Page 48 of Safe
He stared at me in disbelief, and I saw his jaw tighten that way it does when he’s furious. “Let it go? You want me to just let her tell her fucking detective brother everything, and what? Rot in prison for the rest of my life?”
I shook my head, flicking ash into the tray. “You’re going to end up there either way. The cops are already after you for what you did to her. I’m sure she’s told them the whole story by now. If you kidnap her or, God forbid, do anything worse, it’s just going to make things worse.”
His eyes narrowed. “Not if I can get her to say it was all a lie.”
I could see in his eyes that he was unraveling. That wild, vacant stare had grown more intense with each passing day, and today, it was unsettling. Did he really believe he could fix all of this? That Danielle might just drop it if he tried hard enough, or forced her to? Deep down, he had to know he’d crossed a line that there was no coming back from. There was nothing he could do now that would simply erase what had happened. At best, he was buying time, delaying the inevitable. Sooner or later, he was going to get caught, and there’d be no escaping the consequences.
Just then, the laptop dinged. I turned to the laptop, a single line of new information lighting up the screen, and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
Landon bolted upright. “What is it?” he demanded, almost leaping off the bed.
“Shut the fuck up,” I snapped, staring in disbelief. “We just got a hit on Danielle’s credit card.”
Landon sprang into action, fumbling for his shoes, a manic glint in his eyes. “Where was it used? Where is she?”
“It was a convenience store in Grand Junction,” I told him, still processing. “But Landon, the chances of actually finding her now, come on, it’s almost impossible.”
He shot me a hard look, uncaring. “I don’t give a shit what you think, Thomas. I’m going to the airport.”
Without another word, he snatched up his keys and stormed out the door, leaving me staring at the information on the screen and wondering what, if anything, I should do to stop him.
There was nothing I could do but stare at the glowing computer screen, wondering what the hell Landon thought he was going to accomplish. Alex would never have let Danielle go anywhere alone, so who the fuck was she with? And what did Landon think his next move would be? The thought made me sick. I couldn’t keep sitting on the sidelines, letting this spiral further out of control. He’d already gone too far, but now the fear that he’d push it all the way was real. He might even kill her.
Peering through the cheap, thin curtains, I watched Landon race to get into his car. He was so god damn single-minded. At this point, I knew that stopping him might require something I wasn’t prepared to do, but there was no other option left. The weight of that reality pressed down on me as I sat back on the bed, fixated on the credit card alert.
I picked at a slice of cold pizza and contemplated my next move before lighting another cigarette with shaky hands. After taking my time, savoring every puff down to the filter, I grabbed my phone and dialed Landon, hoping I could get through to him one last time.
He picked up after a moment. “Hello?”
“What are you going to do to her?”
There was a long stretch of tense silence. “Whatever it takes to get her to fix all this. She’s going to be with me. I’m not going to prison.”
He made me fucking sick. “Landon, that’s insane.”
He hung up.
I stared at my phone for a moment, numb, realizing there was no getting through to him anymore. Landon was too far gone. There was no point in staying; I was done here, done with all of this. Moving on autopilot, I packed my laptop and tossed my clothes into my duffel bag. After months of hiding out in this cramped hotel room, I checked out as quietly as I arrived and went home. Nobody knew I was involved, and I intended to keep it that way.
The next morning, I woke up and had a new sense of clarity. I got out of bed, showered, shaved, got dressed, and left the house. As I stepped outside, I lit another cigarette and headed downtown.
Life moved around me as if nothing had changed. No one noticed me as shoppers wandered the storefronts, some laughing with friends as they carried their bags. Couples strolled hand-in-hand, sharing stories about their week. Warm light spilled out onto the street from the alleyways between buildings, and the scents drifting from the corner bakery were rich and inviting. I realized that it had been ages since I’d had a real meal that didn’t come out of a greasy bag or a battered cardboard box in some anonymous hotel.
That’s when the aroma from inside Cafe Nola crossed my path, and my mouth began to water. On impulse, I walked inside, drawn by the smell of an actual, decent meal. It was the kind of place you wouldn’t expect to find in this little town. It was quaint and cozy, yet somehow charming and upscale for a brunch joint. Its walls were lined with fancy bottles, and candles flickered on each small table.
A young waitress, college-aged, approached me with a welcoming smile. She wore pressed black dress pants and a crisp tuxedo shirt, complete with a bowtie. “What can I get you to drink?” she asked.
I glanced at the drink list, deciding on a rare moment of indulgence. “A mimosa, please.”
I relaxed at my table for over an hour, savoring what felt like the best mimosas I’d ever tasted. Yet even that couldn’t hold a candle to the food. The Italian Benedict was impeccable, with its smoked capicola and velvety poached eggs wrapped in a blanket of perfect Hollandaise sauce. Even better were the fried brunch potatoes, which melted in my mouth despite their crispy exterior. It was the most incredible meal I’d had in a long time, and not just because I knew it was my one last moment of peace.
Stuffed and beginning to feel the buzz, I paid the check and stepped out into the cool afternoon air, feeling satisfied and strangely unburdened. I was full and content, and as I wove through the busy city streets, it struck me that this long, desperate chapter of my life was over.
I climbed the worn steps of an old concrete building, each footfall feeling lighter than the last as the exhaustion I’d been carrying for months seemed to fade. When I stepped inside and dropped my bag in the corner, I knew I was ready to sleep guilt-free again.
I approached the reception desk.
“Can I help you?” The officer asked, glancing up.
