Loves Me Not

FIFTEEN

_____

After leaving Scarlett's, I have another place on my list to visit.

I drive east towards New Haven, about twenty minutes from where Catalaina and Ben live. The house is nice, a modern Victorian that could house four or five people at least. The driveway curves around to the side of the house, leading up to a double-garage. I park my car and give myself a moment before getting out.

It's a Saturday, which means that he should be home. Unless for some reason he's out somewhere. Or at the hospital, seeing as he's a surgeon. But there's two cars in the driveway, so I think I'm in luck.

I walk up the pathway to the front steps, then ring the doorbell and wait. Only a minute goes by before the door opens.

"Will Sterling?" I ask, even though I already know it's him. I looked him up before coming here.
"Yes?"
"Detective Brett Porter, Bridgeport Police," I flash my badge. "Can I come in and ask you a few questions?"
"You're here about Catalaina."
"Yes."
"Come in," he opens the door wider and I step inside.

The home is prim and polished. A spiral staircase with a white banister sits in the center of the foyer. Dining room to the left, living room to the right, kitchen straight ahead. He leads me to the living room and asks if I'd like a coffee. I decline.

It wasn't difficult to track him down. After I read Catalaina's letter in the bookshelf, his name was stuck on my mind. Whoever he is, he must be important. I simply asked Ben about it. "Does Catalaina know anyone by the name of Will?" I asked on a whim, considering the letter was written over four years ago.
"Yeah, Will Sterling," he said without hesitation. "Why?"
"Oh, his name came up in some of her things. Are they close?"
"They used to be. He's one of her childhood friends. But they haven't spoken in some time."
"Why's that?"
He shrugs. "Not sure. They just grew apart I guess."

So now I sit in the living room of Will Sterling. He seems anxious by my presence.

"Mr. Sterling –"
"Please," he interrupts. "Call me Will."
"Will," I say. "How do you know Catalaina?"
"We met when we were teenagers. I was friends with her brother. Then her and I developed a close friendship."
"And you're still close?"
"No. Not anymore."
"Why's that?"
He exhales. "We just drifted apart. We grew older and both had our own lives. It's sad, but these things happen. I wish it was different, but there's not much I can do."
"When was the last time you spoke with her?"
"Just over a year ago," he says. "When she didn't come to my wedding. We haven't spoken since."
"Was she invited?"
"Yes."
"And she chose not to come?"
"Correct."
"Why is that?"
"She's always busy and has a lot going on in her life. I don't blame her. These things happen."
"Sounds like something more serious if she bailed on one of her closest friend's wedding."
"Don't make mountains out of molehills, Detective," he says to me. "It really wasn't a big deal. Quite a few people couldn't make it to the wedding. I don't take it personally."
"Did the two of you have a falling out?"
"I wouldn't call it a falling out. Just two friends who drifted apart."
It's quiet in the room.
"I know it's been some time since you spoke last," I say. "But do you know what might have happened to her?"
"How would I know something like that?"
"It's just a question. I'm talking to everyone in Catalaina's life."
"Do you think somebody took her?" he asks, suddenly seeming worried
"At this point, we're not sure."
He's quiet again, like he doesn't know what else to say.
"What can you tell me about Catalaina?" I ask. "You clearly know her well. Or, you did at one point."
"I did. She was one of my closest friends for a long time," he pauses. "What do you want to know?"
"What is she like?" I ask, and it feels as though I'm asking this question for the hundredth time. But each and every time, I get new answers. I keep discovering more and more about this woman.
He takes a moment to formulate his response, and then he begins. "She's astonishing. Truly. Every word that comes out of her mouth has meaning to it. She's so full of light and energy. She wants to spread positivity and happiness to everyone around her. And she's very intelligent too. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. She underestimates herself, but she's so smart and talented."
"You have a lot of positive things to say about her."
"Yes. Because everything I said is how she is."
"I've heard from a few different people that Catalaina can be quite complex," I say. "Do you find that?"
"I guess you could say that. She's definitely not like anyone I've ever met before. She's unique and unconventional."
"Care to elaborate?"
"It's hard to explain to someone who doesn't know her," he says. "She's multifaceted, with many layers to her. Just when you think you know her, she'll surprise you with something new. I could list off facts about her, like that she doesn't eat meat or believe in credit cards. Or that her favorite color is black and she feels tranquility in the ocean. She hates celebrating holidays and finds the concept ridiculous. For her entire life she's tried so hard to stand out and be different. Catalaina has always hated conformity and made a conscious effort not to be like everyone else. The concept drove her mad. I guess that's what people mean when they say she's complex. That's the best word to describe her because no one truly can – describe her, that is."
"What about the negative qualities?" I ask. "And don't say that there aren't any, because everyone has negative aspects. I need honesty here. If I'm ever to find Catalaina, I need to know everything."
"Okay," he says. "She can be... strange, at times. Distant, almost. She has so much going on in her brain and I think she doesn't know what to do with it all. She's very critical of herself. And others. Everything needs to be a certain way. She's sort of high-strung and over-emotional. For example, if you say the wrong thing to her, she will hold onto those words forever. She'll never let you live them down. She's passionate and driven, but that passion also has the ability to drive her to insanity."
I nod, taking jot notes of his words.
"When the two of you were close," I say. "A year ago, how was her relationship with her fiancé, Ben?"
"Fine. She was happy. Why, did something change?"
"Just curious."
"He wouldn't do anything to her, if that's what you're wondering."
"Yeah? What makes you so sure."
"Ben loves her. He'd do anything for that girl. I couldn't imagine him laying a finger on her."
I nod and write this down as well. "So as far as you know, the state of her relationship was good."
"Yes."
"Do you think Catalaina would ever run away?" I ask.
"To where?"
"Doesn't matter. Would she run away?"
He thinks about this. "I don't know. Perhaps. She's always wanted to get out of this town. Dreamed of moving onto bigger and better things."
"Anywhere in particular?"
"She loves California. Or if we're talking abroad, Amsterdam."
"Is Catalaina the spontaneous type? Impulsive?"
"I guess you could say that, yeah."
"So do you think it's likely that she could have taken off in the middle of the night without a word of notice to anyone?"
"No," he says without hesitation. "No, Catalaina wouldn't do that. At least, I don't think she would. Not the Catalaina that I knew. Because if that's what you're thinking – that she ran off and disappeared on her own – then you're wrong. Because she would never worry Ben like that. She would never worry her parents like that. She knows better."
"Alright," I say, closing my notepad.
"You're done here?" he asks, confused.
"For now. If I have any more questions, I'll be in touch."
We both stand.
"Just curious," he says. "How did you find me? I mean, how did you know to look for me?"
"Your name came up."
"From who?"
"No a who," I say. "In words. Her words."
"What did she say?"
"Just something she wrote a few years back. A list of instructions in case she ever..."
"Died."
"She told you?"
"No," he says. "But that's something she would do."
I nod.
"What did it say?" he asks.
I sigh, not wanting to tell him, but I do anyways. Only because of the contents of the letter, what he once meant to her. "She wanted to leave you everything," I tell him.
His face changes, but he doesn't say anything.
"Why would she do that?" I ask him. "Why leave everything to you?"
He takes a moment to answer. Then he says, "She was my best friend. And I was hers."
"But then everything changed," I say.
"Yes."
"No animosity?" I ask.
"No," he says. "Just two people moving on."

He walks me to the door and we say our formalities, shake hands, I give him my card. But just before he reaches for the door, it opens.

The both of us step back involuntarily and in walks a woman. Shoulder length blonde hair, pale skin and blue eyes. She's dressed in black leggings and a fitted pink t-shirt. She looks up and meets our eyes, caught off guard to see us standing there.
"Honey, this is Detective Porter," Will says to her. "He's here about Catalaina."
She looks from her husband to me.
"Hi," I say, and stick out my hand for her to shake.
"Detective," he says to me. "This is my wife, Juliette."