Chapter 9: The Day After the Night Before
"Big night, Erikson? You look like shit," Laughed Burrows as he handed her a coffee.
"Yeah," Melissa muttered, taking the cup from him, her head pounding.
"Well, you better snap out of it. We need some leads on this case fast and you look like you've been up all night fucking instead of working."
Melissa almost choked on her coffee, her cheeks flushing at Burrows' choice of words.
"I'm fine, Burrows. Just tired. Anyway, I have something." Melissa said, changing the subject and pulling out the thumb drive from her purse. "Footage from the strip club."
Burrows' eyes widened. "How the hell did you get this?"
"Doesn't matter," Melissa replied, avoiding his gaze. "What matters is that we can use it to find Amanda's killer."
They plugged the drive into a computer. There was douzens of hours of footage, many nights from many angles. Melissa and Burrows watched silently, nursing their coffees, their eyes scanning the screen. They would ocasionally see Amanda, her face illuminated by the strobe lights, her body moving in rhythm with the music. But nothing seemed out of place, nothing suspicious.
Georgios could be seen in the footage too, mostly in the background keeping an eye on things but sometimes greeting and joking with the more affluent looking patrons. Melissa watched him closely, her pulse quickening every time he came into view. When the footage of the VIP area loaded she studied the girls dancing in the same spot she had been the previous night. She couldn't help but wonder if any of them had stripped for Georgios privately. The thought made her jealous.
"Erikson, you okay?" Burrows asked, noticing her distraction.
"Yeah, just tired,"
"Why don't you go home? We've been staring at this computer for hours," Burrows suggested with a yawn.
"Yeah, maybe you're...wait, can you zoom in there Burrows?" Melissa asked, pointing at the screen. Burrows leaned in, his fingers flying over the keyboard. The image on the screen enlarged, pixelating slightly but still clear enough to make out details. Melissa squinted, her eyes scanning the faces in the crowd. And then she saw him. A man, sitting alone in a corner, his eyes fixed on the stage. On Amanda. He was older, late forties maybe, with a thick beard and a balding head. He was dressed in a suit, his tie loose around his neck. There was something about him, something that set him apart from the other patrons.