Forgiving Paris: A Novel(38)

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.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.

—Proverbs 19:21



To Eliza, Jack Ryder served just one purpose. He was her way out.

Already he had secured her a place to live and work. In her new home, she could finally treat the Palace girls the way they deserved to be treated. With kindness and respect. With honesty. And now that she had a place to live, with every passing hour, Eliza became more convinced that she didn’t want to work at the group home.

She really did want to work with the FBI. Eliminate traffickers from the streets and get them behind bars, as many as possible. And rescue girls like herself and the sixteen from the Palace.

Until now, Eliza hadn’t had access to the Internet. But the group home had a computer for schoolwork. She had asked Stan and Melinda for an hour of Internet time, and they had agreed.

“The system is protected from inappropriate con tent,” Melinda told her. The woman was kind, but she didn’t quite trust Eliza. Not yet, anyway. “We’ll have a record of whatever you search.”

“That’s fine.” Eliza wanted to learn just one thing: how the FBI informant program worked. She told Melinda as much, and over the next few days, Eliza found all she needed to know.

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.