“Agent Ramirez.”
I look up at Agent Dern, who regards me with a terrible sort of compassion from the other end of the table. “It is the finding of this investigation that your actions were not only appropriate, but necessary. Though we grieve at the loss of a life, you did what had to be done to protect not only your fellow agents but the child being held hostage, and we thank you for your service. Your administrative leave is lifted, and although we are recommending a set course of counseling to assist with the emotional aftermath, you are cleared to be returned to active duty.
“If that’s what you want.”
Eddison’s mouth disappears behind his hand, and he stares at the table with an expression so blank he has to be hurting himself trying not to scowl. Sterling’s hands are folded in her lap, her eyes fixed on them, but those eyes are bright and wet.
Vic . . .
Vic carried me out of hell when I was ten years old, and has carried me so many times since. He meets my eyes and smiles, sad but calm, and nods.
I study the badge in my hands, take a deep breath, and look back at the IA agents on the other side of the table.
“Agent Ramirez, have you made your decision?”
Another slow, deep breath, and all my courage. “I have.”
Once upon a time, there was a little girl who was scared of hurting others.
It was strange in context, and she knew that. For so long, the people who were supposed to love her, take care of her, keep her safe, had hurt her instead. She yet bore the scars and always would inside and out. She could trace them with her fingers, with her memories, with her fears.
There’s an outer limit to how much you can heal. There comes a point where time just isn’t a factor anymore: it’s done as much as it can do.
But she survived it, came through it alive even if she was battered, and slowly put together a life for herself. She got away, she made friends, she worked her way into a job she loved.
She just wanted to help people, to help children.
That was all she’d ever wanted, nearly from the moment she’d realized it would be possible. When it finally sifted down through all the years and layers of fears that she had a future, she knew she needed to spend it helping others as she’d been helped.
One night, after years of her being hurt, an angel came to rescue her, and carried her away.
It wasn’t the end of her pain—wasn’t even the end of her injuries—but it was still a life-changing event. She’d looked into the angel’s eyes, kind and sad and gentle, and known that the rest of her life had a path, if she could only get her feet on it.
And she had helped, hadn’t she? More than she’d hurt?
Sometimes it was out of her hands. She tried to keep them safe, to get them into better situations, and she’d done that mostly, hadn’t she? Or had she been so focused on getting them away, she’d forgotten—her, of all people—that where they were going to was just as important?
She wasn’t sure how the scales balanced. Had she helped more than she’d harmed?
But Mercedes knew—she hoped, she prayed, she knew—that the fear made her a better agent. It made her care about what came after, not just what came before. There were children she’d failed and children she’d saved, and children she had yet to save (children she had yet to fail), and she’d be damned if she was walking away from any of them.
There was another scared little girl who chose a different path, but Mercedes chose this one, and she’d choose it again and again.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Every book has its own challenges, and breaks your brain in a different way, and this book was no exception.
So, massive thank-yous to Jessica, Caitlin, and the incredible Thomas & Mercer team, you guys are amazing and supportive and an absolute hoot, and I still can’t believe you met the please-don’t-hate-me email with laughter. Agent Sandy, who laughed twice as hard, and I’m starting to think this may say more about me than I intend it to.
Thank you, Kelie, for letting me steal your tattoo for Mercedes, and for you being generally you, and to Isabel, Pam and family, Maire, Allyson, Laura, Roni, Tessa, Natalie, and Kate for continuing to be the amazing people you are.
To the family, for being supportive and cheerful and so, so proud of me. It means a lot and keeps me going even when I want to set the draft on fire, and I am very grateful. And thank you for not minding when I carved out a few hours away from the mass arrivals and prewedding festivities so I could work on edits. Specifically, thank you to Robert and Stacy for giving me a place to land when I was so caught up in trying to finish the book on time that I couldn’t look for a place to live.
Thank you to Kesha, whose new album fueled half the draft and edits, and Mary Balogh, whose books keep me sane when I’m stressed, and the Yankee Candle Company Mountain Lodge candle, because the smell of lumberjack Chris Evans is surprisingly helpful in keeping calm to work. Thank you to the tenth anniversary live-in-concert Les Misérables, the 2015 live-action Cinderella, and Shrek: The Musical, for being the things I can have on in the background while I’m editing.
Finally, thank you to all of you, all my readers, all my chatterboxes who talk the book up to others, to the bloggers and crafters and artists who share the word in their own way. Thank you for your support, for your time, thank you for your responses, thank you for making it possible for me to continue doing this wacky thing I love.