Tracking the restaurant from the bills was no difficult task. The restaurant was small, with copper lights and dark wooden tables visible through the windows. He parked across the street, the ticketed garage looming behind him, and stared for a long moment before stepping out. The receipt’s date and the time were etched into his mind.
Inside, a man in his fifties greeted him warmly. “First time here?” Ethan shook his head, pulling up Lina’s photo on his phone. “Have you seen her? She’s my wife. You might have seen her around.” Relief flickered when the man’s face lit with recognition.