“Let’s do this,” he said as Evan pulled his SUV into a spot that opened up near the door.
They headed into the store, past the rows of checkout lines, most of them ten people deep due to it being Sunday. They located one of the wandering employees, asked for the manager, and were told they could find him in the back of the store.
With directions—not very clear, but still directions—on where to go, Brantley led the way.
“This must be him,” Brantley said under his breath when a man wearing the same shirt as the other employees, but just a little more put together than the rest, came toward them. His hair was cut, styled, and combed, his wire-rimmed glasses were straight on his nose, and he looked like he might’ve shaved within the past hour or so, which was thelittle more put-togetherpart. Plus, he carried himself well and looked as though he might have at least a few concerns going on in his head.
As Brantley approached him, he caught the man’s attention. “Are you the manager?”
His expression shifted to pleasant, his eyebrows lifting above those wire rims. “I am, yes. Joseph Sutherland. How can I help you?”
Evidently, he hadn’t gotten a heads-up from the other helpful employee that they were coming to find him.
“We’d like to talk to you about Ava March.”
“Ava?” His expression morphed to confusion. “I’m sorry, she no longer works here.”
“We’re aware of that. Right now, she’s missing, and we’re trying to find her. We’re hopin’ you might be able to give us something to go on.”
“Are you with the police?”
“Private security firm,” Brantley told him, pulling out his credentials and flashing them. “Can you tell us about her?”
He glanced between Evan and Brantley.
“It’s not a difficult question,” Brantley said when the man didn’t respond.
“I’m sorry.” He shook his head as though to clear it. “I’m trying to process the missing part. She’s such a nice girl, one of those you could depend on. Never late, never missed a scheduled shift. She would come in when we needed someone to fill in.”
Sounded like a model employee.
“What did she do here?”
“She was a customer service assistant.”
Because retailers tended to have creative names for the same job, Brantley decided to ask, “And that means…?”
“She would bag customers’ groceries and assist them to their vehicles if they needed help. She worked her way up to cashier. Did that for a few months.”
“When did she last work here?”
“Oh, goodness. It’s been several years. I’d have to look at her file to be certain. I know it was during the school year. She would work after school and on weekends.”
“Why’d she leave?”
Joseph looked concerned, once again, his gaze bouncing between them. “We had to terminate her employment.”
“You fired her?” Evan didn’t sound impressed. “Thought she was a hard worker.”
“She was,” Joseph confirmed with a vigorous nod. “Definitely was. But her boyfriend … he was always coming up here, following her around, interrupting her while she worked. It got to be a problem, and I warned her several times. Finally, I had to let her go.”
It certainly tracked, Brantley knew, based on what they’d learned so far. A lot of things were because of the husband—too many, in fact.
“What exactly did he do to interfere with her duties?” Evan probed.
Joseph appeared to relax a little. “He claimed to be checking on her, making sure she made it to work. But often, we would see him in the parking lot, waiting for her if she assisted someone with their groceries. He would approach her then, talk to her.” He looked down briefly. “At first, I thought he was maybe her brother or something. A relative.”
“Why’s that?”
