“Any luck identifying the girl?” Hsu asked, throwing away his cup from The Coffee Bean. The two had little in common, but they both agreed Starbucks sucked. Gourmet burnt crap.
“Nothing yet,” Nick said. “If she was a prostitute, there’s a chance she was trafficked overseas without a passport. Could have been reported missing a long time ago. Or missing in another city entirely. We may have to dig deep on this one.”
Nick had spent most of the previous afternoon and evening trying to identify the victim, but had come up with nothing. He’d taken a couple more than the recommended dosage of Tylenol PMs to get to sleep and was now paying the price in grogginess. He made Hsu drive down to 51st and the 110 freeway.
On the bridges crossing the 110, tent cities had sprouted like lichen on boulde
