Page 11 of Till Death Do Us Part

They glanced at one another, then shook their heads almost simultaneously. They were definitely mother and daughter, no doubt about that, as they looked so alike it was almost uncanny. Rachel looked very different from them, and I knew how that felt. My older sister, Sydney, looked just like my mom, tall, blonde, and gorgeous, whereas I took after my dad, short, stubby, and red-haired. But what can you do? You don't get to choose whose genes you get. I wondered where the dad was, but then I remembered reading in the file that he had never been in the picture.

"No, she would most definitely have mentioned that to us,” Kyla said. "She wouldn't go on a trip without telling us, that's for sure."

"And you're certain she didn't just forget to tell you?" I asked.

Her mother shook her head violently. "No! Rachel told her sister and me everything. If she were going out of town, we would have been the first to know, right Kyla?"

Kyla nodded. "Yes. It's true."

I leaned forward, my eyes scanning the room for any clues. "Did she have any recent changes in behavior? Anything out of the ordinary?"

Kyla hesitated before answering. "Well, she did mention that John had cheated on her. More than once."

"What? It was more than once?" the mother said, appalled. She snorted angrily. "I knew he was no good for her. Do you think he had something to do with her disappearance?"

Matt scribbled something down in his notebook. "It's possible, but we can't jump to conclusions just yet. We'll need to look into John's whereabouts during the time Rachel went missing."

As we continued our conversation with the family, my mind raced with possibilities. Was John capable of harming his own wife?

“What about Kyla and Rachel’s father?” I asked. “Could he have shown up suddenly? Did she have any contact with him?”

Her mother shook her head again. “No. He left when they were so young. She never knew him.”

“Could she have tried to find him?” I asked. “Or maybe he tried to find her? Could he have contacted her?”

The mother scoffed. “I don’t think so. It’s impossible.”

“Could we get his information just to check that angle?” I asked. “Also, if you know of any previous boyfriends or relationships she was in. We need to look into that as well.”

The mother exhaled, annoyed. “You need to focus your energy on John. That’s what you need to do.”

“We will do that, too,” Matt said.

"I fear that he might harm the children," the mother said after clearing her throat. "You can't let him get away with this. Please, bring my daughter back home."

Matt and I exchanged a look, both of us knowing that time was of the essence. We promised the family that we would do everything in our power to find Rachel and bring her home safely.

As we left the house, the warm breeze had turned into a strong wind as the afternoon thunderstorms approached. The gardenia scent was gone, replaced by the smell of rain as dark clouds gathered above us. I shivered, feeling a sense of foreboding wash over me.

“Boy, they were busy blaming it on the husband,” I said, breaking the silence.

“I guess, but I think they’re right. We need to look deeper into John Baker," Matt said, holding the car door for me. “He didn’t give me a good feeling when we met with him.”

I nodded, feeling a knot form in my stomach. As we got into the car, I couldn't shake the fear that we were running out of time. And most importantly, I was also very worried about the children. If John Baker had hurt their mother, were they safe with him?

“I know what you mean, but I just don’t like it when people try to tell me how to do my job, you know?”

Chapter7

THEN:

On the surface, everything looked great. The parade of the girls glided down the street as it did every Saturday morning when their mother took them to the farmer's market—not so much to buy anything… usually just some honey and maybe a couple of apples. No, this was done to show them off, to show the world how fortunate and perfect they were. Each of the girls wore a soft blue dress of the finest quality. Emma, the oldest among them, had her light brown hair woven in an intricate braided bun that rested atop her head. Her feet moved with smooth deliberateness, perfectly in sync with her sisters’ as they followed their mother at the head of the line.

Like small ducks in a row.

At the market or on their way there, they'd always stop to talk to neighbors from the street. The girls were expected to remain still, not utter a word unless spoken to, and keep it brief if asked a question.

A simple yes or no would do, of course, followed by a sir or ma'am for politeness.

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