I sat in my truck until my breathing slowed, then pulled out onto Main Street into the morning traffic.

At half past eleven, I parked in the visitor lot outside First National Bank of Dallas.

Hard morning light glinted off the tall glass front of the main banking tower.

Dale Owens came out through the automatic glass doors before I could even shut my truck door.

He was carrying a thick blue accordion file against his chest and walked straight toward my front bumper.

“Don’t come into the main lobby, Raymond,” Dale said, his voice formal and careful.