Vanishing Act. Liz Johnson

open. I might as well see what courses are still open and get plugged in.”

      “Sure thing.”

      More than twenty students formed a line leading up to the window in the registrar’s office as Nate stepped into the line. Most of them fanned themselves with white and green forms.

      “I can’t believe this crowd,” the teen girl in front of him complained to her friend, an equally young and blonde student.

      “Seriously. The add/drop deadline isn’t until tomorrow. You’d think more people would wait ’til the last minute.”

      Starting to get antsy after thirty minutes in line, he finally put his mind on the case and thought through the articles in the case file. It held exactly two pictures of Nora. One was a chubby ten-year-old with long blond hair and brilliant, golden hazel eyes. He bet she didn’t look a whole lot like that picture anymore. The other picture was from her driver’s license, taken at least ten years before. She had a round face and the same blond hair, just with slightly older features.

      But the eyes were the same. He’d never seen that color before—like churning, molten gold with flecks of brown. Stunning.

      The team had collected two pictures of her. That was all that were left after a house fire, or so he’d been told. Friends and extended family had been no help. Apparently Nora wasn’t a fan of being caught on film.

      “Next.”

      Nate looked in front of him, expecting the next person to step forward, but there was no one there. “Oh,” he jumped, hurrying toward the frowning woman behind the counter. “Good morning.” He smiled widely, but she refused to return it.

      “Add or drop?”

      “Excuse me?” Obviously there was a language to college that he didn’t remember. He’d lost a lot in the seven years since he was in law school.

      The bushy-haired woman rolled her eyes at him. “Do you want to add a class or drop one?”

      “Add one. What do you have open?”

      She glared hard at him, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening. He smiled apologetically, but it didn’t seem to help, her voice gruff as she read from her computer screen, “Auto Mechanics 101. German 200. Math 72, 82 and 120.” She rattled off a few other options before saying, “The rest have prerequisites. If you have your transcript, I can approve you for the others. Otherwise, it’s too late for you to sign up for them.”

      He shrugged, uncertain of which class to sign up for. None of these options really suited his academic background. But he reminded himself he wasn’t in it for the education. Sure, his J.D.—actually his bachelor’s or master’s—qualified him for most of the classes offered at CCCC. But he wasn’t in it for the education.

      The lady on the other side of the desk strummed her fingers on the counter, her lips pursed unhappily.

      He needed to make a decision.

      Auto Mechanics 101? Danielle’s pretty face immediately popped to mind. It wasn’t very often he saw a cute mechanic, and there probably wouldn’t be anyone like her in the class. But it sounded pretty basic, and it could come in handy considering his recent car trouble. Plus it would be easier to talk to other students in the open forum rather than a typical lecture setting.

      “Let’s do the auto shop class.”

      Five minutes and one credit card swipe later, Nate was signed up for his first community college class that night. He just had time to get home, change clothes and grab a bite to eat before heading back for the class.

      Danielle rubbed her forearms briskly through her light corduroy jacket. While it had been an unusually warm fall, a stiff breeze this evening brought a cold front and possible snow to the mountains according to the local weatherman. Hurrying toward the building that housed the auto shop, she prayed for courage.

      “Lord, please give me Your strength.” Then silently she pleaded for safety. Being noticed was the first step to being recognized, and she couldn’t go back to her old life. Crescent City meant safety and anonymity, save the select few friends she’d made. But standing in front of a classroom took away that security.

      But she’d promised Andy.

      She clenched her fist to still the trembling before pushing at the large metal door with the number 102 stenciled above it. It squeaked loudly on its hinges.

      Great way to sneak in and hope the students wouldn’t notice her right away. She’d been hoping for a couple more minutes to bolster her courage, but every eye in the room turned on her as her work boots clomped on the cement floor and she walked toward the teacher’s desk.

      With one more silent plea for courage, she turned around and faced them. In her mind she had imagined them all scowling at her, but as she looked at the thirteen men and three women in the class, she saw mostly smiles and friendly nods.

      These were her Crescent City neighbors, built of the same stock as Andy. They shared grocery stores and gas stations, and she had probably worked on their cars. They weren’t Goodwill’s men, or even from Portland. They didn’t know about her past. They didn’t know about her dad’s murder in the alley.

      Just the thought of that night made her chest tighten and her heart speed up, but there was no time to dwell on the past or her part in letting her dad die.

      Taking another deep breath and forcing a smile, she greeted them. “Hello. My name is Danielle. I’ll be filling in for Andy for a couple of weeks while he’s out of town.” More friendly nods, but no one spoke. “Andy said that you were discussing spark plugs. Can anyone tell me what you’ve talked about so far?”

      A hand raised in the back row of tables, and she stepped to the side to get a better view of its owner. She pointed to him and opened her mouth to ask his name but stopped when her heart jumped.

      “Mr. Andersen? What are you doing here?”

      His smile showed off his perfectly straight teeth. “Call me Nate. Just enrolled today. Figured I’d better learn a little something about cars.” He chuckled, and Danielle couldn’t help the genuine smile that spread across her face at the contagious sound.

      He had such a pleasant face, strong yet kind, tanned and handsome. And his eyes sparkled in the fluorescent lights.

      Suddenly another student cleared his throat loudly, ripping her from her wayward thoughts. She had no right looking at a man that way. She had nothing to offer him. Nothing but constant fear from a past that always haunted her.

      “Nate, I assume that you’re not going to answer my question.”

      He nodded. “That’s right. Just wanted to see if I could borrow a book. The bookstore had to order me one.”

      Another hand raised as well. This from a pretty blond woman sitting in the second row. “Me too. I just added this class yesterday, and the bookstore said it could be a couple of weeks before my book comes in.”

      “I’m sure we have some books here. Anyone else?” Another young man raised his hand, as Danielle opened the metal cabinet behind the desk. After passing out the books, she opened the spiral-bound grade book that Andy had told her was in the top left desk drawer. “Can you give me your names?”

      The woman, probably in her late thirties, spoke up first. “Ivey Platt. With two T’s.”

      The young man announced that his name was Kirk Banner.

      “All right. Let’s get started.” She flipped open her book and asked a twentysomething with brown hair, “What has Andy covered so far with you?”

      “The name’s Ridley Grant.” He smiled and winked at her then prattled on about how much they’d covered in the first few classes.

      The rest of the class seemed to pass in a blur. Danielle answered questions and covered the sections that Andy had outlined and left for her. The last thirty minutes were dedicated to