He saw Darius leave a business card behind. After the man drove away, Sarah took a breath and turned to find Marcus watching the condensation form on the outside of his water glass. "You need more coffee?" she asked. Marcus shook his head and said, "Not unless you've got some left that tastes better than this." It was an old joke between them, one that brought a brief smile to her face before she went back to work.
Over the next month, Marcus became familiar with the charcoal suit. He saw Darius arrive on a Tuesday when Sarah was short-staffed and stay through the beginning of the dinner rush, occupying a stool without ordering more than coffee. He saw Sarah step into the office to answer a call and come back with red eyes, then immediately carry a tray of sandwiches to a group of construction workers as though nothing had happened. He also saw Darius once follow her toward the staff hallway, stopping only when Eddie appeared with a heavy pan of potatoes.
One night Marcus waited until Darius had left and asked Sarah if everything was all right. The question was quiet, delivered while she wiped a section of counter that was already clean. "It's paperwork," she said, not looking at him. "My ex-husband left some problems behind." Marcus nodded and did not press further, because he understood that there were moments when pushing someone to explain felt too much like another demand.
But he began leaving later on Tuesdays. He would finish the pie, keep the cup in front of him, and read a newspaper while Sarah worked through the last customers. Sometimes he stayed until the kitchen lights were switched off and the front door was locked. He told himself he was only making sure she reached her car safely, but the truth was that he had begun to recognize a pattern he did not like. She grew tense when certain headlights entered the lot, and she relaxed only after the vehicle continued down the road.
In early November, Sarah stopped him near the register and asked whether he knew a reliable mechanic. "Something affordable," she added with an embarrassed smile. The car had started hesitating when she pulled away from traffic lights, and she was afraid it would strand her with Lily inside. Marcus gave her the name of a friend who owned a shop on Charlotte Avenue and told her to mention him. She thanked him, folded the number into her apron pocket, and did not call because she could not afford even a discounted repair.
Marcus knew she had not called when he heard her car struggle to start after closing a few nights later. He walked over, stood beside the hood while the engine turned, and asked if she wanted him to take a look. Sarah hesitated, almost accepting, then said she needed to get Lily home. Marcus stepped back, watched the taillights disappear toward Clement Street, and understood there was something more difficult than repairing the car standing between her and help.
Meanwhile, Darius Voss was becoming impatient for reasons Sarah could not see. Voss Recovery Solutions was smaller than its website suggested, with a polished downtown office, several contractors working remotely, and a collection of companies whose records were complicated enough to discourage casual inspection. Darius had built a profitable operation from purchasing disputed accounts at steep discounts and collecting whatever he could through aggressive letters and negotiated settlements. He understood that many people would pay an uncertain claim simply to stop someone frightening them with the possibility of a much larger one.