Chapter 18 Daniela
DANIELA
“Dangerous?” Chef asks. “I mean, he’s a little eccentric, but dangerous?”
“You knew he was dangerous,” Vinnie says, “or you wouldn’t have come here in the middle of the night to tell us about him as soon as you made the connection.”
“But I…” Chef shakes his head. “You’re right, of course. Gwen didn’t like him at all. But she’s just a kid, and I didn’t think… Oh, hell. I don’t know what I was thinking. He and I have known each other for years. I just can’t believe…”
“Chef,” I say, “How long was Gordon here?”
He rubs his chin. “He arrived right before Valentine’s Day. I remember because I was planning a chocolate lesson for my advanced students, and he teased me about using Belgian instead of Ecuadorian.”
My heart squeezes. “And when did he leave?”
“A little over a week ago. I drove him to the airport myself. Two days before Gwen’s sleepover.”
Raven exhales a sharp breath. “Right. You said he was gone before the sleepover. So before Belinda disappeared.”
Chef nods. “Yes. Gwen wanted to wait until he was gone to have friends over. She said…” He pauses, looking sheepish. “She said he gave her the creeps. I told her she was being silly. He’s a chef, not a—”
He stops.
I finish for him. “Not a monster?”
Chef swallows. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant.” My voice is steadier than I feel. “She’s smart, your daughter. She trusted her instincts. Good thing she did.”
Because I didn’t.
I wasn’t much older than Gwen when I started trading favors for lessons. Hands for guidance. Body for validation. I told myself it was different, that he saw potential in me. That he was giving me a chance.
He wasn’t. He was grooming me. The same way my father did, only with cooking lessons and kinder words.
The air feels too thin. I excuse myself quickly before I break down right there in front of everyone.
“He was here,” I whisper finally. “In the same state. Staying in that house while tormenting me with his little gifts.”
Chef drops his jaw. “What? My God…”
“It’s a long story,” I tell him, “but you were right to see a connection.” I turn to Vinnie. “The timing lines up exactly. He was in town over Valentine’s Day, left before the sleepover, and the card showed up at my door that same week. Who else would do that?”
Vinnie’s jaw ticks. “And the roses with the barbed wire?”
“The DNA from the dead guy on the registry. Chef could have…” I drop my head into my hands.
“Those chocolates you had me analyze?” Chef Charleston says. “You think Gordon Brown sent them?”
I nod. “Only one was Colombian. You said so yourself. It was a message. He wanted me to know it was him. That’s how he works. How he’s always worked. Subtle enough to make you question your sanity, but close enough to smell your fear.”
Vinnie curls his hands into fists. “I’ll look into it. If he’s behind Belinda’s disappearance, I’ll find proof.”
“Please,” Chef says. “You’ve got to believe me. I never knew he was… I mean… I assume he…”
I sniffle. “Without going into too much detail, suffice it to say he taught me to cook.” I gulp. “In exchange for…”
Chef goes pale. “Oh my God… And he stayed in my home. With my child. He’s been visiting for years.”
I swallow again. “I’m sure Gwen is fine, Chef. But if he started giving her the creeps, he probably—”
“Oh my God!” Chef says again. “I need to go home. I’m so sorry, Daniela. So sorry about everything. That monster will never be allowed in my home again. Certainly never anywhere near my daughter, or any child.”
I sniffle again. “Thanks for coming, Chef. If you hear anything about Belinda…”
“I’ll call you all right away.”
Vinnie walks Chef to the door and then returns to Raven and me.
Vinnie sits at the kitchen island, opens his laptop, and starts typing. “Let’s go through everything,” he says. “One more time. I want to get every detail down.”
So I do. Every detail. The dates, the card, the roses, the way Chef C’s friend matched the timeline perfectly.
When I’m finished, he sits back. “So, let’s assume this guy—whatever his real name is—was the one leaving the gifts. We already ruled out Reyes. He wouldn’t bother with this kind of theatrics. Vega’s still a wild card, but his style’s different too. He’s about intimidation, not obsession.”
“Exactly,” I say. “Whoever left those gifts knew me. Not just my name, but me. My past. He wanted to remind me that he could still touch my life whenever he wanted.”
Raven folds her arms. “Which means he’s been watching you for a while.”
The thought makes me shiver. “Maybe he never stopped.”
Vinnie types faster. “You said you don’t think ‘Gordon Brown’ is his real name?”
I shake my head. “It isn’t. It’s an alias. When I was in Colombia, he told me once that Gordon Ramsay was his culinary idol and Alton Brown was his teacher in another life.”
“So you never learned his actual name?”
I look down, ashamed. “No. I only ever called him Chef. That’s what everyone called him. My father. The kitchen staff. Just…Chef.”
Vinnie leans forward. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve still got all the old intel from the Agudelo files—the servants, the staff, the extended network. I’ll go through it and see if any chefs, sous chefs, or culinary consultants match the description. There can’t be many.”
Raven nods. “If he’s the one behind this, we’ll find him. We’ll make him regret ever stepping foot on U.S. soil.”
Vinnie scrolls through the old database he keeps locked behind several layers of encryption. My heart clinches as I recognize some of the names—drivers, guards, business partners. Every name a ghost from another life.
“Maybe he’s back in Colombia,” I say quietly. “Chef C swears he drove him to the airport.”
Vinnie grunts. “Doesn’t mean he got on a plane. Men like that know how to slip through security. Fake boarding passes. Ditch bags after check-in. They disappear before you’ve finished your coffee.”
Raven nods. “Or maybe he never even left Texas.”
That idea chills me even more than the others.
The clock on the stove blinks 3:47 a.m. My body feels heavy with exhaustion, but my mind won’t shut down.
Vinnie finally closes his laptop. “We’ll pick this up tomorrow. Or…later today. Whatever you want to call it. If I stare at this screen any longer, I’ll start seeing names that aren’t there.”
Raven stifles a yawn. “He’s right. We all need sleep.”
Sleep. The word feels foreign.
“I can’t,” I whisper. “Not while she’s still out there.” My lip trembles, and I wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. “She’s just a kid, Raven. She’s probably terrified.”
Raven’s eyes soften. “I know. But you’ll help her more when your head’s clear. You’ve done enough for tonight.”
Enough. The word lodges in my chest. When is anything ever enough?
I nod anyway because I don’t have the strength to argue.
They both head upstairs, murmuring goodnights. I stay behind in the kitchen, staring out the window into the dark. The horizon is still black, no sign of dawn.
I press my hand against the cool glass. Somewhere out there, a man who once taught me how to temper chocolate is walking free. Somewhere, he has Belinda…or he knows who does.
And somewhere, the little girl who loves cheeseballs and plays piano like an angel is crying for help I can’t give her.
I close my eyes and make a promise to her, to myself, to the universe that seems intent on testing me again and again…
I will find her.
Even if it means going back to Colombia myself.
Even if it means facing Chef.
Even if it means facing Diego Vega.
Even if it means losing what’s left of my peace.
Because peace isn’t worth anything if I can’t protect the people I love.
The clock ticks softly behind me. Four a.m. The first hints of gray creep into the eastern sky.
A new day.
But not a new start. Not yet.
Not until Belinda is safe.