...And Never Let HerGo

together they explored many scenarios and possibilities. No one at Quantico suggested they were on the wrong path.
    O N July 24, Robert Fahey wrote a letter to Tom and had it hand delivered to Saul, Ewing. The Faheys had had no contact with Tom, save for the one message he left on Robert’s answering machine earlier—that disjointed explanation of why he could not speak with the police.
    “Dear Mr. Capano,” Robert wrote.
    We are writing to request your assistance in locating our sister, Anne Marie Fahey. Four weeks have passed since she was last seen alive. She was with you the last time her whereabouts can be independently verified. As the last person to be seen with Anne Marie, one would hope that you would do the right thing, come forward and share all you know about Anne Marie’s disappearance.
    The authorities have invested significant effort into interviewing anyone thought to have any information which may help our cause. Everyone in the community has been very helpful and forthcoming with information. Other than two brief conversations with the police in your home immediately following Anne Marie’s disappearance, you have been unwilling to submit to an unrestricted police interview. Your team of lawyers has been very effective at communicating for you but very ineffective at helping us find our sister. Do what your father, Louis, would expect of one of his sons. Come forward and share all you know about Anne Marie’s disappearance.
    Imagine, if you will, that this case involved one of your four daughters, not our sister. We know you would expect the last person to be seen with your children to come forward and be helpful. You would want that person to do the right thing and provide assistance. It has been four weeks and you have yet to come forward to assist the authorities without conditions.
    We urge you to put our interests in finding our sister ahead of all other personal concerns. We are talking about someone’s life. Please help us today.
    The Fahey Family.
    Tom did not respond.

Chapter Twenty-five
    O N J ULY 25, Connolly, Donovan, and Alpert had not one particle of physical evidence. But they suspected it was not a kidnapping case but a murder case they were striving to build against Tom Capano. They believed they had a motive, the oldest motive in the world: jealousy, possessiveness, maybe revenge. But they had no body. They had no eyewitnesses. They had no blood. They had no weapon. They had no crime scene. They didn’t even have signs of a struggle. Indeed, they were faced with an almost impossible task. Suspicion and innuendo and all the gut feelings in the world were not enough to get an arrest warrant—much less a conviction.
    The three investigators had little money and less manpower; they were
it.
And they were motivated by the picture of a young woman whose absence had broken a lot of hearts and the challenge presented by an arrogant and powerful suspect who was thumbing his nose in the face of the law.
    A searingly invasive look into Tom Capano’s private life was about to accelerate. The last week of July was very busy for the investigators—but they were discreetly busy. Donovan and Alpert continued their interviews with Anne Marie’s friends and associates. They were hearing the same elements over and over, although each person they interviewed remembered different anecdotes that illustrated the growing schism between Anne Marie and Tom.
    Bob Donovan talked again to Lisa D’Amico, who told him that Tom Capano had once grabbed Anne Marie by the neck and called her a “slut” and a “bitch.” He interviewed Jill Morrison and heard the horrific details of Anne Marie’s struggle to escape from Tom over a period of almost a year, leading up to the night she vanished. The government team learned that Anne Marie had been desperate, frightened—but resolute—about extricating herself from Tom’s grip. And what they were hearing in their interviews sounded nothing at all like the relationship that Tom had described to them.
Was
Anne Marie as ditsy and spacey as he maintained, or was he only painting a picture he wanted them to believe?
    Al Franke, whom Anne Marie had once dated and who had become a good friend, told Donovan about the time—only six to eight weeks before she vanished—when Tom climbed up the fire escape to Anne Marie’s building and made a forced entry into her apartment. At that time, she told Franke, he had been in a towering, bellowingrage, and once