I slipped into the chair right next to the bed. When Alain stuck out his hand, I grasped it. All I could say was “I’m so sorry about what happened.”
He shrugged. “Who can say what will happen in a police investigation? I wasn’t happy about being shot. To be honest, it’s the third time it has happened to me in my career. I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed my limp, but it’s from a bullet to my hip fired by a drug dealer in Paris.”
We sat and talked for more than twenty minutes. Alain’s voice was a little weak, and he sounded tired. Other than that, he didn’t look too bad.
“The doctor said I was very lucky. Aside from losing a lot of blood, I was not severely wounded. It feels like they pumped most of that blood back into me.” Then he said, “Please promise me one thing, Lindsay.”
“Anything you want.”
“We’re on the right track on this investigation. Don’t give up. Don’t let the administration or anyone else tell you it’s not worthwhile. Even if you save only one girl, that’s something you can rejoice about.”
Damn, did he know how to inspire.
CHAPTER88
MY MIND WOULDN’Tlet go of Lizzie Nunez, standing in the street outside the ambulance doors as we drove away.
Julie had gone to day camp. Joe was at work. Martha was happily lounging on her living room dog bed. So when my phone buzzed on the coffee table, and I could see it was Cindy Thomas, I grabbed it up immediately.
The first words out of her mouth were “Eric Snaff is missing.”
Before I could ask any pertinent questions, Cindy blurted out, “That sergeant from San Julio, Stephanie Davis, called me. She wondered if I had any more contact information for him. She’s afraid he’s trying to flee.”
“When’s the last time you had contact with Eric?”
There was a hesitation. Enough that I noticed it. Then Cindy said, “I spoke to him last night. He called me. He was shit-faced and went on a long crying jag. I didn’t understand exactly what he was saying. He was complaining about a former coworker named Jason Cortlandt, who he thinks might’ve had something to do withNicole’s disappearance.” Cindy paused. “Eric almost sounded suicidal… or maybe homicidal. I’m not sure which.”
“Is the threat serious enough that we need to warn Cortlandt?”
“I left Jason Cortlandt a voicemail but haven’t heard back,” Cindy said. “I interviewed Jason the other day. He said he was in the VA hospital having a medical procedure when Nicole disappeared. He’s given me permission to verify all of that, but I believed him.”
“Did you tell Sergeant Davis that?”
“Of course I did. But do you have any idea how we might be able to find Eric? Can you do any of your police magic?”
I told her that I was suspended. I guessed Richie hadn’t let her know that part yet.
“What? You did nothing wrong.”
“I know. But it doesn’t matter now. I’ll help you find Eric, even though I’m not supposed to be working. We can’t take my car, but how about you come over here and pick me up?”
Having a purpose to the day was like getting a shot that cured all that ailed me. I quickly slipped on a jacket. I might not have been on duty, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t help my friend. At least that was what I was going to tell my boss if things went south.
CHAPTER89
CINDY SURPRISED MEby getting over to my apartment swiftly. I felt a little self-conscious about the state of the place—a few toys lay haphazardly on our dining room table and the couch; projects were under construction in three different places inside the apartment—but Cindy didn’t seem to notice.
Cindy looked adorable, as always. Even though she wore jeans, they had a sparkly seam on them. Her blond curls were barely contained by a rhinestone headband. Even her sneakers were bright pink.
She breezed into the apartment and my border collie greeted her with gusto. Cindy sat down on the floor so she could focus on rubbing Martha’s back for a minute. I finished the last few things around the apartment and told her I had a call to make.
Cindy said, “Some of your police magic?”
“Let’s hope so.” I sat down at the dining room table and dialed Caltrans.
My friend David Roberts picked up on the first ring. As always, his cheerful voice and Southern accent lifted my spirits. After a moment of conversation, I got down to my question. “David, doyou remember the toll records I had you bring up for the guy named Eric Snaff?”
“Of course I remember, honey.”
