“For what?”
“For whatever comes up.”
Amy didn’t like the laugh the man threw in after his answer. She said, “It sounds like you want me to be an escort.” She kept walking at the same pace as the man. Not rushed, just casual. But this end of the block was less populated and two of the streetlights were out. She was starting to feel anxious again.
The man didn’t deny it. He said, “You’ll escort clients. You’ll escort them to parties and clubs and maybe even an event on a red carpet.”
Amy considered the idea of such a glamorous lifestyle. Then she asked, “Would I have to have sex with them?”
“Maybe. Sometimes. Most of the clients would be older and couldn’t do much anyway.”
“Look, I may not be a virgin, but I’m not interested.”
“You should be.”
Now Amy realized they were at the end of the block. She turned quickly and said to the man, “I’m going back. Thank you for your kind offer. And for the tip.” She started to walk back in the direction of the diner. Then she felt the man’s hand wrap around her left upper arm.
Amy didn’t hesitate. She spun quickly and punched him in the jaw with her right fist. It surprised the man. He stumbled backward. She kicked him hard in the right thigh. She’d aimed for his testicles, but those were an awfully small target. The kick had roughly the same effect. The man grunted and leaned over, reaching down to hold his leg.
Amy could’ve run just then. But she felt empowered. Finally being raised with three brothers was paying off. She moved to kick the man in the head while he was bent over. She just had time tosee him pull something out of his front pocket. It almost looked like an inhaler. Then she was enveloped in a yellow fog.
She shuffled back from the mist now hanging between her and the man. But it was too late. Her eyes started to burn. It felt like needles were being driven into her cheeks. Amy’d never experienced anything like this before. She thought she might vomit. She lifted her hands to her eyes. It didn’t help. Panic rose inside her. She had to squeeze her eyes shut.
Then Amy felt the man’s hands around her throat. Her air cut off instantly. It was easily the most terrifying moment of her life.
She heard him growl, “Why the hell did you kick me? I was trying to do you a favor.”
Amy struggled, reaching up for the man’s hands around her throat. Every time she blinked the pain in her eyes got sharper. In those brief glimpses she could see the man’s face clearly.
He said, “You could’ve been rich.”
As his hands seemed to tighten around her throat, Amy lost the ability to control her arms. They started to just flop at her sides. She thought she heard her mom’s voice telling her to clean up for dinner. The lights around her started to dim.
Then there was nothing at all.
CHAPTER29
THE DAY AFTERConklin and I talked to Rachel at Yerba Buena Gardens, I found myself in the passenger seat of Cindy Thomas’s Hyundai sedan. I didn’t have a good reason to take my city car all the way out to San Julio since there was nothing solid linking the missing girls in San Julio to my case in San Francisco, but I felt it was important to get more information about Eric Snaff. Given my suspicions, I also didn’t want Cindy going out to see him by herself.
Cindy said, “Eric doesn’t seem like a psychopath.”
“Good psychopaths never do.”
“That is a great line. Can I include it in my book?” Then she pounded the steering wheel and said, “I’m so fired up to write this story. Who knows where it might lead?”
“You’re right. It’d be a shame if we found out Nicole just ran away and was safe somewhere. There’d be no real story there.”
Cindy frowned. “You know I’d be thrilled if Nicole turned up safe. It doesn’t change that there are a lot of missing girls. People don’t talk enough about these human-trafficking groups. This iswhy I got into journalism in the first place. It’s my way of trying to help people. I know being a cop is more directly helping people, but we can’t all wear a badge.”
I ignored Cindy’s comment. I thought about Nicole Snaff. Had she left her quiet little town voluntarily or had she been lured out? I continued to wonder about her father. Was he involved in her disappearance? I really didn’t know the answer to that question. If he wasn’t, how was he coping?
Cindy swerved to get around a slow pickup truck, but in doing so she barely missed an elderly couple in a Cadillac. State Route 24 ran from San Francisco all the way to Walnut Creek. It was a busy freeway, and it tested my nerves to be in the passenger seat while Cindy seemed to concentrate on everything but her driving.
We passed Orinda and about ten minutes later were rolling into San Julio. I’d been here a couple of times over the years. There never seemed to be much to the smaller suburban community this far east of San Francisco.
Cindy pointed to a building and said, “That’s the youth center where Eric works. It’s also where I met Gina, who works there too. Maybe we’ll have time to talk to her today.”
I gazed out the window at the quiet suburban town. For a moment, I pictured raising Julie here. Less chaos. Fewer people. Lower crime. It sounded good for a few seconds until I started to think about everything I’d miss. My job. My friends and neighbors. The constant variety that life in the city offered, with its multitudes of ethnicities, personalities, restaurants, and entertainment venues. I thought about where my sister Cat lived, about an hour south of San Francisco in quaint little Half Moon Bay, and how quickly I always grew restless when visiting her there.
