“I’m happy to help in any way I can,” Pollero said as he led them to his office. It had a glass wall that looked out into the bank, which was designed in a way that clearly distinguished it from modern banks. Paintings of cattle ranches and a famous Alamo scene decorated the pale green walls; two separate sitting areas provided comfortable couches and neatly arranged finance magazines; a coffeepot and water cooler for customers; and the tellers were behind a high counter without bars or plastic shielding. It was a warm, homey environment with the stately colors and cleanliness that said, You can trust us with your money.

Lucy and Nate sat in the chairs across from Pollero. He closed the door behind them and sat down at his desk, which was immaculate. Behind him on the credenza was a wedding photo—it looked recent, and Pollero was standing with a woman next to the bride. Next to it was a photo of the bride and her husband with a toddler.

“Your daughter?” she asked, nodding toward the photos.

He glanced over and smiled. “Penny. The joy of my life. And her daughter, Gracie. She just turned two.”

“Adorable,” Lucy said. “Again, thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice.”

“I assumed it was because of the news reports Monday night—that you found Denise Albright’s remains. I’m stunned.”

“Her, and her family,” Lucy said. “They were murdered.”

She said it in a calm, reasoned voice—just like she asked about his daughter—and it threw him a bit.

“It’s awful,” he said.

“Based on forensics and our investigation, you may very well have been one of the last people to see Mrs. Albright alive.”

“I—I’m sure that’s not true.”

“According to your statement, she came into the bank on Friday, September 21, at ten fifteen a.m. She made changes to the Kiefer account, of which she was a signatory, and you indicated that she wasn’t under duress.”

“I honestly don’t remember the details, but if she was acting odd, I would have noticed. I knew Mrs. Albright for years. We gave her the loan on her home, when they only had one child. She had her business account with us, when she had a new client she always referred them to our bank. She was meticulous, which I appreciated. If there was a discrepancy in any of her accounts, we worked on finding it together.”

“So you saw her regularly? How often would you say? Every week? Month?”

“Once a month, maybe a little less. With online banking taking off, we don’t see our customers as often as we used to.”

“Did you know her husband?” Lucy asked.