“It turns out she had been lured into prostitution at seventeen and sold off to a Russian oil baron. I still feel like I could’ve done more, done something different. It’s the worst regret a police officer can have.”
I agreed. Alain looked like he might cry, he was still so affected by the case. I felt his anguish.
CHAPTER60
THE NEXT MORNINGdidn’t start out well. Julie had a little bit of a meltdown because we didn’t have the right cereal. Martha looked distraught, sitting by the refrigerator every time Joe opened it and didn’t give her a treat. And Joe grumbled about not having gotten an invite to Susie’s too.
“You’re not a charming French grandpa with a great accent.”
Joe just grunted and shuffled into the bathroom.
Driving to go pick up Alain at the Marriott where he was staying was a relief.
Alain had asked if he could visit the youth center where Eric Snaff worked. It wasn’t hard to get Cindy Thomas to contact Gina Scrittori and arrange everything. I wanted Alain to see something other than just downtown San Francisco anyway.
The ride out to San Julio was fairly easy. It was still pretty early, and traffic was coming into the city, not headed out to the suburbs.
Gazing out the car’s windows at the giant Lafayette Reservoirarea, Alain said, “It’s sometimes difficult to comprehend the sheer size and space the United States occupies. Even in a state as populated as California, you have such vast stretches of open area. It takes my breath away.”
“But you have the Louvre.”
“You’re right. It’s probably an equal trade.” He gave me a sly smile. Even if I didn’t hear his accent, I’d assume he was French.
I wondered if I should have informed Eric Snaff that we’d be at the facility. I didn’t want a confrontation. I still wasn’t sure whether he was a grieving father or a bat-shit-crazy human trafficker. Either way, there was no benefit to engaging him at this time.
Gina Scrittori was waiting for us on the sidewalk in front of the youth center. She looked like a model as she leaned against the outer wall of the facility in a leather jacket and knee-high boots.
I introduced her to Alain, who was as courtly as ever. When he bowed his head and introduced himself, Gina said,“C’est un plaisir de faire votre connaissance.”
Alain looked delighted.“Oh, c’est magnifique, vous parlez français! Où avez-vous appris?”
Gina smiled, then said, “I studied French in high school. I thought it’d be cool. To be honest, it would’ve been a lot more useful if I’d learned Spanish.”
I’d also taken French in high school, but only for one year, and I remembered absolutely nothing. I only did it because my friend Karyl Wong liked a boy who was also taking the class. I spent basically the whole year seeing the back of Karyl’s head and learning about three phrases, none of which I had retained.
I glanced at the glass front door of the building as Gina and Alain had a long and involved conversation in French. Finally, I interrupted to ask Gina, “Is Eric Snaff working today?”
Just then the front door opened.
I froze in place as Eric Snaff stepped onto the clean sidewalk. He looked our way for a few moments, shifting his glance between Gina and me. I couldn’t read the emotions behind the look. Could be anger, could be hurt.
Eric said, “I’d ask what you’re doing here, but I doubt you’d tell me. Am I wrong?”
I took a moment, then said, “You should be happy to hear that we’re working on the case of your daughter and the other missing girls. That’s what you want us to do, right?”
Eric didn’t respond right away. It was both awkward and tense at the same time. He looked at Alain but didn’t say anything. Then he stormed away, cutting across the street and disappearing behind a building.
Clearly Gina was surprised by his reaction. She tried to cover the uncomfortable feeling that had descended upon us. She said, “Let’s get this show on the road.”
The tour didn’t take too long. I noticed Alain didn’t ask any questions, but he was keeping his eyes open. I could tell he was looking for something. I didn’t have enough experience to know what. We both watched as Gina interacted with different young people.
As we were getting ready to leave, Alain asked Gina, “In general, do female youth workers deal with female students and males with males?”
“That’s only important in the dormitory area. Not all of the kids live here. About 60 percent just go to school here during the day.”
We paused by the front door for a few minutes. Gina asked where we were going next.
“I heard some runaways hang out on Geary Street, in the Tenderloin. Do you know it?”
