tech at the same time.
“Have a seat,” he said. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, thanks,” said Matt. “We just really need to look at that tape. The information is going to be vital to our investigation.”
He nodded quickly and moved over to the screen without another word. He punched a few buttons on a remote and the monitor came to life.
The bank was crowded that day, a Friday afternoon. Peopledepositing checks and getting cash for the weekend were dressed for a coldish October afternoon with light jackets, some with hats. Jesamyn was scanning the faces in the crown for the face that had become so familiar to her that she was seeing it in her dreams. A youngish face—pretty, sweet, an open honesty to it.
“Right here,” said Davis, hitting the pause button. “Naturally, our fraud department was very concerned about your suspicions.”
A young girl stepped up to the counter wearing a navy blue coat and a red beret-type hat. Her silky hair fanned out around her shoulders. They both recognized her right away. It was Lily.
“Is that why it took you so long to get us the video?” asked Matt, leaning in closer to the screen.
Davis cleared his throat. “We have very strict security protocols. Our customers expect that, of course.”
When neither Jesamyn nor Matt said anything, he continued. “This teller, Thelma Baker,” said Davis, pointing to a woman on the screen, “said that Lily entered this branch in Riverdale at about noon and requested all the cash from her accounts. She had valid ID. Any of our customers are within their rights to cash out any of their accounts at any branch, at any time. The officer who helped her tried to discourage her from closing the money market account because of penalties. But she said—and I’m quoting—‘It’s an emergency. I need it for my brother.’ Which seems strange since you mentioned over the phone, Detective Stenopolis, that her brother had recently died.”
“It is strange,” said Jesamyn. She looked at the girl on the tape. There was nothing about her to suggest she was under any pressure. She looked grave, serious, no trace of the smile Jesamyn had seen in every photograph of her. But she appeared to be alone and acting of her own free will.
He let the tape play and they watched Lily being greeted by a young man. Brian paused the video. “That’s the bank officer,” he said.
He let the tape go again. Lily shook the man’s hand and smiled politely. Then he escorted her out of the range of the camera.
“What was the amount of the withdrawal?” asked Jesamyn.
“Thirty-eight thousand, nine hundred fifty-six dollars and eighty-three cents.”
It was a significant amount but certainly not enough to disappear on for very long, not these days. She looked over at Matt who was just staring at the screen. He had a kind of moony expression on his face. It was an expression she’d seen on him a number of times when she’d caught him looking at photographs of Lily. She worried about him. No grown man should be that lonely.
“Can we have a copy of this video?” asked Matt.
Davis handed him a CD jewel case, obviously a copy of the one in the DVD player. A sticker on it read: Lily Samuels, account closing, October 22.
“Does this help you at all, Detectives?” asked Brian.
“I’m not sure yet, Mr. Davis. But we appreciate your time,” said Jesamyn, rising.
“Brian,” he said, handing her a card. “Don’t hesitate to call if there’s anything I can do for you.”
She couldn’t keep from smiling at him as he took her hand. “If you or anyone at the branch thinks of anything else, please let us know,” she said.
“In fact,” said Matt, “can we have the names of the teller and the bank officer as well as the address of the branch?”
“Sure,” said Brian, slipping another card from his shirt. “The teller I mentioned was Thelma Baker. And the bank officer was a man named Angel Rodriquez.”
He scribbled on the back of his