26. LANDON
I drove straight back to our apartment, ensuring I went unnoticed, and packed up more of my belongings.
I also grabbed the last of the cash I had hidden around the place.
Just as I was about to leave, an idea stopped me.
I returned to the bedroom, pulled a duffel bag from the closet, and filled it with whatever clothes of Danielle’s were left.
This way, neither of us would ever have to come back from Colorado.
After double-checking I had everything, I headed to the airport, calling Hunter on the way. Getting to Colorado without drawing attention would require cashing in numerous favors I had saved up for months. Setting up there on short notice with no plan would be even more challenging.
“Yeah?”
“You remember the favor you owe me? I need your plane ready. Now.”
“You got it, Landon. We can go wheels up in 20.”
In my pocket was a slip of paper with an address for a convenience store in Grand Junction, CO. I would never have figured out on my own that Alex would send her there. I had assumed she would either be somewhere around here or somewhere familiar to them. Thankfully, Danielle was fucking stupid.
I wasn’t sure how I’d find her, but I was prepared to stake out at that store’s parking lot indefinitely if I had to. If she were staying nearby, there were pretty good odds that she’d return to the store at some point, and I'd be there.
During the flight, I mapped out a plan, ironing out as many details as possible.
Gonzalez arranged to meet me at the airport with a car to expedite my movements.
I had already started checking out satellite views on Google Maps, cross-referencing with a list of abandoned properties provided by someone who worked for Gonzalez.
Alex would end up chasing the Charger down a dead end at the airport—if he managed to trace it at all. I had plenty of cash to stay off the radar and do whatever was necessary.
I double-checked a particular property with Gonzalez, and after some digging, he located the foreclosed house on fourteen acres just outside town. It was in decent shape and isolated enough that no one would question our presence or notice anything unusual.
Once I found Danielle, the plan would be straightforward: she could either cooperate and leave with me, or I’d resort to force, killing Alex and anyone else she cared about until she complied.
A few hours later, I landed, and Gonzalez picked me up. We drove to a nearby parking lot, where he left me with the car. I sat for a moment, refining the rest of my plan. I needed a few more supplies to prepare for Danielle’s inevitable arrival at the house, so I went to a nearby Walmart.
Trying to be inconspicuous, I purchased groceries along with items like rope and duct tape, which I still thought might raise suspicions on their own.
I added a cheap camping tent to further justify those purchases.
I also picked up a hunting knife, figuring it would be useful given Danielle’s stubborn nature.
When the cart looked like any other last-minute camping supply run, I made my way to the register.
“Oh, going camping?” The cashier began ringing up my items. Worked like a fucking charm.
“Yeah, I love desert camping.”
This dumb bitch.
I paid in cash, grabbed my shit, and left, turning the GPS on to head toward the property.
The house was ideal. It was hidden up a dirt road and set far back from the street at the end of a long driveway. No one would notice my comings and goings.
The windows were boarded, and weeds climbed the walls like the place had been left behind for good. I wedged the hunting knife into the doorframe and popped the door open.
“Holy shit, this place is a dump,” I muttered, surveying the main foyer.
While it would suffice for the time being, staying here long-term seemed less appealing. Dust and debris were everywhere, something I'd need to tolerate until Danielle became compliant. Flipping the light switch confirmed the lack of power, an issue I’d have to tackle later.
I made a mental note to pick up more "camping supplies," like flashlights and camping lamps.
Upstairs, I checked out the bedrooms. There were four, and luckily, three still had furniture. The first room at the top of the stairs had a wrought iron daybed and a small dresser with a cracked mirror. It would be easy to keep Danielle in there, using the bed's structure and some rope.
I found the master bedroom—my room—and dropped my bag on the bed, heading to the bathroom to check the water. The pipes clattered before spewing brown water, but it eventually ran clear.
“Thank fuck,” I whispered to myself, checking one more issue off the list.
I went back downstairs, grabbed the groceries, and headed to the kitchen, relieved to find a gas stove instead of electric.
With water and a way to cook, I had some breathing room to figure out a better long-term plan.
As I was about to put the groceries in the refrigerator, I remembered there was no electricity, so a cooler needed to be added to my list of supplies.
Returning to the store, I picked up a cooler, some ice, camping lamps, flashlights, and a new doorknob and deadbolt for the front door. Within an hour, I had the food on ice, clothes in our rooms, and a new lock in place. Now, the house was ours, for however long it took to break Danielle.
I slumped onto the dusty, torn couch in the living room, lighting a camping lamp and a cigarette as I contemplated my next steps.
All I had was the address of the convenience store and the hope that Danielle hadn’t just passed through. If this place was a stopover, I was fucked. Everything depended on this being her location and Alex not figuring out that she had used her card and moving her.
I entered the convenience store's address into my phone, scoping out nearby alleys, parking lots, and anywhere I could blend into the surrounding area to ensure I had a way to stake out the location.
The closer I got to Danielle, the weight of everything I had done started to settle in. I was so far down this hole, there didn’t seem to be any way to escape what was bound to unfold.
Memories of Danielle’s laughter and the moments we shared before everything went wrong wouldn’t stop creeping in, distracting me from the plan, and clashing with the anger that fueled my desire to keep her. She was going to betray me, and she was going to fucking pay for it.
But could I really bring myself to go through with it?
The plan seemed airtight, yet an obnoxious fucking uncertainty lingered. What if I could convince her to just… come back? I crushed the cigarette in frustration, questioning if avenging my pride was worth sacrificing everything.
The silence of the abandoned house was suffocating. It was time to leave and put the plan in motion. If things went wrong, there’d be no escaping this alive. I needed to see this through, but the cost seemed higher with each passing hour.