Kept loose on purpose — this sits across roughly the first quarter whether it ends up as chapters, episodes or a first act.

Ray's life established at length and without hurry: estimates, the van, a customer who wants something the wall can't take, a voicemail to Casey that goes unreturned. The register here is domestic and slightly flat, and it should be a little boring in a way the reader can't yet tell is a choice.

Then the call, or the visit — Sarris's arrangement made explicit, forty thousand dollars, the polite word for what Casey now is.

He does it properly. He tries the bank. He tries the police, and gets a patient explanation of why a twenty-three-year-old adult who answers her phone and says she's fine is not a case. He goes to the tow yard and talks to Sarris like a reasonable customer, and Sarris is reasonable back, and nothing moves.

He goes and sees Casey and she tells him to go home.

What's hidden in plain sight here: he parks facing out. He pays cash for a phone. He asks Sarris three questions that are not the questions a frightened father asks, and Sarris doesn't notice, and neither should the reader, quite.