Vanishing Act (8 page)

Frantically she tried to look behind her to signal a passing car for help.

And then she saw it. A large navy blue SUV pulling up behind her.

At first she thought the driver saw that she was in
distress. But then it pulled so close that she could feel the engine's heat on her back through her jacket. It was tailing her. Someone had sabotaged her bike. And now they were going to finish the job!

She pumped the pedals faster, trying to pull away from vehicle, but knowing that she was no match for the big engine. It was useless. She just didn't have a choice. She had to get through this.

“God, please don't let this be the end. Let me make it through this. Please.” The words sounded ragged between her gulping breaths.

Of course she hadn't told anyone where she was going. Why hadn't she called Nate and asked him to take her to the gym instead of riding her bike? He'd said to call if she needed anything.

The SUV backed off for a moment, and she let out the breath that seemed to choke her. Then the engine revved loudly as it pulled even with her and sidled up next to the bike. It was a Ford Explorer with tinted windows, so she couldn't see the driver, who had maneuvered the car to within an arm's length of Danielle.

She let out a little yelp as it slid an inch closer.

Maybe she needed help, but there was no one!

God, protect me,
she silently prayed just before cranking the handlebar toward the ditch.

E
very bit of Danielle's body screamed in pain.

She tried to gather enough force in her lungs to actually scream out loud, but she couldn't seem to catch her breath. She choked and coughed until she managed a slight wheeze, but still the tightness in her chest was almost unbearable.

Gathering her bearings, she tried to push herself up, but the cold ground beneath her was a trap from which she couldn't escape. Blades of crisp grass poked her back through her sweatshirt, and dirt and chlorine assaulted her nose. Her skin itched as she tried to push herself up again.

The blue Explorer would be on her if she didn't get up. She had to hurry.

Despite her body's reluctance to move at her prodding, she managed to roll over and arch her back enough that she could see the edge of the pavement above. She couldn't see anything else, but she heard car tires send gravel on the shoulder flying. Maybe someone had seen the accident and was braking to stop and help her.

She let her head rest back on the ground, ignoring the dead grass she was sure was already sticking out of her ponytail, waiting patiently for someone's help.

But several seconds ticked by, and the car that she
expected to see still wasn't visible from this angle. Managing a deeper tilt of her head, she tried to see what was going on on the road, but the movement produced nothing interesting and only caused her back to spasm wildly.

What if no one saw her? What if she was out in the cold all day and night?

Angling her arm to her back, she groaned as she reached for her gym bag, only to realize it wasn't still hanging around her shoulders. The bag and its contents were strewn across the ditch several feet away. Her wet towel and red one-piece suit lay like odd clumps of wild flowers. Then the sun glinted off of what she assumed were the pieces of her dismembered cell phone.

Could this get any worse?

Of course she could take care of herself, but at some point—like this precise moment—it would be nice to be able to call a friend. Or at least Nate.

And then she heard the sound of gravel crunching. Another car? She looked up far enough to see a pair of tennis shoes and jean-clad legs standing beside the blue Explorer.

Blood pounded through her veins and thunder roared in her ears. Dark spots danced before her eyes as she tried to push herself up, and she knew she was toast. Whoever was standing on the side of the road right now had tried to kill her, and he was coming back to make sure he got the job done right this time. And here she was, helpless.

“God, please let me get through this,” she whispered desperately.

Like a tidal wave, adrenaline swept through her body, and Danielle jumped to her feet, pain not even registering. Her heart pumped and her limbs moved of their own accord.

She didn't take the time to get a good look at her pursuer.
Instead she spun and sprinted into the woods behind her. It wasn't until she was more than fifty yards into the trees that she ventured a glance over her shoulder to see if she was still being followed.

A thin man in a black jacket, red baseball cap pulled low over his features and jeans entered the woods and ran after her at full force.

Danielle urged her limbs to keep moving, but the initial energy burst began to fade, and her muscles felt weak. Roots jumped out of the ground, and she stumbled over them.

Her mind searched for an answer, a place to hide. Where could she go? The garage was much too far away. Anyway, her key was back in her gym bag or somewhere in the middle of the ditch. Andy didn't live too far, but he was out of town. Of course! This was just her life.

Was there even a safe place for her to hide?

She dodged a large branch jutting out in her path only to catch her toe on a large root, which sent her flying to the ground. Piles of red and yellow leaves barely cushioned her fall and she let out a loud grunt.

The palms of her hands stung and her knee felt bruised, her ankle tender. For a split second she considered staying put, just lying on the ground, waiting for her pursuer to find her. Then this would all be over.

She wouldn't have to live in fear anymore.

She wouldn't be living at all.

That thought jerked her back up to her feet, renewing her energy. With a swift glance at the figure gaining ground behind her, she shot forward.

“Lord, I don't want to die yet. Please don't let me die.”

The memory of her father's body sprawled in the alley the last night he'd been alive flashed in her mind's eye. Goodwill had already taken the best member of their
family. There was no way she was letting him take the rest of it.

Veering left, then right, she deftly avoided tree limbs and fallen branches. She jumped over a stump just as the sun broke free of the cloud that had hidden it. Light reflected off of something red about two hundred yards in front of her.

The red fleck flashed again, then disappeared, followed by the glitter of a metallic green paint job.

A car.

The street!

She was almost through the woods. As her legs pumped even faster, she began to make out the black asphalt.

And another grove of trees on the far side of the road.

Her heart plummeted.

There were no buildings in which she could find refuge. No random offices where secretaries sat behind their desks ready to call 911 at her first scream.

She could hear twigs breaking behind her. Strangely she had expected her follower to sound like a bull tearing through the trees, but he didn't. But there wasn't time to think such random things.

Just as she broke through the tree line, the image of Nate's face came to mind. She dismissed it as another reminder that she should have called that morning to ask for a ride. Frantically she looked up and down the now deserted lanes. Which way to go?

Nate came to mind again, and this time it clicked.

He lived just a few blocks away.

She took off at a sprint in the direction of Nate's apartment complex.
Please let him be home,
she prayed silently, her chest too tight and breathing too shallow to manage any spoken words.

When her side hurt so badly that she wasn't sure she
could keep going, she chanced another peek over her shoulder. Red baseball cap was still on her tail. Looking straight ahead, she saw her only hope right before her.

Nate's apartment building stood three stories directly in front of her. She hurdled a low fence and raced up the steps to the top floor. She glanced frantically at the numbers below the door knockers. Nate had put the address on his paperwork when he picked up his car. But she couldn't remember it. Was it 1131? 1132? 1133?

Definitely 1133.

If she had been a bigger build, she might have knocked the door clean off its hinges as she crashed into it, but as it was, she just made a loud thud and gave herself a sore shoulder.

Pounding on the door with her fists, she yelled, “Nate! Nate! It's Danielle!”

She couldn't hear anything through the door, so she yelled louder, adding the thump of her foot to the ruckus.

Over the landing's half wall, she could see the man in the black sweatshirt jump the same fence she had just moments before. She would be toast in short order if Nate didn't answer in time.

N
ate had just spit out his toothpaste and turned off the bathroom faucet when he heard a commotion outside. Muted thumps and wild yelling sounded near his front door. Grabbing a blue T-shirt to match the jeans he was already wearing, he pulled it over his still-damp hair as he ran toward his foyer.

The noise got louder, and he thought he recognized his name among the shouts coming from the other side of his door, but the banging definitely wasn't on his door. Flinging it open, he stared at the back of a wildly flailing young woman. Her short brown hair was pulled back and covered with dead grass.

“Nathan Andersen!” she sobbed into the door across the hallway. “Where are you?”

“I'm right here.” He kept his voice composed, but she still jumped when he spoke.

Danielle spun, eyes wild and rimmed in red. She fell against him, pushing them both into his apartment. Her shoulders shook with what appeared to be both sobs and ragged breathing.

“Calm down, Danielle.” He rubbed a large oval on her back, whispering soothing words into the top of her head and holding on to her arm firmly with his free hand. She
leaned on him as though she had no strength of her own, but her body still managed to produce ragged sobs.

She looked up into his face, fear and anxiety clearly etched on her pretty features.

And then suddenly her hands and arms were flailing everywhere, and words poured from her mouth in a deluge. “He was right behind—I didn't see him. He ran me off—my bike. I was running—I didn't have anywhere else to go. I thought you weren't here.” Tears instantly filled her eyes and began running down her cheeks, the silver tracks like raindrops on a window. “I didn't know where else to go.”

“It's okay. I'm glad you came here.” He couldn't afford to be distracted from the case, but he couldn't ignore someone in need, either. Especially since she was already growing on him.

He cupped both of her hands between his and looked right into her watery brown eyes, noticing that one was severely bloodshot, as she blinked it rapidly. “Slow down. Tell me what happened.”

She took a deep gulp and when she finally spoke, her voice was thin. “I went to the gym. My truck had a flat tire, so I took my bi-ike.” Her voice broke, but she swallowed, dipped her head and continued. “I was riding back to the garage, and a blue Explorer ran me off the road. Then someone chased me through the woods. He was right outside.”

Nate's gut clenched. Why would someone be after Danielle? This plus the break-in? Was she mixed up in something and in over her head?

Biting the inside of his cheek, he pushed all the questions he wanted to ask to the side. He still had time to find the man who had chased her here. He might still be outside.

“What was he wearing?” She stared at him blankly. “The man who chased you. What was he wearing?”

She sniffed, reaching up to cover her left eye with her hand, wincing at the pain there. “A black sweatshirt and jeans. And a red baseball cap.”

Nate spun to grab his gun from its holster from where it lay on the coffee table. With a practiced thumb, he flipped the safety off and ran toward the door. Her brows kneaded together, as though she was trying to understand what he was doing with a gun. “Stay here.”

“No!” she cried. Every one of her pretenses was gone as she clung to his forearm.

He frowned, fighting his own urge to stay and comfort her. But if the guy was right outside his door, he could end this entire thing for Danielle right now. He couldn't pass up this chance. “Sit tight—I'll be right back. Lock the door behind me and don't open it for anyone but me.”

She followed him to the door, one eye huge, reflecting the light from the ceiling fixture, the other closed tightly and seeping tears. She looked so young and vulnerable, and he didn't even think to put a stop to his impulse.

He just leaned in and kissed her.

It was quick and chaste, and it sent his pulse pounding more than the knowledge that he might have to pull the gun tucked into his waistband in a few seconds.

Danielle just blinked and nodded as he turned and raced out the door. He couldn't wipe away the image of her stricken face as he rounded the corner of his building and changed his pace to look like any ordinary resident out to get his mail.

Eyes darting into every corner, through every shrub, he meticulously scanned the apartment grounds. It wasn't an enormous complex, so he made quick work of the walk around. He only ran into two people: the maintenance man
and a young woman jogging along the paved circumference of the buildings.

No sign of even a leaf out of place. The guy was gone.

Nate traipsed back up the steps to his building, shoulders sagging. Had he missed his chance to find Danielle's pursuer? What if he never showed himself again? Would they ever find out who was after her?

When he finally arrived back at his apartment, he immediately tried to open the door. The handle didn't turn, and he jiggled it a little more to make sure it wasn't just stuck.

Then he heard a small shriek come from inside the apartment.

“Danielle, open up. It's just me. I'm sorry I scared you.”

Several seconds ticked by. The light behind the peephole disappeared as though she were looking through it to confirm it was him, then he heard the deadbolt click and the handle shook. The door opened a crack, and Danielle peeked out.

He cracked a half smile at her skeptical appraisal. “It's me. I promise.”

She seemed satisfied and opened the door to let him in. She kept her body behind the door, as though protecting herself from whoever might be following him.

As he stepped into the living room, she closed the door behind him, still using one hand to cover her left eye. Tears still streaked down her cheeks, but she didn't look as upset as when she first arrived.

Putting his hand on her upper arm and leading her to the couch, he asked, “What happened to your eye?”

Her face crumbled. “I got something in it when my bike crashed into the ditch.”

“Let me see,” he said softly. Her ponytail was an
untamed mess from the wild sprint through the woods, so he smoothed it down as best he could while trying to examine her eyes. She kept both hands over her left eye and her right closed so tightly that it puckered the delicate skin around it.

“It'll be all right,” he whispered, still running his hand over her hair. “Please let me help you.” She flinched.

“Okay, here's what we're going to do,” he said in as soothing a tone as he could make it. “You're going to sit here and keep your eye closed. I'm going to go find my first-aid kit and see if there's an eye wash kit with it.”

She nodded cautiously.

A dash outside to the trunk of his car, and he found the box right where Heather had thrown it before he left Portland. Sure enough it had a professional-looking eye wash kit.

Kneeling before Danielle once again, he gently wrapped his fingers around her wrists. “I need to take a look now.”

She nodded again, her breathing returning to a more even pace.

The pain was subsiding for the moment. But he'd change that as soon as he opened her eye.

Dear Lord, please let me be able to help Danielle without causing her too much more pain. Please let this just be a scratch and not something that needs major medical attention.

With steady hands he gently pulled her wrists away from her face and pushed them to her sides. Both eyes were still closed tightly and tears streamed from beneath the lashes of her left eye.

“All right. Here's what I'm going to do. First I'm going to open your eyelid and see if I can see whatever's in there.
Then I'm going to try to get it out. When it comes out, then we're going to rinse your eye with the wash. Any questions?”

She shook her head, then stopped suddenly and said in a wavering voice. “What about my contacts?”

Contacts?

“Do you think you could take it out yourself?”

“No.”

He looked at the label on the bottle again. It explicitly said to wash hands—dashing to the bathroom, he scrubbed his hands and hurried back to remove any contact lenses and surrounding eye makeup before rinsing. It didn't look like she was wearing any makeup, so the contact lenses were the only problem. Maybe this was beyond his brief first-aid expertise. He'd received a lot of training at Quantico, but he wasn't a medical expert by any stretch of the imagination.

“Then I'll take you to the hospital.”

“No!” she yelled, grabbing his shirtsleeve in a vise grip and staring at him through her open eye. “Please.”

“Okay. Do you trust me to do it then?”

“No.” She took a shuddering breath. “But do it anyway.”

He swiped his thumbs across her damp cheeks, tilting her head back slightly. “I'll make this as fast as I can. Just breathe deep and try not to jerk your head.”

She mumbled something incoherent, sucked in another deep breath and clenched her jaw. In one swift motion, he pried her eyelids apart with one hand and used the pad of the forefinger of his other hand to brush the lens from her iris. The dark brown contact tore slightly as it jumped into his hand, so he flung it on the floor, immediately picking up the sterile eye washing kit. He fit the end over her eye and squeezed gently to get the flow started. Soon her face
and shoulders were damp from the liquid, but the muscles in her neck began to relax.

“Hang in there. Almost done.”

Moments later the bottle was empty, and Danielle looked a bit like a drowned rodent, one half of her hair sopping wet. When she lifted her head, her eye was still closed.

“Does it feel better?”

She nodded. “I think so.”

“Can you open it for me?”

She did, and Nate nearly fell over.

It was pure gold. One of the golden eyes he'd seen in his case file.