Craig tried not to get his hopes up when Kevan began running the video from the club’s front entrance. He watched closely, his chin resting on his hands, trying to find and study every blond man who came into view. He had Kevan stop the video if he saw anyone who could even remotely have been Scott. Then he’d shake his head, telling him to start it again. It took over an hour, and at the end, he wanted to scream in frustration.
“He didn’t leave,” he said, smacking his hand on the desk. “So he has to be in there, somewhere.”
“Let’s put it this way,” Kevan replied. “If he did leave, he didn’t look like himself. I want you to watch this one.” He brought up the second video. “This is just a small segment,” he told Craig. “I watched the whole thing, from ten minutes before you say he left you
