Standing beside a telephone booth in the parking lot of a West Street gas station, the scrawny girl with long black hair scans the oncoming headlights and waits for a passing motorist to give her a nod, slow his vehicle and come to a stop around the corner.
Occasionally it's a battered pickup truck driven by a construction worker. Sometimes it's a sleek BMW, a well-dressed lawyer behind the wheel.
Glancing for cops, she strolls over, opens the door and slides her small, bony frame into the front...
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