Chapter Fifty

Margo Angelhart

Ididn't make it to my mom's Thursday morning. Instead, I sat through morning mass at St. Dominic's with the elementary kids and a handful of people from the community who came every morning—mostly older women who wore veils.

If Peter Carillo showed up, I didn't want trouble. Not with the kids here. But he didn't show, and I doubted he would return during school hours. I touched base with Rafe and as I was leaving, Jack called.

"Sorry I didn't make it to Mom's," I said. "I decided to stay at the church for a bit and make sure Carillo didn't show. How'd Jennifer do with the police?"

"Great. I'm taking her now to Desert West to turn over her information to Tucker. Luisa is meeting us there. Jennifer said she can't prove it was Parsons, but she has a compelling case based on process of elimination. Wendy is heading over to talk to him again, considering they found what Lu and I found—his car was in the garage right before the fire started. He has a lot of explaining to do, though there's no physical evidence tying him to the arson. CSI is still processing."

"I'm going to check in with Logan. He stayed at his resort last night. Which is pretty damn cool. You own an elite resort with a private condo, wife cheats on you, head over for a little R and R."

"Go easy with him, Margo."

That confused me. "What do you mean by that?"

"He just found out that his wife not only was having an affair, but she tried to set him up. He's going to have complex emotions. Sometimes your bedside manner is a bit...indelicate."

I wanted to laugh. Indelicate? "You mean I'm too blunt."

"I can hear you now, Margo. Logan, she's a bitch, get over it."

I winced. I think I called Jack's ex a bitch before he was ready to hear it. I guess my bedside manner is a bit indelicate.

"I call 'em as I see 'em," I said lightly. "But I'll try to be sensitive."

Now Jack laughed. "You do that." Then, in a more serious tone, he said, "Be careful, Margo. You know what I mean."

I did. "Back at you." I ended the call.

After checking in with my uncle after Mass, I was heading to North Scottsdale when my phone gave off an odd chime. I looked down as soon as I hit the stop sign. My new security system alerted me that someone was on my front porch. A uniformed officer and a plainclothes, probably a detective. I didn't recognize either of them.

I turned right rather than left and three minutes later was pulling into my driveway. The two cops were back in their cars, but hadn't left yet.

I parked in my driveway and walked to the curb, curious. They each got out of their vehicles. The detective approached me first. "Margo Angelhart?"

"Yes. You?"

"Detective Grant Sullivan. This is Officer Archie Nunez. Do you have a minute?"

"Sure. My brother was on the force, until three years ago. Worked out of the 900."

"Jack," Nunez said with a nod. "I didn't know him well, but the name sounded familiar."

"I know Jack," Sullivan said. "He doing good?"

"Yeah. If you came by last night, you could have had beers with us."

I leaned against my Jeep. I knew why they were here—Detective Sullivan was the primary on the Annie Carillo "disappearance"—but I wanted him to talk first.

This day was going to come, and I'd gone round and round with how to respond. No lies—but I didn't plan on telling the whole truth. I really wanted to tell Sullivan that Peter Carillo was an abusive prick, but I hadn't seen the abuse—the marital rape or emotional manipulation. Only Annie could testify to that. I could tell them but then they'd want to speak to Annie.

"What can I help you with?" I asked.

Detective Sullivan said, "We're investigating a missing woman, Annie Carillo. Do you know her?"

"I do."

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"Sunday."

He wasn't expecting my prompt answer, but I knew if they were here, they saw me or my Jeep on a security camera. No way Carillo would have told them, though he may have pointed them in the right direction.

"What was her state of mind?"

I shrugged.

"Was she upset? Angry?"

"I couldn't say."

"Did you see her kids? She has a boy, nearly four, and a baby, eight months."

"I did."

"Were they healthy? Well cared for?"

I wasn't exactly sure where they were going with this, but considering what Carillo had told them in the official report about postpartum depression, I suspected they were trying to ascertain whether she was a danger to her children.

"They were kids. PJ was chatty and running around, happy, the baby a chunky, bright-eyed little girl. Annie dotes on them and every time I've seen her with them, she's been an excellent mom."

"Annie left her house Sunday morning, with her children. Did she tell you where she was going?"

"No." Getting into the gray area, but Annie didn't tell me where she was going. I gave her the address in a sealed envelope because I didn't want to know. I knew she was headed to San Antonio, but that could have been a stop—maybe they had another destination for her. I didn't want to know that, either.

Rafe knew, but there was no reason for the police to talk to him.

"Ms. Angelhart, I viewed security footage from one of the Carillos' neighbors, and it showed Annie in the front seat of your car." He gestured to the Jeep. "I couldn't tell if the kids were in the back seat because of your tinted windows, but I assume they were."

I didn't say anything because he didn't ask a question.

"It's not a crime for a woman to leave her husband and not tell him where she's going," Sullivan said, "but they are his kids, too."

Again, no question, so I remained silent.

"Where did you take Annie?"

"She doesn't want me to tell anyone."

"Her husband just wants to know that his wife and his kids are safe."

I didn't say anything.

"Mr. Carillo is concerned that she's a danger to herself and the kids."

When I didn't answer, he said, "Why don't you want to cooperate?"

"I am."

His expression changed just a fraction, but I could see the irritation flit across his face.

Officer Nunez asked, "Are Annie and the kids safe?"

Now she is. "Yes."

"Mr. Carillo plans to petition the court to compel his wife to return with his kids," Sullivan said. "I will be required to give a copy of my report to the judge, and he may subpoena you to testify as to where Annie is."

I doubted the court would subpoena me, and if they did, it would be months from now. I said, "I will answer all questions under oath truthfully. Including the fact that I do not know where Annie is." I pushed off from the Jeep. "My mother used to be the district attorney of Maricopa County. I know the process."

Neither cop showed a reaction; Sullivan had been a cop long enough that he'd likely worked with my mother's office, though she'd left more than a decade ago.

He held out his card. "Call me if you want to share more information."

Odd comment. I took the card, slipped it into my back pocket. "Detective, did you tell Carillo you saw my car on security cameras?"

If he was surprised by the question, he didn't show it. He nodded toward the uniformed officer. "Archie reviewed the footage from several neighbors, ran the plates, identified you last night at end of shift, so we came out first thing this morning."

"You didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine."

"I answered every question you asked. I can't answer unasked questions."

He hesitated, then smiled. "Fair enough." He glanced at Nunez. "Have you discussed this with Carillo?"

"Not yet. I have another question, though. Ms. Angelhart, do you personally know Peter Carillo? Or just his wife?"

"Just Annie."

"How long have you known her?"

"Nearly three months."

"How'd you meet?"

I smiled. I couldn't help it. It was a smart question, and Nunez clearly had a reason for asking.

I didn't answer the question. "I have an appointment, so you'll have to excuse me."

"We might be talking again," Sullivan said.

"I look forward to it."