Hope acted like she was thinking about it, then smiled and said, “Nope.”
“Really?”
“It’s true.”
“But a weird thing to say.”
Hope started to giggle. “C’mon, Aunt Claire. I’d never stab anyone. Probably.”
“Glad to know you can control yourself.”
“Unless they deserved it.”
Claire couldn’t help but laugh, then eased around the breakfast bar to wrap her arms around her niece and squeeze her.
Then she heard Hope’s phone chirp. Her niece wiggled out of the hug, reached into her pajama pocket, and checked her phone. She looked up at her aunt and said, “Sorry. I’ve got to go.”
“You want me to give you a ride?”
Hope smiled and said, “Thanks, Aunt Claire, but I’ll Uber.”
CHAPTER31
ERIC SNAFF WASjust standing there on his front porch with his hands on his hips, watching us get out of Cindy’s car. Nothing about him seemed creepy. He wasn’t doing anything overtly disturbing. I told myself to be a little more open-minded.
Eric greeted Cindy with a handshake. She turned and said, “You remember my friend, Lindsay Boxer?”
“Of course. I still owe her a favor for not throwing me out of the party when I told her why I was there.” Then he looked at me and said, “You’re a detective with the San Francisco PD, right?”
I nodded.
“Honestly, I appreciate any help I can get in finding my daughter,” he said.
Eric brought us into his extremely neat house. Nothing was out of place. I made a quick note of his shockingly good taste in interior design. This house would’ve stood up to the snootiest of San Francisco socialites. I wondered how much it cost to decorate this way.Can he afford decor like this working in youth services?
Cindy and Eric sat on a mid-century-modern couch. I took achair across a tasteful coffee table. An old habit I used for most interviews. I never liked to get too physically close to the person I was interviewing. An instructor in an interview course I attended my first year on the job had recommended maintaining some distance from a subject, and it had really stuck with me.
We talked for a few minutes. General, focused small talk. Sometimes it could reveal a lot.
After a few minutes, I asked if we could see Nicole’s room. Eric didn’t hesitate to lead us down a hallway to a closed door. When he opened it, I could see dust float up in the air, filtering the sunlight.
The bed was neatly made and the room was pristine, aside from the layer of dust. One wall held a half dozen framed photographs of Nicole and her friends. She was certainly photogenic, and looked to be an active athlete as well. In addition to soccer, there were photos of her playing volleyball and tennis.
Eric stood with us for a moment in the room, then stepped back out into the hallway. It seemed like he was overcome with emotion.
When we returned to our places in the living room, I started in with the questions I really wanted answered.
“The night we met you at the party in San Francisco, you said you’d gone to theChroniclefirst,” I stated.
Eric nodded.
“What time did you get into San Francisco?”
He thought about it for a moment, then said he’d probably been in the city for about an hour before coming to the party.
“What time did you leave the city?”
He shrugged. “As soon as I got my car after the party. I guess it would’ve been around 7:30 or 8.”
