Page 80 of Aftermath
His willingness to help and most of his demeanor and nature did not fit the profile we’d been building. He was not clear completely, but I did eliminate him from the list of my most considered suspects. Being the owner of the bar had landed him on the list, but he was being helpful. He didn’t seem to have any distaste toward law enforcement. In fact, he was more respectful than most people I interviewed on the job.
“I was hoping you might still have footage from three years ago. We have new reason to suspect Jane Doe, who survived, visited here the night she was attacked.”
“Did you find Jane Doe? Did she come forward?”
I’m sure it was the question most people in town had three years ago when Jane Doe disappeared. With the return of the unsub, people around Briarport would be praying for any speck of hope.
“No,” I said. “It’s just a potential lead we’re tracking down. We don’t have concrete evidence. That’s why I came to you for the footage. I’m hoping that maybe, we can recognize her on it.”
“I wish I could help,” Bob said. “But I turned over all that footage to the FBI three years ago, and unfortunately, my system doesn’t save things beyond a year.”
I sighed. It wasn’t unexpected. A place like this, I couldn’t imagine it having a complex security system, but it was worth asking.
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll let you know if we have any further questions.”
Before I turned, I noticed the same bus boy watching us all too interested from the other end of the bar.
“Actually,” I said, catching Bob before he walked away, “has he worked here long?” I asked, nodding at the bus boy.
“Ethan? He’s is one of my longest employees.”
I swallowed hard.He would’ve been there three years ago, like Len said, and worked through every single one of the killings. He was quickly rising in my list of suspects.
“Have you ever had any problems with him?” I asked.
“No, Ethan keeps his head down and does his job cleaning up the dishes and transporting items here from our warehouse. Sure, we’ve had a few complaints. Not everybody appreciates his direct tone, but he keeps mainly to himself,” Bob explained.
“What type of complaints?” I asked.
“You can’t think-” Bob started.
“What type of complaints?” I repeated, keeping my voice low.
Bob looked back to where Ethan was, but he’d already disappeared back to the kitchen. “Men complained they didn’t like how he spoke to their girlfriends. A woman here and there was upset when he cut them off or asked them to leave.”
“Is that part of his job?”
“No, but it does help me from time to time. He knows when someone’s had too much, and we usually cut them off or kick them out before they cause trouble. Nobody likes to be told they’ve had one too many, and even worse—no man wants to see someone correcting the woman they came with. He means well; he just comes off wrong,” Bob tried to explain.
He sought more control than he had, found a way to get himself more power at the job.
“Does he do it to men?”
“I’m sure he has,” Bob answered.
“But have you seen it? Can you definitely tell me he does it to men as well?” I pushed.
Bob paused and shook his head.
A clear dislike toward women mixed with seeking out that type of power—he was starting to find himself at the top of my list. A narcissist who thought himself more important than others. A dislike for women. The pieces were starting to fit. I just didn’t have them all figured out, certainly not enough to bring to the FBI and make an arrest.
I knew what I had to do next. We needed to confirm it was Ethan who snuck those drugs in Len’s drink.
“Thank you,” I told Bob. “Truly.”
He nodded and left while I went back to the booth with Len and Mal.
“That was the longest bathroom break ever,” Mallory said dramatically.
