Page 53 of A Distant Shore
She returned and waited down the hall from the office door. By the time Jack came out, Eliza couldn’t look at him or talk to him. He must’ve felt the same way because he walked by without saying a word.
How could she ever have had feelings for him? He was cold and callous without a hint of genuine compassion. His kindness had been nothing more than an act. She met with Oliver Layton then, but only for a few minutes. Just long enough for him to promise he would try to get her undercover at a high school, one where sex traffickers often lured girls to work hotels during major sporting events.
Back at the group home, Eliza forced herself not to think about him. She would never work with Jack Ryder again, no matter what. Every gentle word or tender moment had been another of his lies. For the job, he would tell her if she gave him the chance. But where did that leave her? Didn’t he care about her feelings?
Two days later Oliver worked out the details so she could, indeed, go undercover at one of the toughest high schools in San Antonio. The bureau had decided Eliza’s lack of high school experience wasn’t a problem. The kids she’d be hanging with didn’t have much classroom experience, either.
Eliza couldn’t have been happier.
If she needed training, she would do it. Whatever it took to get out in the field and help catch parasites like her father. The man who had stolen her childhood and nearly sold her into marriage. Her father had taken her childhood and her heart. Emotionally, she was damaged goods, and she always would be. Because her father had taken something else.
He had stolen her ability to ever be attractive to a guy like Jack Ryder.
THE TRAINING WASmore intense than Eliza had expected. She had never attended a high school, let alone one in the roughest part of a city like San Antonio. Terri and a team of agents worked with her, teaching her how to talk and dress and walk like someone from the east side of the city. This wasn’t a typical high school undercover job, something local police would operate. This was connected to national trafficking rings that preyed on high school girls in certain areas in conjunction with sporting events.
Especially pro sporting events.
“It’ll be hard enough, getting them to believe a messed-up white girl just happened to wind up at their school.” Camille was black, one of the most intelligent and street-savvy agents in the bureau. “You gotta rat your hair and walk with an attitude. Don’t smile. Wear heavy makeup. You’ll talk different and sit different, cocky bad to the core. So they don’t only believe you. They respect you.”
On the inside, Eliza was already that girl. For years she’d seen that behavior modeled by the older girls at the Palace. But she didn’t say that to Camille.
Instead Eliza worked at being even more what the bureau wanted. All day, every day she worked. And on the weekends in her bedroom at the group home she read about high school behavior and successful informants—books Camille had given her. She trainedand studied morning to night, stopping to eat and sleep only when she absolutely had no choice.
One Sunday afternoon, Rosa found her in the living room looking over her class schedule, memorizing it. “This work you’re doing… is it dangerous?” The girl looked worried.
Eliza smiled at her. “Not really.”
“Good.” Rosa sighed. “You’re my best friend, Eliza. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Eliza looked at her for a long moment. “You get why I’m doing this, right?”
“Why?” Rosa was younger, but not that much.
“For you. For all the girls.” She smiled at her young friend. “I’d give my life tomorrow if it meant putting men like my father behind bars.”
Fear shone in Rosa’s eyes. “But… you said—”
“Yes.” She kept her tone light. “I’ll be fine. I’m just saying, even if my new work becomes dangerous, I won’t stop.” Her voice wasn’t much more than a whisper. She didn’t want Stan and Melinda to worry about her. “I’d give my life to save girls like you.”
“Okay.” And in that moment a different look filled Rosa’s face. The look of pride. “Maybe one day, I’ll do that, too.”
“Yeah, well.” Eliza patted Rosa’s shoulder. “For now worry about algebra. I want you girls to be the smartest in your classes.”
Later Eliza thought about that. She wanted to be the smartest in her classroom, too. And in the coming weeks,that meant pretending to be a complete failure. She knew her part well by now. Transferred from a Dallas school. Living with her cousin’s family. A record of drug convictions and petty theft and truancy.
Getting good grades wouldn’t impress anyone at her new school. The exact opposite.
ELIZA’S TRAINING CONTINUEDwith basic martial arts. A street-smart girl would know what to do if some high school punk made a pass at her. “The guy needs to be on the ground before he can say his name,” Camille told her.
Then Camille showed her.
After three days of practice, Eliza had no doubt she could take care of herself in a rough high school setting. She would get in with the worst of the tough kids and join them on their trips to the abandoned shopping mall across the street. Apparently the principal looked the other way, even when the bad students left halfway through the day.
“Too much crime and drug use going on to make a difference,” Camille said. “Most educators would work around the clock to help kids. Not this one. For him, it’s too much work to care.”
In this case, that was a plus for Eliza. She didn’t want to be busted by the principal. She wanted the feds to bust up the trafficking and drug sales happening at the mall across the street. Because it was there in that abandoned mall, Camille told her, that predators often preyed on girls from Northeast San Antonio High. The FBI suspected one or two of the senior girls were acting as go-betweens, convincing other girls to hang out across the street, and getting a financial reward if those girls fell into being trafficked.
“I’m impressed.” Camille crossed her arms and smiled when Eliza demonstrated her best takedown of one of the male agents. “You’re going to be great out there, Lawrence.”
