He tries one more smile. "You and Hadley, y'all close?"
"I'm her supervisor."
"Just want to make sure she's safe. Out here. With all these men."
"Her safety isn’t anything you need to concern yourself with."
"Yeah, well, Garrett would've wanted me to look out for her."
I don’t respond to that.
He hesitates. "I'll be in town a few days. Stayin' at the Hampton in Marble Falls. Mind if I come back?"
"This is private property. Call ahead."
"Of course. Yeah. Yeah, of course. I just—since I drove all the way?—"
"Have a good drive back to your hotel."
He stares at me for a few moments too long, and then gets back in his Explorer.
The door slams and the engine turns over.
He pulls out onto the county road and drives away, kicking up dust.
I stand at the gate until the dust settles.
Inside ten minutes I'm back at my monitors.
I pull Todd's full file. I've had it built and ready for two months. The folder opens up clean on the right screen.
Todd Vincent Whitley.
Thirty-four. Account manager at Bell Insurance in Garrison.
Bachelor's from East Texas State.
Lives alone in a two-bedroom rental on Pecan Street.
No kids. No pets.
Membership at a CrossFit gym he goes to three times a week.
Part of the First Baptist church of Garrison every other Sunday.
Bank balances. Two accounts at Chase, one savings, one checking. Combined balance just under nine thousand.
Credit cards on three issuers, all current.
No criminal record. One speeding ticket in 2019.
I pull his phone GPS for the last sixty days.
He's driven past Hadley's old address in Garrison eleven times since Garrett died.
He drives by between five forty-five and six fifteen on weekday evenings, on his way home from work. The address is six blocks out of his way.
I pull his Google search history.