Chapter 42 Daniela
DANIELA
Raven’s on one phone. Vinnie’s on another.
Same clipped tone. Same questions. Same hold music bleeding through the house like static.
I can’t listen.
I can’t breathe.
I stare at the paper in my hands.
Belinda’s note.
It’s clearly from her printer. But the voice on this page? It’s not hers.
I’m sorry. Thank you for everything, but I have to go.
Maybe she was trying to sound older. Serious. Grown.
Except dinner plays back in my head in bright, stupid color.
Cheese-ball stories. Gwen’s slide. Glitter nails. That is not a kid plotting an escape. That’s a kid planning her next sleepover.
My skin goes tight.
Belinda didn’t write this note. And she didn’t run away. I know it as well as I know my own name.
The timing is…
What is it?
I finally figure out who’s been taunting me, and Belinda vanishes.
Is the chef here in the US? Or is someone doing his bidding?
He wants something. He wants leverage. He wants me moving toward him.
“The police say to keep her room intact,” Raven calls from the hall, her voice too high. “Don’t touch anything. They’re dispatching a unit.”
Vinnie’s talking over her, lower, calmer. “Yes, eleven. Yes, white, fair skin. Blue eyes, blond hair. Four foot eleven. Last seen at— We think sometime after nine…”
I set the note on the desk, careful, like it might explode. My hands shake. I shove them into my pockets so they don’t start doing something stupid, like riffling through drawers. Preserve the scene. Don’t contaminate evidence. I know the rules.
I pull my phone out to call Hawk.
Straight to voicemail. Again.
“Hey, it’s me,” I whisper, because saying his name hurts. “Emergency. Please call me.”
I hang up, type fast before I can start crying.
Belinda’s missing. She left a note, but I don’t think it’s from her. Please call ASAP.
I hit send.
The doorbell rings.
The police are here. I run out of Belinda’s room. Raven and Vinnie are still talking on their respective phones. “I’ll get the door,” I say swiftly and race down the stairs.
I yank the door open.
Not the police.
The woman on the porch is dressed in a dark suit with a silver badge at the breast.
“Thank God you’re here,” I say. “Please come in. I’m Daniela. I’m Belinda’s foster sister.”
“You’re Daniela?” she asks. “Daniela Agudelo?”
“Yes.” I cock my head. “How do you know my last name?”
Then I notice her badge.
It doesn’t say Austin Police Department.
It says U.S. Department of Homeland Security.
My mouth goes dry.
“I’m Officer Leona Patel with DHS, serving documents on behalf of USCIS.” She opens a leather case and pulls out a stapled packet. “A decision has been issued in your Temporary Protected Status matter.”
I grip the doorframe. “Decision? I don’t understand, the judge said—”
“What the Austin Family Court judge said has no bearing. The matter was referred to our office.”
I gulp. “And…?”
“It’s been determined that there’s insufficient evidence that you face individualized danger if you’re removed to Colombia. This is your formal notice.”
The words hit in pieces.
Temporary Protected Status.
Insufficient evidence.
Removed.
I blink dumbly. “What does that mean? Right now?”
“It means your TPS and its benefits—work authorization, protection from removal—end as of the date of this notice.” She points to a block of text that swims in my vision.
She continues talking but I don’t hear her.
It’s just a jumble of blurred noise.
Raven appears in the hall behind me, robe tied, eyes wide. “What’s going on?”
I can’t pull air. “Immigration,” I whisper.
She grabs the file from me. “Let me see that.” Then she turns to Officer Patel. “This is insane. No government agency works this quickly. It’s only been a few days since Daniela and Vinnie’s divorce.”
Officer Patel doesn’t react. “I don’t know anything about that, ma’am.”
“You’ll be hearing from our attorney.” Raven pushes her out the door. “Now get the hell out of here.”
“Ma’am—”
Raven slams the door.
“I… I thought it was the police,” I say.
Vinnie comes around the corner, phone to his chest. “Who was at the door? Was it the cops?”
“Not yet,” Raven says. She hands him the packet. “DHS says Daniela’s temporary protective status has been revoked.”
“Jesus.” He looks at Raven. Looks back at me. “That’s impossible.”
“That’s what I said,” Raven agrees. “The government is notoriously slow. Something is fishy.”
“We’ll get an attorney,” Vinnie says. “I’ll call—”
“Please.” I hold up my hand. “Forget about me. I don’t even care right now. We need to find Belinda.”
Vinnie lays a hand on my shoulder. “You are just as important to Raven and me as Belinda is, Dani.”
“But I’m an adult. I can take care of myself. Belinda’s a child. Please. We have to find her.”
Raven nods. “She’s right, Vinnie.”
I nod too fast. My vision swims. “The note. It’s typed. It sounds wrong.”
Raven’s hand tightens. “Police asked us to leave her room untouched. They’re on their way.”
“I know.” I press my fists to my thighs until they hurt. Pain makes the room sharpen. “I think— I think it’s him.”
“Who?” Vinnie asks.
“Gordon Brown. I mean, I think he was my father’s chef, and I think he’s the one who’s been stalking me, and now…” I can’t breathe. “Now…”
Raven shakes her head once, hard. “No. We are not jumping to abduction.”
I inhale, inhale, inhale…
“Easy,” Vinnie says. “Breathe out. You’re hyperventilating.”
“She didn’t run,” I say, panting. “That voice in the note isn’t hers. And she was giddy at dinner. Plus she’s always saying how much she loves it here.”
Raven’s jaw flexes. “Okay,” she says. “Okay.”
The doorbell rings again. Vinnie opens it. Two uniformed officers step into the foyer with a practiced calm that does nothing for my heart rate.
“Ms. Bellamy? Mr. Gallo?” the taller says. “I’m Officer Ruiz. This is Officer McClain. We’re here about your daughter.”
“Foster daughter,” Raven says. “Belinda. Eleven.”
They take statements. They ask for a recent photo. They ask what Belinda was wearing, when she was last seen. We try to build a timeline out of thin air and panic as we show the officers to Belinda’s room.
Officer Ruiz steps into the room. “We’ll dust for prints. For now, please don’t disturb anything.”
“We won’t,” I say, even though every part of me wants to dig.
“Any friends she might be with?” McClain asks.
“Gwen,” I say. “Gwen Charleston. From school.”
“I already called them,” Raven says. “They’re part of the same homeschool group. Natalie has the list, but she’s out for the evening.”
“And Natalie is?” Ruiz asks.
“Belinda’s nanny,” Raven says. “I called her cell, but she didn’t pick up.”
Ruiz makes a note. “We’ll call the parents again. Sometimes you just don’t ask the right questions.”
“Excuse me,” Raven says, “but what is there to ask besides ‘is Belinda over there?’”
Ruiz doesn’t reply.
“Seriously, what?” Raven pushes.
“Ma’am, please. Just let us do our jobs.”
“I know Chef Charleston,” I say. “He’s my cooking instructor. I can call him.”
Except I don’t move. Just saying the word “chef” sends me spiraling.
Different chef. Different time.
Fear courses through me. Mostly for Belinda. But also for myself. What if I get sent back to Colombia? What if I never see Hawk again?
Ruiz and Raven are talking, but I stopped listening. Vinnie pulls feeds on his phone. We stand there and try to pretend time isn’t sprinting away from us.
Vinnie is still holding the packet from Officer Patel. I try not to think about it.
Belinda.
Belinda has to be the priority.
I leave her bedroom. A moment later, Vinnie follows.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
Tears threaten. How can I possibly be okay? Someone is stalking me. I think I’ve figured out who it is. I’m in love, but Hawk is ghosting me. The federal government has decided I’m not in danger in Colombia, and Belinda… My Belinda is gone. Sweet Belinda, who’s already been through so much.
“No.” I glance at the packet in his hand. “But I will be. Later.”
“We’ll fight this,” he says. “I promise.”
“I know.” I lift my chin toward Belinda’s doorway. “Right now—Belinda.”
He nods. “Right now—Belinda.”
We rejoin the officers. Ruiz is looking at the printer in Belinda’s room without touching it. “Does she print often?”
“Homework. Piano music,” Raven says, voice thin.
“We’ll ask our tech to pull the print log,” he says. “If that’s okay.”
“Please,” Raven says.
I hover in the doorway. The room looks wrong because it’s too neat. Bed made. Pillow square.
“Did you call Gwen’s parents?” I ask, brittle.
“Not yet,” Ruiz says. “We’ll get there.”
I nod. Wrap my arms around myself to hold me in.
Out front, headlights wash the living room.
Another patrol car. The house fills with more careful footsteps, more radios whispering.
Ruiz takes statements again, tightens the net in ways I can’t see.
McClain checks the side gate and the patch of dirt where neighborhood kids cut through sometimes.
Vinnie pulls school contacts. Raven texts Gwen’s mom’s number to Officer Ruiz.
I pace. I stop. I pace again. I touch nothing.
And I think. Hard.
The note is typed. The tone is off. The timing is uncanny. He wanted me to understand the chocolate. He wanted me to think of him. He wanted to remind me that the kitchen taught me things at a price—and he can set the price again.
He took a child.
Every cell in me goes cold and sharp.
I picture the pantry. The molinillo. The way the chocolate bloomed. The way his voice softened when the drink was perfect. The way it hardened when I hesitated.
You want me, Chef? Then you get me. But you do not get her.
I text Hawk again, fingers flying.
Emergency x2. Belinda missing. DHS is revoking my temporary protected status. Call me now!
I wait.
Stare at my screen.
No dots.
“Ms. Agudelo?” Officer Ruiz says, startling me from behind.
“Yes, what?” I say more indignantly than I mean to.
“I spoke to the Charleston family. Gwen’s at home. They haven’t seen Belinda.”
Exactly what Raven said. But I don’t say so. “Okay. Thank you.”
“We’ve issued a BOLO.” He holds my gaze. “We’re treating this as a missing juvenile. We’ll escalate if we find evidence of an abduction.”
My pulse roars in my ears. “You will,” I say.
He nods. “We’re here.”
Hours stretch. Minutes snap. The house becomes a scene and a refuge and a trap all at once.
At some point, I slip into the kitchen and grip the edge of the counter until my knuckles ache. I breathe in, hold it. Out. In again. Out. For ten seconds, I continue.
In those ten seconds I make promises.
To Belinda—I will find you. I will not stop.
To myself—I will not run. I will not freeze. I will fight.
To the chef—You won’t get away with this. I’m a different person now.
To Hawk—I love you, but fuck you.
I square my shoulders.
This may not end well for me.
But it will end well for Belinda. And that’s all that matters.