Vanishing Act Read Free Page B

amounts of dark fluid. “Yeah, you probably hit something that cracked your pan and left your transmission to fend for itself. Hang on.”
    She scooted out from under the car and turned on her side, peering all the way up at his face. He looked slightly perplexed, but reached out a hand to help her to her feet. She hesitated for a moment before letting him dwarf her hand in his much larger one. His tug gentle yet firm, she immediately found herself on her feet, toe-to-toe and far too close for comfort.
    â€œThank you,” she mumbled, taking a few quick steps backward.
    â€œYou’re welcome.”
    Her eyes sought his again, even though she wasn’tsure what she was looking for there. His smile was gone, replaced by exhaustion. “Did you sleep in your car, Mr….?” Her voice trailed off, as she chided herself for not asking his name before.
    â€œAndersen. Mr. Andersen.”
    In her mind she replayed the line from The Matrix in a menacing tone and barely managed to keep from laughing out loud.
    â€œDanielle,” she said, holding out her hand to shake his. He nodded, looking even more tired than before. “It’s going to take me a little while to check out your car more completely and make sure there’s nothing else going on with it. Help me push it into the garage, and then you can sit down in the waiting room. We’re not usually busy on Tuesday mornings, so you might even be able to get a little sleep.”
    â€œThanks,” he said as he leaned into the car again and slipped the automatic into neutral. She couldn’t help but notice the messy passenger seat, which seemed inconsistent with the man. While he had tousled hair and more than a five-o’clock shadow growing on his chin, he seemed mostly put together—or would have if he hadn’t slept in his car. She’d seen all sorts of cars and their owners since starting at the shop more than a year before. Usually the single guys in ripped T-shirts and stained jeans trashed their cars, not the men with desk jobs and khakis.
    â€œReady?”
    â€œHuh?” His voice jerked her from her thoughts. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
    Together they pushed the sedan to the garage door, which Danielle quickly unlocked and raised. When the car was settled over the in-floor pit, Mr. Andersen disappeared into the waiting room, and Danielle set to work, glancing every couple of minutes at his slumped form. Shewasn’t sure what she was expecting him to do, but as long as they were alone together in the garage, she wanted to know where he was.
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    Nate snorted loudly, effectively ripping himself from the light doze he enjoyed on the hard plastic chair in Andy’s Auto Shop waiting room. Leaving his chin resting against his chest, he rubbed the back of his neck with both hands and squeezed his elbows together. The stretch of his arms and shoulders felt wonderful after being cooped up in the car for so long.
    He blinked once, his eyes scraping the tender flesh of his eyelids, and groaned loudly. He rubbed both hands over his face. Two-day-old beard rasped against his palms, and he shook his head slightly and closed his eyes again to let them gain some of the moisture they’d lost during the long night.
    He definitely wasn’t twenty-five anymore. When he first started with the Bureau, all-nighters and long-term stakeouts were a snap. Even with only stale Funyuns and massive amounts of Yoo-hoo to drink, he’d been alert and thoughtful, great at his job.
    At almost thirty-five he had to admit—even just to himself—that he needed to take better care of his body. Especially if his immediate response to a lack of sleep was snoring in a waiting room, even though he should have been on the job. No more all-nighters. It was just that easy. That is, unless his job required it. He’d take better care of himself, but he’d do whatever the job required. Over the last several years as the