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Peter Carillo

Peter drove to St. Dominic’s church Tuesday night in the minivan, not his patrol car. It was quiet. Too late for school or evening mass. He parked across the dead-end street and stared, willing Annie to come out of one of the buildings and run to him.

Was Annie even here? He couldn’t see her living in the rectory, a small house on the far corner of the property.

He might be wrong about Annie’s grandparents being married here, but he’d seen the St. Dominic’s calendar on the wall of the private investigator. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

Peter didn’t know quite what it meant, not yet. He wanted to talk to the staff here—maybe the secretary, or even the priest. A priest wouldn’t lie to him.

He thought about his approach. He could canvass the neighborhood—in uniform—ask if anyone had seen his wife. Show pictures. Tell them she was troubled, suffering from postpartum depression. He needed to bring her home, get her help. People generally wanted to help, especially when children were involved.

He knew exactly what to say and how to say it.

This stupid, ridiculous game of Annie’s had gone too far. She had been gone for more than forty-eight hours. What did she hope to accomplish? What did she expect from him? That he would just say fine and go about his life? Didn’t she realize she had gutted him? She might as well have put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. He felt dead inside.

The bitch who helped his wife leave didn’t live far from the church. Five minutes later, he was in front of her house. Lights were off, he didn’t think she was home, and he had already confirmed there was nothing of value to him inside.

He considered waiting for her, but her street was narrow, the houses were close to the road, and the neighborhood—though old—seemed to be well-maintained, like people cared about their property. People might notice if he parked here too long.

He didn’t want to confront Margo Angelhart on her turf. He needed to talk to her away from her house, away from people. Assess her, figure out why she decided to fuck with him.

This bitch had ruined his life. She couldn’t get away with it.

He wouldn’t let her get away with it.