Page 28 of Till Death Do Us Part

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay, fine. I'll help you."

Her mother's face lit up with relief and excitement. "Great! We'll go when he’s not home."

Kyla nodded again, feeling something strange in the pit of her stomach. What were they getting into? But it was too late to back out now. They had made their decision, and they would have to live with the consequences.

Kyla's body stiffened as the sound of a familiar car engine rumbled up the driveway. Her eyes darted briefly in her mother's direction, who had gone pale and was now standing by the window. With trembling fingers, she pulled apart the slats of the blinds to try and get a glimpse of the car outside. "Oh, no," her mother breathed out, then whispered, "Oh, God, they're here. It's the police."

Kyla stood slowly, her mind racing with fear and confusion. She wanted to run away, to escape the suffocating feeling of being trapped in this nightmare. But she couldn't leave her mother behind, not when she was so scared and alone.

"Mom, it's going to be okay," Kyla said, though she didn't know if she believed it herself. “They're probably just here to ask us more questions about Rachel. Or maybe they found her, huh? How about that? Maybe she's home and happy again."

She tried to sound convincing, but she knew she wasn't. She couldn’t hide how terrified she really was. But there was no running away now. She had to face whatever was coming.

The sound of the doorbell rang, and Kyla's mother jumped, startled. Kyla took a deep breath and walked toward the door, her heart pounding. She opened it slowly, revealing the female red-headed FBI agent standing on the porch. Her eyes were green and warm, round and soft. Her brow was creased, and her mouth turned downward in an expression of grief. Kyla knew instantly why she was there and that now, there was no going back. This was it.

Something had happened to Rachel.

Chapter22

Itook a deep breath and sat on the couch in the living room of Rachel's childhood home, her mother and sister sitting across from me. They were both fidgeting nervously, their eyes darting between me and the floor. The room was silent except for the sound of my own breathing. They both looked at me nervously as if they knew what I was about to say.

"Mrs. Johnson, Kyla," I began, "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but we have found Rachel."

There was a sudden stillness in the room, a deafening silence that seemed to swallow everything. Mrs. Johnson's face twisted in agony, tears streaming down her cheeks. Kyla looked pale and sick, her shoulders shaking with the sobs she was holding back.

Their faces fell, and I could see tears forming in their eyes. Mrs. Johnson took a deep breath and clasped her hands together while Kyla stared at the floor.

"She's dead," I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. "We found her body this morning."

Mrs. Johnson let out a cry and covered her face with her hands while Kyla let out a small sob. I could see the pain and heartbreak in their eyes, and I wished there was something I could do to ease their suffering.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," I said softly, my heart breaking for them. I had a sister myself and had recently reconnected with her after years of being apart, and the thought of losing her was devastating to me. I knew this had to be rough. And losing a child? A daughter? Well, no one should ever experience that. It had to be the hardest thing in the world to go through.

"How? How did this happen?" Mrs. Johnson demanded, her voice trembling. "Where was she?"

"She was found in a storage unit on Manatee Lane. Her body had been put inside a barrel containing formaldehyde, possibly to preserve it, but we don't know for sure. But somehow, the barrel got tipped over inside the storage room, possibly by a stray cat or raccoon that found its way in there; we’ll probably never know. But the formaldehyde started to run out underneath the garage door, and well… the lady renting the storage compartment next to it smelled it and then saw it. She called 9-1-1."

Mrs. Johnson let out a guttural scream, her whole body shaking with grief. Kyla wrapped her arms around her mother, holding her tightly as they both cried. I sat there quietly, giving them space to process their emotions and grieve. It was a devastating loss, and I knew nothing I could say or do would make it better.

After a few moments, Mrs. Johnson looked up at me with red, puffy eyes, "Who did this to my baby girl?" she asked, her voice filled with anger and pain.

"We don't know yet," I said. "But rest assured that we're investigating it. We'll do everything in our power to find out who's responsible."

Mrs. Johnson nodded, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. "A-and how did she die?"

"We don't know for sure yet. The autopsy will tell."

Mrs. Johnson and Kyla stared at me in disbelief, their eyes wide with shock. I could see the pain etched in their faces, and my heart ached for them. I wished there was something more I could say or do to ease their suffering, but I knew words would never be enough.

Mrs. Johnson nodded, her face twisted in anger and grief. "I want justice for my daughter," she said firmly. "I won't rest until the person who did this is behind bars."

Kyla sniffled and wiped away her tears. "What do we do now?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"For now, I suggest you take some time to grieve and be with your family," I replied gently. "I have a couple of questions I would like to ask you now, if possible?"

Mrs. Johnson and Kyla looked at each other, nodding in agreement. "Of course," Mrs. Johnson said, "Whatever it takes to help find who did this to Rachel."

I pulled out my notebook and pen, ready to ask them a series of questions. I cleared my throat, then looked at the mother.

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