RULES FOR DISAPPEARING
BY WITNESS PROTECTION PRISONER #18A7R04M:
You can only disappear successfully if you know who you need to disappear from.
I scrub the counter at Pearl’s, trying not to glance at the clock. Fifteen minutes to eight. Ethan didn’t come in today. He told me in Health that he was going to check on Bandit, then head to the farm. He was more worried than pissed that I stood him up for lunch, and his concern for me is going to make what I have to do that much harder.
I’ve been plagued all day with thoughts about how to break things off with him, and there’s no way to avoid it any longer. I have to do it tonight. But that doesn’t solve the more serious problem I have—someone wants me dead.
Assuming Scar Face is the one after me, these are my main questions that I can’t work out:
1. Why did my parents hide the reason we are in Witness Protection?
2. Why didn’t the suits force me to get some sort of help to get my memory back?
3. Who is Scar Face and what are the ledgers he kept screaming about?
4. What’s in the ledgers that is so important that Mr. Price and Brandon had to die?
5. Who was Dad talking to in the laundry room? He asked “What happens if I can’t find it?” What is it? Is it the ledgers? Is he helping Scar Face now?
6. What about all the crazy things that have been happening to me lately? Feeling like I’m being followed, that night in the laundry room, my missing journal, my open go-bag, the man who called Pearl’s… Is someone out there screwing with me or am I completely losing my mind?
“Meg, you’re gonna rub a hole in that counter you keep scrubbing it like that.” Pearl is watching me.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“We’re done for the night. Let’s shut ’er down.”
Since I’ve already cleaned the front dining area, I only have to close up the register and turn out the lights.
Pearl’s fumbling with her keys. “Forgot to tell you. Ethan called earlier. He should be here any minute.”
As soon as the words are out of her mouth, he pulls up to the curb.
I prepare myself for what needs to be done, and hope to hell it doesn’t hurt as bad as I think it will.
I meet him in the doorway and he grabs my go-bag. It’s not lost on me that he’s the only other person besides Teeny that I’ve allowed to carry this bag.
Once we’re in the truck he says, “I checked on Bandit. He’s doing great. One more night at the vet and he’s home.”
He grins at me. I look at that dimple and those blue eyes, and it kills me knowing I have to let him go. My nerves turn to gripping tension in my back and neck.
It’s now or never.
“Stop the truck. Pull over.”
Ethan glances at me with a weird expression, but pulls the truck over. We’re halfway between Pearl’s and my house.
“What’s wrong? You have that look.”
I turn to face him. “I can’t do this.”
He throws his head back against the seat in disgust. “I’ve been waiting for this.” He blows out a deep breath.
“Waiting for what?” I’m surprised by his reaction. I was all geared up to pick a fight—to be rude to him—but he’s frustrated with me?
“For this. For you to find some reason to push me away. Like you did when we first met. I’ve seen this brewing ever since I found out your real name.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Okay, obviously I’m the easiest person to read.
He turns and pulls me in close. “Look, I get it. You’ve got some serious shit going on. I promised I wouldn’t say anything, and I haven’t. I like you. I like being with you. You can trust me.”
Dying to say the things I can’t, I bite my tongue, and as hard as it is, I pull away from him.
“You know what? I can’t do this anymore either,” he says.
I suck in my breath as if I’ve been punched. Even though this is what needs to happen, I wasn’t expecting him to be the one to do it. He hears me but goes on anyway. “When your guard is down, you’re the coolest girl I’ve ever met. It makes me feel good just to be with you, even though there’s a ton of shit you refuse to tell me. But then I’m worried all the time that I’m gonna push you too hard, too fast, and you’re gonna run the opposite way.”
I grab my bag off the floor of the truck and yank open the door. “Well, great. That makes this easy, then.” I dart from the truck, not stopping until I reach my house. I collapse just inside the door, breathing hard after running with my bag, and every inch of my body hurts. I’m exhausted. And scared. And all alone. I got exactly what I wanted, but it still hurts like hell.
I do not want to see my parents. I tiptoe in and notice the light on in our room. My parents’ door is shut, but I hear them fighting from behind it. Teeny’s on her bed, reading.
“Hey. You’re home.”
“Yeah. Is everything okay?” I nod toward Mom and Dad’s room.
“They’ve been fighting since Dad brought me home from Pearl’s. What’s wrong with your eyes?”
“My contacts are messed up.” I don’t want Teeny to know what happened between Ethan and me. In the bathroom, I hear my parents through the wall, but can’t make out what they’re saying.
I turn the shower on to drown out the sound, then close the door and lock it. I can’t handle hearing anything else right now. I wish I could forget everything again. It’s all so screwed up.
Ethan’s face fills my head. Images from the last week—at Pearl’s, when we slow danced, at the movies. Next to the river when he told me I’d gotten in his head. Kissing him on the ATV.
I cut the water off and head back to our room, dress, and grab my go-bag.
“Sissy, where are you going?” Teeny looks worried.
“I’ll be right back.”
“You’re leaving?” Her tone turns hysterical.
“I’m going down to the laundry room for a minute. I need to wash something for school tomorrow. I’ll be right back.”
I’m going to the laundry room but not to wash clothes. I have a call to make. I’m still scared shitless of that room, but I need to make a call in private. I grab a can of wasp spray from the kitchen, just in case someone is down there again, and head out the door.
I take a deep breath and feel along the side of the wall for the light switch. My fingers brush against it and I flip the lights on. Bright industrial light floods the room, and it blinds me for a moment.
I try not to think too hard about what I’m about to do. I need to talk to him. I dig in my bag for the number and head to the pay phone. I throw some quarters in the slot.
He answers on the second ring.
“Agent Thomas, we need to talk.”