Vanishing Act. Liz Johnson

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Her dad lunged forward, his hands balled into fists, his entire body shaking wildly. He seemed childlike in size compared to Goodwill, but he held nothing back as he slammed into the other man. Goodwill barely shuffled his feet at the impact, then stepped to the side as the flailing man stumbled to the ground.

      Suddenly the thug, who had pulled Nora from the car, appeared at Goodwill’s side, aiming a large black gun at her father. Her dad’s face fell as he stared up at the barrel.

      “Don’t!” she cried, taking a quick step toward the trio, stopping only when the gun suddenly swiveled and leveled directly at her chest.

      “I think it would be wise for you stay put.” Goodwill’s voice was like iron.

      Nora looked into the tortured face of her father. “I’m so sorry, Baby,” he whispered. Still leaning on the ground, his weight supported by one elbow, he said very clearly, “I wonder why there’s no rain tonight.”

      The commotion was immediate. Goodwill shouted, “Check him for a bug!” The oaf with the gun kicked her dad in the stomach, and he grunted loudly. Suddenly the gun exploded, the flash from the muzzle surprisingly brilliant in the darkness of the alley, illuminating the red stain immediately seeping into his sweater vest.

      Nora dove behind the open door of her dad’s car, landing half on the driver’s seat and smashing one knee into the dashboard.

      “Get the girl!” Goodwill roared. The goon did as he was told, running toward her.

      She had no time to think about her actions, and moved purely out of self-preservation. She turned the keys, sending up a prayer of thankfulness that he’d left them in the ignition. Yanking her other leg into the car, she shifted into Reverse and punched the accelerator. The old sedan, one door still open, flew down the alley away from the man with the gun. Away from the stream of Goodwill’s curses.

      Away from her father’s lifeless body.

      She rammed into a large, metal Dumpster before yanking the steering wheel and spinning around to drive forward. A quick glance in the rearview mirror was all she managed before her back windshield shattered with a crack.

      She ducked low, keeping her foot on the gas.

      ONE

      Eighteen months later

      Nathan Andersen needed a nap. Badly.

      He yawned for the millionth time, fighting eyelids that threatened to close even as his car swerved down the highway at midnight. A sudden tremor against his leg nearly sent him through the roof, and he dove into his pocket for his cell phone.

      “Agent Andersen.”

      “Hey, Boss.”

      “Someone’s burning the midnight oil,” he said, chuckling. “Have you left the office yet, Heather?”

      Her long pause answered his question. “You asked me to call if we heard anything else from Roth about Nora and your assignment.”

      “Yes. What’d he say? Did he overhear another phone call with more details?” The FBI mole’s first tip was trusted enough to put Nate on the road to Crescent City. What he learned next could make or break the assignment.

      “Not exactly. It was more of a confirmation of what he already told us. Roth said that he heard Goodwill—” whose lawyer had gotten him out on bail a couple months before “—on the phone with the Shadow.” Both agents remained silent for a moment. For years the Shadow’s name meant nothing but disappointment to the FBI. He was probably the best assassin in recent history, and the file on him was filled only with death certificates of his victims.

      No names—pseudonyms or real. No pictures. No physical description. No location. Nothing to help them find him.

      Heather cleared her throat and continued. “Roth said that he heard Goodwill confirming with the Shadow that he arrived in Crescent City and he was sure that Nora James was there. He said something about the community college, but Roth wasn’t sure what was going on.”

      Nate’s breathing quickened. He had to find her first, or it could spell the end of their case. “Did he say if the plan had changed?”

      “Roth didn’t hear anything about a change. As far as we know, the idea is still for the Shadow to kidnap Nora and hold her until Goodwill’s trial is over. What are you going to do?”

      Nate grunted. “If Goodwill’s plan hasn’t changed, then neither has mine.” Another jaw-stretching yawn caught him off guard, and he mumbled an apology. Hitting the speaker button on his phone, he tossed it into the center console. Using his now-free hand to search for something that might help him fight off sleep, he grabbed for the coffee cup sitting next to his phone. Scowling when he realized it was empty, he chucked it at the opposite floorboard and rooted around the passenger seat for the bag of sunflower seeds he’d stashed there hours earlier.

      “Do you really think Nora is in Crescent City?” Heather sounded unconvinced. “I know Roth doesn’t have any reason to mislead us, but she took off a year and half ago. She could be anywhere by now. How can we be sure Goodwill tracked her to a tiny little town no one’s ever heard of?”

      Nate shoved a handful of seeds into his mouth and tried to talk around them. “I don’t know how he found her, but he’s got no reason to lie to Roth about hiring the Shadow to kidnap her and hold her as blackmail again. Goodwill will do anything to stay out of jail and he knows the evidence we have against him could put him away for life.”

      Red taillights flashed down the road, sending Nate back to the night in the alley that his years of investigation into Phil Goodwill’s crime syndicate had led to. That night hadn’t ended well, especially when Parker James, Nate’s key witness and the master of Goodwill’s perfectly manufactured monetary fronts had been shot.

      His arm twitched, jerking him back to the present at the same time that Heather asked, “Do you really think that Goodwill will try to kidnap Nora again? Especially since she didn’t know anything about her father’s involvement with the crime ring?”

      Nate laughed out loud. “You’d think he’d have learned his lesson last time. In seven years with the Bureau, I’ve never seen anyone turn as fast as Parker did when his daughter was kidnapped. He couldn’t wait to turn over state’s evidence to get Goodwill behind bars. He practically taped that wire on himself before going into the alley.”

      Nate shook his head at the memory of the agitated and jerky accountant so focused on rescuing his daughter. Now Nate had a job to do. One that could clinch his case against one of the biggest criminals in the Portland area. He couldn’t afford to let the guy back out on the street for good.

      And to keep that from happening, he had to focus on his two witnesses. Both in danger. One in immediate peril.

      “Will you keep an eye on the old man while I’m out of town? Just check in on him from time to time.”

      “Sure thing, Boss. Is there anything I should tell him?”

      Nate chewed on his lip for a moment, instinctively reaching for the coffee cup before remembering it was empty. “Don’t tell him I’m going after Nora. He doesn’t need to know that Goodwill’s last-ditch plan for freedom is kidnapping his daughter.

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