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“And this tattoo?” Trent showed him a photo of the ink.
Davis barely glanced at it but growled, “Did that bastard kill her?”
She’d take that as an identification. “We believe he may have.”
“You catch the son of a bitch, because if I find him, I’m going to kill him.” He slammed his right fist into the palm of his left hand. “He take that sergeant lady too?”
“We suspect so,” Trent replied. “Do you have any idea where we might find him? We know Lynnette moved rather recently. He might have gone along with her.”
“Last I knew she was boarding with some guy in the east end. Barry, something or other.”
“Do you know the boyfriend’s name?” she asked.
“That I don’t know. Just know he’s a dick. From the second he started coming in here, he was obsessed with Lynn. He was always hanging on her like she was his property.”
His character description aligned with what Barry Holden had told them. Going from being physically abusive to a killer and abductor wasn’t a huge leap. “You saw Lynnette on Sunday. Was he with her?”
“Yep.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have security cameras here?” she countered.
“In this neighborhood? You bet.” He pointed out two in the bar area alone.
“Could we watch the footage from Sunday night? No one needs to know you helped the cops,” she added for good measure.
“Heck, I’m doing this for Lynnette. She had bad taste in men, a cycle on repeat.” He motioned for them to follow him. Passing a server, he paused to let them know he’d be a minute.
He took Amanda and Trent to a small office in the back. There he brought up the video for Sunday night and forwarded to 8 PM, obviously recalling when Lynnette had been in. Immediately after hitting play, she walked into view, holding hands with a man.
“That’s him,” Davis pointed out.
Amanda’s body flushed with rage at laying eyes on the man who had caused so much heartache. “Could we get a close-up of his face?”
“Let’s watch and see if we get a better angle.”
It wasn’t a full minute later, and he paused the feed and zoomed in. “Will that work for you?”
The man was looking right in the direction of the camera. He had brown hair, brown eyes, and a cleft chin. Average, average, average, except for the snake tattoo on his left wrist. “Can you print that?”
He clicked a few buttons, and a nearby printer whirred to life.
SIXTY-ONE
Amanda, Trent, and Malone looked at Barry Holden and his lawyer in the interrogation room through the one-way mirror.
“The lawyer’s been griping for hours,” Malone said. “I’ve done my best to hold him at bay, but he’s like a pacing tiger in a cage.”
Amanda could see that. Alan Gaines was doing laps of the perimeter of the room. He’d be wearing a pattern in the concrete floor if it were possible. He had a cell phone to his ear.
“Well, no time like the present,” she said before shooting from the room with Trent.
When she cracked open the door on the interrogation room, the lawyer flailed his arms in the air. “About time. You’ve had my client waiting for hours.” He ended his call and pocketed his phone.
She suspected this wasn’t about his client’s time but his own. Though when he’d be billing out hundreds, if not thousands an hour, he shouldn’t complain.
“I didn’t do anything but offer shelter to a young woman,” Barry said.
She and Trent sat down, not responding to the lawyer’s impatient gripe or Barry’s claims of innocence. She pulled the photo they’d obtained from Davis Dunlap at the East End Pirate and pushed it across the table.
