Loves Me Not

FIFTY-TWO

AFTER
DETECTIVE BRETT PORTER

I'm not exactly sure what to do next, how to proceed from here. Tony Rodriguez left the station ten minutes ago, yet I can't move. I'm stuck in this seat, trying to process this information.

I now have two things that need to be done. I need to return to Catalaina's house and search everything once again. If these allegations are true, then this could change the investigation entirely. If Catalaina was indeed selling drugs, then God only knows the type of people she was dealing with as well as the trouble she might have gotten herself into.

The second thing I need to do is pull Belmont back into the station to be questioned, yet again. This entire investigation seems to surround him like a bubble. He's constantly popping up when he shouldn't be, becoming relevant when he's trying to remain the opposite.

I decide to go back to the house first. That would make the most sense. I bring Zoey and another officer, Ryan Hunter, with me as we drive back down to the south end of Bridgeport.

Ben answers the door and doesn't look all that happy to see me. At this point, he's still a suspect and I will continue to treat him like one until we can prove otherwise. Erin's with him, cooking something that smells like ravioli in the kitchen.

"We need to go through the house again," I tell him. "You and your sister are going to need to vacate for about an hour. Anywhere you can go?"
He stares at me, blinks once. "She's making dinner."
"This is urgent."
He makes a sound of frustration and heads into the kitchen. I hear them talking, her trying to reason with him that it will be okay.
Ben returns a moment later, Erin following close behind. They grab their things and head out the front door, leaving the three of us to our devices.

First, we comb through the main floor, going through the kitchen, the living room, the dining room. Hunter and Zoey head down to the basement while I double-check everything, opening kitchen drawers, looking in cabinets, behind picture frames. She's cunning and diligent, Rodriguez said. You won't find anything. Well, if that's the case, then I need to stop thinking what would Catalaina do, and start thinking, what would CJ do?

They return from the basement with nothing. The three of us head upstairs and I'm hoping perhaps we'll get lucky. This was where Catalaina seemed to spend the majority of her time. In the spare room and the bedroom. We turn the place over, top to bottom.

I spot her day-planner on the desk and pick it up, flipping through the pages once again. Things that seemed mundane before are beginning to stand out to me now. In the weeks preceding her death, she had multiple days each week that were marked with 'appointments.' Each day has a different letter. Possible clients, perhaps?

I open up the drawer and begin pulling things out. Pens, sticky notes, stapler, a notepad. I grab the notepad and hold it up. It appears to be empty, the first page that faces up is blank. I begin flipping through on a whim.

There, hiding in the very center of the notepad, is a page full of writing.

plug = dealer
geno = 1 g of anything
fin = 0.5 of anything
bar = xanax
HB = 1.75 of coke
ball = 3.5 of coke
HO = half oz
zip = ounce (28 g)
brick = 36 oz of coke
cut/dusted = filler (baking soda, etc)

Cocaine = snow, coke, white, blow

C17H21NO4

Methyl​enedioxy​methamphetamine = Ecstasy, MDMA, Molly, M

C11H15NO2

N-Dimethyltryptamine = DMT

C12H16N2

I continue flipping through the notepad, but every page except for that one is blank. There's nothing else. I slowly flip back to the middle and keep the page open, staring at the words.

If anybody handed this to me and told me that it belonged to Catalaina, I wouldn't believe them. But after hearing Tony's skeptical story, and finding this... well, now I'm not sure what to believe.

"I found something!" I hear Zoey yell from the bedroom.
I place the notepad down on the desk and hurry into the other room. She's in the bathroom, standing at the counter.
"What did you find?" I ask as I get closer.
She's holding a container that looks to be lotion or hair cream or something that females use.
"Look what's in here," she says as she turns the container towards me.
Inside, sitting right on top of the white cream, is a small plastic bag. Inside, there looks to be a hundred or more tiny white pills.
"It's Xanax," she says to me.
I look up and meet her eyes.
"And if I found this in here," she says. "Imagine what else she has that we haven't even discovered yet."