I ran my hands through my hair. I'd been trying to resist the impulse all morning, but it was too strong now.

Since I'd returned to my apartment after my revolutionary trip to the club, I'd been haunted. Not by what I'd discovered about Zeke, but by the flashback I'd had of the other girl. I hadn't given her a second thought since that day, not even when I'd been giving names and descriptions to Lily, but it hadn't been from malice. I simply hadn't remembered her. It shouldn't have been surprising that I'd forgotten. At least three or four years had passed from that event until I was rescued. There had been too many faces to remember. Lily had told me more than once that I couldn't expect myself to remember them all. I'd accepted that, but now, I had to make up for the one I'd forgotten.

I could find her again. At least, I thought I could. But doing it would mean doing something I'd told myself I'd never do. I'd never considered that I might break that promise because I'd been certain there would never be anything that could make me look at the things my mother had made me do. Now, I was going to put myself through hell on the off chance I could find a needle in a filthy haystack.

I found the files easily enough, hidden exactly where I'd left them. There were multiple copies of most of them, each one tagged with my little virus. Fortunately for me, my backdoor was still in place and I made my way through the originals, searching by the year the files were uploaded.

I knew approximately how old I'd been, so at least I didn't have to go through everything, but what I did have to see was bad enough. Each picture brought back a memory and, with some, I was able to move on, knowing it wasn't right. With others, the memory hit too hard and I was forced to wait it out. I knew Dr. MacLeod would've said this was a bad idea, and after a couple hours, I was inclined to agree.

By mid-afternoon, I was sick to my stomach, shaking and seriously contemplating getting completely and totally pass-out drunk. And then, I saw it. A single picture of her, the girl from my flashback. She was naked, frightened, and watching what the man was doing to me.

I captured her image and backed out of my files. I knew this wouldn't be the only one of her, but it was the only one connected to me, so I could use it to find the rest of her. Find out who she was and where she was. Save her.

While my programs were running, I headed into the bathroom. I hadn't been out doing anything, but I felt dirty enough to need a shower. I made the water as hot as I dared, letting it turn my skin a lovely shade of pink. I barely felt the heat though.

When I came back into the living room, it looked like the programs had finished running. I should've felt good about it. The fact that it hadn't taken that long to run meant that there wasn't much to find. I was hoping that meant she'd been freed, but the feeling in the pit of my stomach said that probably wasn't the case.

I tightened the belt of my robe and went to the kitchen to get myself some ice cream. Alcohol to numb things might've been nice, but I wanted to keep a clear head. Comfort food would have to do. I sat on the couch and started looking through the pictures my program had found. There weren't any videos, so I at least didn't need to go through the nightmare of listening to her again. The pictures were bad enough.

I sorted through them until I found one where the man's face was clear enough for me to run it through my program. A quarter of an hour and several scoops of ice cream later, a few more pictures came up, giving me younger images of the girl. I kept going, methodically going through as many ages as possible until I finally hit a wall with her.

I didn't hit it with him though. I managed to get a better image of the man, one good enough to give me a driver's license with a name and address. Max O'Neal. Florida address, but I'd known that. It was an old license, and a moment later, I saw why.

The search had pinged something in the FBI's own system. Max O'Neal had a file.

I read through it once and then made myself read it again. I felt numb and needed the repetition for things to sink in. Once they did, I set my ice cream aside. I wasn't hungry anymore. In fact, what I had eaten was sitting like a lump in my stomach.

Max O'Neal had been arrested not long after the first picture I'd found had been uploaded. Arrested for and convicted of child pornography and the sexual abuse of his eleven year-old step-daughter, Pearl, over a six year period. Pearl's mother had died three years before the arrest, so afterwards, Pearl had gone to live with an elderly aunt, her only living relative.

For a while anyway. Max had traded up, offering the names of men with whom he'd exchanged kiddie porn. He'd been given five years, but had been paroled in half that time. He'd checked in with his parole officer once and then disappeared. No one knew where he'd gone until someone realized they hadn't seen old Mrs. Kopp and called the police to come check.

What they'd found had been a bloodbath. Mrs. Kopp had been beaten to death with a crowbar and Pearl was nowhere to be found. Her body was found two weeks later. Among other things, her tongue had been cut out. Her step-father turned himself in, distraught over what he'd done. He'd hung himself three days later, leaving a suicide note that clearly detailed everything he'd done as well as the betrayal he'd felt when his daughter had testified against him.

I knew it wasn't my fault. I'd still been with my mother when all this had happened, so it really didn't matter that I hadn't remembered to tell Lily about her. In fact, I was a bit surprised that Max hadn't sold out my mom. Then again, he hadn't been a regular. As far as I could remember, that one time had been it. He might not have even known my mother's name. Or he could've been afraid of some of the guys who hung around with Mom.

I wiped at my cheeks absently. I didn't know why I was crying. I hadn't known Pearl. Hadn't even known her name until now. We'd shared some horrors for a couple hours one day years ago. She hadn't been a friend or an enemy. But I was mourning her all the same. Mourning because the people who were supposed to help her hadn't done it, and now I was one of those people. I hadn't been in a position to help Pearl, but I was in one now where I could help kids like us.

Except I wasn't. Agent Matthews tried to make me feel like I was doing good, but I'd seen firsthand how these things worked. I'd followed up on some of the cases I'd provided evidence for. At least two of them were already in the first stages of a deal. I understood the need for cutting deals, but I was starting to feel like that's all the FBI were doing. They'd arrest the abusers, then make deals for other pedophiles or distributers.

I wasn't sure I could be a part of that. I'd been doubting the good of what I was doing, but Pearl was the last straw. My programs could find the information, find the people and the kids. I could shut down sites, tag videos and pictures to spread my virus, even without the FBI.

And maybe I could do something more alone than I could do while employed by a government agency.

I looked at the stack of files. Was I crazy? I'd have to be to do what I was thinking, right? This was a good job and if I gave it up, it'd be the second good job I'd given up in three months. Not exactly something potential employers would consider a positive work history.

Then again, I could still go back to self-employment, and I'd still have the time to help people.

I picked up the phone before I could talk myself out of it. I might regret it tomorrow, but it was the right thing to do.

“Agent Matthews,” I said when he answered.

“Miss Lang.” He sounded surprised. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” I said. “Well, maybe.”

“That sounds ominous,” he said carefully. “How can I help?”

“That's the thing,” I said. “I know you have a job to do, but I don't feel like I'm helping anyone.”

“You are,” he cut in quickly. “You've contributed quite a bit of evidence for us, not to mention helping get pictures and videos tagged.”

“But the people who are responsible aren't getting what they deserve.” I didn't let him go any further. “And I just don't feel like I can be a part of that anymore.”

“Jenna...”

“I'm not going to give you details so I'm not putting you in an awkward position,” I said. “But I'm going to keep working on finding people, and I'll send you information if I think you can use it. Anonymous tips, of course.”

He was silent for a moment. “There's no point in me trying to talk you out of this, is there?” he asked with a sigh.

“No,” I said.

“And it'd be pointless of me to remind you that your immunity agreement doesn't cover future acts.”

“It would be,” I said. “But I appreciate you looking out for me.”

“If you change your mind, your job will be waiting.” He sounded resigned, but not angry. I knew he understood.

“Thank you, Agent Matthews,” I said sincerely. “For everything.”

“I just wish I could've done more,” he said quietly before ending the call.

I set the phone aside and looked back at my laptop. With that done, I was no longer employed by the government. Whatever I did now, I was doing as a private citizen, with all of the pros and cons that involved.

This, at least, was an easy choice for me to make.

I pulled up everything I had, including all of the information on my mother and on Christophe. It would take a little time to make sure I covered my tracks, as well as to ensure the maximum impact from what I was about to do, but in a few hours, it would all be worth it.

Every pedophile I'd found would have all of their personal information exposed. Names, jobs, addresses. For once, the victims would be protected and the perverts would be the ones to pay the price. I couldn't get justice for Pearl, but I was going to do what I could to make sure others didn't suffer the same fate.

And I was going to make sure my mother and Christophe never hurt anyone else again.