...And Never Let HerGo

have seen Dr. Neil Kaye, the psychiatrist who monitored her prescriptions, on Thursday afternoon. Asked if Anne Marie knew Tom Capano, Sullivan confirmed that she did—and without violating her doctor-patient ethics, told them that Anne Marie had an ongoing relationship with him.
    Bob Donovan knew who Tom Capano was, although he doubted if Capano knew him. As chief of staff to the mayor, Capano had overseen the Wilmington Police Department for some time, and he was friendly with a lot of the top brass, both working and retired. He was an important figure in Wilmington.
    By 3:30 A.M., Bob Donovan, Elmer Harris, Mark Daniels, and Steve Montague were driving through the dark, winding streets of the Kentmere Park neighborhood looking for Tom’s house. It was Sunday morning, and the affluent residents along North Grant Avenue all seemed to be asleep. Like its neighbors, the windows of the redbrick house at 2302 North Grant were dark.
    The quartet of detectives knocked on the door. And waited. They knocked again and heard sounds from inside the house; someone was coming to the door.
    Tom Capano, wearing a robe, opened the door and stared at them. He appeared to have been asleep, and smoothed his hair with a quick hand. He didn’t seem particularly startled to see them, or particularly welcoming.
    They identified themselves and he looked at them sleepily, then asked them to step inside. Capano led the detectives through the foyer to a living room beyond and gestured for them to sit down on the white leather couch that dominated the room.
    “Are you aware about why we want to talk with you?” Mark Daniels asked.
    “Yes. I am aware.” Tom nodded. “I’ve spoken to one of Anne Marie’s friends and I understand that you’re looking for her.”
    “Do you know where she is?”
    Tom shook his head. “I don’t—I haven’t seen her since, ah, either Wednesday—maybe Thursday night. We had dinner at a restaurant in Philadelphia.”
    “That was . . . ?”
    “The Panorama. And we left there and came back to Wilmington—to my house, this house.”
    Tom was very open with the detectives, answering Daniels’s questions and others that Donovan interjected—expanding on his memory of what he now believed had been Thursday night. He said he had picked Anne Marie up in front of her apartment sometime between six-fifteen and six-thirty that night. She had been wearing a light-colored floral print dress, as he recalled. They had driven to Philadelphia in his Jeep Grand Cherokee, eaten a pleasant dinner of, he thought, fish of some sort. He said he had paid with a credit card and that, as usual, Anne Marie calculated the tip for him and signed the check. Afterward, they had come back to his house—but only briefly.
    “I went inside to get some things for her—food: rice, bananas, spinach, soup—and I had a gift for her. I can’t remember now if I’d left it in the house or if it was in my car.”
    Tom said he had then driven Anne Marie to her apartment, but he recalled that, when they pulled up, she had gone ahead. “I had forgotten something in the Jeep and had to go back and get it. She opened the gift—but I don’t think she took it completely out of the box.”
    He remembered carrying the food upstairs for her and putting it on her kitchen counter. “Oh, and she asked me to check her air conditioner. I did—and it was working fine,” he said. “I think I used the bathroom too.”
    He explained that he had stayed only a few minutes and then had left for home. “I was back here by about ten.”
    “Did you stop anywhere on the way?” Donovan asked.
    “I think I stopped at the Getty gas station on Lovering to get a pack of cigarettes.”
    “Have you talked to Miss Fahey since then?” Daniels asked.
    “No,” Tom said. “I haven’t.”
    “Do you have any idea where she might be?”
    “Anne Marie is very airheaded, unpredictable,” he said, half smiling. “I think she’s probably just run off someplace and she’ll be back to work on Monday. She’ll come walking in right on time.”
    “If she ran off, where do you think she might have gone?” Daniels asked.
    “The beach, probably. I really thought she was down at the ocean with her friend Kimmie—Kim Horstman—until I talked to Kimmie earlier tonight.”
    It was apparent that Tom Capano knew Anne Marie Fahey quite well. He was aware that she had planned to take Friday off from her job in the governor’s office. Everyone else was going down to