AFTER
DETECTIVE BRETT PORTER
I've managed to find a last name for this Scarlett woman Ben told me about. It was in her laptop, along with everything else in Catalaina's brain and life. Scarlett Brooks.
I track her down to a prim condominium on the north end. I wait until someone exists the building, then I hurry through before the door closes again. I look at the wall and find her number, then ring in. Once I tell her I'm with the police, she buzzes me up.
"You still haven't found her yet?" is the first thing Scarlett Brooks says upon my arrival.
"No ma'am, I'm afraid not."
I take in her appearance. Tall, standing at about 5'8 or 5'9. Long legs, slim build, bright red hair that she keeps in a tight ponytail pulled back on her head. Her blue eyes search my face for something. Answers.
"Would you like to come inside?" she offers.
I nod and step in. She closes the door behind us.
"God, this is just so crazy," she says, walking towards the couch in the living room. "Her face is everywhere. All over the news and everything. She's famous!"
"Do you mind if we sit?" I gesture towards the sofa.
"Oh, yes, of course." She waits for me to sit first before placing herself on the chair adjacent to me.
"So," she says, surveying me, eyeing the notepad I keep in my hands. "What did you say your name was again?"
"Detective Porter."
"Your name," she says. "What's your name?"
"Brett."
"Brett," she says. "I like it."
"Ms. Brooks," I say firmly. "When was the last time you saw or spoke with Catalaina?"
"It must have been a couple of weeks ago."
"Why's that? From what I've gathered, the two of you are quite close."
She makes a face. "Who told you that?"
"Her fiancé."
She pauses a moment. "We were. We are. Sort of, I guess. We had a bit of a falling out a few weeks back. But it's not the first time. She and I have gotten into disagreements before, about stupid things. But we always bounce back. So I assumed she'd be calling me again any day now to go for lunch or grab a drink."
"But then she went missing."
"Yes."
"What was your 'falling out' about?" I ask.
"Stupid things."
"I'm going to need specifics."
She sighs. "I'm not going to play the blame game and say who's at fault here. But sometimes Catalaina would just get mad at me for no reason. I honestly don't even remember what the fight was about, but she stormed out of my place and hasn't spoken to me since."
"So she can be a bit temperamental then?"
"I guess you could say that. But I don't want to talk negatively about her. Especially not now. With everything going on."
"So the last time you spoke with Catalaina, the two of you were on bad terms," I say. Not a question. A statement.
"Well, I wouldn't put it like that."
"Then how would you put it exactly?"
She's quiet, purses her lips together. "Okay, so we might not have been on the best of terms. But it's not like we hated each other. I would never wish ill upon her."
"When was the exact date you last spoke to her?"
She thinks. "Probably three weeks ago."
"And during this time, how did Catalaina seem? Was she happy? Sad? Depressed? Anxious?"
"Catalaina is all of those things. She's a million different personalities in one."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. She's a little bit crazy, if you ask me. Bipolar, almost."
"Was she officially diagnosed?" I ask, even though I already know the answer is no. I've spoken to Ben and raided the medicine cabinet. Confirmed it with her doctor as well. No signs of mental illness.
"No. But Cat was never one for diagnoses. If anything, she'd diagnose herself."
"What else can you tell me about Catalaina that might pertain to this investigation?"
"I'm not really sure what else you want me to say."
"Would she have taken off? Ran away in the middle of the night?"
She thinks about this. "You know, I really couldn't say."
"So you think it's a possibility?"
"Anything's possible with her."
"How would you describe Catalaina?"
She thinks about this for a moment. "She's sociable. Friendly. Intricate. You're familiar with the saying, the grass is always greener on the other side?"
"Yes."
"Yeah, she's kind of like that. Always thinking that what everyone else has is better than what she has, even if what she has is perfect. Although if you told her that saying, she'd tell you, the grass isn't greener on the other side – it's green where you water it."
"So she's a difficult one to please, I presume."
"Sure."
"How is her relationship?"
"Fine."
I raise my eyebrow. "You seem to know Catalaina better than most of the people I've spoken with thus far, so I think you'd know best the state of her relationship."
"It was a relationship, okay? It wasn't the best thing in the world, but it wasn't the worst."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because it's not like Cat was over the moon. She was just... I don't know, settling."
"Settling? For Ben?"
"Yeah."
"She told you that?"
"Well, no. But I could tell. The way she acted, the things she insinuated. It was like she was only with him out of something to do. Because she had nothing better going on."
"That sounds a bit harsh," I say. "Are you sure she'd agree with that statement?"
Scarlett shrugs. "You asked, I'm telling."
"You didn't know Ben personally?"
"No."
"Why is that? If you and Catalaina were so close?"
"We just never crossed paths, I guess."
"Seems a bit odd if you ask me, no?"
"Not really."
"When and how did you and Catalaina meet?"
"It was only a few months ago. In January. We met at a bar, of all places. She was there by herself one night. Seemed lonely. I approached her and we got to talking. We became friends and the rest is history."
"Clearly," I say. "Do you know if Catalaina was in any sort of trouble? If anyone wanted to hurt her?"
"No," she says. "Why would anyone ever want to hurt her?"
I stare at her. "That's exactly what I'm trying to figure out."
_____
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."