And Never Let Her Go (27 page)

It was evidence of how ashamed Anne Marie was about her affair with Tom that so few of her longtime friends knew about it: only Kim Horstman, Jennifer Haughton—her old friend, who lived near Cape Cod—and possibly Jill Morrison. Others might have suspected, but she never confirmed their suspicions.

I
T
was such a cold winter that year, with one snowstorm after another sweeping in from the northeast. Wilmington was muffled and chastened by snowdrifts, the whole state blanketed with white upon white for weeks. Gerry Capano bought a snowplow and did a land-office business. But his brothers talked him out of his plan to buy a fleet of snowplows, pointing out that Wilmington had snow-clogging winters only once in a blue moon. What would he do with all his plows during the other years?

Gerry had more toys than any of them, as it was: classic cars, a boat, trucks, guns; he even bought guns for his toddler son, “to save for him.” Gerry still spent a lot of time big-game hunting and deep-sea fishing. He was usually one of the top contenders in the shark derby in the Atlantic.

A
NNE
M
ARIE
'
S
thirtieth birthday, on January 27, was fast approaching. She had mixed emotions about that. She was still single and still childless, and thirty was a watershed. It didn't matter that, in the nineties, women were marrying later and having children later. If she had to turn thirty, at least she would be doing it with great fanfare.

First, Kathleen was having the “surprise” birthday party for her. It wouldn't be much of a surprise because Anne Marie knew about it, although she didn't let on to Kathleen. In fact, she would be celebrating with her family and friends a night early because her actual birthday fell on the date of one of the biggest events in Wilmington's social season: the Grand Gala Ball. And almost in awe at her luck, Anne Marie had confided to her sister that she would be going with Mike.

The Grand Gala was a wondrous affair that drew the crème de la crème of society—from the du Ponts on down. Even though tickets sold for as much as $500, they weren't easy to come by. That year, the festivities would open with a performance by “The Velvet Fog,” Mel Torme. Then there would be a gourmet dinner, followed by dancing in five ballrooms at the Hotel du Pont.

Anne Marie felt like Cinderella. Wearing the perfect dress, she would attend the Grand Gala with the perfect man. It could be the most unforgettable night of her life and a way to bury, at last, the residual memories of that poor, lonely little girl in a cold house, rolled into a ball under a table to avoid the wrath of her drunken father.

Anne Marie had been thrilled when Mike asked her to go to the Grand Gala. She talked to all of her friends and all the other women employees in the governor's office about what she should wear. Even though they were work friends rather than social friends, the governor's executive assistant, Sue Mast, even went with Anne Marie to shop at Morgan's for a suitable—but smashing—gown. She chose a long black dress that showed off her beautiful eyes and complexion. It wasn't a “little black dress,” it was a dynamic, sweeping black dress.

Although she knew about her birthday party at Kathleen's house, Anne Marie didn't expect to see Mike there. He had told her he wouldn't be back from Bolivia until the day of the Grand Gala, and he gave her his arrival time so she could pick him up at the Philadelphia airport. In fact, he had arranged to come home a day early so he could be a surprise guest at Kathleen's party.

There was one surprise that Anne Marie dreaded: she did not want Tom at the party. Because she didn't know who had been invited, she called Kim Horstman in a panic. “She was very concerned that there was a possibility that Tom would be invited to the party,” Kim said.

Kim had reassured Anne Marie, and then she called Ginny Columbus because Ginny knew who was coming.

“Who's on the guest list?” Kim asked.

Ginny told her and Kim sighed with relief. Tom, of course, wasn't invited.

It turned out to be a wonderful party. Anne Marie did an obligatory whoop of feigned surprise when she walked in to see all of her family and friends, but she was
really
astonished to see Mike grinning at her. She started screaming and ran up to Mike and hugged and kissed him. “She was in a great mood, really happy,” Mike recalled. “That was her night.”

And so was the next. It seemed that Anne Marie was almost too happy.

The Grand Gala was black tie, and Jill Morrison had been in on the final selection of Anne Marie's dress and shoes. She went by Anne Marie's apartment early on Saturday evening, the twenty-seventh, to wish her happy birthday, and was shocked to find her very upset and angry.

“I wish you wouldn't tell Tom Capano what I'm doing!” she said.

“What are you talking about?”

“He knows I'm going to the Grand Gala with Mike, and he's been calling me all day.”

Jill admitted that she had let it slip, maybe even subconsciously, to show Tom that he didn't own Anne Marie. She was sorry that she had. While Jill was in Anne Marie's apartment, the phone rang continually. During that short time, there were six calls from Tom, and Anne Marie told Jill that he said he could find a date and come to the Grand Gala. She was terrified that he would expose their relationship not only to Mike but to the crowd. That would leave her lovely evening, her life itself, in ashes.

“It's the one thing in my life I'm most ashamed of,” Anne Marie said hopelessly. All her joy evaporated as she visualized Tom's carrying out his threat.

Eventually, Anne Marie pulled herself together and got dressed. Despite her apprehension, she looked gorgeous. Jill stayed until Mike arrived, reassuring Anne Marie that even Tom wouldn't
really
have the nerve to show up at the Gala and make some kind of public declaration.

Inside, Jill wasn't so sure. After she finished her shopping, she decided to drive by Tom's house to see if his car was there—but she couldn't find the address. She had his phone number, so she called him on her car phone. It was nine-thirty. If he answered, it would mean he wasn't at the ball. When she heard his voice, she hung up, vastly relieved. Annie was safe from his harassment—at least for that night.

The next day, Anne Marie told Jill that it had been the most wonderful night of her life. But not because Tom stayed away. Anne Marie later confided to her therapist that Tom
had
come to the Hotel du Pont. When she left Mike to go to the ladies' room, he was waiting in a small anteroom. He grabbed her arm and pulled her in, but she broke away from him and said she would not allow him to spoil her night. She was back at Mike's side, her heart pounding but her smile steady, before he had time to miss her.

Tom had had no date for the Grand Gala; appearing at the hotel was simply his way of showing Anne Marie that he always knew where she was and who she was with.

Even so, that night at the ball would remain one of her most precious memories. People had teased Mike and asked him where he found the model he was dancing with. And for once, Anne Marie had
believed
she was beautiful. She and Mike agreed that they would date each other exclusively. They weren't engaged, or engaged to be engaged, but they were going steady.

A
S EXHILARATING
as her night at the ball had been, Anne Marie worried about how hurt Tom was that she had been with Mike. That was Anne Marie; she had been harassed, tormented, and stalked—but upon reflection, she felt sorry for Tom because of the gloomy picture he had painted of himself during his barrage of phone calls on Saturday. While other women would have been able to tell him where to go in unladylike terms, Anne Marie could not. She was cursed with such an acute empathy for another's pain that she had to apologize—once again—to Tom.

At ten minutes to eight the Monday after the Grand Gala, Anne Marie sent an E-mail to Tom.

First let me start off by saying that I'm sorry for the pain I have caused you over the weekend. I am afraid and I do not know where to begin. I spent a good part of yesterday morning/afternoon at Valley Garden Park thinking about a lot of stuff: Us, Girls, Eating Disorder, my family, etc. I desperately want to talk to you, but I'm too afraid to place the call. I do love you Tommy no matter what happens—I will always love you. Annie

Was it a mixed signal? Yes. Did it mean she wanted to get back with him? No. Anne Marie was still trying to ease out of an untenable relationship without doing any harm. And she was trying to get up her nerve to tell Tom that she wanted to be with Mike, and Mike only. However, Tom would completely ignore that part of her message. And her E-mail was like opening the door to the cage of a fox just an inch so it could breathe more easily.

Tom didn't write back until the next morning—Saul, Ewing's computer had been down—but he responded like a man who was back in the game:

I desperately want to talk to you, too, and I'll go out of my mind if I don't soon. Please don't be afraid to place the call. I need to hear your voice. I'm leaving now for a meeting. Please call me. Not hearing from you since Saturday afternoon is making me crazy. And you know how much I love you and need you. I'll wait for your call. Te Amo.

The moment she got his answer, Anne Marie realized she had gone too far in her apology. Tom had taken her message to be the exact opposite of what she had intended.

“Hey,” she wrote back,

I am leaving early to meet jointly w/ Johnson and Sullivan @ 4:00 p.m. [Gary Johnson, her therapist, didn't usually work with anorexia and bulimia and had recommended that she meet Dr. Michelle Sullivan, who did.] I then have to pick up the boys and take care of them for the evening. Cass [Kathleen] will not be home until 10:00 tonight. I tell ya, this is hard work. I now have even more appreciation for single Moms. I will try and call before I leave today—I am dealing w/ a difficult Governor today. Annie

She did not want to see Tom. Anne Marie was trying to bind up what she perceived to be his emotional wounds with phone calls and E-mails. Her subsequent messages were filled with excuses about why she could not see him. When he pressed for a Saturday night date, she suggested lunch instead.

But he was so much better at this game than she could ever know. Tom was far from alone, and hardly grief stricken. He and Debby were together often, and there was Susan Louth and a number of other women. And he still walked into Kay's house as if he owned it—which, of course, he did. He was a sultan who wanted his harem to be available to him at all times. Even the women who had managed to elude him occupied his mind. That snowy January, Linda Marandola had received a phone call from Tom, “out of the blue. He said he was just looking through the phone book and he saw my number listed.”

Linda had neither seen nor heard from Tom for
nine years
—not
since the night in Atlantic City when he had given her the gold watch and then flown into a rage because she admitted she had been seeing other men. Once again, Tom acted as if nothing had ever gone wrong between them. He told Linda that he was separated from his wife, and spoke of how difficult Christmas had been for him because he wasn't with his family. He sounded, in fact, like a whole different person from the jealous, crazy man she remembered.

Things had been difficult for Linda, too; she had not remarried, was laden down with debt, and she was in her mid-forties now, not the ripe Italian beauty she had been in the seventies. Even so, she declined Tom's invitations. Undeterred, he would call her continually from January until Valentine's Day, asking her to have dinner with him. She turned him down, still cautious when she remembered how their meetings had always disintegrated into something frightening.

Tom's E-mail to Anne Marie continued unabated, with one excuse or another for why he needed to consult her. His daughter Katie's friends were throwing a surprise birthday party for her at his house—what should he serve? Would she have dinner with him on Saturday, Sunday? Where had she been when he called at ten
P.M.
? Could they watch their favorite show—
NYPD Blue
—together, or even over the phone together? Wasn't she tired of doing her laundry at Kathleen's? She could do it at
his
house.

During the first part of February, Anne Marie answered his E-mail very carefully: “I'm not sure what I am doing tonight. I may go out with some friends. If I have to babysit all day tomorrow, I think I will stay clear of Kathleen's house this evening. AMF.”

Or: “Sorry I did not call you back last night. I ended up talking to Nigel [an old friend] until 10:30, then wanted to see the last part of NYPD Blue, and of course I fell asleep and woke up at 1:30. Typical Annie . . . and I am supposed to have nachos and beer with my running partners at the gym this Thursday night after we work out.”

Tom called in his daughter Katie to warm Anne Marie's heart, and had her send an E-mail. He explained she was learning how to use the computer. Anne Marie responded—but to Katie's message only. She had seen Katie but she didn't know her.

On February 7, Anne Marie ended her E-mail to Tom with what for her would have been agonizing frankness: “Tommy, I meant what I said on Sunday night about right now only being able to offer you my friendship, and if you cannot deal with that then I
understand. I'm still very much confused, and I am trying to work out a lot of personal things on my own. . . . Annie.”

Their words filled their computer screens, full of nuance, hidden pleas, gently stubborn refusals—and emotional danger for Anne Marie. Tom attempted to draw her into his separation settlement meetings with Kay's attorneys, and still dictated whom she should see, even as friends, and what she should feel about them. Tom answered her early morning communiqué two hours later.

Good Morning, Annie,

Thank you for the e-mail. Yesterday was very harsh (divorce meeting with attorneys) and I am not sure how to react. I would like to talk to you about it. I'd like to have dinner with you on Saturday night. I need to talk to you about work, and I think you need to talk about Gary Johnson, etc.