In the final weeks before her disappearance, 84-year-old Nancy Guthrie confided in neighbors about “someone” who kept contacting her—a shadowy figure whose identity she never clearly revealed. Multiple residents in the Catalina Foothills neighborhood of Tucson came forward on February 3 and 4, 2026, with eerily similar accounts: they overheard Nancy speaking on the phone or muttering to herself about “that person” or “someone who won’t stop calling,” often in the context of her medication and mobility struggles. The revelation has sent investigators scrambling to identify this unknown individual, adding a profoundly personal and unsettling dimension to what Sheriff Chris Nanos has already classified as a confirmed abduction from her bed while she slept.

One neighbor who lives two houses down told local reporters she heard Nancy in her front courtyard around January 15: “She was on the phone, sounding frustrated. I clearly heard her say, ‘I already told that person I can’t walk without my medicine… they keep asking me to do things anyway.’” Another resident walking past the home several evenings in late January recalled Nancy’s voice drifting through an open window as she spoke on a cordless phone near the kitchen: “No, I told you—I can’t move without my pills. You know that.” The tone was described as weary, irritated, sometimes almost pleading—not terrified, but clearly burdened. A third neighbor, who occasionally chatted with Nancy while watering plants, said she mentioned “someone” more than once in casual conversation: “She’d say things like ‘that person keeps calling about the same thing’ and then change the subject. I thought it was a telemarketer or family member at the time. Now it feels different.”

These accounts are explosive because Nancy’s dependence on daily heart medication has been a cornerstone of the investigation. She suffers from chronic cardiac arrhythmia requiring anti-arrhythmic drugs; skipping even one dose can trigger severe dizziness, fainting, or life-threatening irregular rhythms. She also uses a walker for any distance beyond a few steps and keeps her pills, phone, and walker within arm’s reach at night. Sheriff Nanos has repeatedly stressed: “Mrs. Guthrie could not have left that house on her own. She literally cannot walk without her medicine. She was taken—quietly and deliberately—from her bed.” The fact that none of these essential items were missing when the house was checked at noon on February 1 strongly suggests the abductor(s) knew exactly how immobilized she would be without them.

Investigators are now treating the repeated mentions of “someone” as a potential lead to the perpetrator or an accomplice. Detectives are combing through Nancy’s landline call logs, cellphone records (once the device is recovered), email, text messages, and any notes or calendars in the home for names, numbers, or patterns matching the timeline. No ransom demand has surfaced, no suspect has been publicly identified, and no definitive link to Savannah Guthrie’s public profile has emerged. Yet the neighbors’ consistent recollections—combined with the cryptic folded paper bearing unknown symbols found in her untouched wallet—have led authorities to explore whether the abductor had established prior contact, perhaps posing as a helpful acquaintance, caregiver, or even a distant relative to gain trust or information before striking.

The physical evidence continues to confound. Nancy was last seen on her internal security camera at 9:40 p.m. on January 31, walking calmly down the hallway before vanishing from frame without any sign of struggle. A hooded man was captured on a neighbor’s dashcam loitering around the property from 8:20 p.m. to approximately 9:25 p.m., repeatedly pausing to observe the house. When family checked the next day, the home showed subtle but unmistakable signs of disturbance: bed sheets pulled back unevenly as if someone had been lifted from it, a pillow displaced, bedside lamp cord unplugged, cellphone gone from its charger. All exterior doors and windows remained locked from the inside; no broken glass, no jimmy marks, no footprints in the garden beds, no damage to locks or screens. The back door—normally double-locked—was found ajar, but even that anomaly left no tool marks or forced entry evidence.

The complete lack of a visible breach has experts divided. Some theorize a duplicate key or alarm code obtained earlier (possibly during a prior visit or through social engineering). Others point to rare professional techniques: lock manipulation that leaves no detectable traces, alarm bypass devices, or even quiet removal after administering a sedative to prevent noise or resistance. Forensic teams have recovered only Nancy’s and close family members’ fingerprints on high-touch surfaces; no foreign DNA has been conclusively identified yet, though extensive testing on bedding, the pillow, nightstand, and surrounding areas continues.

Search operations have reached unprecedented scale. Over 700 volunteers, K-9 units (including cadaver dogs), thermal drones, FLIR-equipped helicopters, horseback teams, and ground crews have covered more than 60,000 acres of rugged terrain—from the Catalina Foothills foothills to deep canyons in the Santa Catalina Mountains, dry washes, abandoned mine shafts, and vast desert expanses up to 50 miles away. The effort continues 24/7 despite punishing conditions: daytime temperatures climbing past 90°F (32°C) and nighttime lows dipping below freezing.

Savannah Guthrie has remained in Tucson since Sunday, staying close to family and law enforcement. In a brief statement released through NBC she said: “We are clinging to hope with everything we have. The outpouring of love, the relentless work of the sheriff’s office, and every single tip from this incredible community mean the world to us. If you heard my mother mention anyone, saw anything out of place, or have any information at all—please come forward. Every second counts.” She has been seen quietly supporting relatives at the search command post, occasionally speaking with deputies as new leads are pursued.

The once-serene Catalina Foothills neighborhood—known for its privacy, mountain vistas, and low crime—now feels shadowed by unease. Neighbors who once exchanged pleasantries are now sharing hushed stories of Nancy’s recent conversations. One resident told reporters: “She always seemed so strong and independent, but lately she looked worn down… like something was weighing on her. Hearing her talk about ‘that person’ over and over—it haunts me now.” Another added: “I wish I’d stopped and asked who she was talking about. Maybe it would have made a difference.”

Sheriff Nanos has intensified the public appeal: “If Mrs. Guthrie ever mentioned a name, a caller, a visitor, or anyone who made her uncomfortable in the last few weeks—call us. If you recognize the hooded figure from the dashcam footage, know someone who dresses or moves that way, or heard anything unusual that night—call us. Anonymity is guaranteed.” The dedicated tip line has surpassed 1,400 submissions, with analysts prioritizing every reference to the mysterious “someone” she spoke of.

The convergence of evidence—the cryptic note in the untouched wallet, the prolonged pre-incident surveillance by the hooded man, the sudden disappearance from internal camera view, the locked-house mystery, and now these neighbor accounts of a repeatedly mentioned unknown person—paints a picture of a targeted, patient, possibly personal operation. Whether “that person” is the hooded watcher, an accomplice, a manipulator who gained her trust, or someone else entirely remains unknown. What is undeniable is that Nancy’s dependence on her medication was no secret—and someone may have weaponized that knowledge against her.

For Nancy’s family, the thought that she was taken silently from the safety of her own bed—after weeks of cryptic phone calls and mounting worry—is almost unbearable. The quiet home, now sealed behind crime-scene tape, stands frozen: motion-sensor lights still clicking on at dusk, as if waiting for her to walk through the door and turn them off. The community of Tucson, joined by millions following the story, refuses to let hope fade. Every hour without Nancy deepens the desperation, but also the determination—to identify the hooded figure, decode the hidden note, solve the impossible entry, trace the mysterious “someone” she kept mentioning, and bring her home before her medication runs out forever.