Ethan stood outside the restaurant, staring across the street at the squat brick building. One decision remained—to turn back and tell the police, or walk into whatever truth lay ahead. His hands tightened in his jacket pockets. He wasn’t going home without answers. Not this time.
His phone buzzed. The caller ID instantly picked it up as the police. They had probably noticed his absence or found something new. He let it ring for a second, collecting his thoughts, and then picked up. He asked, infusing his voice with all the authority he could muster, “Well?”