Карен Кингсбери - A Distant Shore [calibre]

It was Monday, July 19, more than a week since her birthday, and Jack was on his way to pick her up at the house. He was taking her to the field office, where his boss, Oliver Layton, already knew what she wanted to talk about.

She was ready for the meeting. Last week Melinda took Eliza to get her hair trimmed and layered. Then, yesterday after church, the woman took Eliza shopping. “If you want to work for the FBI, you’ll need the right clothes,” Melinda had said.

Eliza left with a pair of slim black dress pants, low-healed black booties, and a navy blue blouse. Professional, but pretty. When she tried the outfit on, Eliza had looked in the mirror and gasped. She had never seen herself like this. Like an actual person. She had spent the last eleven years in nightgowns and bathing suits.

Now she was ready and waiting outside when Jack pulled up.

She could tell he thought she was pretty. Never mind that he had treated her like a child during the rescue. Eliza could tell when a man found her attractive. He got out of the car and opened her door. “Hi.” He stepped back. Like he wanted to work to keep his distance. “You look nice.”

“This is a big meeting.” She didn’t smile. But she tried not to sound angry, either. Hope was beginning to grow in Eliza’s soul, hope that gave her a reason to look forward to tomorrow. And if there was one person who could turn her life around at this point it was Jack Ryder. She knew his full name now. And she didn’t have to like him.

But she could at least be civil.

IN ALL HIS days with the bureau, Oliver Layton had never had a situation like this. Breaking up international drug cartels and disbanding trafficking rings was what he did for a living. He orchestrated and masterminded raids, and he hired the best agents in the business to pull them off.

Yes, there were times—like in this recent mission in Belize—where an agent would need to infiltrate in order to find a victim to work with. Often, the threat of charges against that victim was very real. Dropping those charges was a way of persuading the victim to turn on her captor and help the bureau.

But now, Eliza Lawrence had some unshakable idea of wanting to work for the FBI. Help out on secret raids and operations. Something that—to Oliver’s understanding—had never been done before in San Antonio. Not this soon after a rescue, anyway.

Eliza and Jack entered the office just before ten that morning. The moment he saw the two of them together, Oliver knew. Jack had feelings for the girl. Oliver could see it in the way Jack held the door for her and walked protectively at her side.

His observation wasn’t something he could put into words, not in front of Eliza. But Oliver made a mental note. He would talk to Jack about this later. Never mind that Eliza wasn’t trafficked, she was still a victim. She’d been trapped in a lifestyle that would scar her forever. There could be absolutely no romantic connection between Jack and the girl.

Not if she worked for the department, and not if she didn’t.

The three of them sat in an interview room lined with windows. Oliver took the lead. “Eliza, I’m sorry. I hate to waste your time, but there is no way I can hire you. You don’t have experience or training… you’re too young, and honestly, as a victim, you will need a great deal of counseling.”

Eliza’s determination was as evident as her beauty. She sat straight in her chair, unmoving, and waited until Oliver was finished. Then she leveled her gaze straight at him. “Sir… I want you to charge me with the crime of sex trafficking.”

Oliver saw Jack shift in the chair beside her. Like he was uncomfortable with this, but not surprised. If Jack had filled the young woman’s head with these ideas, then he would need to be reprimanded. Eliza needed help, not to be thrown into the field.

“We aren’t charging you.” Oliver glanced at Jack, then back at Eliza. “That should’ve been made clear to you.”

“It was.” Eliza didn’t look away. “But what I did… luring those girls to the Palace. It was wrong and I want you to charge me.”

Suddenly Oliver knew where this was going. “What’s your reason, Eliza?”

“Press charges against me so that I can work them off.” She slid to the edge of her chair, her eyes blazing with intensity. “I want to be a CI… a confidential informant.” She hesitated. “Unless you send me on the most difficult missions, which is what I’d prefer. Then I’d like to be an HLCI. High-level confidential informant.”

This was Jack’s doing, Oliver was sure. He looked at the young agent. “Did you put her up to this?”

“No, sir.” Jack didn’t blink. “She did the research. She figured it out herself.”

Jack had never lied to him. Oliver took a deep breath and faced Eliza. “You need counseling, young woman. You’ve been trapped in a crime ring for more than a decade.”

“And I survived.” She lifted her chin. “I don’t want to fold laundry and clean the kitchen at a group home, sir. No one can spot trafficking activity like I can. Try me.”

Again Oliver looked at Jack, but his favorite agent only shrugged.

Oliver stood and paced the length of the room. What Eliza was offering was interesting. Just last week the brass had held a meeting about international sex-trafficking rings, and how they were elusive in areas like the Bahamas and Columbia and other South American and Caribbean countries. Eliza was right. Having her on the job could be a tremendous asset to the bureau.

He turned to her. “What about counseling?”

“I’ll get it. Sooner the better.” Her confidence was breathtaking. “So I can start making a difference for other girls. Like Alexa and Rosa and Maggie.” She paused. “This very minute there are girls being trafficked all around the world. If you’d had someone like me five years ago, the Palace might have been shut down sooner. Before Alexa turned twenty.”

Oliver stared at the floor for a few seconds and then back at Eliza. Could the girl really be ready to work as an informant? He would want a psychological evaluation performed and intensive counseling before she set foot on a mission.

But Eliza had his attention.

The conversation continued for another hour, and whatever questions Oliver had, Eliza had answers. In the end she convinced him. Jack was right, the girl had done her homework. Oliver agreed to talk to his superiors about the timing, and by the next day she had passed her second psychological evaluation and the task of making Eliza an informant was under way.

From the top down, everyone agreed that Eliza Lawrence would make the best HLCI the department had worked with in years. The paperwork had to be meticulous. The charges were detailed against Eliza, same with her willingness to work off her crime for the FBI. She agreed to stay within the confines of the law and to be honest at every turn.

Oliver even worked out financial compensation for a three-year obligation, which Eliza gladly agreed to. Oliver was assigned as her case agent.

Every detail had to adhere to the Attorney General’s CI guidelines, and when the papers were finally ready, Jack brought Eliza into the office to sign them. Five agents including Terri, who had taken part in the rescue in Belize, were there to witness the signing.

The whole time Eliza was in the room, Oliver watched Jack. He had been right the first time, he was sure about it. Jack had feelings for the young woman. The truth was there in the gentle way he looked at her, the softness in his eyes. Not the way other men on the street probably looked at Eliza.

Jack looked like a man in love.

Eliza didn’t seem to notice. She signed the papers and then she turned to Oliver. “Thank you, sir.” She glanced around the room. If anything she avoided looking at Jack. Her eyes met Oliver’s again. “You won’t regret this, sir.”