Chapter 13
CINDY SAT SILENTLY, just staring at Sergeant Stephanie Davis. Maybe she’d misheard.
The sergeant said, “I know it’s hard to comprehend.
Sometimes a book with a pretty cover can fool you.
But I think he’s a creep who did something to his daughter.
Either intentionally or accidentally. Then he had to hide the evidence.
At least that’s the theory we’ve been operating on for months now.
Probably since about two weeks after Nicole disappeared. ”
Cindy stuttered a little bit. “I, I, I, um, I hadn’t considered that after reading all the articles about how Eric Snaff is a pillar of the community.”
“Because he works with young offenders? That only makes us more nervous about him.”
“Have there been complaints about him from anyone at the youth center?”
“Nope. They think he’s a great guy.”
“He is very charming and well spoken.”
“So was Ted Bundy.” Sergeant Davis set down her pen and said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re just that sick bastard’s type. You should be extremely careful while you look into this shit show.”
Cindy was still reeling when she left the small San Julio Police Department. She drove around the charming town for a few minutes, trying to regain her composure, and came across the youth center where Eric Snaff worked.
The two-story redbrick structure looked like an administrative building or an older school. There were several young people hanging out in front of the building. That was consistent with what Cindy had learned. The facility acted as an alternative school as well as a juvenile detention facility.
There was something about the way a couple of the boys in front of the facility looked at her that made her think she should come back another day.
It wasn’t really in Cindy’s nature to run away from problems or avoid threats.
No decent reporter could do either and survive in the business.
She parked her car and got out, then snapped a couple of photos of the facility with her phone.
She purposely captured images of the young men staring at her. In case she had to identify them later.
She crossed the street and immediately turned to her right, avoiding any direct contact with the teenage boys. One of them was smoking a cigarette. Another, who looked a little older, smoothed out his curly hair with his hand. Then he called to Cindy, “Hey, where you goin’?”
Cindy kept walking but sensed that the two teens had fallen in behind her on the sidewalk. She glanced around but didn’t see any adults. In fact, there weren’t that many people on the street at all. This could be a problem. A real problem. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder.
Cindy spun around quickly and faced the two boys. The way the bigger one was grinning sent a chill down her spine.
Cindy made a plan. She didn’t have her pepper spray or any kind of weapon.
She’d taken a couple of self-defense classes.
Nothing that would help her right now. She was going to fall back on the oldest form of female self-defense.
She intended to kick each of the boys directly in the genitals.
Then she’d run. She’d go right back to the police department and explain why she’d attacked two minors.
The smaller, younger teen flicked away his cigarette and said, “Why’d you take a photograph of us?”
“I was photographing the youth center building.”
“Why?”
Cindy took a short step backward. She was at the perfect distance to deliver a couple of quick, well-placed kicks. She wasn’t looking forward to it, but if she waited, she might not have another chance.