“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 CONTINUED with 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.”
Eliza liked Camille’s spunk. She wasn’t sure of the agent’s story, but she had a feeling the woman had overcome big obstacles in her past. Something that had driven her to one of the toughest jobs on earth.
Camille taught her in the classroom, too. The typical system of sex slavery was different from the one at the Palace. Eliza learned new information every hour. Of the twenty-five million people being trafficked around the world, twenty percent were trapped in a sex-slave ring. But not all of those lived in a mansion like Eliza had.
Many of the victims worked for traffickers during the day. The men would lure young girls—sometimes boys—into the circle by promising them jewelry or cash. At first the victims felt like they were on top of the world. Many of them had been neglected or overlooked by their parents, so the new attention from a predator was a rush.
But as soon as the girls turned a single trick, as soon as they realized they weren’t going to keep any of the money, the abusers would flip things on them. Camille had talked with one of the girls who had turned herself in and made the bureau aware of the ring happening at East San Antonio.
“You know what she told me?” Camille’s eyes were clear and sharp.
Eliza shook her head. She had no idea.
“She told me her mom was a single parent. Worked three jobs to keep food on the table and pay rent. A good mom, true to the core.” Camille paused. “But as soon as that girl worked