Vanishing Act (9 page)

H
ow had Nate never noticed that Danielle's cheekbones were the same shape as his pictures of Nora? Why hadn't he noticed the same little cleft in her lower lip? How had he not seen that Nora—his assignment—had been right in front of him for days? At least he was ninety percent sure it was her. Sure, her hair had changed and her face was a little thinner. But now that he looked for the clues to her identity, they were all there.

“Did you find him?”

“Huh?” Nate blinked twice, trying to move his mind from his thoughts to hers.

“The man who chased me. You didn't find him, did you?” Her voice carried toward the ceiling as she rested her head against the back of the couch.

“No. I'm sorry.” He jabbed his fingers through his hair and glared at the spot where his knees met the faded carpet.

First he needed to find out for sure if Danielle was really Nora—without scaring her off. Then he needed to get her to the safe house, away from the Shadow and anyone else that wanted to use her to manipulate her father.

“It's okay,” she sighed, leaning forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shift uncomfortably. Her face
scrunched up in pain, and she immediately stopped all movement.

“What hurts?”

“Everything.”

The chuckle that escaped was natural, and he realized that he'd been laughing a lot since meeting Danielle—Nora—or was it just Danielle?

He didn't even know how to think of her. He had to get this straightened out.

Shifting to the adjacent chair, he cleared his throat then looked into Danielle's eyes—both the brown and the gold. She frowned slightly. Could she sense his tension? He sucked in a quick breath and exhaled in a prayer for the right words to help her open up to him.

Resting his elbows on his knees, he leaned in just a bit. “Danielle, I need to tell you something.” Her brows furrowed, but she nodded slowly. “I haven't been completely honest with you.”

 

“What do you mean, Nate?” Danielle's breath vanished as she realized that she didn't know as much about Nate as she felt like she did. It was easy being around him, and she definitely felt safe with him. But was it an act? Had he been fooling her for days?

He rubbed his hands together like he was trying to start a fire, finally raising his gaze from the floor to meet hers. “I'm from—” his voice broke, and he paused for a moment to clear his throat. “Well, there's just no really easy way to say this….”

When he didn't continue, her heart sank, and she had to grab the couch cushion beside her leg to keep from jumping up and pacing the small room. “Tell me what's going on. Tell me now.”

His Adam's apple bobbed once before he said, “I'm a
special agent with the FBI. I'm here in Crescent City on assignment.”

“You're FBI?” Her words felt forced, like they were coming from someone else's mouth, disconnected from her thoughts.

He nodded and quickly grabbed a small leather wallet from the end table. Flipping it open, he revealed a card and bronze badge that identified Nathan Andersen as an FBI special agent. She flipped it closed and handed it back to him, once again meeting his gaze—the uncertainty gone. His fingertips brushed hers, and he offered her a tentative smile.

“It's a terrible picture of you.”

“Hey!” His voice was both subdued and full of mock indignation. He obviously knew what she knew. His handsome face and striking features were perfectly captured on the ID.

“Just kidding.” She finally pulled her eyes from his gaze and looked down at her hands. Well, that certainly explained the gun that he'd surreptitiously slipped into the waistband of his jeans before pursuing the man who had chased her. What it didn't explain was why he was telling her.

“Why tell me?” she finally asked, when it was clear he wasn't going to continue.

He shrugged, his blue-gray eyes clear. “See, I've been working on this case for a couple of years now. I've been trying to nail this guy for money laundering, drugs, kidnapping, murder. I have a witness who's ready to testify and the case is pretty much closed. Just one hitch. The witness's daughter is being threatened.”

It didn't make any sense. His story just didn't register. How did it relate to her? She shook her head and squinted, asking the question without speaking.

“The man who did those terrible things is Phil Goodwill.”

Tears flooded her eyes, and she blinked furiously. Her emotions could be neither identified nor controlled.

“Do you understand what I'm saying?” Nate's hand was warm on her arm, as he leaned in. But she couldn't make herself speak. Her brain simply could not comprehend what his words meant. Her father was gone. He couldn't possibly be talking about her. He couldn't possibly know that she had a connection to Goodwill.

Could he?

Reaching for the deflated throw pillow, she hugged it to her chest. Just having something to hold gave her the courage to respond. In this case ignorance was not bliss. She had to know what he knew and what on earth was going on.

“Don't baby me. Just tell me what you know.”

His hand squeezed her shoulder, and he said, “Danielle, is your real name Nora James?”

She hadn't heard that name in a year and a half, and it felt strange yet familiar like a long lost friend. “Nora James?” She rolled the name around her tongue for a moment, remembering the sound of her father's voice calling her for dinner. Her lips twitched, and for the first time, his memory brought joy mingled with regret.

She should have been able to save him. But she'd failed.

“You are Nora, aren't you?” he said, his words neither accusatory nor gentle.

She thought about lying for a split second, but his story didn't make any sense to her, and she needed to know what he was talking about. “Yes.”

He leaned back and chewed on his bottom lip, closing
one eye and evaluating her through the other. His arms crossed over his chest, but he remained silent.

“How did you know? How long have you known? What did you mean before about Goodwill? You're talking about me and my father? But what did you mean about my father's testimony? Did you depose him before he died or something?” The questions would have continued except that his posture suddenly straightened and a wrinkle formed between his eyes.

“What do you mean before your father died?”

“Before he died. Before that night in the alley.”

He frowned, brushing at the unruly lock of hair covering his forehead. “Danielle, your dad's alive.”

“No. I saw him get shot. My dad, Parker James, was shot—in the alley that night. I saw him fall. I saw the blood.” Speaking the memory made her hands shake, and she clenched the pillow tighter.

Nate's expression changed from confusion to something she couldn't read. It was close to pity mixed with sadness. The corner of his lips raised in a grimace as he reached for her arm again, but stopped short. “Your dad was shot. But he made it. It was touch and go there for a while, but he's fine now.”

The sob that escaped her throat sounded like it came from someone else, and even her hand over her mouth didn't muffle the noise. “He's alive?”

A wide grin split Nate's face. “Yes. He's alive.”

She jumped to her feet and threw her arms around Nate's neck, burying her face in the space between his shoulder and chin. He slowly wrapped his arms around her, patting her back intermittently. She inhaled deeply, drinking in the clean scent of his aftershave.

After several long seconds, he helped her back to the couch. “Let me get you some water.” While he hurried to
the kitchen, she wiped at the teardrops still clinging to her eyelashes.

Her dad was alive.

Thank You, God, for saving my dad. And thank You for bringing Nate into my life to tell me.

Nate returned, squatting in front of her and holding out a blue plastic cup. “Drink up.”

She did as she was told, sucking the tepid water down in one gulp. Wiping her upper lip with the back of her hand, she let loose the smile she'd missed for so long whenever she thought of her dad. Oh, the time they'd missed together. She'd make it up.

“When can I see him? Can I call him?”

Nate didn't even miss a beat. “ASAP. I'll start making calls right away. We're going to get you to the safe house in Portland. You'll be with your dad in just a couple days.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He reached for his cell phone, flipping it open and speed-dialing his office. Pressing the phone to his ear, he whispered, “I just need to let them know we're coming back to Portland.”

When someone on the other end of the line picked up, he turned and stepped into the kitchen. His words, muffled by the distance, didn't make any sense to her. Then again, maybe it wasn't the few yards into the kitchen. Her ears roared with the blood rushing through every inch of her. Everything she'd believed was false.

Suddenly her knees buckled, and she melted back onto the couch. Moisture collected in the corner of her eyes, and she folded over her knees, only able to send up a silent prayer of thankfulness over and over.

Her first indication that Nate had returned to the living room was the weight of his hand on her shoulder. “Dan
ielle.” He paused until she looked up into his face. “I know this is a lot.”

That was the understatement of the century, and she could only manage to nod.

“Can I get you anything?” He pulled his hand back and passed his phone back and forth in front of Danielle. Her eyes followed it, as she thought about what she really wanted.

“I'd like to talk to my dad.”

A grin unlike any she'd seen before split his features. “I think we can arrange that. Hold on just a second.” He quickly dialed and waited for it to be answered. “Heather, it's Andersen. Danielle—I mean, Nora—wants to talk with her dad. Patch me through to the safe house?”

Seconds dragged by, and her stomach erupted with butterflies until it dropped to her toes at the same moment that Nate said, “Mr. James, this is Special Agent Andersen. I have someone here who would like to talk with you.” He handed her the phone and pointed to the door, excusing himself.

Inhaling through her nose, Danielle cleared her throat before putting the receiver to her ear. “Dad?”

The person on the other end of the line sucked in a sharp breath. “Nora, sweetie? Is it really you?”

“Oh, Dad! I've missed you!” And then she couldn't control the sobs that wracked her body, choking on the desperate breaths. “Dad. Dad.”

Just saying his name over and over seemed her only chance to confirm that it really was him. That this wasn't an elaborate hoax. He'd been lost to her, and now he had been returned.

A pang of guilt stabbed her middle.

She'd lost him because of her own fear. It was her own
fault that she'd run. Her own fear of Goodwill had kept them apart for more than a year.

“Daddy, I'm so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? You haven't done anything wrong. This was my mess. I never meant for you to get involved.” His voice was strong and soothing, just like she remembered it, but so unlike the last night she'd seen him.

“But—I—I ran away. I was so sc-cared.” Swallowing hiccups hurt her chest, but she did everything she could to control her words. “I ran away and left you there. They shot you!”

His quiet laughter filled the line. “I remember.”

“Oh, Dad! Are you okay?”

“Good as new. One little surgery, and the doctors say I'm better than ever.” Moments of pure silence passed, and although she opened her mouth to speak, Danielle couldn't manage to get a word out. Finally her dad asked, “How are you doing? I've missed you so much.”

“I've missed you, too,” she managed to say before her throat closed up again, emotion clogged all hope of further speech.

“Listen, honey, they're telling me I have to go. They need to keep this line open. But they're bringing you here, right? Special Agent Andersen is bringing you here? Soon?”

“Uh-huh. I'll be there soon.”

She hadn't noticed her hands shaking during the call, but once she hung up, she couldn't make them stop. Clasping them together didn't work, so she sat on them, fighting the rush of guilt that continued. No matter what her dad said, she knew that her fear had cost them dearly.

Replaying the conversation over and over in her mind kept her busy until Nate returned several minutes later. He slipped silently through the front door, locking it behind him.

“How was your call?”

She met his gaze through blurry eyes as she held his phone out to him. “Thank you.”

He nodded, his neck stiff and awkward. Then he turned away slightly, speaking out of the side of his mouth. “No problem.”

Danielle took it as her hint to get her emotions under control, so she knuckled away her tears and cleared her throat. “Okay, so when do we leave.”

“Tomorrow. First thing.”

“Good. Will we fly? Or drive?”

“We'll drive. That way we can go straight to the safe house, and it doesn't give Goodwill's people a chance to track us. Plus I have to return the Bureau's car.”

That elicited a half smile. “True. I didn't put all that hard work into it just for you to leave it behind.”

“We'll get back to Portland early the next morning.”

“But why would Goodwill be watching the airports for you? Or me?” Her eyebrows pinched together. “Wait. Does that mean…” A flash of his words from just minutes before played through her mind. “You said something before. You said your witness's daughter was being threatened. That's me. What's going on?”

He shook his head, as though debating how much to tell her. “What it means is that we need to get you to the safe house as soon as we can. And that means you'll be reunited with your father that much sooner.”