Loves Me Not

SEVENTEEN

AFTER
DETECTIVE BRETT PORTER

Catalaina has a brother – Holden Kittridge. He lives out of town with his wife and kid. I make the drive out there to talk with him.

It's Saturday morning. He brings out coffee and we sit in his backyard. It's a beautiful day, the epitome of mid-May. The sun is shining bright in the sky. Birds are chirping, squirrels are chasing each other. A woman is missing.

"Tell me about Catalaina," I say to him.
He takes a sip from his mug, then places it on the table in front of him. "My sister's always been a big believer in living life to the fullest," he begins. "I remember when we were kids, she'd always have these big elaborate plans in her mind. She had an overactive imagination and thought she could conquer the world. I guess that could be both a blessing and a curse. She was very bossy and controlling, even as a child. It used to annoy the hell out of me, but I guess it shaped her into the woman she's become.
"She's a very diligent hard worker. Dedicated. She sets goals for herself and doesn't stop until she's accomplished them. That's what I admire most about her. Because, yeah, sure, she can be stubborn and aggravating at time. She's my little sister. That's what little sisters do. But I also look up to her in more ways than she'll ever know," he pauses for a moment, a look of concern washing over his face. "God, I just wish I knew where she was, what could have happened to her."
"When was the last time you spoke to her?"
"The week before last. Maybe Wednesday or Thursday."
"Do the two of you speak often?"
"Somewhat, yeah. I mean, everyone stays connected with social media. But Catalaina doesn't believe in that stuff, so in order to get updates on her life, I actually have to call her," he laughs.
"What did you talk about when you last spoke?"
He thinks about this for a moment, then his facial expression changes. "It was strange, actually. She called me around noon. I was at work. Usually we speak in the evenings or on weekends when we're both free. But she called me at noon and seemed kind of out of it. Said she was just calling to check in and see how I was. We talked for a couple of minutes. She was really quiet. Then she told me that she was feeling very weird that day. I asked her what she meant. She told me that she couldn't describe it, she just felt off. Like she was in a weird headspace or something."
"Is that normal for her?"
"Not really. Sure, she feels blue sometimes, but doesn't everyone?"
"So what did you take from that conversation?" I ask. "That she was just having a bad day?"
"Perhaps. We all have them."
"Which day exactly?"
He thinks again. "Thursday. May ninth."
"And you didn't hear from her again after that?"
He shakes his head. "She ended the phone call by saying that she hoped I was alright. I said the same to her."
"Did Catalaina ever mention anything to you that might have seemed concerning? Debts she owed, trouble she might have gotten herself into?"
"No, nothing."
"And other than that phone call on Thursday, she seemed happy?"
"I guess."
"What do you mean you guess?"
He hesitates. "As happy as she can be."
"Was Catalaina not happy?"
"Catalaina is ... everything. She is nothing and everything all at once. I think she has always felt emotions too strongly. Everything is to the extreme with her. If she's happy, she's not just happy – she's ecstatic. If she's sad, then she's the most depressed person on this planet."
"A bit melodramatic then, yes?"
"I guess you could say that. But she didn't mean to be that way. It was just how she was. And while she did feel all of these emotions immensely, there were times where I thought she didn't feel anything at all."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Just the way she'd act, the things she'd say. It was almost emotionless. She would never cry. I think I've only seen her cry once or twice in my entire life. She'd go through life with this mask on, never revealing who she really was or how she felt. I think that can be damaging to a person."
"So she was overemotional and emotionless simultaneously?"
"Yes. I know it doesn't make sense, but that's how she was."
It's quiet for a moment. And then I ask, "What do you think happened to her? Where could she have gone?"
"Honestly, Detective, I have no idea. I was hoping that maybe she just ran off and went somewhere to get space or something. But that was Wednesday night. And now it's Saturday. Surely if she was okay she would have checked in with us by now. She would never let my parents worry like this. That's how I know something happened to her. And it makes me sick wondering where she is right now. Whether she's okay or not."
"Who would want to hurt her? Any enemies or people that held a grudge?"
"Catalaina had many people who didn't like her. She was never one to keep friends. Always managed to get on people's bad side somehow."
"But enough to abduct her or hurt her?"
He shakes his head like he doesn't know. "I wish I knew more."
"Alright," I stand up and pull out my card. "Just let me know if anything comes up. Or if you remember anything of importance that you'd like to tell me." I hand it to him and he reads it over, then slides it into his pocket.
We walk back into the house and to the front door. It's just as I'm about to turn to leave when he speaks up again. "Oh, there is one other thing I forgot to mention. It's probably irrelevant, but..."
"Nothing's irrelevant in a missing person's investigation."
He stares at me. "It was a couple years ago. I got this letter from her, and it was the strangest thing. She was apologizing for all the things she'd ever done to me. Ended it by saying goodbye. As though it were the final time."
"Did you ask her about this?"
"Yeah, I called her and freaked out. Asked if she had been diagnosed with cancer or was planning to end her life or something."
"What did she say?"
"She said that she stayed up until five in the morning writing letters to people. Just in case. That's what she said. Just in case something ever happens to me. I want everyone to know everything I was feeling."
"Strange. And what did you say in response?"
"I told her that she was being ridiculous. I promised her that nothing was going to happen to her and that she needed to stop being overdramatic and writing letters as if she's going to die."
"And she agreed?"
"No," he says, looking at me. "She told me, you never know what could happen."