Was the bank, or, more specifically, Mr. Worthington, making a purposeful effort to sabotage her? Anita couldn’t rule it out, and she picked up the phone next to the computer and dialed the 800 number listed on the statement. She didn’t get through to a person but had to listen to the options on a recorded menu before requesting to talk to “a customer service representative.”

Worthington came on the line.

Neither of them mentioned their last exchange, and the banker was polite and solicitous after she’d explained her problem, cancelling the fake account, removing all charges associated with her name and apologizing to her for the “misunderstanding.” She was left with no place to go, the situation having ostensibly been resolved. She was still angry, but there was no longer anything for her to be angry about, and she hung up before she said something that made things worse. She had the distinct feeling that this was merely the first skirmish in a much longer war, and for the rest of the morning she was out of sorts, using each spare moment to check her email and make sure the bank had not involved her in anything else.

“Hey,” Jen said when Dr. Wilson closed the office for an hour shortly before twelve. “Do you have any plans for lunch?”

“Not really.”

“Want to go out? My treat.”

“Sure. But I’m paying my own way. You’re not exactly swimming in money right now.”

Jen smiled. “You’re right. And thanks.”

“Do you want to go to Juan Wang’s?”

“I was thinking B.B.’s. I’m in need of some comfort food.”

“Sounds good. I’ll drive,” Anita offered.

On the way, they drove past the credit union to check it out, both of them shocked by the extent of the damage. They’d expected blown-out windows and maybe a little fire damage, but the entire place was gutted, blackened by what had to have been an extensive blaze, and even a significant segment of the adjoining Wal-Mart’s brown wall had been partially destroyed. Both businesses as well as the parking lot were closed off.

“That was a major bomb,” Jen said quietly.

“Yeah. It makes me kind of nervous. What if they planted other ones around town?”

Significantly, neither of them speculated as to who “they” might be. They both had a pretty good idea.

“I’m sure there are bomb-sniffing dogs checking everyplace. They’ve probably called in the FBI or some federal agency. I mean, wouldn’t this be considered terrorism?”

“It is in my book.”

They continued on toward B.B.’s, more subdued than they had been before seeing the blast site. The traffic was much lighter than at a normal lunch hour, and near the corner of Pine Street and First, they passed an abandoned car with its doors wide open and no one in sight. The vehicle’s presence was unnerving, and neither of them spoke as they put it in the rearview mirror.