Page 16 of Silent Night

"Okay," Sheila began, "I've got to be honest. I'm not looking forward to breaking the news to Jennifer's family." She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself.

Natalie reached over and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I know it's tough, Sheila, but it's part of the job. They deserve to know, and we need to find out more about Jennifer to get to the bottom of this."

Sheila nodded, knowing Natalie was right. But the thought of the heavy burden they carried weighed on her, making her chest feel tight. She drew in a deep breath, steeling herself for the task ahead.

"Just…don't leave me to do it all by myself, okay?" Sheila asked.

Natalie smiled at her. "When have I ever not had your back?"

Sheila stepped out of the van, the gritty sound of gravel crunching beneath her feet. As she took in the dilapidated neighborhood, she couldn't help but notice the peeling paint on the houses, broken windows hastily patched with duct tape or cardboard, and overgrown yards littered with debris.

Natalie's voice broke through her thoughts as she maneuvered her wheelchair to the edge of the van. "Come on, Sheila. The sooner we get started, the sooner we'll be done."

"Sorry," Sheila muttered, hurrying to assist her sister. Together, they made their way toward the Bainbridge residence, its battered front door hanging slightly askew on its hinges. A rusted bike lay abandoned in the unkempt grass, a silent testament to the family's financial struggles.

"Looks like they haven't had it easy," Sheila murmured, her heart heavy with empathy.

"Unfortunately, that's all too common around here," Natalie replied, her eyes scanning each sad detail of the neighborhood.

As they reached the house, Sheila suddenly realized there was no ramp for Natalie's wheelchair. The front steps, cracked and worn by time, would be impossible for her sister to navigate on her own.

"Uh, Nat," she said hesitantly, "there's no ramp."

"Damn," Natalie cursed under her breath, frustration creasing her brow. "Well, we're not turning back now. We need to find a way."

"Maybe we can use that plank over there?" Sheila suggested, pointing at a long piece of wood leaning against a nearby shed. It wasn't ideal, but it might work.

"Good idea," Natalie agreed. With determination, Sheila set to work dragging the plank toward the house. She carefully positioned it over the steps, creating a makeshift ramp for Natalie.

"Here goes nothing," Sheila said, gripping the handles of the wheelchair tightly as she guided her sister up the incline, the wood groaning beneath their weight. "Almost there...got it!"

The door creaked open, revealing a woman in her forties with weary eyes and strands of gray woven through her unkempt hair. Lines of exhaustion etched her face, and her clothes hung loose on her thin frame. She eyed the sisters suspiciously, her gaze lingering on Natalie's wheelchair.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice guarded. "What do you want?"

"Mrs. Bainbridge?" Natalie asked, her tone gentle as though approaching a wounded animal.

"Who's asking?"

"Ma'am," Natalie began, "I'm Sheriff Natalie Stone, and this is my sister Sheila. We're here to talk to you about your daughter, Jennifer."

At the mention of Jennifer, Mrs. Bainbridge's suspicion momentarily dissolved into concern. "Is she alright? What happened?"

Sheila exchanged a glance with her sister, feeling her throat tighten at the responsibility of delivering such devastating news. This was the part of the job that tore at her soul—shattering a mother's heart with the truth.

"Mrs. Bainbridge," Natalie said softly, her voice wavering with empathy, "I'm sorry, but Jennifer...she's been found dead."

"Dead? No, you must be mistaken," Mrs. Bainbridge stammered, her voice choked with disbelief. "She's fine. I saw her just yesterday morning."

Sheila stared down at her shoes, unable to meet the woman's anguished gaze. The knot in her chest tightened as Natalie continued, her words heavy with sorrow.

"Jennifer's body was found in the Great Salt Lake this morning," Natalie explained softly.

"Great Salt Lake? No, no…that's impossible. She wouldn't go there." Mrs. Bainbridge's face contorted with anger, but her eyes betrayed the fear that began to creep in. "You're wrong. My Jennifer is coming back home."

Sheila's heart sank as she watched the woman desperately cling to the hope that her daughter was still alive. It was gut-wrenching to see a mother's love and determination in the face of such heartbreak.

"Mrs. Bainbridge," Natalie persisted. "I know this is very difficult to understand, but it's the truth. She was strangled, and we're still trying to figure out who is responsible. We'd like to ask you some questions so we can find that person."

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