Page 20 of Till Death Do Us Part

John's fists clenched. He could feel anger bubbling inside him. "If I have to, I will."

“Or maybe you’ll kill me? Like you killed my daughter?”

He snorted in anger, then slammed his hand on the side of the car. “You bitch. If I ever see you here again….”

Rachel's mom shrugged. "Suit yourself." She rolled up the window and drove off, leaving John to stand in the scorching heat, feeling rattled and violated. John stood there, staring at her retreating car until it was out of sight, making sure she didn't come back. Then, he went back inside and realized he had missed a spot of blood on the wall in the living room. With a sigh, he grabbed a sponge and scrubbed it off.

Chapter15

Isat in a dimly lit room at the police station, staring at the computer screen in front of me. The screen displayed the call logs from Rachel's phone, and I couldn't help but feel a knot forming in my stomach as I scrolled through the records.

There were several calls made in the middle of the night, each lasting only a few seconds. The number registered as "no caller ID," but the phone company had still managed to log the number.

I leaned closer to the screen, squinting as I tried to make out the digits.

I jotted down the numbers on a notepad, determined to find out who was responsible for those mysterious calls. It was clear that they were linked to Rachel's disappearance, and I wasn't going to stop until I found out the truth.

As I stood up from the desk, I felt a sense of urgency rise in me. I called the number.

The line rang for a few seconds before a woman picked up the phone. Her voice was low and husky, the kind that made my hair stand on end.

"Hello?" she said, her tone questioning.

"Who is this?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Who's asking?" she countered.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my frustration in check.

"My name is Eva Rae Thomas; I'm a detective at Cocoa Beach Police. I'm calling about Rachel Baker." I said, hoping that she would give me something, anything.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and I could hear her breathing. Finally, she spoke again.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her voice just as low as before.

I felt my anger growing, but I forced myself to stay calm.

"Listen, we're trying to find Rachel Baker, who has been reported missing, and we can see that your number has called her phone on several occasions in the middle of the night and then hung up."

The woman on the other end of the line was silent for a few moments before she spoke again. "I have no idea who Rachel Baker is," she said, her voice cold and devoid of emotion. "And I have certainly never called her phone."

I frowned, not quite sure what to make of her response. "Then why does your number show up on her call log?" I asked, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice.

"I don't know," the woman said, and I could practically hear the shrug in her voice. "Maybe someone is using my number to make those calls. It wouldn't be the first time someone stole my identity."

I didn't quite buy her explanation, but I didn't have any solid evidence to refute it either. "Can you at least give me your name?" I asked, hoping to get some kind of lead.

"Sorry, Detective," the woman said, a hint of amusement creeping into her voice. "I don't give my name to strangers over the phone. Goodbye." And with that, she hung up.

I stared at the phone in disbelief, feeling frustrated and defeated. It was obvious that the woman on the other end of the line was lying, but I couldn't prove it.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. I needed a new approach.

I looked down at the notepad in my hand—at the digits. Maybe there was a way to trace the number and find out who was really behind those calls.

I picked up the phone again, dialing the number for the tech department at the police station.

"Hey, it's Eva Rae Thomas," I said when someone picked up. "I need your help tracing a number."

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