Darlene put her phone down on the seat next to her and stood. This happened at least three nights a week, and there was never anyone there, but it was her duty as a mom to check in order to make her daughter feel more secure. She walked the three steps to Tiffany, took the little girl’s hand, and brought her to the window, pulling back the curtains.

“Look,” she started to say. “There’s no—”

A man was standing outside the trailer.

Darlene let the curtain fall and instinctively backed away. She’d seen the man for a brief second, illuminated by the light above the door that shone onto the yard, and he’d looked big. And threatening. His clothes were dark, and he stood in an aggressive stance, facing the trailer, legs slightly spread, arms out at his sides, like a wrestler facing his opponent.

“Stay here,” she whispered to Tiffany. “Don’t move.”

There was a knock at the door.

The sound made both of them jump.

There’s only one door, she thought, panicked. We can’t escape. We’re trapped.

Her trembling finger attempted to press 911 even as she shouted, “Go away! You’re trespassing on private property!”

“Ms. Altman?” said the man on the other side of the door. He had a British accent, and his voice was unexpectedly calm and soothing. “My name’s Gary Dawes. I’m here from the bank, and I would like to talk to you about the unique financial opportunity we’re willing to offer you.”

Her finger hesitated over the last 1. Was it possible? Could he really be just a solicitor? It was dark outside, but when she glanced at the clock, she saw that it was only seven-thirty, not that late.

She didn’t finish dialing the emergency number. “What do you want?” she called out.

“I told you. I’m from the bank. Would it be all right if I came in?”

“You can stay right there,” she told him.

“Very well. As I said, my name is Gary Dawes, and I’m here representing The First People’s Bank. We’re new in town, and as a gesture of good will, we’re providing special opportunities to selected individuals. I believe you were sent an email—”

“I don’t have email!” she said. “I don’t have a computer! Can’t afford it!”

“Well, that explains the mixup. You see, I’m here to answer any questions you might have about our offer and to walk you through the application process. Although, if you don’t have internet access, we will have to fill out the application at the bank itself rather than online.”

Giving Tiffany’s hand a small squeeze, Darlene edged a little closer to the door. “Application for what?”

“Why a home loan, of course. Wouldn’t you rather live in a house?”

“I can’t afford that.”

“With the bank’s help you can.”