In his office, Turner closed the file Alice had prepared for him. The transcripts of several cases of girls abducted in the US, in the words of the victims themselves, was easily available to all law enforcement personnel.

No special clearance had been required.

He felt for the young victims. Even a cold and jaded man like him could not have remained unaffected.

Turner had seen his share of horrific acts. But this vile systematic ruination of young human lives for profit was worse because it was so widespread.

It was an industry.

The methods were as sophisticated as they were cruel. Even a smart girl from a decent home could easily fall into the trap. Once they were taken, the net immediately tightened, making it impossible to resist or seek help.

To make them cooperate, the girls were given a false glimmer of hope.

After working off the debt of what had been supposedly spent on their acquisition, they would be free to go. The old trick of a stick in one hand and a carrot in the other worked in this situation just as well as in another.

What he couldn't understand, though, was the lack of awareness, and how little the authorities were doing about it. The least that should have been done was to make the methods of coercion known so girls would know what to look out for.

But politicians didn't want to soil their hands by association and were, therefore, contributing to the conspiracy of silence by pretending that the problem didn't exist.

Alice opened the door. "Brian is here to see you."

"Let him in." Turner put the file away in his desk drawer.

"Good morning, Turner. And how are you this fine day?"

The smile on the analyst's face annoyed him. "I'm well. Please, take a seat."

It felt all wrong to talk to Brian about his date with Bridget, and he was tempted to tell the guy he didn't need any further help. But that would have been a lie.

"She invited me over for dinner at her place."

"Splendid," Brian said. "The things I ordered for your apartment should arrive tomorrow. It will take me less than an hour to arrange everything and make it look as if a real person is living in there. After that, you can invite her over."

Turner rubbed the back of his head. "I offered another restaurant date, but she said she wanted to cook for me."

Brian grinned. "She wants you, and she is impatient."

"What should I do?" Turner wasn't sure he would be able to play it cool if Bridget came on to him. The woman was too sexy to resist.

"Go for it, my man."

"But you said I should let her chase me."

"You did, and it worked. If you keep resisting, she will think you're not into her."

"Yeah, she looked disappointed by that kiss on the cheek. Are you sure it works for you? Because it didn't feel right to me."

"It works every time."

"She said I should dress casually. Does it mean jeans?"

Brian rubbed his hands. "Not any jeans. We need to go shopping again."

"Not going to happen. Can I pay you to do it for me?"

"Take your place on the date, or buy clothes for you?"

Turner had a sudden urge to reach over and grab Brian by the throat. What the hell was happening to him?

"The shopping," he practically spat out the words.

The analyst lifted his hands, palms out. "Peace. It was just a joke. Are you sure you don't have feelings for this woman? Because a moment ago you looked raving mad with jealousy and ready to throttle me."

As disturbing as it was to admit, Brian wasn't wrong. The image of the handsome analyst with Bridget had brought about an unexpected surge of anger. "My feelings are none of your business."

"Very well. I'll grab a few things and drop them off at your apartment."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me before you see my bill. I'm charging you my regular hourly rate."

"I expected nothing less." Three hundred and fifty dollars an hour, but if it worked, it was worth it.

Except, Turner wasn't sure. Perhaps the type of women Brian favored responded to his particular style, but Bridget was in a league of her own and incomparable. A different approach was needed, but neither he nor Brian knew what it was.

As with most things, the way to figure it out was to watch, listen, and adapt. Yesterday, Turner had felt like a dressed up mannequin.

"Don't go crazy with the designer stuff. She wasn't impressed by it."

"I'll go midrange."

"One last thing. What should I bring?"

"Wine."

"Sounds easy enough."

"Nothing cheap, though."

"Noted."

When Brian left, Turner called Alice in. "I need a favor."

"Sure."

He pulled out his wallet and handed her three hundred bucks. "Can you get me a fancy bottle of wine?"

She arched a brow. "Going on a date, boss?"

Reluctantly, he nodded. It was bad enough that Brian knew, now Alice knew as well.

"Who is she?"

"No one you know."

When she opened her mouth again, he lifted a hand to stop her. "No more questions, Alice."

She pouted. "Yes, boss."

Turner let out a breath when Alice turned on her heel and walked toward the door, but then she stopped with her hand on the handle. "Come on, boss. Give me something. I've been working for you since you started your civilian career."

"She is a redhead."

Alice laughed. "Thank you. I know how hard that must've been for you."

He waved a hand. "Just go. And wipe that smile off your face."

"Yes, boss."

As his assistant closed the door behind her, he heard her giggle.

Alice was one of the few people he couldn't intimidate, not because he was nice to her, but because she wasn't scared of him. Never had been. It had been one of the main reasons he hired her in the first place. A timid secretary would not have survived a day in his office.