The family members’ olive-like complexion distinguished them from most of the crowd. Vermont was, according to the latest census, the whitest state in America, running at about 90 percent. Mixed-race, Blacks, Latinos, and Asians made up most of the rest, but Ahsan Basher was almost statistically nonexistent. As a Muslim in Lucknow, he considered himself an invisible minority. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t attracted attention since September 11, and none of it welcome.

The self-serve gas station and convenience store he ran on the town’s outskirts had been vandalized twice. The first time, after closing, someone had spray-painted osama lover go home across the front windows. The second incident occurred ten days later when Ahsan was inside behind the cash register. A brick came crashing through that same window. A red 1973 Ford Torino was caught on surveillance video speeding away.

Harry paid a visit to one Delbert Dorfman, to whom the vehicle was registered. A six-foot-four twentysomething asshole with one minor assault conviction who worked various shifts at Dexter’s Bar & Grill. Harry couldn’t prove Delbert threw that brick, or was even behind the wheel of the car, but he knew, and he told Delbert he knew, and put him on notice. If Ahsan’s business got hit again, Harry was going to make him the sorriest son of a bitch Lucknow had ever seen.

“Mr. Basher,” Harry said, tossing his unfinished coffee into a nearby waste bin and extending a hand.

“Chief,” he said, smiling and returning the handshake. “I’d like you to meet my wife, Aisha, and this is our daughter, Maryam.”

“A pleasure,” Harry said, bending over to greet the little girl. “You having fun?”

“We’ve been to three food trucks,” Maryam said. “I had a churro. I liked it, but I’m full.”

Harry shifted his focus to her parents and asked quietly, “How have things been lately?”

Ahsan was hesitant. He said to his wife, “Why don’t you get Maryam some cotton candy.”

Aisha nodded, and led the girl away.

“She will have a stomachache for sure now,” Ahsan said. He took a breath. “Nothing has happened, but I sometimes see this Delbert Dorfman driving by, slowly, like he wants me to know he’s keeping his eye on me. It is a hard car to miss. And he came in once, to buy gas, and he had this grin on his face the whole time, like he knew that I knew but there wasn’t anything I could do about it.”

Harry didn’t like the sound of that. “Okay. I’ll pay him another visit. Anything happens, you know you can call me anytime, day or night.”

“Thank you. You know I was born here. I am an American citizen.”

“I know.”

As Basher went to join his family, Harry turned his attention back to the town’s new business. The crowd had thinned, some heading off with purchases. Harry stepped forward and offered a hand.