Vanishing Act (6 page)

The truck practically drove itself back to her home, the headlights of Nate's car bouncing in her rearview mirror. She tried to search for other cars following them, but could see nothing. It wasn't until she arrived at the garage and
Nate pulled up beside her that their headlights illuminated her worst fear.

Looking up just to make sure she hadn't been mistaken, she swallowed the bile rising in her throat.

Her front door stood wide open.

N
ate's grip on the steering wheel turned his knuckles white, and a low growl eased from deep in his throat. That door standing wide open meant that Danielle was in danger. And it was serious.

His stomach plummeted at just the thought.

He couldn't give her as much help as she needed—couldn't afford to have divided attention. But he could help her in this moment. Dropping his chin to his chest, he whispered a quick prayer. “Lord, please protect Danielle and me tonight. I don't know what I'm about to walk into, but I trust that You can protect us.”

Feeling the adrenaline rushing through his system, he smacked his open palm against the wheel one more time for good measure, jerked his head back up and shoved his car door open. He stomped around to Danielle's truck, where he could see her stricken face through the window.

“Danielle, keep your door locked. I'm going to go in and check it out. Stay here.” He spoke loud enough that she could hear him through the door, but he waited for her to look up and make eye contact before heading in.

“What if there's someone in there?”

He was well protected, but she didn't need to know that. “I'll be fine.”

She nodded weakly.

Slipping to the door, he pushed it farther open with his toe, sliding just inside before tugging his Glock from its shoulder holster. Holding it straight in front of him as he entered the room, his feet moved silently on the floor as he approached the first open door on the far side of the room.

“Hello! Is anyone here?” he called into the darkness. He held his breath, drowning out all distractions as he listened for any sound coming from inside.

No response and no sound.

Reaching into the room, he groped along the wall until his fingers connected with a light switch. He blinked as the light exploded to life. He squinted to adjust to the brightness as he swung around, checking every corner of the small room. Following the wall to the next door, he popped it open, plunging his gun into the small coat closet before he realized what it was. His heart pounded in chest, as though it was trying to break free, anticipation rushing through his veins as he swept to the next closed door.

Methodically he moved from room to room until he was sure the entire house was empty. Very little appeared to be disturbed, except for the stacks of papers on the dining room table. They were strewn across the table and floor, wrinkled and torn.

When he was sure it was safe, he hurried back to the truck and knocked softly on the window. Danielle, whose head had been tucked into her chest, bolted upright.

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the light streaming into the parking area from the still-open door. She jerked the truck's door open and stumbled out, falling into his waiting arms. Her entire body trembled, and he could see that her legs wouldn't hold her on their own.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight until
he felt her arms snake around his waist. She snuggled under his chin, her baby-soft hair catching on his five-o'clock shadow. She took two shaky breaths into his shoulder, then pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. He'd never seen anyone so vulnerable in his entire life and a rushing desire to protect her almost overwhelmed him.

Too bad it wasn't part of his job.

And too bad any feelings he had were doomed from the start. If the legacy his father and grandfather passed down to him wasn't enough to remind him to steer clear of relationships, his own failure surely was. He'd already broken the heart of a college friend, who he had genuinely cared for. There was no way he would pursue a relationship with someone as sweet as Danielle, when it was bound to end badly.

“Are you all right?”

She blinked and swallowed thickly. “I think so. Is—Is it empty?”

“Did you lock it when you left tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” She nodded. “Do you have an attic?” She shook her head. “Then whoever was here is gone.” He rubbed his hands over her upper arms and shoulders to warm her and bolster her courage. The sensations running through his body were an unexpected bonus. “Let's go inside.”

He kept his hand on her back as she walked through the doorway then carefully guided her toward the bedroom he had checked out. Even the closet was safe. “Why don't you get comfortable? I'll make you something hot to drink.” She nodded mutely and wandered off in the direction of her bedroom, while Nate headed to the kitchen.

Opening the white cupboard doors, he hunted for coffee. Instant, whole beans, decaf, regular. It didn't really matter
to him. He just needed a hot mug. Coffee had become a friend over the years, a warm source of comfort. He always thought more clearly with a cup of joe in his hands.

And maybe it would keep him from trying to hold Danielle while he should be trying to figure out who was after her—no! Actually he was supposed to be figuring out where Nora was.

But Danielle needed his help tonight. And he could spare a night for a friend. Right?

“Danielle? Where's your coffee?” he called to the other end of the apartment when his search came up empty.

“I don't have any! I never drink the stuff!” she yelled back.

“You've got to be kidding me,” he muttered to himself.

What was wrong with this girl? Well, at least it would help him keep any truant feelings in check. Even if every potential relationship wasn't slated for failure, he'd never end up with someone who didn't drink coffee.

He'd survive until he got home. For now, he'd make do with tea for both of them.

 

Danielle's arms felt like lead as she opened dresser drawers looking for something more comfortable to wear. Her chest burned, a common sensation. Fear seemed to be doing this to her a lot lately. And she didn't like it at all.

Who had been in her home? Why were they there? Was this related to her past? To Portland?

She'd lived with uncertainty for a long time, checking around corners, wondering if and when someone would recognize her. Maybe it was unreasonable to think that she'd instantly be able to trust new acquaintances like Nate. But why was she having such a hard time trusting that God would protect her?

She knelt by her bed and rested her elbows on the bedspread.
God, I can handle this. I know I can. But I really hate being afraid the way I've been the past couple of days. If there's really someone following me, please keep me safe.

When she finally shuffled out of her bedroom wearing a fresh pair of exercise pants and a huge Andy's Auto sweatshirt, Nate was kneeling on the floor, picking up the mess of papers that had been stacked on her table when she left earlier that day. He looked up to meet her eyes, and her insides squirmed.

Offering a wavering smile, she bent to help him.

“Can you tell if anything's missing?” he asked.

Her head swiveled slowly, but nothing else seemed to be out of place. Her small television and DVD player were unmoved. She kept a safe in her bedroom closet with her personal papers and ID, and she'd confirmed that it was intact as well. “I don't think so. What do you think it means if they didn't take anything?”

“I don't know.” His blue-gray eyes flashed kindly, and he offered a hesitant smile. “What are these papers?”

“Just receipts from the shop. Notes from Andy to clients. That kind of stuff. It's all for work.”

Just then the teapot whistled loudly from the kitchen, and she jumped, nearly landing in his arms for the second time that night. But she would have no more of that. Squaring her shoulders, she stood and turned to the kitchen. “Would you like some tea?”

“Sure.” He didn't sound overly enthusiastic, but he stood as well.

He followed closely behind her, and her heart pounded erratically in her chest. The teapot whistle must have surprised her more than she thought.

Danielle pulled two mugs and two teabags out of the
cupboard, then poured boiling water over the bag in each one. She dunked the bags several times then threw them away. Handing Nate a cup, she sipped gingerly on hers as she led him back into the living room.

The room felt oppressively silent as neither of them said a word. She tried to read his thoughts through his wrinkled brow and squinted eyes, but he just looked like he was doing a particularly difficult math problem. His eyes seemed lost somewhere in the bottom of his mug, and he was in no hurry to end the silence.

Trying to camouflage her perusal of him, she took another sip and peeked at him over the pink mug. His shoulders were broad, and he stood with unerringly good posture. Strong arms and hands matched sturdy legs and feet. He looked like he belonged in the room—actually like he owned the room.

But she still couldn't tell what he was thinking.

Silence reigned for another few minutes—the only sound the occasional sip and swallow as they drank their tea. It rang in her ears, making her feel alone, even though she could see Nate sitting four feet in front of her.

“What are you thinking?” she finally blurted out.

“Huh?” He looked confused and surprised for a moment, as though he'd forgotten she was there. “Oh. Just wondering if you're going to call the cops.”

“Umm… I… Well, I don't think anything was taken. It was probably just some neighborhood kids playing around.” The quiver in her voice nearly gave her away, but she swallowed quickly, covering her uncertainty.

His forehead wrinkled. “Still…maybe you should.”

She nodded noncommittally. “I suppose you're right….”

The problem was, she couldn't afford to have them come out. What if they asked too many questions? What if they
demanded to see her ID? What if they discovered that she wasn't who she said she was?

Too many what-ifs. Too many risks.

He took another large gulp from his mug, finally setting it on the counter. “You don't seem too eager to get the police over here.” The corner of his mouth quirked up as if he had a secret.

“Let's just say that the Crescent City Police Department and I aren't on the best of terms.”

“Parking tickets?”

She shrugged, letting him think whatever he wanted to.

“That explains the bike.” He laughed. She chuckled at that, too. “So, you're calmer now?”

“Thanks. Yeah, I'm good.”

“Then I'll get out of your hair. Thanks for the tea.” He said the end of the sentence almost as though it was a dirty word.

“Thanks for everything. Thanks for following me home.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners and he reached out to squeeze her shoulder before walking toward the front door. “No problem. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Okay.”

With that he turned and closed the locked door behind him.

 

“Hi, Heather,” Nate said the next morning, after looking at the screen on his cell phone and answering the call. “How's everything at the office?”

“Good.”

“Anything to report?”

“Not really, sir. Myles and Kenzie just got back from their honeymoon. Myles will be in tomorrow, and Kenzie
called to say they had made it back from their cruise and were settling into the new house.”

Heather continued talking about the sometimes sickeningly sweet lovebirds, while his mind wondered to the night before, to Danielle's face when she first saw her apartment door standing wide open.

She'd tried so hard to look like she had it all together, but he had a gut feeling she was faking at least part of her bravado. She'd collapsed into him, her body shaking from head to toe. And, truth be told, he'd been shaken up by the turn of events as well.

So even though he knew he needed to check out a couple more bike shops and a few other churches in town, he'd sat in his parked car outside her apartment until the sun came up that morning to make sure that she didn't get any more uninvited guests. All had been peaceful, but something about Danielle's situation still didn't sit right with him. Even so, he just couldn't focus on her small-town concerns—even if he wanted to. He had bigger fish to fry.

“Nate?” Heather's voice sounded concerned.

“Hmm?” He'd missed whatever she was asking him.

“I said, ‘Did you need something?'”

He'd called and left her a voicemail as he was leaving Danielle's. He'd thought it couldn't hurt to check out a couple of the guys in his class that were hassling Danielle. “Yes, I need you to run background checks on these two names. Ridley Grant and Kirk Banner.”

“You think one of these guys might be the Shadow?”

“Probably not—they seem too amateur. But they've been hassling someone I keep running into.”

“Mmm-hmm. ‘Someone you keep running into?' Tell me about her. Where'd you meet?”

Heather's insinuation was obvious by her tone and, for
some reason he couldn't name, it got under his skin more than her usual teasing. “Do I need to remind you that you're speaking to your supervisor?”

Her laugh twinkled lightly over the phone. “I have every respect for your position as the Special Agent in Charge. But may I remind you that we've been friends for nearly ten years. I know you better than you think.”

Clearing his throat, Nate barked, “Then you ought to know that I'm not looking for anything other than Ms. James and the man who's after her in Crescent City. Long-term relationships in my family don't work, and I have no interest in getting mixed up in anything that's doomed from the start.” His voice turned razor-sharp. “So do me a favor and quit acting like I'm not paying attention to my assignment. And run those names for me.”

“Sure thing, Boss.” Heather's voice was still laced with laughter, and he grumbled to himself as he slammed the phone shut.

Where on earth would Heather get such a crazy idea about him and Danielle? She didn't even know Danielle's name. Their relationship was strictly coincidental. Even after he wrapped up this case, there wouldn't be anything between them, no matter how cute and funny the mechanic was.