Loves Me Not

FORTY SIX

AFTER
DETECTIVE BRETT PORTER

I stand in the hallway in front of the interrogation rooms, both Ben and Dominic still inside, unsure of how to proceed. Dominic isn't pressing charges, and Ben has nothing more to say. What they both need to do is go home, simmer down, and mourn the loss of a woman whom they both clearly loved. But for some reason, I can't seem to let them go, not just yet. There's something lingering in my brain that I can't quite put my finger on. Something is telling me to keep them here a bit longer, at least until I figure it out.

I head to my office and flip through my notes. So far, these men are my only two suspects, and I somehow managed to get them both in the station at the same time. I've already questioned both of them prior to today, and without any hard evidence, I can't charge either of them with anything concrete.

Let's think about this. Reasons why Ben would hurt his fiancé: Well, there's the affair, for starters. Despite his claims of only discovering the ongoing affair with Dominic today, Ben could have known for a while. Perhaps he confronted Catalaina about it. There was an exchange of words, things got out of hand, and he kills her.

It's a good theory, but the only reason it doesn't make sense is because Catalaina left in the middle of the night and took a taxi to the pier. That implies that she was meeting with someone else, not someone she lives in the same house with.

So then that leaves Dominic. What reason would Dominic have to hurt Catalaina? Perhaps his feelings for her were not reciprocated. Perhaps he asked her to leave Ben and be with him instead, and she declined. Dominic wasn't happy about this and... killed her?

This is going nowhere.

For now, I decide to let them leave. There's nothing I can hold them here for, so until I find something more concrete, they're both free to go.

Not twenty minutes after they leave the station, my cellphone rings. It's Jodie. There could only be a select few reasons for her to be calling.

"Porter," I answer.
"You busy?" she asks. No hello's or how are you's. Jodie's all business.
"Somewhat. Why, you got something for me?"
"Tox-screen finally came back," she says. "You want to see?"
"I'll be there in ten."

I drive over to the coroner's office and meet with Jodie. She stands beside her desk and holds out the toxicology report. I take it from her and scan the page.

"She was drunk," Jodie says before I can even finish reading. "BAC of 0.060."
I look up and meet her eyes. "Anything else? Drugs or medication?"
"Nothing. Clean as a whistle. Except for the alcohol."
I look back down at the page, as though it contains some sort of answers.

Now we have another missing piece of the puzzle. 1. She left her house in the middle of the night. 2. She called a taxi that took her to the pier. 3. She was intoxicated.

I can't help but wonder, what else am I missing? And how many more pieces do I need to finish the puzzle?

As enlightening as this is to the case, this piece of information doesn't help me much. Quite the contrary, actually. This fact only brings more questions. Such as, why was Catalaina drunk? And more importantly, should I be considering this a homicide investigation? An accident? Or a suicide?

Could I have been wrong this entire time? The signs were all there. Except perhaps I interpreted them as her running away. Could it be that this entire time, the thing that Catalaina wanted was to truly disappear for good? To simply die?

It might make sense, that this was a suicide. She has a few glasses of wine to numb the pain, she calls a cab and goes to her favorite spot – the ocean. Ben made a comment about the ocean being her happy place. He said she felt the most at ease there. And then Scarlett mentioned something else about it. She said that Catalaina would probably want her ashes to be dumped in the ocean. Could that have been the place Catalaina chose to end her life?

I open up her laptop and find the journal entry from March twentieth.

March 20, 2019

Sometimes I wish I was invisible. Sometimes I wish I could disappear. Not necessarily to vanish, but rather, to see if anyone would notice. To see if anyone would care.

Probably not.

Was this a cry for help? Or was this a plan being put into motion?

______

I take a drive out to the pier because I'm not sure what else to do at this point. I have no solid leads, no evidence, and only two suspects who aren't getting me anywhere. I need more. I need to get into the mind of Catalaina, figure out what she was thinking the night that she died.

The suicide angle seems ideal. Sure would be easy to close up too. But I'm probably jumping to conclusions, clinging to another theory that I wish would work. When I think more about it, the more I realize that suicide is probably unlikely. After all, she had blunt-force trauma to her ribs and back. Could she have done that herself? Perhaps. Hell, her corpse could have gotten damaged while she was rotting under water for a week. But something isn't sitting right with me. Would she really have killed herself in such a manner? And not even left a suicide note? She was a writer, after all. As well as a melodramatic woman at best. There's no way that Catalaina Kittridge would depart this world and not even leave something behind.

Or maybe she did. Maybe I just haven't found it yet.

There was the letter in her room, only to be opened after her death. But that hadn't been updated in years. You'd think if she was going to kill herself, she'd at least have her things in order. Then there's the journal. There was truly nothing in there that indicates to her wanting to kill herself. She did say that she wanted to disappear, but there's a difference between wanting something and actually doing it.

One thing is for sure: Catalaina was sad and possibly depressed. She was going through a difficult time these past few months. Perhaps she was even having second thoughts about the wedding, although no one else will admit this. She was going through a difficult time – that's normal for someone in their late twenties. Everyone goes through hard times. But enough to kill herself? I'm not too sure on that one.

I walk down the pier and stand at the very edge, observing the open water in front of me. It's a clear, crisp day. The sun is shining and there's not a cloud in the sky. It's Catalaina's birthday.

So much has happened today, from the funeral, to the fight outside, to bringing them into the station. Then Jodie getting the tox-screen back. And here I am, quarter after six on the first of June. She would have been twenty-seven today. This was the last place that she stood.

I turn around and observe the pier. Couples walk around holding hands. A man is walking his dog. A woman is pushing a stroller. Life continues on regardless of the fact that a woman died here just two short weeks ago.

What were you thinking, Catalaina? What happened on May fifteenth that caused you to leave the warmth of your bed in the middle of the night and come here? What was so damn important about visiting this pier after midnight? Was that decision really worth it? Would you still have chosen to come here if you knew the fate that awaited you?