Marcus had two steaming paper cups waiting in the console holders.

He clicked his pen twice when he saw the bulging plastic bag on my lap.

“You look like you’ve been awake for a week,” Marcus said.

“I need you to look at these records,” I said.

I pulled the stack of ledgers out of the plastic bag and set them on his center console.

The thick books landed with a heavy, solid thud between us, making the dark coffee ripple in the paper cups.

Marcus put his legal pad away and picked up the top ledger.