditioner duct. It’s inching toward noon and there’s no telling if Thomas is looking for either of us yet.

  Tyler starts looking through drawers and I step back out in the hall. I power on Will’s cell phone and stare at the keypad. I can’t call the hotline number for the suits because I still don’t know who the real mole is. I don’t have Agent Williams’s number, but I do have Agent Hammond’s. I quickly dial his number and he answers on the second ring.

  “Agent Hammond. It’s Anna,” I whisper in the phone, hoping Tyler won’t hear me.

  “Anna! What’s going on? Agent Williams keeps sending me these crazy messages telling me to come to the French Quarter, but don’t tell anyone. Are you in trouble?” You can’t miss the stress in his voice and I hate more than ever that we ran from him the other day.

  “I’m at Ursuline. The third floor. Thomas is setting you up. It’s a trap to make it look like you’re a mole in your agency. Agent Williams is close by but his grandson is being held hostage. You’re not getting those messages from him, they’re from one of Thomas’s men. I can’t talk long. Please come get me!”

  “I’m on my way!”

  I end the call and go find Tyler.

  He’s searching for something so I open a drawer and flip through the files. The problem is I don’t know what we’re looking for and I can’t get the images from the next room out of my mind. All I’ve found is church document after church document.

  “Here it is,” Tyler says and I run to the cabinet where he’s standing.

  “What is it?”

  He drops down on the floor and spills the contents of a brown manila envelope. Four bundled stacks of hundred dollar bills, a handful of papers, and two passports are on the floor between us.

  I can’t help but squeal. “That’s forty thousand bucks.” I don’t know that I’ve ever seen that much cash in one place.

  Tyler goes for the papers while I go for the passports. They’re blue with a gold crest, very similar to the U.S. passport, but it says REPÚBLICA FEDERATIVA DO BRASIL. I open the first one and it’s Thomas’s picture but the name is listed as Rafael Costa. I hold it up to show Tyler, “Look, meet Rafael.”