Chapter 4
CINDY THOMAS WAS settling into her desk chair on the second floor of the Chronicle Building on Mission Street.
She’d put a good face on it this morning with Rich, but she was feeling a little queasy after last night’s party.
She was craving sugar and greasy food, just like when she was hungover back in college.
On her way into work, the Shake Shack down the street had been calling her name.
Fries sounded awfully good to her, maybe even a burger. But it was too early in the day.
Besides, she had a goal this morning. She was researching the man she’d met last night, Eric Snaff. At the party she’d taken his number, but put him off until she could be more certain of both him and his claim.
She started looking through news articles centered on the smaller cities of the East Bay.
The first thing she found on Eric Snaff was that he was a widower and a youth services worker.
He’d been working at the same facility near Walnut Creek for almost fourteen years.
The article was about how he’d been injured by a broken bottle while breaking up a fight.
That explained the scar on his face. It also assured Cindy that he wasn’t just a nut who had wandered in off the street.
The next story Cindy read was about Eric’s seventeen-year-old daughter, Nicole, who had disappeared roughly three months ago.
There’d been a tremendous initial effort to find her.
Search parties combed the foothills. People volunteered to take tips over the phone.
All the usual community involvement when someone disappears.
Over the course of a few weeks the involvement became less and less intense.
Cindy found a picture of Nicole. She really was beautiful, just like her father had said. The photo itself was of Nicole playing soccer, her long auburn hair flowing behind her. It wasn’t posed, but she still looked like she’d just stepped off the cover of Vogue.
Cindy had always been organized and logical.
At least at her job. She considered the pros and cons of meeting with a stranger like Eric Snaff.
There was some risk involved, but after reading all the articles, she thought the danger was minimal.
It seemed like Eric was now the only one looking for his daughter.
The whole situation made Cindy put herself in his shoes.
She’d be devastated too if her child had disappeared.
Cindy decided to make a bold move. She phoned the number Eric Snaff had given her the night before. After a terse hello, he realized who was calling and agreed to meet her.
“Can you meet me at about noon in downtown San Francisco, Mr. Snaff?” she asked.
“Please call me Eric. Very few people ever call me ‘Mr. Snaff,’” he said. “And yes, I can work it out. Where?”
Cindy looked out her window, then said, “How about the Shake Shack off Market Street?”
Might as well kill two birds with one stone.