Page 17 of Silent Night

"Strangled?" Mrs. Bainbridge repeated in a soft, choked voice. As the harsh reality began to take hold, the anger once etched across her face dissolved into pure grief and shock. Her knees buckled, and she grasped the door frame for support.

Sheila glanced to the side and saw several neighborhood kids riding their bikes nearby, their innocent curiosity drawing them closer to the unfolding tragedy. She couldn't bear to let them witness the raw despair that now gripped the woman before her.

"Mrs. Bainbridge," Sheila interjected. "Maybe we should continue this conversation inside, for the sake of privacy?"

Seemingly in a daze, the grieving mother slowly nodded in agreement. Her fingers, white from gripping the doorframe, loosened their hold, and she stepped aside to allow Sheila and Natalie entry into her home.

"Thank you," Natalie murmured as they crossed the threshold.

Inside the Bainbridges' home, Sheila felt a pang of empathy as she took in the mismatched furniture and peeling wallpaper. The frayed carpet underfoot told a story of struggle and making do with what little they had. A threadbare couch sat against one wall, its cushions sagging from years of use. The small television flickered, casting a dim glow across the cramped living room.

Natalie caught her sister's eye, and for a moment, their shared gaze communicated an understanding of the family's hardship. With a determined nod, they turned their attention back to Mrs. Bainbridge, who stood wringing her hands, her face a mask of anguish.

"I just can't believe it," the grieving mother said. "She was so young, so innocent. It seems like just yesterday she was heading off to kindergarten, ready to start her next adventure." Her lips trembled, and she covered her mouth, sobbing into her hand.

Sheila pressed her lips together sympathetically. As eager as she was to learn what Mrs. Bainbridge knew, she understood the importance of giving her a moment to absorb the shock of the terrible news.

Mrs. Bainbridge placed a hand along the side of her head, grimacing. "I think I feel a migraine coming on. Crying does that sometimes."

"Can I get you a glass of water?" Sheila asked.

The woman shook her head. "No, I'll be alright." She put on a brave smile. "I have some medication I can take if it gets bad."

"Mrs. Bainbridge," Natalie began gently, "we know this is a difficult time for you, but we need to ask you some questions about Jennifer to help us figure out what happened."

Mrs. Bainbridge took a deep breath and let it out slowly, composing herself. "Of course. Anything I can do to help."

"Can you tell us a bit about Jennifer's background? What was she like?" Natalie asked.

"Jennifer... She was a good girl. She worked so hard, always studying late into the night—she was a student at Coldwater Community College, and she worked as a waitress on the side. She made friends easily, and everyone loved her. She never got mixed up in drugs or anything like that." Mrs. Bainbridge shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears. "I don't understand why anyone would want to hurt her."

Sheila's heart ached for the woman before her, who spoke of her daughter with such love and pride, even as sorrow threatened to consume her. She wondered if there were any clues hidden behind the walls of this humble home—anything that could help unravel the mystery of Jennifer's death.

"Did Jennifer have any enemies or anyone you think might have wanted to harm her?" Natalie asked.

"No," Mrs. Bainbridge said. "She was kind to everyone. She never had problems with anyone."

As the conversation continued, Sheila couldn't help but think of the stark contrast between this family's living conditions and the world she and Natalie inhabited. Despite their own challenges, they were fortunate to have each other and the resources to face life's obstacles.

But the Bainbridges had lost their most precious treasure, and it was up to Sheila and Natalie to find justice for Jennifer—to bring some semblance of peace to a mother who had been robbed of her child's love and light.

"Would it be possible for us to see Jennifer's room?" Sheila asked, hoping the request wouldn't cause additional distress. Mrs. Bainbridge hesitated for a moment before nodding solemnly and leading them down a narrow hallway.

The room was small but well-kept, with a neatly made bed adorned by a plush teddy bear sitting expectantly against the pillows. A simple wooden crucifix hung on the wall above the headboard, and a Bible rested on the nightstand, its spine creased from frequent use. The room had an air of quiet tranquility, as if Jennifer's faith had filled the space with serenity even after her departure.

"Jennifer was looking for a place of her own," Mrs. Bainbridge explained, her voice cracking slightly. "But she was working two jobs just to pay for college expenses. She couldn't afford housing as well."

"Did Jennifer have a lot of college friends?" Natalie asked.

"A few," Mrs. Bainbridge began, but that was all Sheila heard. She was soon lost in her own thoughts as she walked around the room, absorbing every detail, from the worn stuffed animals to the modest collection of books on the shelf.

She noticed several photographs of Jennifer displayed on the dresser, each one capturing the young woman's radiant smile. But no matter how closely Sheila looked, she couldn't find a single picture in which Jennifer wasn't alone. Her curiosity piqued, Sheila turned to Mrs. Bainbridge.

"Did Jennifer have a boyfriend?" she asked gently, careful not to overstep any boundaries.

Mrs. Bainbridge shook her head, her gaze fixed on the pictures. "No. She never mentioned anyone special. She did sign up on a dating app – Birds of a Feather, I think it was called – but didn't have any success."

Sheila noticed the tension in Mrs. Bainbridge's shoulders and sensed there was more to the story than she was letting on. She pressed further, her tone soft yet persistent. "Was there anyone at all who showed interest in her?"

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