Vanishing Act. Liz Johnson
students—especially Nate—interacted in the discussion, and by the end of the two-hour class, Danielle felt surprisingly calm. Her hands were steady and her voice didn’t shake at all.
“Thanks, guys. Have a great night,” she said, dismissing them just a couple minutes early. Books slammed closed and stools scraped on the floor as the majority of the students made their way toward the door.
Busy packing up her own bag and locking up the cabinets, Danielle didn’t notice the approach of a couple of her students.
“Danielle?” asked a soft soprano.
She jumped and sucked in a breath so fast that she had to cough several times to clear her throat. “Ivey, you scared me.” She finally laughed.
The woman’s blue eyes crinkled at the corners and turned softer. “Sorry. I just had a quick question. Kirk can go first.” She nodded toward the younger man standing beside her.
Kirk Banner was a handsome, if very rumpled, man probably older than most of his cohorts but trying to look like them. His shaggy blond hair was in complete disarray, and his brown eyes were hard, almost angry. He shrugged boney shoulders that stretched the fabric of his too-tight red T-shirt. “I was just wondering how the grading is going to work.”
His tone was nonchalant, but Danielle could hear a flicker of antagonism somewhere below the surface.
“Well, of course Andy will give all the final grades. But I’ll be reporting to him on the assignments that are completed and the participation of each student in class.”
“Cool.” He shrugged again and sauntered away.
Through squinted eyes Danielle watched him leave, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders hunched, and head thrown to the side in a cocky swagger. She couldn’t put her finger on any one reason, but he made her uncomfortable. She made a mental note not to be alone with him.
As she turned back to Ivey, she spied one other student in the back of the room still gathering his book. Nate’s smile was magnetic, and she found herself not at all afraid of maintaining eye contact with him. His smile reached into his eyes, kind and reassuring. Good job tonight, he mouthed.
Her pulse skittered and shivers ran down her arms.
How could one little compliment send her twittering like it did?
He nodded and turned to leave. “Oh, Mr. Andersen. Will you wait a moment please?” He nodded again, but didn’t move to join her and Ivey. As Danielle turned back to Ivey, the older woman was rearranging her face into the same friendly smile.
“Danielle, do you think I’m too far behind to catch up in this class?” Ivey’s perfect eyebrows pinched together, and her smile disappeared. “I’ve missed so much, but I just really want to get a better understanding of my car.” Her face fell slightly before she managed a quick half smile. “My husband used to take care of all of the car stuff. But he…well, he left me and the kids a couple months back.”
Danielle frowned slightly. Ivey was behind the rest of the class, but how could she turn down a woman so obviously hurting. “Well, you are a bit behind. But I could help you get caught up. Andy’s shop has been a little slow this week. Why don’t you stop by the garage tomorrow afternoon and we can look over the previous material?”
“Oh, thank you! That would be wonderful.” She smiled brightly again, grabbed her purse and left the room.
Nate stood by the table in the back of the room, leaning his hip against it, muscular arms crossed over his chest. “Have you ever taught before?”
“Nope. First time.”
He picked up his borrowed book. They walked toward the door and down the short hallway toward the parking lot. He opened the door for her to exit in front of him, and she couldn’t help returning his grin.
“What did you want to talk about?”
“Oh!” Had she really forgotten that she needed to talk with him about his car? “I found the part for your car this afternoon. They had it at a warehouse just a couple hours away, so it got here faster than I thought. I have a light load at the shop, so I should have it done for you tomorrow morning. Come by any time after noon.”
“Thanks. I will.”
As they walked past the only car left in the parking lot, the hairs on the back of Danielle’s neck stood on end. She hugged herself tightly. She could feel someone’s eyes on her. Jerking her head from side to side, she hunted for a body, but couldn’t see anyone.
“Are you okay?” Nate asked, concern transforming his face. He gently put his hand on her elbow and warmth seeped up her arm.
“I’m fine. I just… Never mind.”
Worry etched lines onto his forehead. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Let me walk you to your truck, anyway.”
“I rode my bike,” she admitted.
“Huh?”
With her chin she pointed to the bicycle rack on the far edge of the parking lot. Out of the corner of her eye she scanned the shrubs and shadows for someone watching her. Was it someone from her past? One of the men who had killed her father on another dark night?
Nate let out a full-bodied laugh, tearing her from her innermost fear. “The auto mechanic rides a bike! Ha! That’s good.”
She shoved his shoulder playfully. “Don’t tease me.” Betrayed by her face as she tried to keep a frown in place, a smile crept onto her lips. “It helps me stay active, and it’s usually so beautiful out.”
Nate chuckled again as they moved toward the blue bike chained to the metal rack. She bent to unlock it. Just then a full-bodied shiver ran down her spine, and she jerked around, again trying to find the person watching her. But no one lurked in the shadows, and she couldn’t make out any forms in the bushes.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Nate asked again, his frown deeper this time.
She opened her mouth to confess her concern, but remembered that she barely knew the man. Just because he felt comfortable, didn’t make him safe. If Andy were home, she could call him to come get her. But if Andy were home, she wouldn’t be in the parking lot at the college about to ride her bike all the way home in the dark.
Looking up into Nate’s face, she realized that she hadn’t answered his question. “Yeah…I’m fine. Just got a shiver for a second.”
He nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, assuming she was referring to the wind. “It’s getting cold out here. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He patted her shoulder as she straddled the bike. As she peddled around the bend of the sidewalk, one quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that he was still watching her when she disappeared around the curve.
Biting wind chafed her cheeks as she peddled toward the main road. The sidewalks on the campus were dimly lit, so she picked up her speed, hurrying toward the bright street lights. The ride back to her house really only took fifteen minutes, but it felt like hours, each second spent looking over her shoulder, searching for those prying eyes.
The tangible gaze left her shoulders aching with invisible pin pricks as she sailed past a grocery store and a gas station. She thought about stopping. At least there would be other people around. If someone was really watching her, he was less likely to attack her in the midst of a crowd.
But if he had followed her from the college, then he probably wasn’t the type to just leave because she was with other people. More likely he’d just wait her out.
Not a thriving metropolis, most of Crescent City shut down by eighty-thirty. Her digital watch read 8:23, which meant the streets would be deserted in just minutes.
She had to hurry. Hunkering down against the wind, she pumped her legs as fast as they would go. Her hands burned from the cold and her knuckles were starkly