“Agent Beck,” I said. “I just had a quick question for you. Given the recent killing nearby, the FBI is looking into an old case.”

“The Coastal Killer,” Bob guessed.

I nodded. “I was hoping you could help me.”

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

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.