Читать книгу: «Vanishing Act»
Fear crashed through Danielle’s stomach, nearly stealing her breath.
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.”
LIZ JOHNSON
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.
Vanishing Act
Liz Johnson
“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.
CONTENTS
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
PROLOGUE
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.
She could almost picture him in his green sweater-vest and white, collared shirt. The last time she’d seen him, he was wearing a hideous orange tie under the vest, and his hair was in complete disarray, brown spikes sticking up all over. Her father certainly didn’t have the best fashion sense, but she couldn’t love him more if he dressed like David Beckham.
Nora pounded her fist once against the window again, the knock echoing inside the car, then stopped when she realized the conversation in the alley disappeared beneath the sound. She’d never be able to hear her father’s voice if she kept banging. Sagging against the door, she once more strained to hear the voices on the other side.
“Good evening, Parker. So glad you could join us.” That voice was deep and smooth as satin. Its very sound seemed to vibrate the windows, making Nora pull back slightly from her position hovering over the door handle.
“Goodwill, I’m the one that you want. Let Nora go. Please.” Her father’s voice shook on the last word. Something she’d never heard before.
“Not until I get what I want.”
“Fine! I’ll do it. I’ll take care of everything. No one will be able to trace the money back to you. But this is the last time. No more.”
What was her dad talking about? Was he laundering money for the men who kidnapped her? Why would he put them both in danger like this?
“I’ll decide when you’re finished.”
“No—” her dad began.
“I think I’ve proven that you don’t want to be on my bad side. Do what I say and you and your daughter are safe. Don’t, and you’ll see what a mess that can be.” Goodwill said something more, but he must have turned away because his voice was muffled. She couldn’t make out a word of it.
Suddenly the car door, which had been her support, jerked open and one of Lurch’s comrades grabbed her upper arm, yanking her to her feet. Nora stumbled, gasped, then gagged on the awful stench that filled the alley. Moonlight illuminated rows of Dumpsters overflowing with rotting food particles and what smelled like animal waste.
She covered her nose and mouth with her free hand as the thug jerked her toward the front of the car and into the stream of light.
And there was her father, looking battered and emotionally bruised. Purple shadows swelled beneath his eyes and his cheeks sunk into his mouth. Bloodshot eyes swept eagerly over her from head to toe, certainly searching for any injuries.
“Dad, are you okay?” she asked, disappointed when her voice came out a scratchy whisper.
“I’m fine. I’m just so sorry that I got us mixed up in this.”
Barely three feet away from him, Nora could stand the distance no longer and lunged at him, ripping her arm from her captor’s hand and throwing herself into her father’s waiting embrace. He held her close and smoothed her matted, blond hair down her shoulders.
“Well, isn’t this reunion sweet?” The words dripped with sarcasm, and Nora had no doubt that they came from the man her father had called Goodwill. She had yet to actually set eyes on the man, but her father squeezed her closer, impeding her attempt to turn and face the menacing man.
“Listen to me closely, Nora,” he whispered into her ear so low that she had to strain to make out the words. “I don’t think this is going to go the way that I want it to. If something happens to me, I want you to get out of here. Go to the apartment and get the money that’s stashed in my sock drawer and—”
“But, Dad. I won’t leave you.”
“Yes, you will.” His voice was low and fierce, almost a growl. “Get the money and get out of town. Get rid of your cell phone and don’t leave any traces. You’ll never be safe here. Please just go.”
“But how will you find me?”
“I won’t.”
Tears sprang to her eyes as her father pushed her away, stepping toward the two men behind her.
One of the men was Lurch. The other she’d never seen before. He was immensely attractive with features so handsome they bordered on beautiful. Graceful cheekbones that flowed into a round chin. Perfectly arched nose. Every strand of blond hair perfectly gelled into place and piercing blue eyes as cold as ice. His gaze locked on to Nora’s as she took an involuntary step back.
“I trust my staff has kept you comfortable, Ms. James.” His voice as smooth as his appearance, Nora was certain that she was being addressed by Goodwill, but she still had no idea who he was.
Other than that he had obviously had her kidnapped.
“I’m here. I’ll do whatever you want. Now let Nora go,” her dad said in a quiet yet firm tone.
Goodwill put his finger on his chin and tapped it as though deep in thought, but his eyes remained cold. Hard. “I think not yet. After all, we’ll need a little leverage if you decided to suddenly change your mind. What if you decided to turn state’s evidence? What kind of businessman would I be if I had already let my leverage go. No, the girl stays with us until the job is done.”
“No!” 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. Again.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t want Parker even thinking that he might not testify at the trial. His testimony rounds out this case perfectly. I’ll find Nora and get her to the safe house. I won’t let Goodwill intimidate the old man by threatening Nora.”
Heather yawned loudly on the other end of the line. “Oh, sorry. Guess it’s getting late here, too.” Her definition of late was a little different than his.
“Go home—get some rest. Check in with me as soon as you hear anything else from Roth.”
“Will do. Good night, sir.”
“Good night,” he said around his own yawn. Fighting the urge to let his eyelids drop, he refocused on the red dots ahead growing ever closer and mentally grasped for a plan to find the girl in Crescent City. He had to find her before catastrophe struck.
He didn’t have a recent picture of her, so his only point of reference was her father’s description and a list of her favorite activities. Church, work, school and riding bicycles—not much to go on. She had friends in each activity, but Parker had been adamant that she just hadn’t had time for much else. Her master’s program really took up almost all of her spare time.
But at least it was a place to start.
Nate spied the large wooden shaft sitting in the middle of the road much too late. When his sedan smashed into it, a hideous scraping vibrated along the underside of his car.
A hundred feet down the road, just as he passed a large white sign with blue letters welcoming him to Crescent City, Colorado, population 26,714, smoke appeared in his rearview mirror. White and airy at first, it quickly began to darken.
“Just great,” he mumbled, pulling off the highway and into a little service station. “Nice going, Andersen.”
He parked the smoking vehicle—a Bureau-issued, undercover, black sedan—and got out to take a look around. The station was locked up tight with a little sign tucked into the front window. The red arms on the paper clock indicated the shop would open up at seven-thirty the next morning. He glanced at his watch; only a couple hours away.
The lights of the city didn’t really begin for about half a mile or so. It wasn’t worth it to walk that far looking for a hotel for only two hours of sleep. He’d get more rest in his car.
He reclined the back of the seat, cracked the window, crossed his arms over his chest and fell into peaceful oblivion.
Danielle Keating squinted at the black sedan parked in front of Andy’s Auto Shop. She hiked her coverall bottoms up at her waist before slipping one arm into its sleeve. The gray tank top she usually wore underneath was clean, so she wasn’t in too much of a hurry to cover it up. Besides, the early morning sun made her simmer when zipped inside the full-body jumpsuit.
With the arm that was still free of the blue sleeve, she shaded her eyes and peered closely into the car’s window. Backseat empty. Front seat em—
Whoa!
She jumped back just as the driver’s side door flung open, and a dark-haired man with bloodshot eyes stepped out. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and nodded at her. He ran his tongue over his teeth and yawned but didn’t speak.
He squinted in the glare, but she could tell by the slow up-and-down movement of his blue-gray eyes that he was appraising her. It sent shivers up her back, and she quickly shoved her bare arm into its sleeve.
Just because she didn’t like being assessed, didn’t mean she would back down. Doing her best to maintain eye contact, she leaned a little closer. She waited for him to speak, but he seemed in no hurry. He pushed his large hands into the pockets of his wrinkled khaki pants and jingled keys or loose change there. His broad shoulders stretched the blue cotton of his polo shirt, and he stood somehow both relaxed and erect, leaning against the side of the car.
Finally she could handle the silence no longer. “Having car trouble? Or just needed a place to park?”
He squinted again, this time lifting the corners of his mouth in a half smile, his face suddenly coming alive. “Car trouble. I hit something in the road about a quarter mile back, and then I saw smoke in my rearview…so I pulled over.”
“Good thing you did.” She nodded, not taking her eyes off of him.
“When does the mechanic get in? I’d like to get it looked at right away so that I can get home.”
Danielle’s smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly plastered it back into place. Why did men always assume that she was the front-counter help? “She’s here now and is happy to take a look. Pop the hood.”
The tall man’s ears flushed red in appropriate contrition beneath his closely trimmed brown hair, and she took a measure of pride in his shame. He opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it and hopped back into the car, bending forward to pull the hood release.
Danielle lifted the hood and propped it open, leaning into the shadow. She felt, rather than saw, him move to stand next to her, his body radiating warmth in the already oppressive heat of the unusually mild September. She took a step away, trying to keep her jittery nerves under control. He wasn’t necessarily a threat to her. He probably had no idea who she was. Why would he?
Shooting him a sideways glance through narrowed eyes, she sucked in a quick breath before lifting the radiator cap, revealing a normal amount of fluid. The oil dipstick showed normal levels, too.
“Hmm. It’s probably your transmission fluid. Let me check.”
He shook his head as she shimmied under the car. “But it was running fine.”
Sure enough, the pan was leaking copious 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.
“Thank you,” she mumbled, taking a few quick steps backward.
“You’re welcome.”
Her eyes sought his again, even though she wasn’t sure 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.
“Andersen. 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.
“Danielle,” 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.”
“Thanks,” 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.
“Ready?”
“Huh?” 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. She wasn’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.
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 special agent in charge of the Portland office, Nate did whatever it took to complete the assignment.
He sighed into his hands and blanched at the acrid smell of his own morning breath. He felt his pockets for a stick of gum, but remembered that he’d left the pack in the center console of his car—which he saw through the window was being worked on by the pretty, young mechanic who stood holding a light deep under the hood.
He’d seen plenty of women mechanics in his life but never one quite so cute. That was really the only word to describe her slightly rounded face and innocent brown eyes. Brown hair bobbed around her shoulders and she pushed her bangs out of her eyes as she shifted the light to her other hand and used a wrench to loosen a bolt.
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