Eleven Rules: A gripping domestic suspense (The Rules Book 1)

by PJ Vye

  Aunt Tulula gave Mat a serious look and as she left the room with a glass of milk in one hand, she clipped his head with the other.

  It wasn’t Mat’s job to help her, and he couldn’t possibly understand how she felt. Why was she still here?

  She stood and pushed her chair under the table. “It’s better not to get you involved. You still have to live below him, right? If he knows you’ve helped me, he’ll cause trouble for you.” Sunny picked up her phone and keys and said, “Please, thank your aunt, for the food.”

  “Where will you go?” he asked as he followed her down the hall.

  “I’ll work it out.”

  She’d find a hotel where she didn’t have to provide a credit card or ID, in case Judd called the police. She should probably leave a false address, keep the ute hidden. She’d turned off her location services on her phone, just in case he managed to track her that way.

  She’d hunker down, stay quiet and hopefully get out of the country in one piece, with $120,000 converted to pounds and the $25,000 cash. She felt like a fugitive.

  She headed down the corridor, conscience of Mat behind her, almost willing her out the door. He really didn’t want to be involved, and why would he? She’d created a mess for herself and she was doing the right thing to leave him out of it.

  She was on her own now, but at least she was free. Despite the fear and the worry, an ember of hope burned inside her. She saw a future. Choices. She already felt stronger. She could do this.

  “Mataio!” A loud, authoritative voice came from behind them both and Sunny jumped. “Come here.”

  “Hang on a minute.” Mataio turned and followed his aunt’s summons. Sunny waited by the door, unsure if it would be rude to leave. They spoke in hushed Samoan, Aunt Tulula using her hands a lot and looking at Sunny and Mat staring at the floor and shaking his head.

  Occasionally a sentence or two of English slipped into their heated dialogue. Sunny thought she heard Aunt Tulula mention Mat’s mother. “How could you let her go, Mataio, after what you know? After what you’ve seen?” Mat just stared at the floor some more and crossed those thick arms across his chest.

  Sunny checked her watch and then slipped out the door quietly. This was none of her business and maybe they’d forgotten she was even there.

  Mataio caught up with her just as she climbed into Judd’s ute. “My aunt insists you stay with us until you can safely leave the country,” he said.

  “What? Really? No, I couldn’t do that.” She rattled her keys as she thought about the possibility. It would make hiding so much easier. Judd couldn’t trace her here. Was it asking too much to say yes? “I should go. Really—you’ve done enough. I’ll find somewhere to stay.”

  “You can go if you want to, but Judd will never know you’re here. My aunt is worried you might not be protected out there…if he finds you.”

  The idea was so appealing. It was a shame his words and his face didn’t align. Mat didn’t want her there—this was his aunt’s offer. Could she really risk them being involved? If Judd called the police and accused her of stealing, they’d never look here. No financial trace.

  “My aunt just wants you to understand we are going through a difficult time with my cousin, Junior, at the moment and to please stay away from the back of the house.”

  Why wouldn’t she accept Tulula’s help? “I can do that. But are you sure?”

  “To be honest, we have a lot going on and don’t need any added complications. The timing isn’t great. But Aunt feels it’s the right thing to do and if you want to be free of this guy, then you deserve the chance to do that.”

  Sunny didn’t want to accept the offer from Mat, but coming from the aunt, the offer felt different.

  “She’s very kind.”

  “To be honest, she’s not normally so accommodating. She’s in a particularly positive mood at the moment. You’re lucky you timed it so well.”

  “If I said yes, would there be something I could do in return? Help around the house. I’m not much of a cook but—”

  “Not necessary. Just stay away from Junior and the medical staff.”

  He grabbed her suitcases and she grabbed her backpack.

  “Ipo will be pleased you are staying.”

  Her room was at the front of the house on the right. The door stuck as he opened it and the smell of stale air hit her. He lifted the blind and light shot through the room as though it had been in a rush to finally get inside.

  “This was my other cousin’s room, La’ei. It’s a bit dusty. Hasn’t been used in a long time. I’ll get some clean bedding for you.” He stood still and stared at the empty, small double bed, hands still clutching the cases. She waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.

  She wanted to ask where La’ei was now, but sensed it wasn’t the right time. Eventually she took the cases from his hands and put them to the side. “Thank you Mat. I do really appreciate this.”

  He looked up her like he’d forgotten she was there. “It’s fine. I’ll leave you to settle in. Let me know if you need anything.”

  He turned and walked out the door.

  It didn’t feel like he thought it was fine.

  Sunny sat on the edge of the bed and felt like an intruder. The room was a time capsule. Pictures of a teenage girl with black hair pulled back tightly, almost always with a white hoody over her head, sitting around tables and in parks, surrounded by laughing friends.

  Several sets of shoes tucked under the bed, some perfume and deodorant bottles on the desk. Textbooks and a pencil case sat on a single shelf and a brown bear with a white ribbon around its neck nestled against the pillows. Brightly coloured islander wrist bands and an I Love Samoa cap hooked onto the corner post of the bed. Sunny checked the closet—full of clothes—all hung neatly and ordered. The drawers contained folded underwear and socks.

  Sunny stashed the backpack full of money in an empty laundry basket and covered it with her jacket and shut the closet door. The money was making her nervous and she wondered again if she’d made the right choice. She knew it’d been dishonest, but she wanted revenge. He’d cheated her, so she’d cheat him. It made the escape much harder though, and maybe he would have let her leave without a fight if she’d left it behind.

  She checked her phone again. Another seventeen messages from Judd. They’d started when she didn’t meet him like she said she would. The messages were a synopsis of their entire relationship. At first, they’d been filled with worry. Was she okay? Did she need him? What could he do to make it right? Then the texts turned to anger. How dare she take without asking? Who did she think she was? She was nothing without him. That money was his—she’d have spent it on crap without him. Then came the threats. I will find you and take what is mine. Don’t make me catch you alone. I’ve called the police. I have friends who’ll help me find you. Then the apology texts. I’m sorry. Please come back. I’ll make it up to you. We’ll do whatever you want with the money. Keep the money, just come back to me. I love you. I can’t live without you. I was wrong to keep the money a secret. You’re all I care about. Then the promises. I’ll get help. I’ll do a counselling course. I’ll buy a house with you. We can live wherever you want. I can be better. Then the cycle repeats. “I’m worried there’s something wrong with you.” The anger, the threats, the apologies, the promises.

  She didn’t really have a choice but to order a new passport. Judd would carry the old one around with him until he found her, and he would never give it back. Not unless she agreed to meet him. And that was something she simply couldn’t do.

  Sunny opened her suitcase and wondered if she would upset the aunt if she moved some of the things on the desk to make room for her case. While she was deciding, Aunt Tulula came in with clean sheets and a towel.

  “Thank you, Tulula,” she said. She wanted to say more but couldn’t find any words.

  “Please do not think anything of it. It is the Samoan way to help each other. Mataio has forgotten what it means to be ho
spitable.”

  “I think he’s just thinking of you. It’s a terrible inconvenience, and I know it’s a difficult time for you all.”

  “Mataio was just plain rude, not inviting you to stay from the moment you arrived. He’s unsociable and always keeping some secret agenda. Please don’t worry about how he feels. You’re welcome here, and Mataio should know better.”

  “Do you think the owner of this bedroom would mind if I moved a few things, just so I can leave my cases open?”

  “This room belongs to my daughter, La’ei. When she returns, she won’t remember where she left anything so arrange it however you need to.”

  Tulula pulled off the cases from the pillows and fluffed them. “But if she comes home while you’re here, you’ll have to sleep on the couch.”

  “Do you think she will? I won’t unpack if—”

  “I pray every hour of every day that she will. Maybe if she knows I’ve given her room to someone else, she will come home sooner.”

  Tulula hummed as she stripped the sheets from the bed and a cloud of dust caused them both to sneeze.

  The two women worked together to remake the beds and when finished, Tulula loaded up the changed sheets and said, “Well, I hope you’re comfortable here. Please go ahead and make yourself at home.”

  “Thank you, again. I really appreciate this.”

  Tulula nodded and with one hand full of washing she tried to close the door behind her. It made it only halfway before getting stuck on the floor. “I’m afraid this place needs a bit of work.” She stood in the doorway and looked around. “I guess I hadn’t really noticed. Having a guest makes you look at things differently.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Mataio has been pestering me to speak to the landlord, but I’ve been too busy with Junior.”

  “Maybe I could do that for you, while I’m here.”

  “You concentrate on getting yourself strong. You understand me?”

  Tulula didn’t wait for answer but scurried from the room, a cloud of dust following her.

  Twenty-Three

  MATAIO

  24 days to go

  Mataio sat beside Juniors bed and pretended to watch him shoot villains on his Xbox. Junior didn’t require conversation—just an audience. The house seemed so much fuller with Sunny in it, and he needed time to think, in a place where he knew she couldn’t go.

  Mataio’s world seemed so much more complicated than it did just a few weeks ago. Then, he’d been in a steady routine of hospital work, lab work and sleep. Repeat. Life was predictable and contained.

  Now he had questions that needed answers and temptations that needed to be constantly shut down.

  In his old life, he lived alone, refused to enter into personal conversations with anyone at work and only communicated with the outside world enough to find the information he needed to create the cure for Junior.

  Now, when he needed to use the bathroom, he had to wait until Sunny stepped out, wet and wrapped in steam and a towel and apologising for holding him up.

  Now he could tell where she was in the house just by the different scents that followed her around—sandalwood and some kind of exotic flower.

  Now he could hear her music, not through a ceiling but through a partly stuck open bedroom door. He’d stood and watched her through the door a while yesterday as she played the violin, without her knowing he was there. The music had always spoken to him but watching her in person as she played seemed to trigger some instinctual response in him. He wanted to touch her face where the instrument tucked under her chin and trace the line of it along her shoulder to the bow in her hand. He wanted to listen forever.

  As soon as he noticed it, he shut the thought down, locked the key in his mind and walked away. Closing thoughts of temptation was a learned skill and he knew how it worked. He could lock down just about any emotion. In fact, it had become such second nature to him he barely realised he did it anymore. That’s why people, including his aunt, called him cold and unfeeling. It was surprisingly easy to be detached from people when they expected it from you anyway.

  He couldn’t remember a time anymore when he wasn’t separate. Maybe he’d been that way all along. He could control himself around people. He’d proven it over and over.

  But Sunny being here, opened the gates more than he’d ever been used to, and the constant monitoring of this thoughts around her had begun to worry him. Caring about what happened to Sunny was blurring the line. There were rules and he only had a few weeks left. He couldn’t blow it now.

  Added to that, Detective Ronson’s visit had riled him. He’d known Michael Fui had got La’ei pregnant because she’d told him. But Mataio couldn’t tell the detective he knew. It’d been the last conversation they’d had together. La’ei knew she was in trouble—she also knew she didn’t want to marry Fui.

  Mataio wondered if the detective had believed him when he said he hadn’t known. He’d practiced his lying face in the mirror dozens of times over the past nineteen years, but he could never tell, in the heat of the lie, if he could pull it off.

  Detective Ronson was trained to pick lies. Those micro expressions people can’t hide, as much as they want to. Still, there wasn’t much he could do with that information. It just provided another reason why she might run.

  Only Mataio knew the truth, and he’d kept it for more than nineteen years. Just over three weeks to go and he could be free of it. He’d anticipated the last few would be the hardest. It’s human nature to tire at the finish line, no matter the distance. That, with the added challenges—Junior’s situation and the potential cure, Sunny and her presence in the house, an aunt who deserved the truth in order to move forward—all pressures that made Mataio wonder if he’d make it to the end unscathed. He’d have to hold focus. Keep his attention on what was allowed and shut down anything that strayed from that.

  Including Sunny.

  Especially Sunny.

  If Ronson knew about La’ei’s pregnancy, did he tell Aunt Tulula? Obviously, he had. That would explain why she’d been humming for days. It hadn’t just been Junior’s recovery that had influenced her change of mood. She believed she had a grandchild out there somewhere.

  Mataio listened to the machine gun as the virtual soldier searched through buildings, looking for victims. Such a violent game. It seemed out of character for someone as laid back as Junior to play a game with such vicious consequences.

  “Tell me about the girl that’s staying,” said Junior while he waited for a new level to load.

  “Nothing to tell. She needed some help to get away from a dickhead. That’s all.”

  “Ma put her in La’ei’s room?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s a big step for Ma.”

  “I know.”

  “She must like her.”

  “I guess.”

  Junior looked over at Mataio, but he refused to meet his raised eyebrow. Eventually Junior, not unused to Mataio’s lack of elaborations, turned his attention back to the game.

  Mataio wondered what Judd would be doing right now in Sunny’s apartment alone. Probably having a miserable night. He wouldn’t be happy losing someone like Sunny.

  No-one would be happy losing someone like Sunny.

  Much like losing La’ei.

  La’ei had been uncompromising when it came to her pregnancy. She wouldn’t give it up for anyone.

  He wished he hadn’t known about it. He wished he hadn’t been the one she’d confided in that night.

  Mataio closed his eyes and tried very hard to think about absolutely nothing, to a backdrop of virtual dying screams and machine gun fire. It didn’t work for long, so he got busy doing another round of observations, checking the drip bag and folding a couple of blankets his aunt used on her recliner.

  The carer had called in sick this morning, so he went about the task of changing bags, weighing and disposing the waste. He then prepped another syringe to administer Junior’s medication.

&nb
sp; He counted up the number of doses left in the draw and when they didn’t add up, he went in search of the missing serum. He pulled out both drawers to see if they’d somehow fallen behind, checked the bins, behind and under the table and then through the whole room.

  “What are you doing, bro? You’re messing with my rhythm here,” said Junior, pausing his game.

  The sounds of killing stopped and the sudden silence gave a suspenseful energy to the room. “There’s some doses missing. Did the carer or Aunt put it anywhere else?”

  “How would I know?”

  “It’s important Junior. Either you’ve been given the wrong dosage, or someone has taken…” A terrifying thought struck him. Oh shit.

  Mataio stormed into the kitchen in search of his aunt.

  She stood at the sink with Sunny, washing dishes. On the inside the word’s screamed, but on the outside his voice remained calm as he spoke. “Aunt, did you tell that carer what the medication was for?”

  Twenty-Four

  SUNNY

  Sunny heard the intensity in Mataio’s voice and stared at the woman beside her as she casually washed a plate, one side then the other and slowly handed it to her to dry.

  “For a start,” said Tulula finally, as she placed another dish in the sink. “The carer has a name. It’s Bernadette. Try to use it, Mataio.”

  Mat leaned both hands on the kitchen table and took a noticeable breath. “Sunny, can I please speak to my aunt privately for a minute?”

  Sunny looked from Tulula to Mat and back again.

  “Sure, no problem.”

  She dumped the tea towel in Mat’s unmoving hands as she walked past him and out into the hallway. Ipo lifted himself out of his bed and followed behind her.

  Once in the hallway she wasn’t quite sure where to go. She could still hear them from her bedroom and the back of the house was out of bounds. She really didn’t want to stand outside in the cold, so she stood still, undecided.