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“Are you Liana’s cousin?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“Yes.” His eyes widen, and his voice drops to a whisper. “Are you here about what happened to Marcy?”
Arthur and I share a look. He nods at the man behind the counter. “Did anyone see anything?”
He nervously licks his lips and glances around, ensuring he can’t be overheard. “I didn’t. But I asked some of the staff who were working in the restaurant that night. A few of them said they heard arguing in the hallway when they were coming back from their break.”
“Can we speak with them?” Hope blooms in my chest, but I tamp it down. Just because they heard arguing doesn’t mean they saw anything.
Milo nods and calls over another employee to take his place behind the counter. “Follow me.” He leads us to the elevator and up to the restaurant on the fifteenth floor. We pause in the hallway outside the restaurant, near the restrooms. “Wait here.”
Arthur and I wait, impatient but quiet, our nerves lit like live wires. Neither of us speaks, but when Milo reappears, I let Arthur take the lead. Milo quickly appraises the waiter of the reason for his presence.
The waiter’s eyes shift to us with skepticism. “You sure they’re not reporters?” he asks Milo.
“They’re not. They’re friends of my cousin.” Milo turns to us. “Ask him. I’ll be at the front desk if you need anything else.” He bolts to the elevator, leaving us with the tall waiter.
In this lighting, it’s difficult to gauge his age, but I’d say he’s not much older than Arthur and me. I offer my hand, and he shakes it. “Sorry to bother you, but we have a few questions about Saturday night.”
“So you’re cops?” He stiffens.
“No.” Arthur steps in. “But my sister was here on Saturday night. About this tall, dark hair, hazel eyes...”
“The girl with Vic Simmons?” He rubs his jaw. “Yeah, I remember those two. Making eyes at each other all night.”
My hands clench into fists, but I manage to maintain my composure. “That’s her. Did you see them outside the restaurant?”
“I did. They were right there.” He points to a dark nook in the bend of the hallway. “I was coming back from a smoke break when I heard arguing. Sounded like someone struggling. I crept close to get a better look, and I saw them making out.”
I flinch at his words.
Arthur commandeers the questioning. “Did you see anything else?”
“Yeah, I saw the bastard take a swing at her. He got in two hits before I could react to what I was seeing.” He shook his head. “By the time I stepped into view, he’d pulled away. I ducked out of sight again before he could unleash on me. When I came back a moment later, she was gone.”
“Why didn’t you come forward with this information?” I push, knowing I’m already running with a short fuse.
“To who? There were no cops, no inquiry.” He scoffs. “Who’s gonna believe me anyway? I didn’t know who the girl was, and I wasn’t about to lose my job and credibility by going up against Vic Simmons.”
My hope deflates at his words. “So you’re not willing to testify to what you saw that night?”
“I never said that.” He narrows his eyes. “But there better be a solid case before I take the stand against him.”
“You’d testify on her behalf?” Arthur asks, holding the man’s gaze.
“If I know the bastard will get what he deserves, then yes, I’ll testify.”
“Why stick your neck out for a woman you don’t know?” The question leaves my lips before I can bite it back. I can’t just leave well enough alone. I need to know why he’d do something so selfless.
“My dad...he, uh...” The waiter sniffs and drops his gaze. “He beat my mom. No one spoke up for her, and she died.”
The confession hangs in the air between the three of us. I can hear the unspoken shame and trauma this man endured. Even more, I sense the undercurrent of regret and guilt gnawing at his heart for not taking action against his father to save his mother.
“I’m sorry.” My apology sounds weak, but it’s sincere.
“Yeah...well, that was years ago.” He clears his throat. “I figure I can do something this time around.”
“We appreciate it.” Arthur shakes his hand.
