At least Steven was a flesh-and-blood person.

She had helped Jen carry a few pre-packed boxes out to the car, and the two of them had taken the boxes back to the old apartment where Jen and Lane were once again living. Anita had jokingly suggested that her friend call Ghost Pursuers or one of those other paranormal shows to investigate what was going on, but her feeble attempt at humor had fallen flat because there did seem to be something supernatural in the house. And what made it even more disconcerting was that it was not some random phantom that exhibited itself at midnight but an unseen tenant in a locked room that had been concretely specified in a contract with the bank.

The bank.

She, Kyle and Nick were no longer the only ones who were suspicious of First People’s. All week, in the office, she had talked to patients who were having financial troubles related to the bank. And not just ordinary financial troubles but convoluted machinations that had led to a nursery school expulsion, firing from a job, a broken leg, a repossessed car, overdue bills and, the one that affected them, loss of health and vision insurance. With this morning’s bombing of the credit union making First People’s Bank and its BFF Montgomery Community the only financial institutions in town, the anti-bank mood seemed to have only increased. The atmosphere in the waiting room was grim, and there only seemed to be one topic of conversation.

Dr. Wilson had not been himself lately, either, acting even ruder and more unpleasant than normal. Anita and Jen both avoided him during downtimes, and when there was a mid-morning lull and Jen went to use the restroom, Anita got on the computer so she wouldn’t have to interact with the optometrist.

Checking her email, she encountered a bunch of spam…and what appeared to be a financial statement from The First People’s Bank.

What the hell?

She clicked on the email and, sure enough, a bank statement was displayed. How was this possible? She read through the displayed text and columns of numbers carefully. It appeared as though a fake checking account had been created in her name. Not only that, but out of that account a series of checks had been written to various companies and individuals—the amounts subtracted from a starting balance of zero.

Which, according to the statement, meant that she was currently in debt to the tune of $3,249.

This was not only a major mistake on someone’s part, but it had the potential to completely screw up her credit rating. And she didn’t like the fact that the statement was sent to her work email. Such lax cybersecurity could lead to identity theft and God knew what else.

Only maybe it wasn’t a mistake. Maybe all of it was intentional.

This penis isn’t going to suck itself.