CHAPTER 12
Daniel
Daniel's pacing had turned erratic, each step sharp against the thin, worn carpet of the cheap hotel room.
The harsh fluorescent light overhead flickered intermittently, casting shadows that danced across the peeling wallpaper.
He replayed the moment in Kansas over and over, twisting the memory into something darker each time.
He could still see the terror in Anna's eyes when she'd spotted him inside the diner, that delicious flicker of recognition before she'd bolted like a frightened rabbit.
The surge of power it gave him had been intoxicating, blinding him to the fact that she'd slipped through his fingers once again.
His reflection caught in the grimy mirror above the dresser.
His dark hair was disheveled from running his hands through it repeatedly, his expensive navy polo wrinkled and untucked from his khakis.
The three-day stubble on his jaw made him look haggard, feral.
He barely recognized himself, but appearances only mattered when he needed to charm someone, and right now, there was no one to charm.
Turning to his laptop, a sleek MacBook Pro that looked absurdly out of place in this dump, he checked the tracker again, fingers flying over the keys with practiced precision. The screen flashed the same infuriating message:
Last Location: 35 days ago – Cedar Rapids, Iowa.
It had been over a month since her phone last pinged.
She'd gotten rid of it, slipped out of his reach, and now he had no other leads to follow.
His only source of information had dried up, and his options were running thin.
His brother's resources had been a lifeline, but even that was starting to unravel.
Scott had been tolerant at first, wearing that same patronizing expression he'd had since they were kids, the responsible older brother humoring his impulsive sibling.
He'd assumed Daniel's obsession with finding his ex-girlfriend was just another of his fixations, a phase that would burn out like all the others.
But when Daniel had started talking about "ending things for good," when he'd said he "needed to make sure she couldn't leave again," Scott had drawn a line.
The fight that followed had been brutal—verbal, not physical, though Daniel's fists had clenched more than once.
It ended with Scott, immaculate in his police sergeant's uniform and gleaming badge, making it crystal clear that if Daniel continued down this path, he and their parents would cut him off completely.
No more money. No more covering for him. No more cleaning up his messes.
Daniel couldn't afford that. The trust fund from their grandmother was tied up in conditions he hadn't met, and his job at the marketing firm—he'd stopped showing up two weeks ago. They'd probably fired him by now. Not that he cared. None of it mattered without Anna.
That was when he'd hacked into Scott's work accounts, using the password he'd watched his brother type during Christmas dinner, when Scott had been stupid enough to check his email on the family computer.
Gaining access to police resources he had no business using had been surprisingly easy.
At first, he told himself it was only to make sure she was safe, to bring her home where she belonged, where she'd be taken care of.
But the truth, the dark truth he rarely admitted even in the dead of night, was that the chase itself had become an addiction.
Every time he got close, every time he felt her fear radiating off her in waves, it was like a drug, a rush that coursed through his veins, making him feel powerful and in control.
The way he used to feel before she'd ruined everything by leaving.
He'd lost that control the moment she dared to walk away, when she'd had the audacity to start a new life without him. He couldn't let that stand.
His fingers traced the edge of the laptop as the memories surfaced.
Killing Sam had been a rush. That interfering bitch who'd poisoned Anna's mind against him, who'd helped her plan her escape.
The way Sam's eyes widened when she realized he wasn't there to talk, when she saw the knife. .. exquisite.
But killing the woman in Kansas, the nosy diner owner who'd tried to help Anna, who'd looked at him with suspicion when he'd asked if she'd seen a blonde woman, that had been transcendent. He'd crossed a line he could never uncross, and he knew it. He just didn't care.
The satisfaction of knowing he could end lives, could shape destinies with his own hands and will, was intoxicating.
It made him feel like a god, deciding who lived and who died, who got to keep their pathetic little lives and who didn't. Anna would understand that, eventually.
When he found her. When he made her see that she belonged to him, she always had and always would.
Tonight, in this shitty Iowa hotel room, the kind of place that rented by the hour and didn't ask questions, he felt the same cold rage bubbling up again.
The room reeked of stale cigarette smoke and cheap air freshener that couldn't quite mask mildew.
The bedspread was stained with substances he didn't want to identify.
She'd ditched the phone in this area, probably tossed it in a dumpster or smashed it to pieces.
She was learning, getting smarter, and he didn't like it.
It meant she might be gaining the upper hand, and he couldn't allow that.
Not when he was so close to finding her, not when he was so close to making her pay for leaving him.
For forcing him to do what he'd had to do.
He slammed the laptop shut; the sound was sharp in the small room.
He strode across the space, his expensive leather loafers scuffing the thin carpet after two weeks on the road.
He needed a new plan, a new angle. The old methods weren't working, and time was running out.
Anna was slipping away, and he might never catch her.
The thought made him seethe. His fists clenched until his nails bit into his palms. His TAG Heuer, the gift from his parents he'd once worn with pride, caught the light, mocking him with its precision. Time ticking away. Her getting farther with every passing second.
No. He wouldn't let that happen. He would find her, even if he had to tear through every state in the Midwest to do it. Even if he had to burn down every little town, question every witness, eliminate anyone who got in his way.
Because she belonged to him. No one, neither his brother with his self-righteous badge nor the police too stupid to connect the dots, and certainly not Anna with her pathetic hiding tricks, would stand in his way.
He moved to the window, pulled back the stained curtain, and stared down at the parking lot. His black Audi sat alone beneath a flickering streetlight. Beyond it, the interstate hummed with traffic heading east and west.
She was out there somewhere, probably feeling safe now, probably thinking she'd won. A smile curved his lips—cold and predatory. She has no idea what’s coming.
He pulled out the burner he'd bought at a gas station, untraceable, and opened the notes app. He'd been documenting everything: her patterns, her friends, the places she'd been. The web of connections he'd built in his head tracked every person who might help her.
Sam's family was a dead end. After the funeral they'd made it obvious he wasn't welcome, their suspicious stares said as much.
Anna's own family had cut her off last year over some petty argument he'd encouraged.
That left Sam's other friends, the ones from that ridiculous horse hobby they'd shared.
He scrolled through names and locations he'd pieced together from social media and from Sam's old emails, accounts he'd accessed before they were shut down. There was that guy: Connor—Connor Whitaker. Sam had mentioned him constantly, some friend who'd moved west to run his family's ranch.
Wyoming? Montana? Colorado? Daniel couldn't remember.
His searches had returned nothing concrete.
The guy had virtually no social media presence, infuriating in this day and age.
No Facebook, no Instagram, nothing but a bare business page for "Whitaker Quarter Horses" with a contact form and no phone number.
Still, Sam's horses had to be somewhere. Estate transfers. Livestock registrations. There had to be a paper trail, he just hadn't found it yet.
His fingers drummed the windowsill as his mind ran through possibilities. Horse shows, where these people congregated, competed, and showed off their animals, were a tight community. Everyone knew everyone.
A slow smile spread across his face.
If Connor was in the business, he'd have a show schedule somewhere. And if Anna was with him, and his gut told him she was, she might surface at a show. Hidden on some ranch now, but eventually they'd have to appear in public, sell horses, or show up on a circuit.
He turned back to his laptop, fingers already moving. Time to research the horse show circuit. Find out where these people gathered. Find Connor Whitaker's schedule.
And when he did, Daniel would be waiting.