Chapter Thirty-Six

Officer Archie Nunez

Nunez pulled up in front of Kris Madera's house. He lived in a similar cookie-cutter home out in Buckeye, the only place he could afford ten years ago when he and Melinda married. They'd made it their own, and his wife did a great job decorating with lots of color and photos of them and their kid, Sophie, and their large extended family. They'd tried for more kids, but no luck. Still, they were happy, content, and Sophie was the light of their lives.

He'd been thinking about Peter Carillo and his family since he interviewed the man and his friends yesterday morning. He'd have been destroyed if Melinda and Sophie left him, especially if he didn't know where they'd gone.

Nunez and Ritchie had talked to Natalie Nichols the day before. She had been making calls to neighbors, but admitted most of the calls were to her own friends, because Annie didn't socialize much. PJ wasn't in school yet, and Annie was introverted. Her neighbors said the same thing. Annie Carillo was nice, polite, standoffish, attentive to her kids, helpful when asked, and always brought the most delicious desserts to neighborhood parties. Her behavior at the parties? Everyone used the same word: nice. A nice, young, quiet, shy mom.

Nunez had tried to speak with Kris Madera, the woman who ran the book club, but she hadn't been home yesterday.

Madera's house looked like the reverse floor plan of the Nichols' home with more character: a Baby Yoda decal in the front window, balls for every sport littering the front porch, and a basketball hoop installed over the garage door. Nunez knocked on the door and immediately heard someone inside.

A woman in her late thirties opened the door. Nunez introduced himself. "Is there a problem?" she asked, looking out at the street as if expecting to see crime scene tape or a car accident.

"No, ma'am. Do you have a minute? It's about one of your neighbors."

"Oh—Annie. Yes, come in. Nat left a voice mail for me, said you might come by. I meant to call her back, but I've been swamped getting ready for summer classes. I teach at GCU." She unlocked her screen door and held it open for them. "Can I get you a bottled water?"

"No, thank you."

For the record, Nunez confirmed her name and that she lived here with her two minor sons.

"When Nat and Brian married and bought the house, she and I became friendly and I invited her to join my book club. She brought Annie for a while. We actually just drink wine and talk about books and life." She shrugged, gave him a small smile. "There's twelve of us in the club, but usually only six or seven come each month. We're all moms, so life is busy."

"And you meet here?"

"Usually. I'm divorced, so it's easy for me to have it here, and Josh—my ex—has the boys every other weekend. Most of the other women have kids younger than mine, so they just want to escape for a couple hours and be with other women, you know?" She raised her eyebrows.

"My wife has a Bunco group. They've been playing practically since we got married," Nunez said.

"Exactly." She nodded. "We need a few hours with no demands on our time. I love my boys to death, but sometimes—well, anyway. Annie. Nat said she left and no one knows where she is. What can I do?"

"When was the last time you spoke with Annie?"

She thought on it. "Months," she finally said. "I thought she loved book club, and honestly? She needed it. PJ is a great kid, but she's with him 24/7. She doesn't work—not that I think there's anything wrong with that, it's great she can stay home with the kids while they're little, I wish I could have. But we all need a break sometimes, you know? And book club was her only break. I thought she was coming out of her shell.

"Then about the time she announced she was pregnant again, she stopped coming. Nat said she had morning sickness. After Marie was born, I went over there with one of the other girls—Donnell. We brought her a present for the baby, and a stack of books to read for herself. She cried. She said she missed the book club and the gifts were so thoughtful. I told her come back and bring the baby."

"Did she come?"

"No. She always had an excuse, so I talked to Nat and Nat didn't really know what was going on, but then Nat can be a little clueless."

"How so?" he asked. Kris Madera was a wealth of information and clearly didn't mind talking.

"Not so much clueless, as scattered. She started her own business making specialty oils and vinegars. You know, garlic-infused olive oil and raspberry-flavored vinegar, things like that. It's good—she goes to local farmer's markets and craft fairs and sells out. She and Brian have been trying to get pregnant, and I think the business keeps her mind off the fact she's not."

"You said months—do you remember when?"

"Well—we brought over the baby present right before Halloween, I think. Marie was born in September. And Annie made homemade strawberry jam for Christmas and hand-delivered it. We chatted for a bit about the kids. Then—" she looked up as if trying to remember "—I saw her at Nat's during spring break. My boys had a baseball tournament in Tucson and I went over to see if Nat could feed our cats for a few days, water my plants." She motioned vaguely toward the breakfast nook where there were a dozen plants, mostly thriving. "Annie was there with the kids."

"Was that middle of March?"

"Yes, week of the 14th."

Nunez made a note. Two months ago.

"How was she then?"

"The same." She frowned. "I remember Nat was trying to convince Annie to work her business with her, saying that it would be great to do it together, Nat could make more product if she had a partner, that sort of thing. Annie said Peter wouldn't like it because it would take time away from the kids."

She rolled her eyes.

Nunez had a little tingle. "You didn't believe her?"

"I believed her. Look—I don't think Annie has a backbone. Peter seems to be a good guy, worships the ground she walks on. Good dad, from what Nat says. They do a lot of things on his days off—go to the zoo, park, things like that. He even walks the kids at night. Told me once when I was out in the street playing catch with the boys that it gives Annie time to take a bath and relax. I thought that was thoughtful. I mean, what woman doesn't love a hot bubble bath without calls of mommy, mommy, mommy?"

She hesitated, then added, "But if Peter told Annie he didn't think something was a good idea, she wouldn't do it. I had a feeling—not because she said anything—that Peter didn't like her coming to the book club every month. And that's why she stopped coming. Maybe she grew a backbone and stood up for herself, and realized that Peter was too controlling."

"Controlling." Interesting word choice. "How so?"

"He had a say in everything. They're married, sure, and maybe I'm not one to talk. Josh and I were married for fifteen years and it wasn't all bad, but if Josh tried to tell me what to do and not do with my free time? I would have put my foot down. Of course, I've always been independent. Anyway, I just think Annie wasn't happy."

"She wasn't happy in her marriage?"

"I suggested she see a marriage counselor. Confessed that if Josh and I had done it when problems started, we might have been able to save our marriage before everything got out of hand." She frowned. "You know, that was about the time she stopped coming to book club. I probably overstepped. I didn't think about that at the time. I have no filter."

Maybe not, but Kris Madera had given Nunez a much better picture of Peter and Annie's marriage.

"Thank you for your time." He handed her his card. "If you think of anything else, or know of someone else we can speak with, let me know."

He left, and Nunez called Sullivan as he pulled away from the curb. He relayed the key points in the conversation and Sullivan said, "Sounds like she just wanted to get away. But it bugs me that she didn't use her credit cards, hasn't accessed her bank, didn't fly anywhere. Who picked her up? Get any vibes from who you spoke with?"

"No. Everyone I talked to said she was shy, quiet, friendly, a good mother. Stunned she left." Nunez paused. "This might be a leap, but is there any indication that the husband might have done something?"

He was intentionally vague. He didn't want to put his suspicions on paper, and wasn't certain about giving voice to them.

Sullivan considered, said carefully, "You reported that you didn't see any indication of foul play."

"None. And the girlfriend, Nichols, said the handwriting on the note was Annie's. None of the neighbors saw him Sunday after he left for work, not until he came home Sunday night. We could check his vehicle log."

"You think something is off."

"It's been seventy-two hours since anyone has seen or heard from Annie or her kids. She really could have just left her husband and disappeared, but she would have needed someone to help her."

"Canvass the neighbors again. See if anyone has security footage. Carillo gave us her phone—she wiped it at eight in the morning, which suggests that she planned this and didn't want anyone to know what she had been looking at, where she made reservations. She may have applied for a credit card in her name that Carillo doesn't know about, maybe a separate bank account."

Nunez hadn't thought of that. He should have.

"Keep talking to people," Sullivan continued. "Someone might remember something. I'll go over to the house this afternoon and talk to Carillo. Take a look around, see if anything feels off. Tell him what his options are. With no sign of foul play and clear signs that she left willingly, this is a family court issue."

Nunez said, "Not one person said she was happy. They didn't say she wasn't happy, but it just struck me as odd."

"Maybe Carillo is right and she's suffering from postpartum depression. It can be serious and debilitating. Maybe she is a threat to the kids, or to herself, but we need someone else to corroborate Carillo's statement. We'll find her. It'll just take time."

Nunez ended the call. This whole thing felt off to him, and he didn't know why.

But right then, he got a hot call of a burglary in progress, so couldn't follow up with Carillo's neighbors.

He'd return this afternoon.