Power and Empire

She sighed. “I know I owe you one. I mean… hell, I hear the words coming out of my mouth and I’m like, ‘That’s not me.’” She gave a nervous chuckle. “Did you know that I make every boyfriend let me run a diagnostic on his computer and phone? That kind of trust is a real turn-on, let me tell you. But I can’t help it if I know the stats. I can walk down the street anywhere in the U.S. and the odds are I’m passing some pervert with child porn on his computer every couple minutes.” She breathed out hard, puffing her cheeks as if trying to keep from crying. “This job, it can turn you into a real bitch, you know.”

Caruso shook his head and said softly, “A carne di lupo, zanne di cane.”

Callahan raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain.

“Literally it means something about wolf meat and dog fangs, but figuratively it says you have to be rough to fight rough things. Kelsey, your investigations pit you against some of the sickest people on the planet. You’re entitled to be a little pissy once in a while.”

“Fight rough with rough.” Callahan closed her eyes to think for a moment. “I like that… I like it a lot.”

• • •

The hangar near Love Field Airport was less than fifteen minutes away from the FBI field office via the West Northwest Highway, called Loop 12 by locals. Caruso followed in his rental car, parking beside Callahan. He groaned within himself as he noted the position of three exterior security cameras. If they went to a remote server, then he was screwed. Government agents didn’t like being under surveillance any more than regular citizens. The difference was, they could do something about it, so there weren’t likely to be any cameras inside the building.

Callahan used a proximity card to get through the front door. Once inside, she deactivated an alarm with a simple key pad. She didn’t try to hide it, and Caruso memorized the five-digit code.

She flipped on the lights and said, “Behold! The office of misfit toys.”

“Nice,” Caruso said, surveying the bullpen arrangements of all the desks in the cavernous hangar. “You’re in charge here, right?”

“I guess.”

“Then where’s your office?”

“No office,” she said. “I’d miss too much. I sit at that desk there, below the whiteboard.” She explained the makeup of the task force, the agencies involved, and ran down a list of their recent arrest and rescue statistics.

“Those are impressive numbers,” Caruso said.

Callahan scoffed. “You want numbers? In 2008 there were over 57,000 kids reported missing in Texas alone. In that same year, the Highway Patrol made 2,891,441 traffic stops. How many kids do you think they recovered?”

“No idea.”

“Zip,” she said. “Nada. Zero. So they developed a program called Interdiction for the Protection of Children, which lines out a set of behaviors law enforcement should look for in trafficked children and the traffickers themselves.”

“So it’s working?”

Callahan closed her eyes. “Fifty-four kids were rescued last year. Better than zero, but we still have a long way to go. Human trafficking is a thirty-five-billion-dollar-a-year gig. There are places in the world — hell, there are places right here in this state, where women and kids are sold and traded like horses. And we’re barely making a dent.”

Caruso was thinking, You haven’t met John Clark, but he said, “And you still don’t think you’re doing enough?”

“Honestly, I’m overcome with guilt for standing here talking to you now instead of trying to save another one.” She ran a hand through her hair, redoing the scrunchie that kept her ponytail in place. “Anyway, sorry about bringing you down. I’m sort of used to having to make my case all the time.”

“No worries,” Caruso said. “It’s good to see someone so dedicated who’s not completely burned out.”

“Who said I’m not burned out?” She took his hand and turned toward the back wall, behind her desk. “Come on. There’s something I need to show you.”

Caruso pulled his hand away as gently as he could. “I’m in a relationship,” he said.

Callahan gave him an honest laugh, continuing to walk toward her desk.