“You and me both.”
“Anyway, I just decided to take a ride around the city. Somewhere along the line I had the idea to talk to some young women on the street. Maybe get some inside information.”
I didn’t like where this was going.
Cindy ran her hand through her hair and then bit her lower lip. “I started talking to a girl down the street. I’d guess in her mid-teens. Beautiful. Just like the girls who’ve gone missing. She told me she wanted to be a writer. I went to my car to get something forher, and when I came back, maybe two minutes later, she was walking into the Dorm with a man who had to be around fifty.”
“Was she going willingly?”
“Hard to say. One minute we were talking, the next she was walking away with the man.” Cindy glanced nervously again down the empty street. “I didn’t see him drive up if he has a car. He was a big guy. I mean, fat. That’s really the only distinguishing characteristic I saw. That’s when I called you for backup.”
I smiled. Cindy could really get into being a cop. I was a little more cautious. “Let’s see if we can find out more about what’s going on.”
CHAPTER45
ELIZABETH NUNEZ—LIZZIEto her friends—looked up at the older man behind the counter. She purposely tried to use her “puppy eyes,” hoping she might tap into some paternal feelings inside the pawnbroker.
The shop was crammed with beat-up electronic tablets, bins full of old DVDs, and a case with cheap jewelry. Like a lot in the South of Market area—SoMa—the pawnshop sat next to a low-rent hotel that helped ease the stress on homeless families. That was reflected in the number of video games and kids’ toys on the shelves. The idea of having to pawn your child’s games made Lizzie sad.
She said, “But these are real pearl earrings set in gold.” She swept her long black hair out of her face. She wanted the man to see her clearly. It often worked with other men. This guy might have too much gray in his hair to care.
“I already told you, these aresyntheticpearls set in gold. I can give you thirty bucks. That’s the most I’ll go. All I’m gonna do is melt down the setting.” He scratched the stubble on his chin and looked at her for an answer.
Lizzie’s mind raced. If she wanted to return to the room she used to rent, she needed another $320. She hated parting with a gift her father had given her, but she didn’t like the idea of living on the street either. She’d had a rough eight months in San Francisco.
She had about ten dollars left over from the money she got from the commercial she’d filmed a few months ago, and a little bit left from the time when she’d needed to eat and finally gave in to the diner cook who wanted oral sex. She tried not to think about that, but the free food and the money had helped her make it a few more days in the big city.
The man behind the counter said, “Look, sweetheart, I’m about to close. Do you want to sell the earrings or not?”
She took the deal.
Outside the store, Lizzie turned to see a tall man on the sidewalk not far from her. He was cute but looked to be around forty, and she noticed a hospital-green asthma inhaler in his right hand. He smiled and said, “Hi.”
She said, “My little brother uses an inhaler just like that. He has asthma.”
“Yeah, mine’s more for a sense of well-being. I hardly ever have to use it. But it makes me feel better to have it in my hand.” He stuck the inhaler into his pocket. “You look like you could use a good meal. Would you like to join me for dinner at one of the places a few blocks down?”
She couldn’t say it out loud. All she could do was nod her head.
CHAPTER46
CINDY ANDI stepped into the ornate but dated lobby of Hotel Montserrat. Even at a whisper, our voices echoed in the cavernous space. Its dark mahogany walls and its pillars covered in some sort of purple satin reminded me of Disney’s Haunted Mansion. Or the fictional House of Usher.
An indifferent clerk barely glanced up from the reception desk, which looked like it was newly added. The bright birch wood veneer didn’t match the rest of the lobby. The clerk pushed his wire-rimmed glasses higher on his nose but didn’t bother to speak to us.
I said in a low voice to Cindy, “Are you certain they came in here?”
Cindy was clearly agitated. She nodded her head and said, “I’m sure. I’m sure they walked in here.”
We approached the reception desk. The clerk made a show out of putting down his cell phone, sighing loudly, then looking at us.
“Can I help you?” His tone sounded like it was a chore to even address us.
I smiled. “Did an older man and a teenage girl just check in?”
Now the clerk looked at us a little more closely. He had an unpolished look, unusual for a front-desk clerk. He was probably in his early twenties, with a thin ponytail dangling behind his head, and tattooed letters on each of his fingers before the first knuckle that spelled out, “Fuck life.”
“What are you, a cop?” he asked.
