He smiled faintly to cover his reaction. “Mind if I get another cup of coffee?” he asked the man, then turned toward the counter.

At the register, he leaned toward the cook and whispered calmly, “Call the local police. Quietly. Tell them there’s a situation that might need checking.”

Then he returned to the booth, sitting across from them this time. “So,” he said lightly, “I’ve got a daughter about your age. What’s your name?”

The man replied first. “Lily.”

But the girl’s lips trembled before she murmured so softly he barely heard: “Emma.”

Mark didn’t flinch, though his heartbeat quickened. He kept the conversation going — about the pie, the jukebox, the weather — anything to buy a few more minutes.