Vanishing Act (3 page)

He sighed into his hands and blanched at the acrid smell of his own morning breath. He felt his pockets for a stick of
gum, but remembered that he'd left the pack in the center console of his car—which he saw through the window was being worked on by the pretty, young mechanic who stood holding a light deep under the hood.

He'd seen plenty of women mechanics in his life but never one quite so cute. That was really the only word to describe her slightly rounded face and innocent brown eyes. Brown hair bobbed around her shoulders and she pushed her bangs out of her eyes as she shifted the light to her other hand and used a wrench to loosen a bolt.

Suddenly she dropped her arms and locked eyes with him. Through the window he felt the intensity of her stare as though she had caught him doing something wrong. He held her gaze for a moment, until she let her eyes fall down and the moment was gone. Not sure exactly what had been lost, Nate decided to put it aside and focus on finding a mint or stick of gum. Eventually he'd have to talk with the woman—she'd said her name was Danielle—and when he did, he didn't want it to be an altogether unpleasant experience for the both of them.

He walked across the small room to the service counter. The chair behind it was empty even though a glance at his watch told him it was nearly eight-thirty. Someone was running late.

Peeking his head over the counter, he spied a small plastic bowl of candy. Just as his fingers wrapped around a plastic-wrapped peppermint, the main door of the office opened with an obnoxious squeak.

“We don't keep any money back there, Mister.”

Nate spun around to face a rather short woman flanked by silver crutches that looked to be several inches too tall for her, causing her arms to stick out at odd angles.

Dramatically contrite for being caught red-handed, Nate hung his head slightly and held up both hands, pinching the
mint between his thumb and forefinger. “I was just looking for a mint. Morning breath.”

“Oh.” The middle-aged woman shrugged and hobbled across the slick tile floor, the rubber tips of her crutches slipping with each step. She glanced toward the window where Danielle closed the hood of his car then wiped her hands on a greasy rag as she stepped through the door connecting the garage and the waiting room. “Better pop that in before Danielle gets in here. She hates morning breath.”

Nate let out a chuckle, not quite sure if the woman was teasing him or if Danielle really did have a vendetta against bad breath. Figuring his first instinct was definitely right, he quickly unwrapped it and popped the fresh-tasting candy into his mouth in the nick of time.

“Well, Mr. Andersen, it looks like you cracked your transmission pan, but that's all. It'll only cost a couple hundred bucks to replace it, but I don't have a spare part in the garage. I'll have to order it, and it could be a few days. I'm sorry.” Danielle's face filled with compassion at the same time he could feel a frown spreading across his face.

He jabbed his hand through his cropped hair. This was definitely not part of the plan, but he didn't have any choice but to take it in stride. Try to be flexible. Admittedly not his strongest trait.

He could call a regional bureau office. They could get him a replacement car within a day. They would also draw completely unnecessary attention to him, possibly jeopardizing his ability to get the job done under the radar.

Pushing the candy into his cheek, he sighed. “Okay. I guess this town isn't that big anyway. I can walk wherever I need to go until it's fixed. Do you have a shuttle that could drop me off at my apartment?”

Nate followed Danielle's glance over his shoulder to the receptionist noisily settling into her chair behind the counter. “Gretchen?” A lilt in her tone changed Danielle's question into pleading.

The other woman held up her hands. “No can do. Jimmy dropped me off this morning. I can't do any driving until my ankle heals. Doctor's orders.” She paused for a moment, obviously assessing Nate from head to toe. “But I'll watch the garage until you get back.”

“Thanks,” Danielle said, in a tone that indicated she meant anything but. With a nod toward the exit she continued, “Come on, then. I'll take you wherever you need to go.”

Nate quickly followed, waving his thanks at Gretchen. “I just need to grab my bag out of my car.” He hurried to retrieve the nondescript, black duffel bag from the backseat. Running his fingers over the side pocket, he confirmed that the file with his assignment information was still tucked safely inside, then he walked out through the raised garage door.

Danielle pulled a beat-up truck with the Andy's Auto logo on the door to a stop next to him, and he hopped in. “Thanks for dropping me off.”

“No problem. Where is it?”

“The Eagle's Den apartments. Do you know where that is?”

“Sure.”

She kept both hands—delicate, fair-skinned hands that looked like they had no business working on cars—on the wheel as she expertly maneuvered through the side streets to arrive at the apartment complex. He had selected them specifically because they offered clean, furnished apartments. Nate calculated how much attention it would draw,
and the Eagle's Den had passed his preliminary inspection. The apartment would do nicely—but not too nicely.

After several minutes, the silence seemed a bit awkward. “So how long have you worked at the garage?” Nate said finally.

“Awhile.” Then, as though she thought he was fishing for her credentials, she added, “Long enough to be good at my job.”

“So you like it.”

She shrugged, keeping her eyes straight ahead. “Sure. Andy and Gretchen are great.”

Suddenly she whipped around a corner and they were at the front office of the complex.

“You can drop me here,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

Truthfully he didn't know which apartment was his yet. It was his first trip there, so he had no idea where to direct her. “Definitely. No problem.” He scooted out of the cab and handed her a slip of paper. “My phone number. So you can call me when the car is done.”

“Thanks.” She flapped the paper in agreement before accelerating out of the parking lot.

Nate chuckled. She was one strange girl. Evasive with every answer. Obviously a pro under the hood. And adorable as could be.

After checking in at the office and finding his new, temporary home, he sank down onto the dark brown couch in his living room. Flipping open his phone and the assignment folder at the same time, he speed-dialed the number 9, and a familiar voice immediately sounded on the other end of the line.

“Andersen. What's your status?” Mitch Hollingsworth, his supervisor, asked.

“Just got to my apartment. My car broke down just
outside of Crescent City, but I'm here now. The car'll be fixed in a couple days.”

“What are you going to do until then?”

“I'm going to enroll in the community college. Our guy on the inside said that the Shadow has been snooping around the campus. He's obviously a step ahead right now, and I can't afford not to know what he knows. It's the biggest entity in town, so most of the grapevines will run through there. I'm bound to pick up something that either leads me to the Shadow or Nora.” He scrubbed a weary hand across his face. “I'm also going to try to find the church she attends and see what's going on there. I'll check into bike clubs and such. It's not that big of a town so it can't be that hard to find the girl.”

Mitch sighed. “Parker James could be the most important witness the state has ever had against Goodwill. His daughter has to be found.”

“I know, sir.” Nate felt the weight of reality settle once again on his shoulders. He knew the gravity of the situation. They'd already lost one man to a stray bullet in pursuit of Goodwill's conviction in that dark alley a-year-and-a-half before.

Mitch exhaled and said exactly what Nate already knew to be true. “If you don't find the James girl and the Shadow, he'll make sure Parker won't testify against him. Ever.”

T
he phone in her kitchen rang obnoxiously as Danielle heaved two bags of groceries on the counter. “Hello?” she panted into the receiver.

“Danielle, it's Andy.”

She almost returned the smile she always heard from her boss through the phone line, but this time his voice was quiet, sad. Andy McDougal's typically exuberant self didn't produce a smile this morning.

“Is something wrong?”

“Well…” Andy's voice trailed off, tattling that he was going to ask a favor. He never failed to start requests in the same way, but whatever he needed, she'd gladly offer it. “See, my mom's had a fall. Broke her right wrist and sprained her ankle bad.”

“Oh, Andy. I'm so sorry to hear that.” Danielle had often wondered if Andy was still a bachelor at forty-seven because his mother needed him so often, and he never complained about dropping everything to travel two hundred miles to help her. “I'll be happy to cover the shop for you if you need to go visit her.”

“Thanks. I knew I could count on you.”

“Anything you need. You know I'm here for you.” Andy
had been her only family since she moved to Crescent City, and she had only loved one man on earth more.

Blinking furiously at the tears that sprung to her eyes at the sudden reminder of her own failure, she cleared her throat. Her cowardice had cost her her entire world.

She'd failed in the past, but not this time. Swiping at her eyes with the back of her hands one more time, she rubbed against the burning in her eyes. “Is there something else you need me to do while you're out of town?”

Andy sighed softly and started another sentence. “Well…actually there is something else. You know how I've been teaching the Intro to Auto Shop class at the college?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Andy left work at four-fifteen every Tuesday and Thursday for the last two weeks to teach at the Crescent City Community College. She knew firsthand that he was a great teacher, but what could it possibly have to do with her?

“While I'm with my mom, there's no one at the college to cover the class, so I was wondering if you might be able to fill in for me. You could close the shop early, and it should only be for a couple a weeks. Just four classes or so.”

“Oh.” It was the only sound that Danielle could manage in her shocked state. Andy knew her better than anyone. After all, it was Andy who gave her a place to live and a job, teaching her how to be a mechanic when she'd had to start over. He knew just how long it had taken her to open up to him, to get comfortable talking with him.

She hated talking in front of people. Hated being the center of attention. What if someone recognized her? What if someone knew her past? Knew that she'd left her father to die in an alley more than a year before?

Her life was all about blending into the crowd, matching the flowers on the walls. It had to be.

Teaching a class in the largest community in town, wasn't blending. Not by any stretch of her imagination.

She hated letting him down, but she just couldn't risk putting herself on display.

She'd had dreams of the gunman in the alley night after night when she first arrived in Crescent City. It had taken her months to realize that he probably wasn't coming after her. Whatever Goodwill had wanted from her had died with her dad.

But what if she was wrong? What if there was someone out there still looking for her?

“Andy, I'm sorry. I just can't.”

“Danielle, I know this isn't easy for you, but I'm begging you. Please. There's no one else even remotely qualified to fill in for me, and there's no one else to look after Mom. I have to go.”

Taking a deep, calming breath, she said, “Let me think about it a little while. I'll call you back.”

After hanging up, she plopped onto a kitchen chair and stared at the receiver in her hand. What could Andy possibly be thinking asking her to teach a class?

He was her best friend. Her
only
friend. And she really wanted to help him.

But it meant putting a big target on her back.

Hanging her head, so low that her chin rested on her chest and her brown locks fell in front of her face, she rubbed the ends between her fingers thinking about everything she'd done to disguise herself. The short hair, which she'd promptly dyed a deep chestnut color after leaving Portland. The colored contacts to cover her uniquely golden eyes. She'd even dropped about fifteen pounds.

That had been by accident, of course. Too much stress and she couldn't eat.

She was barely recognizable as Nora Marie James—even to herself.

So why am I afraid that someone else will recognize me?

Deep in her heart she heard a voice telling her that she didn't have to be afraid. She knew that voice, trusted it, but still… “God, if You want me to do this for Andy, You'll have to give me the strength.”

As she fell silent, an inexplicable peace filled her heart, and she knew that she could do this for Andy—no matter the cost.

 

As Nate strolled the ten short blocks from his apartment to downtown Crescent City, brightly colored posters adorned the window of every barber shop and country store. He stopped to read one. Immediately a middle-aged man in an apron walked to the open door of his woodworking business.

Nodding to the vibrant poster, he asked, “You in a band? I hear they're still looking for groups for the battle of the bands at the college.”

The other man's eyes traveled up the road, and Nate's gaze immediately followed. “Nope. Just curious about what's going on.”

“There's a big bulletin board up at the quad at the college. They post just about everything happening in town there.”

“Do you know if they're still accepting students?”

The little man pointed a stubby finger at another flyer, which announced that college registration was still open, and community members were welcome to sign up for two more days.

If he weren't consumed with the task before him, he would have liked to see what some of the other posters
offered—theater, concerts and martial arts classes—but he didn't have time for any of that. Crescent City wasn't a vacation destination. Nora James was his sole reason for being here. He had to find her—and the Shadow.

Doubt flickered through his mind for a split second. What if Nora wasn't here? What if this entire mission was a wild-goose chase?

He shook his head and tried to clear away his misgivings. He'd done exactly what he was supposed to. He'd followed the only tip they had. Better to send someone after the girl than let the Shadow have her without a fight.

“Thanks,” he said, waving to the man, as he headed farther into town.

As the special agent in charge of the Portland bureau office, Nate didn't get much field time anymore, and he missed it. Most days overflowed with paperwork and bureaucratic meetings. The wind blowing in his face and the sound of his shoes clapping along the cement sidewalk built excitement in his soul as he picked up speed.

Nate shot up a quick prayer of thankfulness that he hadn't had another field agent to send on the assignment. Myles Borden was on his honeymoon. Heather Sloan was stuck in the office following hip surgery. And Jack Spitz was stuck in a car on stakeout for another case he was working.

He lifted his face to the warm sun. Man, this felt good.

Torn from his thoughts by an annoying ring from his cell phone, he pulled it from the back pocket of his jeans. The display told him that it was coming from Heather's cell phone. “What's up?”

“Have you talked to Mitch yet?”

“We talked yesterday.”

She sighed audibly. “Okay. I just remembered that he
called the office and wanted me to have you call him. I forgot to tell you.” She sounded a little sheepish.

“No problem.”

Silence reigned for several long seconds. What was making her so hesitant to speak?

“Heather, what going on?”

She sighed. “It's Jack. He's driving me nuts every time he's in the office. When are you coming back?”

He laughed. Why did adults—moreover, adults with law degrees—insist on acting like kids? “I won't be gone long. I figure I've got two weeks at the most. Longer than that, and I've lost her to the Shadow. And I've lost Parker, too.” But failure wasn't an option in this case. “I'll be home in ten days. Twelve, tops.”

The college buildings loomed large a couple blocks ahead. The big gray buildings seemed out of place among the quaint shops of downtown, but it was still the hub of the community. He needed to get connected and figure out what the Shadow knew that he didn't.

“Hang in there, Sloan,” he offered in his best special-agent-in-charge voice. “I'm almost to the community college, and registration for classes is still open. I might as well see what courses are still open and get plugged in.”

“Sure thing.”

More than twenty students formed a line leading up to the window in the registrar's office as Nate stepped into the line. Most of them fanned themselves with white and green forms.

“I can't believe this crowd,” the teen girl in front of him complained to her friend, an equally young and blonde student.

“Seriously. The add/drop deadline isn't until tomorrow. You'd think more people would wait 'til the last minute.”

Starting to get antsy after thirty minutes in line, he
finally put his mind on the case and thought through the articles in the case file. It held exactly two pictures of Nora. One was a chubby ten-year-old with long blond hair and brilliant, golden hazel eyes. He bet she didn't look a whole lot like that picture anymore. The other picture was from her driver's license, taken at least ten years before. She had a round face and the same blond hair, just with slightly older features.

But the eyes were the same. He'd never seen that color before—like churning, molten gold with flecks of brown. Stunning.

The team had collected two pictures of her. That was all that were left after a house fire, or so he'd been told. Friends and extended family had been no help. Apparently Nora wasn't a fan of being caught on film.

“Next.”

Nate looked in front of him, expecting the next person to step forward, but there was no one there. “Oh,” he jumped, hurrying toward the frowning woman behind the counter. “Good morning.” He smiled widely, but she refused to return it.

“Add or drop?”

“Excuse me?” Obviously there was a language to college that he didn't remember. He'd lost a lot in the seven years since he was in law school.

The bushy-haired woman rolled her eyes at him. “Do you want to add a class or drop one?”

“Add one. What do you have open?”

She glared hard at him, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening. He smiled apologetically, but it didn't seem to help, her voice gruff as she read from her computer screen, “Auto Mechanics 101. German 200. Math 72, 82 and 120.” She rattled off a few other options before saying, “The rest have prerequisites. If you have your transcript, I can
approve you for the others. Otherwise, it's too late for you to sign up for them.”

He shrugged, uncertain of which class to sign up for. None of these options really suited his academic background. But he reminded himself he wasn't in it for the education. Sure, his J.D.—actually his bachelor's or master's—qualified him for most of the classes offered at CCCC. But he wasn't in it for the education.

The lady on the other side of the desk strummed her fingers on the counter, her lips pursed unhappily.

He needed to make a decision.

Auto Mechanics 101? Danielle's pretty face immediately popped to mind. It wasn't very often he saw a cute mechanic, and there probably wouldn't be anyone like her in the class. But it sounded pretty basic, and it could come in handy considering his recent car trouble. Plus it would be easier to talk to other students in the open forum rather than a typical lecture setting.

“Let's do the auto shop class.”

Five minutes and one credit card swipe later, Nate was signed up for his first community college class that night. He just had time to get home, change clothes and grab a bite to eat before heading back for the class.

 

Danielle rubbed her forearms briskly through her light corduroy jacket. While it had been an unusually warm fall, a stiff breeze this evening brought a cold front and possible snow to the mountains according to the local weatherman. Hurrying toward the building that housed the auto shop, she prayed for courage.

“Lord, please give me Your strength.” Then silently she pleaded for safety. Being noticed was the first step to being recognized, and she couldn't go back to her old life. Crescent City meant safety and anonymity, save the select few
friends she'd made. But standing in front of a classroom took away that security.

But she'd promised Andy.

She clenched her fist to still the trembling before pushing at the large metal door with the number 102 stenciled above it. It squeaked loudly on its hinges.

Great way to sneak in and hope the students wouldn't notice her right away. She'd been hoping for a couple more minutes to bolster her courage, but every eye in the room turned on her as her work boots clomped on the cement floor and she walked toward the teacher's desk.

With one more silent plea for courage, she turned around and faced them. In her mind she had imagined them all scowling at her, but as she looked at the thirteen men and three women in the class, she saw mostly smiles and friendly nods.

These were her Crescent City neighbors, built of the same stock as Andy. They shared grocery stores and gas stations, and she had probably worked on their cars. They weren't Goodwill's men, or even from Portland. They didn't know about her past. They didn't know about her dad's murder in the alley.

Just the thought of that night made her chest tighten and her heart speed up, but there was no time to dwell on the past or her part in letting her dad die.