The Rules for Disappearing (24 page)

Dad takes a deep breath before continuing, “But Price was

dead, they couldn’t find any accounting information tied to Sanchez and they couldn’t connect Sanchez to Price and Brandon’s murder without you. So we were the ones who entered protective custody instead.”

My stomach drops.

Dad runs his hand over my head. “Sissy, I’ve been dealing with these agents for months. At first, they weren’t sure I wasn’t involved.

I’ve poured over every account the firm had, looking for anything that may help them.”

S—

I shake my head, still confused. “There has to be something,

N—

other than me, to get this guy. What about the gun? Surely he left 198

DISNEY/HYPERION 5½ in. x 8¼ in. Page 198

ELSTON—Rules for DisappearinG_2ND PASS

some fingerprints or something?” This can’t rest solely on me. It just can’t.

“A neighbor called 911 saying they heard gunfire so officers

were sent to his house. That’s when they found you.” Dad’s voice gets rough and he puts his hands over his face. “They never found the gun and they went over every inch of that house. It was clean.”

This is a nightmare.

“I don’t get it, Dad. Why did I forget all of this? Why can I

only remember part of it now? Why is everyone just sitting around waiting for me to remember? Why not hypnotize me or get me in

counseling?” A million questions form on my tongue.

“When they brought you home from Price’s house, they did try

to talk to you. Counselors came in and they talked to you for hours, trying to get you to open up. You apparently said a few things at first to the cops who arrived on the scene, but once the Feds tried to talk to you—nothing. There was just a blank expression on your face. They called it Dissociative Amnesia. It was too much for you to handle, so you blocked it out.”

I must look completely freaked out because Dad starts squeez-

ing my hands. “Sissy, why were you there that night? If one thing has been killing me this entire time it’s wanting to know that.”

I tell him about what happened with my friends, leaving out

some of the more humiliating details. And the drinking.

“I’m just glad he never saw you,” he says and a shudder runs

through my body.

“But I still don’t understand. Why didn’t they do something to help me remember?” I try to keep the hysteria from my voice. Dad

—S

watches me for a few minutes.

—N

199

DISNEY/HYPERION 5½ in. x 8¼ in. Page 199

ELSTON—Rules for DisappearinG_2ND PASS

“Because I wouldn’t let them.” He says, finally.

My dad’s a hard ass but I’m pretty impressed he could hold off the FBI. My eyes get huge, begging him to keep going.

“I didn’t want you to remember. If you could testify, you would have had an even bigger target on your back. The case’s head FBI agent is on my side. Agent Williams said the courts are throwing out testimony from witnesses where their memories had been restored through hypnosis or any other therapy like that. They’re saying it’s too easy to place false memories in that kind of situation. He didn’t want to risk this case on that argument, so the Feds are waiting you out. The counselors said your memory should come back.”

Small beads of sweat break out on my forehead and my stom-

ach is rolling. It’s getting hard to breath. “So what does this mean now?”

Dad shakes his head. “I don’t know. We don’t have to tell them you remember. The prosecutors keep pressuring me to at least put you back in counseling. I can hold them off a while longer, but I don’t want you to testify. Sanchez is connected to some pretty dangerous people. The Feds want Sanchez bad. If they can get him on the murders, they’ve got something to work with. They’ll offer to take the death penalty off the table, or something like that, if he sup-plies them with all the ins and outs of the cartel’s drug- smuggling operation. Right now, he’s not talking.”

“So who are the suits protecting us from? Sanchez?” I ask.

“Not him, personally. The Feds have men watching him back

home. It’s probably someone who works for him. Or someone who

S—

works for the cartel in Mexico. They have as much riding on your N—

silence as Sanchez does,” he answers.

200

DISNEY/HYPERION 5½ in. x 8¼ in. Page 200

ELSTON—Rules for DisappearinG_2ND PASS

I stare out in the darkness, wishing there was some way to go

back and forget everything I learned. “So if they know I can testify, they may come after me even harder to shut me up.”

Dad pulls me in close, hugging me hard. “They’ve been trying

to make a case with the drug smuggling and money laundering,

but they’re not having much luck without Price. I’ve been through the books a thousand times and I can’t find anything. I told them Price was a paranoid bastard. Didn’t trust computers. Didn’t trust anybody.” He beats on the step with his fist. “Price had to keep a set of books, something that tracks where the money goes. A list of dummy accounts or fake fronts. Bank account numbers. Overseas

transfers. It’s too complicated not to have a record of that. There has to be a paper trail somewhere. But I can’t find it. The Feds tore the office apart and even his house. They found nothing.”

The ledgers! I flash back to the night at Mr. Price’s house. My head starts spinning again. “Dad, there was something about a ledger. Sanchez and Price were arguing about it.”

“I knew it! Did you see them or know where they are?”

“No.” I feel helpless.

He pulls my face up to meet his. “Are you sure? This is really important.”

His expression is freaking me out even more than I already am.

“No. That Sanchez guy kept screaming, “Where are the ledgers?”

at Mr. Price. But he wouldn’t tell him.”

“Promise me, Sissy. If you remember anything about where the

ledgers are you have to tell me right away. Come to me first, okay?”

I take two quick breaths. “Is that what you were talking about

—S

on the phone in the laundry room the other night? The ledgers?”

—N

201

DISNEY/HYPERION 5½ in. x 8¼ in. Page 201

ELSTON—Rules for DisappearinG_2ND PASS

He drops his hands. “Were you listening to me?”

I nod. “I saw you go in. I went around back.”

He leans back against the step.

“Dad, who were you talking to?”

Dad pulls me in close again. “No. You shouldn’t have been lis-

tening. You let me worry about this.” He leans back. “Just promise you’ll tell me if you remember anything at all. No matter how small it is.”

“Are you trying to find the ledgers so you can turn them over to Sanchez? Because that’s what it sounded like.”

He looks pissed. And guilty so I know I’m right. “You have

no idea how ruthless these people are. I’m scared to death every day that something will happen to you or Teeny.” He looks away from me. “The Feds and their case are not my problem. He killed Brandon, for God’s sake. This man is an animal. All I care about is this family, and I know the Feds can’t protect us. The man I was on the phone with called me first. I was at work.” Dad bangs his hand against the railing of the steps. “They know where we are. They’ve always known where we are. He said he’d let us go if I hand over any evidence the Feds could use against them. Said if I told the Feds, he’d know and then he’d kill us all.”

I feel dizzy. “Why do they think we have any evidence to turn

over?” I ask, my voice cracking.

His shoulders slump and all of a sudden he looks old. And tired.

“I don’t know. That’s what’s been driving me crazy ever since we got to Natchitoches. The man on the phone is
convinced
you know where S—

the ledgers are. I keep telling him you don’t remember anything but N—

he doesn’t believe me. But I’ll promise you this—if I did have any 202

DISNEY/HYPERION 5½ in. x 8¼ in. Page 202

ELSTON—Rules for DisappearinG_2ND PASS

evidence, I wouldn’t give it to the Feds, I’d use it as leverage to get this bastard to leave my family alone.”

I fall back against the stair railing and can’t breathe. I feel like I’m falling. Dad shakes me and hits me on the back until I’m finally able to suck in some oxygen. His worried face looms over mine and it’s a few minutes before I’m able to speak.

“Oh my God, Dad, I think I know what he’s talking about.” I

take a few deep gulps of air and say, “That man—Sanchez—he did see me. After he shot Brandon, he must have heard me cry out or something because all of a sudden he was there. Standing over me.

With the gun in his hand.”

As fast as the flood of memories hit me last night, is as fast as these come rushing in now. And just like that—I’m back in that room. Brandon’s dead. And I know I’m next. It’s quiet so I hold my breath, praying he won’t find me. I hear footsteps—they echo off the hardwood floor—and I brace myself for what’s coming. And pray it doesn’t hurt.

I clear my head, bringing myself back to the present. God, I

was terrified. I knew I was dead—there was no way he would let me live—not after what he did to Brandon.

“Sissy, calm down. Think. You have to tell me what you remem-

ber.” He’s shaking me, probably harder than he realizes and I put my hand on his to make him stop.

“I lied to him. And now he believes me and that’s why he’s after me.” I break down and sob against Dad’s chest. He holds me close, stroking my back.

“You’re not making sense, Sissy. Tell me what happened.”

—S

I hiccup and use his shirt to wipe my eyes. “He didn’t say

—N

203

DISNEY/HYPERION 5½ in. x 8¼ in. Page 203

ELSTON—Rules for DisappearinG_2ND PASS

anything at first. He pointed the gun at me and I just blurted out,

“I know where the ledgers are!”
He must have believed me because he lowered the gun and asked where they were.”

Dad leans back and asks, “Do you? Know where they are?”

“No!” I’m crying again. “I just said that so he wouldn’t kill me.

I knew that’s what he wanted so that’s the first thing that came out of my mouth. Then we heard the sirens. He just looked at me kind of funny for a few seconds then ran off.”

Dad brings me back in and rubs his hands across my back in a

calming rhythmic motion and says, “I’m so glad you said what you did. That’s probably the only reason he didn’t kill you that night and the only reason you’re still alive today. He needs the ledgers more than he needed you dead.”

“Maybe we should tell the suits.” I’m shaking. This is so much worse than I thought it would be.

“Sissy, if I thought that would make us safe, I’d have gone to them the minute that man called the factory.” He waits a moment before continuing, “He knew every town we’d been to and every

name we used. We’re going to keep this to ourselves until I can figure something out. If you remember anything else—come to me immediately. This is the only way.”

I lay my head on his shoulder and he holds me while the tears

pour out.

S—

N—

204

DISNEY/HYPERION 5½ in. x 8¼ in. Page 204

ELSTON—Rules for DisappearinG_2ND PASS

RULES FOR DISAPPEARING

BY WITNESS PROTECTION PRISONER #18A7R04M:

There’s a time to cut and run. There’s a time to stay and fight. The most important time is to know when to make this decision.

Thenightmare was horrible last night. It’s worse because now I know it’s real. Now the colors are more vivid. The noises are louder, the dark is darker, the fear is stronger.

In our tiny bathroom, I stare at my reflection. I look like death.

My eyes are puffy and red and my nose is stopped up. I sound as terrible as I look. It’s been almost a week since I’ve left the house.

I haven’t gone to school. I haven’t gone to Pearl’s. I haven’t gotten dressed.

I wet a washrag and hold the cold cloth to my eyes. I barely sleep anymore, instead trying to remember every detail of that night at Brandon’s house. Some parts are still blurry. Every time I feel like I’m getting close, my thoughts scatter. I can’t shake the feeling I’m missing something.

Teeny won’t go to school either. She doesn’t know what’s wrong but she’s scared if she leaves me at home like this, I won’t be here when she gets back. And she’s sunk back into that same horrible

—S

quiet shell, just like when we first got here.

—N

205

DISNEY/HYPERION 5½ in. x 8¼ in. Page 205

ELSTON—Rules for DisappearinG_2ND PASS

I’ve single-handedly ruined this family.

For some insane reason—I don’t think I told Sanchez I knew

where the ledgers were just to save my ass. So I have a new plan: find the ledgers. And that plan rests solely on my stupid friggin’

memory. The ledgers are the key, but where are they? Every time I think about it, I get this pattern in my head. Different shapes—all fitted together. I have that feeling like it’s on the tip of my tongue but I can’t pull it up. I’m determined to find them, and when I do, Dad and I will have to figure out what to do with them. We just have to make sure we have some guarantee that this is over.

I break it to Teeny that we’re going back to school this morning.

I must really look bad because she doesn’t complain.

Teeny gets on her bus just as mine pulls up behind it. I step

inside and Teeny’s right. It totally sucks riding the stinky bus to school. I take a seat in the back and resist crying again. A few freshman look back at me and I want to growl at them.

The bus stops in front of school, expelling us along with a cloud of smoke. I’m second-guessing my decision to come back to school but I can’t feel sorry for myself any longer. The pity party is over.

It doesn’t take long for Catherine to spot me. She, like Pearl, has been calling the house every day, but I’ve brushed them off, telling them my entire family got the flu. She grabs my hand and pulls me to the nearest bathroom.

“Oh, hell no.” She digs through her bag. “I don’t know what happened to you, but you’re not walking into school looking like Mrs.