Liz Johnson - Vanishing Act

Yet for the first time in well over a year, she wasn’t alone. She had someone she could ask for help. But she wasn’t very good at doing that, either.

God, if it’s safe to let Nate in, please show me.

It seemed that the more she prayed for peace, the more her life spun out of control. The spying eyes. The jimmied lock. The butterflies that Nate caused.

She’d come to Crescent City to run away from her father’s death. But she hadn’t counted on a whole new set of problems.

Nate was nearly to his car, and she had to make a decision.

“Wait!” She jogged over to him. “On Tuesday I thought someone was following me home. I’m afraid they might try again tonight.” His face turned stony. “Would you mind just following me to make sure no one else is behind me?”

She’d barely closed her mouth before he agreed. “I’ll be right behind you.”

After graduating from Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff with a degree in public relations, Liz Johnson set out to work in the Christian publishing industry, which was her lifelong dream. In 2006 she got her wish when she accepted a publicity position at a major trade book publisher. While working as a publicist in the industry, she decided to pursue her other dream—being an author. Along the way to having her novel published, she wrote articles for several magazines.

Liz lives in Colorado Springs, Colorado, where she enjoys theater, ice skating, volunteering in her church’s bookstore and making frequent trips to Arizona to dote on her nephew and three nieces. She loves stories of true love with happy endings. Visit her online at www.lizjohnsonbooks.com.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.”

—2 Timothy 1:7

To Julia, Rachel, Caleb, Emily, and Jacob, I count myself blessed beyond measure to be your aunt. May our family leave a legacy that you are proud to carry on, one of grace, hope and love.

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

LETTER TO READER

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

A car parked at least a block away backfired loudly, making Nora James huddle against the car door. Alone inside the car, she wrapped her arms around her stomach and leaned closer to the tinted window of the Lincoln Town Car, searching for any sign of the events unfolding in the dark alley. But night surrounded the car, cloaking the men she knew lined the brick buildings on each side of the narrow street.

Twisting her long ponytail behind her shoulder, she pressed her ear against the window, hoping for a voice she recognized. Cars sped over the bridge, crossing the nearby Willamette River, but everything else was silent.

No birds chirping. No people talking or strolling along the river. Not even the soft tinkling of evening rain, strange for the time of year. Eerily silent.

Suddenly the door on the opposite side of the bench seat jerked open, and a large man filled the opening. The car’s dome light spread an ethereal glow over his menacing sneer. His shoulders stretched his Italian suit jacket, and his hair was slicked back with something the consistency of motor oil. He made an imposing figure, but Nora was surprisingly glad to see a face that she recognized.

It was neither friendly nor safe, but it was familiar. And she had dearly missed anything familiar since being forced into a nondescript, white van three days earlier.

It had all been so cliché. Walking to the home that she shared with her dad from her final class of the day, she had lifted her face to the warmth of the sun, a rarity in the usually cloudy Portland climate. Lost in thoughts of her upcoming college graduation, she’d ignored the world around her.

That day it had been far from silent. Couples walking down the sidewalk, chatting vibrantly to each other. Cars flying by. The subdued chime of bicycle bells.

But then the world tilted on its axis. The screeching tires of the white van immediately signaled that something was amiss, and the men who jumped from the open sliding door moved like lightning. Both linebacker types and dressed in black, they easily subdued Nora, throwing her onto the floor of the van and slamming the door closed as the vehicle jerked forward.

For three days her life had consisted of a dark room, a flat mattress on a cement floor and the man who now leaned in toward her. Lurch. At least, that’s what she’d nicknamed him in her mind the first time he brought her a glass of water. He didn’t really resemble the character from one of her favorite childhood television shows, but when she and her dad started watching the old reruns together, the original Lurch had frightened her, too.

“Ms. James?” Lurch asked quietly in the same voice he always used with her.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat, covering his mouth with his hand. His bushy, brown eyebrows pinched together, not unlike an expression her academic advisor frequently made.

Involuntarily she leaned a little bit closer to him, willing him to tell her what was going on. In three days no one had uttered a word about why she had been taken. No one said anything about where she was or what they intended to do to her. Or why they needed her alive.

She’d decided on the first day that if they didn’t need her alive, they would have taken her out of the picture.

Immediately.

The men she glimpsed were hard, with glowering faces and wicked-looking weapons. The kind of men who dispatched unwanted, unneeded women without a second thought.

“It’s going to be a few more minutes,” Lurch interrupted her thoughts. “He’s not here yet.”

“Who? Who are we waiting for?”

Lurch looked confused but didn’t answer as he closed the door behind him.

And Nora was plunged into darkness again.

Her head spun and her eyes watered. She felt drugged.

Maybe she was drugged.

“God, a little help here, please?” she pleaded. “I know I haven’t been praying nearly as I much as I should, but I have been a little distracted with trying to escape. Of course, You know all this. And You know what’s going on outside, and I sure don’t.” She sighed. “So whatever happens, could You take care of me? And Dad, too. Please don’t let him worry about me too much.” A bit of a futile prayer, as her dad was a world-class worrier, but it never hurt to ask.

Just then headlights flashed into the alley, splashing light along the brick buildings then illuminating the interior of the Town Car. Nora blinked against the brightness, holding her forearm up to her eyes.

A door from the other car slammed, but the lights stayed on.

“Where is she?” demanded a voice she’d know anywhere.

She yanked on the handle, pushing hard on the door, trying again to open it without luck. “Dad! I’m in here! Can you hear me?” she screamed into the window. “Dad! I’m right here!”

“Nora! Nora, I’m here!”

She slammed into the door again. “Dad! I’m in the car!”

A silky voice called out, “Enough.”

When he spoke again, her father’s voice sounded as though he had turned to face the far side of the alley. “Goodwill, I’m here. Let her go.” Her dad’s voice was stronger than usual, out of character for the quiet accountant.