Captured by Tina Johansen

practically fucking in the pictures he thought, remembering angrily how she had been so careful to avoid being seen in public with him . It was no problem for her now.
    He had spoken to her three days ago and she hadn’t mentioned a word about this guy. He opened maps.com and searched for some of the places mentioned in the photo captions. They were all in Laos, but they were spread out across the entire country. There was no way she had covered that distance in three days. She was lying to him!
     
    He had left work that evening in a state of apoplexy, and couldn’t remember the Tube journey home. It took all his power to sit still when he felt like barrelling through the thronged carriage and hurtling everyone off the train. He felt impotent: she was making a mockery of him, and there was nothing he could do. He didn’t even know where she was! Although... a glimmer of clarity was alight in the back of his mind. She had mentioned that she’d be meeting Grace soon, in Bangkok. She was flying down a few days in advance of Grace’s arrival. Had she said we? The sneaky bitch. He thought back to their conversation but couldn’t remember, although he was almost sure that she had. Parading it right in front of him.
    He raced home from the Tube station and booked the first flight out to Bangkok, which left the following morning.
    His sleep was disturbed that night; rage intensifying by the minute. Groggy, he had made his way to the airport, checked in and boarded the flight. He still hadn’t slept when he arrived in Bangkok. When he finally reached his hotel, he fell forward onto the bed fully clothed, and slept for eleven hours straight.
    By then, his rage had dissipated. He was thinking clearly now, realising the folly of action without preparation. It was something he had lectured himself not to do, ever since that moonless night sixteen years ago. Now here he was, trying to rectify the results of his impulsiveness for the second time in three days.

Chapter 15
     
    “Think, man,” Daniel said aloud, to the bustling city far below. He was standing on his balcony on the fiftieth floor; the penthouse suite. He was wracking his brains, trying to come up with a plan. I’d be a lot different this time, he reasoned. It was a marathon, not a sprint. He shook his head, wondering why he had suddenly started thinking in business jargon. Why was it so difficult to think clearly?
    He knew the answer: she was getting to him. It had been easy at first; he had seen straight away that she was bored with her humdrum life. Why wouldn’t she be, going out with that loser and spending all of her time either cooped up in the office with waste-of-space-Jones or with the loser. Or with that mouthy lawyer friend of hers. Daniel had met her only a handful of times, and wanted to keep it that way. He found her too intense; her clever eyes probing his thoughts in a way he didn’t like. He had felt like she could see right through him. She couldn’t, of course: if she had been able to, he would be locked up forever, of that he had no doubt.
    Once he’d snared Kirsty’s attention, a curious thing had happened: she had captivated his. It took him a while to realise that he wasn’t putting on an act around her; it was the closest he had come to normal in his entire life.
    He had thought that telling her about Simon would push her closer to him, and he had been right. Initially at least. He had quickly taken Simon’s place in her life, and it was all going swimmingly, until that mouthy cow went and put ideas into her head about travelling. Then she was off, ditching him unceremoniously.
    Plan of action , he thought. He was still at a loss.
     
    He had already called work and announced that he had broken an ankle and would be working from home for a while, choosing to tell Susan. If she exaggerated, as he knew she would, he could legitimately stay away for several weeks. He congratulated himself on having the clear-headedness the morning before