35
Darla drops me off a couple of blocks away from the bank. I'm wearing a black t-shirt, jeans and baseball cap. A generic outfit that could represent anything. I carry a clipboard in hand. A pen tucked behind my ear. I walk the rest of the way while Darla parks the car.
Mitchum is still pretty quiet at this time in the morning. There are four banks on each corner of an intersection. The other three are modern high street banks. Western & Main is a traditional place in an old building, with a big clock tower on top and an American flag hanging off a pole above the doors.
The doors are glass with thick brass handles—the name of the bank etched in gold in the glass.
I walk in through the entrance. There's a security guard with white hair. Looks like he's about ready to retire. I nod at
