Forgiving Paris: A Novel(40)

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.”

And with little other fanfare, Eliza Lawrence was no longer a former captive in a trafficking organization trying to find a room at the Holiday Inn. She was Masey Benson, paid HLCI with the FBI.

When the meeting was over, Oliver approached their newest informant. “For the time being, I’d like to see you work in the office.” He hesitated. “You could sit at a computer and do virtual surveillance of a dozen places where we have concerns.”

“Virtual?” Eliza shook her head. “No, sir. I don’t want to be in an office. A camera can’t pick up the subtle details.” She hesitated. “Otherwise you would have closed down the Palace before now.”

She had a point. But putting her in the field made him nervous. “Your next counseling appointment is tomorrow. On the first floor in this building.” He thought for a minute. “Let’s talk after that.”

The Transnational Organized Crime unit had called in a psychiatrist who specialized in victim work. Eliza wasn’t the typical victim. She, herself, had never been trafficked. But she grew up with girls who were, and between that and her father’s threats she was absolutely in need of help. The doctor would meet with her for the next four weeks, every day. At that point—even though counseling would continue indefinitely, Oliver would talk to the counselor.

If Eliza wasn’t ready, they would find out soon enough.

Eliza was slated to spend the next few hours in the research room, where she would learn more about being an informant. Data and details she couldn’t find on the web. Terri would be her guide for the process. The two left the office.

Only Oliver and Jack remained. Oliver faced his agent. “I need to speak with you.”

“Sir?” Jack didn’t look guilty. Maybe he didn’t know the signals he was giving off when it came to Eliza.

“In my office.”

“Yes, sir.”

Oliver led the way, and they sat across from each other. He took his time, looking long at Jack, analyzing him. “Talk to me about the girl.”

Jack hesitated. “The girl?” He leaned forward. “Eliza?”

“Yes.” Oliver raised his eyebrows. “You know who I mean.”

A blank look came over Jack’s face. “What about her, sir?”

Oliver didn’t want to waste his time or Jack’s. “I need to know.” He took a slow breath. “Are you in love with her?”

From the moment his words were out, Oliver could tell two things. First, he was right. And second, Jack wasn’t going to admit it because he didn’t yet see the truth himself.

“Sir…” Despite his tanned face, the young agent’s cheeks grew ruddy. “Definitely not.” His tone was more shocked than defensive. Then gradually his expression changed. “However, sir… there is more to the situation.”

“I’m listening.”

And then Jack told him a story that seemed straight out of the movies, like something no one could dream of making up. Eliza was the little girl Jack had rescued? The summer his brother drowned in Belize?

Oliver felt his forehead grow damp. This definitely complicated things. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir. She even knew about my brother being hurt, laying on the beach.” He paused. “She didn’t mention that he had died. I don’t think she knows what happened.”

“So that’s it.” Oliver studied Jack. “You saved her as a child, and now… you have feelings for her.”

“No.” He gave a few slow shakes of his head. “No, sir, I don’t. Nothing more than when we first returned from the mission. I want her to succeed. I want her to make a difference.” Jack crossed his arms. “I want her to have a reason to live.”

Oliver considered that for a long moment. Then he nodded. Maybe that was it. Maybe Jack wasn’t in love with the girl. Either way, his agent needed the reminder. “You do understand, Jack, that agents cannot have any romantic dealings with informants.”

“Yes, sir. Of course.” Jack knit his brows together. “I would think you’d know me better.”

“Well… it’s a rule worth repeating.” Oliver softened his tone. “You never know. The two of you might work together at some point. The lines need to be clear-cut.”

“Always, sir.” Jack looked stone sure. “You don’t have to tell me again.”



* * *



AS IT TURNED out, Oliver did have to tell Jack again. Jack and Eliza, both. Because four weeks later the brass decided they could use Eliza for a surveillance trip to Nassau, Bahamas. And Jack was the perfect operative to go with her. He was closest to her age, and he was the agent she knew and trusted most.

By then Oliver and his superiors had talked with Eliza’s counselor at length. The woman had found no reason to keep Eliza from the field. “Being on mission is her reason to exist,” the therapist told them. “She is singly focused. Not afraid or anxious. No nightmares. Very different than victims who have actually been trafficked.”