Forgiving Paris: A Novel(50)

“You mean… you knew his great-granddaughter was Lizzie James?” Tears still streamed down her face. “You met with my great-grandfather?”

Jack felt terrible. “He was a very… very kind man, Eliza.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. Even though the last thing on his mind was the role he was supposed to be playing.

Eliza shaded her eyes. “What did he say… about me?”

“He believed you were still alive. You and your mother and brother.” Again Jack could see the sincerity in the old man’s face. “He told me your age. I think he was off several years.” Disappointment washed over Jack. “We figured out his great-granddaughter would’ve been in her early twenties. And there were no girls that age at the Palace.”

Eliza closed her eyes. When she opened them, it was clear she didn’t blame him for not realizing earlier who she was. “What did he tell you?”

“How this strange American woman named Agnes Potter came to the village and how he thought the woman was trouble. I had no idea the woman was Betsy Norman.” He hurt for Eliza. “When your mother and brother and you didn’t come home, your great-grandfather told me that word came back to the village that all of you had drowned.” Jack pulled her close again. “Your great-grandfather knew I was doing a raid on the Palace. It was beyond him, that something so wicked had made its way to Belize.”

“My great-papa.” She looked up, her eyes brimming with fresh tears. “He was the nicest man. He loved me… so much.”

Anyone watching them would merely think they were anxious to get back to the hotel. No one would’ve guessed they were having the most important conversation in Eliza’s life. Jack felt a sting in his own eyes. “So… Agnes Potter changed her name to Betsy Norman?”

“I guess.” Eliza sniffed. “I never knew her as anything other than Aunt Betsy.” She eased back and searched his face. “You’re saying Betsy returned to Lower Barton Creek and told my great-papa that I’d drowned with my mother and brother?”

“Yes.” Jack brushed his fingers against her cheek. Her skin was softer than air. “There were police photos of three sets of footprints headed to the shore. And none coming out. Your father’s men must have set that up, swimming down the beach before exiting the water. And making it look like three people drowned. You, your mother, and your brother.”

Eliza shook her head. She studied him. “They told me there were two sets that day. So obviously their whole story was a lie.” Anger began to set in her features.

“Careful.” He kissed the top of her head. “By now, we’re being watched.” The longer they stayed on the beach, lost in each other, the more the traffickers would believe their act.

Eliza worked to find her smile again. “What if my mother and brother are still alive?”

It was the exact question Jack had asked himself a dozen times since meeting with Ike Armstrong. Not because he had thought Eliza was related to the man. But because he hoped to get an operative to Little Belize—another local Mennonite community to the north—to see if maybe the man was right.

But that was the last thing he could tell Eliza now. “The department knows about Ike’s concerns.” Jack shook his head. “We have no reason to believe your family is still alive, Eliza. I’m sorry.”

Over the next few seconds, Jack could feel something in Eliza change. She grew more stiff and less sad. She took off her sunglasses and dried her eyes. Like she had sand in them from the breeze off the water.

Then she turned to him and took his hand. “Let’s go save some children.”

The work that day was more helpful to the upcoming raid than anything they’d seen or done so far. They bought snow cones and sat on the bench near the playground. A few times, Eliza took to the swings again. Just so her story would hold true.

And in the next several hours Eliza identified four men working the beach. She would nod toward the north. “Those two by the yellow car. They’re the experienced ones. The men on the beach are new. They have to bring in girls or the guy in charge will get rid of them.”

She didn’t have to spell out what that meant. Jack knew far too well how dangerous these sorts of operations were—even for the bad guys. When the men climbed in their car, Eliza ran with Jack to a waiting cab. All the while she laughed and looked back at him, her snow cone dripping, long blond hair blowing in the wind. Once they were in the car, she took a chance he might not have taken.

“See that yellow car.” She practically giggled the words. “We know those guys! We met them a few years ago when we visited.” She leaned forward and smiled at the driver. “Could you follow them? Please?”

Jack didn’t lose his smile. “Yes, it’d be great to see them again.”

If the driver knew the men in the other car, he’d know Jack and Eliza were lying. He might even text the men and turn them in. At the end of the ride, the men might have an ambush waiting for Jack and Eliza.

Jack didn’t care. Eliza was right to do this. The bureau had no idea where the ring was operating from. They suspected that the group was transient because the men and children seemed to move every few days. But now he had a feeling they were following the men to headquarters. A more stable location. And if the FBI had that, a raid would be imminent.