“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
—Jeremiah 29:11
Jack spent two days in the hospital. A surgeon removed Anders’s bullet from his shoulder and put him on IV antibiotics for the infection that had started. The bullet had missed his major muscles and tendons, so he would have full use of his shoulder.
Which was the only way he could continue working as a special agent. Aiming a gun required the use of both arms.
Now he checked the wound in the bathroom mirror. The incision was smaller than he’d expected, just a red and pink indentation to show that he’d ever been back to Belize, ever encountered Anders McMillan.
Nothing compared to the price he’d paid last time he visited the country.
Today was his first day back at the office, and Jack could think of just one person. Eliza Lawrence. The victim recovery plan for the sixteen minor girls was going better than expected. Oliver had given Jack the update. After they spent a few nights in a safe home, social services had taken over. Four of the girls had already been reunited with their families. Mothers and fathers who had still been hoping their little girls would be found.
Jack smiled. He could only imagine those reunions.
Of course, the state would follow up to make sure the girls got medical assistance and psychological care. Counseling would be part of their lives, maybe forever. The other twelve girls had been placed in foster care—at a new group home. Oliver had apparently met the two sets of parents running the place.
“As bad as life has been for these girls, today they finally got a break.” Oliver had sounded emotional. “The house parents are kind people, people of faith. They quit their jobs as counselors, bought a parcel of land and built a massive group home. All so they could help children coming out of trafficking.”
The news was more than Jack could’ve hoped for. Maybe God was listening, after all. According to the commanders in charge of the Night Stalker unit and the Navy SEALs, the mission couldn’t have gone better. None of the Night Stalkers or SEALs were injured in the raid.
The outcome wasn’t so good for Anders’s men. Three of them had died in the battle, along with Anders. Good riddance, Jack thought. Another six of the man’s guards had been apprehended and brought back to Los Angeles, where more of these cases were heard, and where the guards would be held behind bars without bail until their trial.
Betsy Norman was arrested without incident. She was currently booked on enough charges to lock her up forever.
Jack drew a deep breath. Can’t ask for more than that.
His arm was still in a sling. So he dressed with his other hand and an hour later he was sitting in Oliver Layton’s office, the first time Jack had seen his boss since he returned from Belize.
“I talked to Terri.” Oliver leaned back and studied him. “The bullet in your shoulder. You saved our informant’s life. Eliza Lawrence.”
This was exactly what Jack wanted to talk about. “Where is she?”
“Yes, that. I’m not happy about it.” A shadow fell over Oliver’s face. “We’re struggling.”
That’s what Jack figured. “Terri told me she was sent to a residential placement center.”
“We tried that.” Oliver hesitated. “The place was full. She’s an adult, so she can’t stay with the other girls. The services we have for children don’t apply to her.”
Frustration filled Jack’s veins. “That’s wrong, sir.” He could picture Eliza’s blue eyes. “So what if she’s twenty. She might as well be fifteen. She’s never known anything but the Palace. We can’t just turn her out on the streets.”
“I agree.” Oliver stood and faced the window behind his desk. “Since 2000 we’ve tried to find the exact right way to help victims of trafficking. But our programs are all very specific.”
Jack knew only too well. As a victim of trafficking—which she was, even though she was never technically sold—if Eliza wanted citizenship, no problem. If she applied for a small business loan, she’d get preference. But how was she supposed to live in the meantime? Jack clutched the arms of the chair. “Where is she now, sir?”
“She’s not a Texas resident, Jack. That excludes her from a number of services. The ones she’s eligible for are full.” He paused. “And honestly, she’d face the same thing in any state.” Oliver turned to Jack again. He paused longer than usual. “She’s in a homeless shelter. I gave her food vouchers and a bag of clothes from the Goodwill. I had nothing else, Jack.”
“What about hotels?”
“We’re out of vouchers. I put a social worker on the case. If one opens up, Eliza will be the first to get it.”
Jack was on his feet. “Are you kidding me?” His voice was louder than he intended. He stared at Oliver, then he dropped back to his chair again. Even now he couldn’t be rude. None of this was Oliver’s fault. But he was seething. “A homeless shelter, sir? Really?”
“I was lucky to get her that.” Oliver sorted through a folder on his desk. “There’s a facility for domestic violence victims that might have a spot in a month or so.”
“What?” Jack couldn’t believe this. Eliza was at a homeless shelter, alone in San Antonio? “You said she can’t be with the other girls.” His mind began to spin. The floor felt unsteady. Eliza would feel tricked for sure. Lying on a mattress on the shelter floor, no doubt surrounded by some of the scariest people in the city? “Let’s get an exception.”
“That won’t work.” Oliver shook his head. “The new group home is licensed only for minors. She would be considered a liability to the younger girls.”
A liability? Jack was ready to blow up. “Sir, I’m requesting this day to figure out housing for the girl. She helped me. That’s the least I can do.”
Oliver hesitated, but only for a minute. “Yes.” He sighed. “The system is far from perfect, Jack. You know that.” He handed over the girl’s folder. “If you can find her something, it’ll be the best news since the raid.”
JACK’S FIRST STOP was the group home where the twelve girls were staying. Stan and Melinda Largo met with him in the front room. The two were born in Nigeria and moved to the United States to attend medical school.
They listened while Jack talked about Eliza, how she needed a place to live while she got on her feet, found work and an apartment.
“Please. You have to help her.” God… if You’re there, please. “She’s at a downtown shelter. She needs you.”
Melinda looked like she was about to cry.
Despite the kindness in his brown eyes, her husband shook his head. “I’d love to help her, Jack. The younger girls talk about her all the time. Especially Rosa.”
“I’m thinking, maybe just this once.” Jack was ready to beg the couple. “Something temporary. We could get the state to make an exception.”
“There are no exceptions, Jack.” Stan frowned. “The law is in place to protect children.”
Again Jack’s mind raced. “What about… hiring her? She could be a housekeeper, help do the dishes and laundry. Help the children with their homework. She’s extremely bright.”
Melinda’s eyes lit up. “Does she have a criminal record?”
“No.” Charges wouldn’t be pressed against Eliza because she had helped the FBI with the raid. It was the first ray of hope. Jack grabbed the possibility. “Eliza’s new here, but I can get her fingerprinted and cleared, all her paperwork finished by tomorrow. So you could hire her.”
Stan put his arm around his wife. “You might be onto something here.” He stood and poured a glass of water. Then he handed it to Jack. “So you’re sure? She’s safe around the other girls?”
Clearly Stan and Melinda knew the earmarks of a trafficked victim. Sometimes those who were abused went on to abuse others. But that wasn’t the case with Eliza. Jack had spent enough time with her to tell. At least he hoped so. “She’s safe. We’ll have an evaluation done later today.”
“Okay, then.” Stan nodded. “We will watch her. Just in case.”
Now Jack had to find Eliza. Before she took off or gave up. Too often, when the system failed them, trafficked victims wound up returning to slavery. At least that way they would have food and a place to sleep. Because it was the only life they had ever known.
Jack pulled up at the downtown San Antonio shelter just before one o’clock. He tried to walk straight back to the living quarters, but the man at the front desk rose from his seat. “This is a private place, buddy.” The man was in his forties, and he looked ready to fight. “You gotta get approved before you walk back.”
“FBI.” Jack flashed his badge and stopped short. “I’m looking for Eliza Lawrence. She came here about a week ago.”
The guy squinted at him. “Let me see that badge.”
Time was slipping away. Jack pulled his badge out once more. He raised his voice. “Give me her room number.”
“Someone gave her a voucher.” The guy crossed his arms. “A hotel voucher.”
“Who?” Panic grabbed at Jack. Eliza could be anywhere in the city. “A social worker?”
“Yeah, that’s it.” The man shrugged, still gruff. “Holiday Inn, I think. Or maybe the Courtyard. One of those. If I remember right.”
Jack took off. His heart raced in time with his feet. He drove to the Holiday Inn first, but the young woman at the desk didn’t find Eliza’s name in her records. “Sometimes people give different names when they use vouchers.” She frowned.
He was halfway to the car when he spotted her. She was crossing the street, headed back to the hotel. She wore a baggy pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, despite the sweltering Texas heat.
“Eliza!” He jogged toward her. “Wait!”
She stopped and looked his way. But when she saw it was him, she turned and hurried for the front door.
“Please, Eliza.” This time Jack raised his voice. In case she couldn’t hear him. “I have to talk to you.”
“Why?” She stopped short and glared at him. “So you can lie to me again?”
“I never lied to you.” Jack reached her, but he kept his distance. He didn’t want her to feel threatened.
“You did.” She moved to a patch of grass, away from the door.
Jack followed her. He lowered his voice. “Please… Eliza. I told you I was FBI. I told you we were going to raid the Palace, and I said I needed your help.”
The anger in her eyes was fire.
“Tell me the lie.” Jack tried to be patient.
“You told me you were Luke.” Eliza stepped back. “But on the plane… on the plane the other agent called you Jack.”
He relaxed a little. “That wasn’t a lie. It was part of the job. I go by a lot of names.”
“And what about Jack?” Her anger faded. But in its place came an ocean of hurt and distrust. “Is that part of the job?”
“No. Jack is my name.” Giving her that information couldn’t hurt him now. “For real.” She clutched her paper bag and tilted her head back. Her eyes caught the sunlight. Prettiest blue eyes Jack had ever seen. “I want to help you.”
“Why? The mission’s over.” She looked at the Holiday Inn sign. “I’m free now. Right, Jack?”
Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on him. “Just hear me out. Please.”
For a long time Eliza only stared at him. Then without saying a word, she led him through the iron gate to the hotel’s outdoor pool, and to a table in the corner of the patio. She took one chair and he sat opposite her.
“Talk, Jack. You have five minutes.”
Maybe this wouldn’t work. Jack leaned forward on the table and looked straight into her eyes. “We don’t want you here at this hotel. Or at some homeless shelter.” He exhaled. “You deserve better than that, Eliza.”
For a long time she only looked at him. Then she opened the bag and took out three tacos. “Vouchers.” She didn’t make eye contact. Slowly, meticulously she ate one of the tacos. Then another.
Jack looked out at the pool. Agents around the world risked their lives to break up trafficking rings. But only to treat the victims like this? Three tacos? Was that her dinner? Had she eaten anything else today?
“At least at the Palace they fed us.” She was still chewing. “We had a bed every night of the year.” She finally turned her eyes to him. “But I’m rescued now, right, Jack? Except… where do I go when I run out of vouchers?”
She was right. Jack laced his fingers together behind his head and stared at her. “The FBI wants to help you. We’ll get you your citizenship and identification, some cash. Something to start a new life.”
“What if I don’t want to be a U.S. citizen?” She sounded less harsh. More matter of fact. “My home is in Belize. Doesn’t that mean anything to you people?”
“Eliza, your father has men all over Belize. Your life would be in danger every minute, every day.”
“I’m used to that.” Her words were quick and sharp. “I don’t care if I die. Death would be a reward.”
He felt the same way, but he couldn’t tell her that. She was just twenty. Intelligent, beautiful, and despite her horrific past she had her whole life ahead of her. “You don’t want to die. Your life is just beginning.”
“You’re wrong.” For the first time since he’d known her, she didn’t sound furious or jaded. She tilted her head to the sky again. “I thought I would arrive here and become a police officer. Work to save girls like the ones at the Palace.” She paused. “But who was I kidding? I have no family. Nowhere to go, no way to make a living. No friends.” She hesitated. “Yes. Death would be a gift.”
The poor girl. He looked down at a spot on the table. “What happened to your mother?”
“I don’t feel like talking about it.” She sighed. “Do you understand, Jack? Why I’d rather die?”
“Yes.” He clenched his jaw. “I feel the same way sometimes.”
“You?” Her comeback was quick. “Hotshot secret agent. Gorgeous face and body.” She laughed, but it didn’t touch her eyes. “You have life by the tail, Jack. Why in the world would you feel that way?”
No chance he was telling her his life story now. He remained quiet.
Eventually she looked off. “I almost died. Did you know that?” She didn’t wait for him to speak. “I was nine years old and there was a hurricane in the Caribbean. The undertow was the worst I could remember.”
Jack winced. So young. “You went to the beach every day even then, when you were little?”
“Yes.” Her expression grew stone-cold. “My father insisted. I’d been at the Palace for a year by then. I was only nine years old.” She opened her last taco and set it on her napkin. After a few seconds she wrapped it up and tossed it in the paper bag. Her eyes found his again. “That day something grabbed me… like a monster. I actually looked down expecting to see an octopus or a sea creature. But it was the current.” Her eyes never softened. “My aunt was on the shore, like always back then.”
Jack tried to picture the scene.
“I could barely keep my head above water, but for some reason I screamed. And my scream got the attention of my aunt. And a couple of teenage boys on the beach.”
A couple of… Jack felt the color drain from his face. “That was… eleven years ago?”
“Yes.” She looked off again. “Two white boys—tourists probably. I had never seen them before, not on my father’s beach. I never saw them again. How could they know I didn’t want to live, didn’t want them to save me? I told myself to let go, fall beneath the surface and sink. But my legs kept kicking, kept fighting.”
What? Jack reminded himself to breathe. It wasn’t possible. She was rescued as a nine-year-old? On the beach in front of the Palace? Was she the same…? Jack’s heart pounded so loud he was sure she could hear it. Was she… was Eliza the child he had rescued from the beach that day? He could see her still, the little girl, panicked, mouth open.
Matted blond hair and… and blue eyes.
Jack needed a minute to process this, but he didn’t have it. He had to stay with the story, let her talk. He couldn’t let on about what he was feeling. All that mattered here and now was gaining her trust.
Clearly, her story wasn’t finished. Eliza looked off. “Something happened to one of the boys, because people were working on him… there on the sand.” She shook her head. “By then I was with my aunt again. She took me back to the Palace. And she beat me for half an hour for straying so far out to sea.”
“What?” Anger rose in his heart. “That wasn’t your fault.”
“My aunt worked for my father. If she let something happen to me he would’ve killed her.” She turned her eyes to him again. “The beating was a warning.”
Jack felt dizzy. Of course the woman on the shore that day had been Betsy Norman. That explained why she had seemed angry instead of afraid. Why she never looked at Jack. Never thanked him.
She had only been worried about losing her job.
A sick feeling wrapped itself around Jack’s gut. Of all the girls in all the world, how could the one he rescued have been Eliza? He tried to steady his heart, stuff his reaction.
Lost in the story, Eliza didn’t notice. She lifted her face to the sky again. “If I had died that day, I would have woken up in heaven. With the rest of my family.” She met his eyes again. “Instead I woke up in hell.” She turned to him, hate dripping from every word. “With my father and his men.”
Jack had no idea what to say. He had lost his own brother in that rescue. And here the girl hadn’t even wanted to be saved. If only they’d known she was a victim back then. Held against her will in a house of torture. If they had known, Jack and his family would’ve called the authorities and had the place shut down that very day.
Even with Shane lying dead at the hospital.
He drew a slow breath. “I’m sorry.”
“Yes, well…” Eliza crumpled up her paper bag. “Here I am. Rescued again.” She looked back at him. “But I still wish I had drowned that day.”
Jack was just barely able to concentrate. She was the same girl! She really was. He pushed the truth from his mind. He couldn’t tell her now, couldn’t break the fragile trust between them. “Maybe you won’t wish that. Once I tell you the news.”
And then Jack explained about the housekeeping job at the home where the other girls lived. “You would make ten dollars an hour and help with homework. But you would have your own room. You’d be free to come and go.” Something Eliza had never known.
She didn’t say anything, but his words had hit their mark. She was thankful, he could tell. Because he watched her eyes fill with tears. The same blue eyes as the little girl he had rescued not once, but twice. From a place Jack would remember as long as he lived, the last place he had ever seen his brother, Shane.
A distant shore in the heart of Belize.