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"So, you did send her the money?" Matt asked. "Why would you do that if you haven't seen her in years?"
Mr. Parker hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I wanted to help her, okay? She's still my daughter, no matter what happened in the past. I knew it took a lot of courage for her to contact me at all. She had to be in very serious trouble. I didn't want her to be out on the streets with nowhere to go," he said, his voice shaking slightly.
I could see the emotion on his face, and suddenly, I felt a pang of sympathy for him. Despite what he had done in the past, he was still a father who cared about his child.
"Did Rachel say anything else to you?" I asked gently.
He shook his head. "No, that was all. She just asked for the money and a place to stay. I told her I couldn't give her a place to stay, but I sent her the money anyway. That's all I know," he said.
Matt and I exchanged a look. We knew that Mr. Parker was holding something back, but there was nothing more we could do to get the information out of him. As we left the visitation room, I couldn't help but feel conflicted about Mr. Parker. On one hand, he had committed a heinous crime in the past and had shown little remorse for his actions. But on the other hand, he had helped Rachel when she needed it, despite their estranged relationship. It was a complicated situation, and I knew we still had a long way to go before we found Rachel and brought her home. As we walked to our car, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were missing something important, but I didn't know what it was. We got into the car and drove back to the station, our minds racing with the possibilities of what could have happened to Rachel. The big question was whether she was still alive.
Chapter12
THEN:
Emma and her two younger sisters sat nervously in the photographer's studio. They had been waiting to have their family portraits taken for what felt like hours, and now, it was finally their turn. Standing next to the photographer, their mother was inspecting every detail of the set-up, her eyes scanning the room for flaws. Emma and her sisters sat in front of the photographer in their Sunday best. The studio was quiet except for the occasional click of the camera.
"Emma, sit up straight," their mother said, adjusting her daughter's posture. "And smile, but not too big. You don't want to show too many teeth. No one wants to see those big gums of yours."
Emma forced a smile, feeling self-conscious under her mother's critical eye. Her sisters fidgeted in their seats, trying to hold back their giggles.
Their mother continued to fuss over them, making tiny adjustments to their hair and clothing. "Now, Lily, tilt your head a bit to the left. And Lily, put your hand on your hip."
The photographer tried to capture the moment, but it was obvious that he could sense the tension in the room.
"Okay, everyone. Let's take a deep breath and relax," he said.
But their mother couldn't let go of her perfectionism. "No, no, we need to get this right. Emma, fix your hair. It's a mess."
Emma sighed, her curls bouncing as she tried to tame them.
The photographer cleared his throat and began placing them in position. "Okay, everyone, let's start with the basic family portrait. Everyone, look at the camera and smile!"
Emma forced a smile, but her mom quickly interrupted. "No, that's not right. Smile with your teeth, Emma. And Lily, close your mouth a little bit. You look like a fish."
The photographer snapped a quick shot before their mom continued. Emma and her sisters obliged, but their smiles quickly faded as their mother spoke.
"Emma! How many times must I say this? Sit up straighter. And Lily, close your mouth a bit more. And Emma, don't scrunch up your nose like that. We need these pictures to turn out perfectly," their mother said, her voice sharp.
The girls tried to follow their mother's directions, but it seemed like no matter what they did, it wasn't good enough. The photographer snapped picture after picture, but their mother kept requesting retakes, nitpicking every detail.
Emma felt a knot forming in her stomach as the photographer began to look increasingly uncomfortable. She wished her mother could just let go and allow them to be themselves, to enjoy the moment without the constant pressure to be perfect. But she knew that was unlikely to happen.
Just when Emma thought the photoshoot couldn't get any worse, their mother had a new bright idea.
"Okay, let's do a silly one now! Everyone, make a funny face!"
Emma's heart sank as she saw the look of dread on her younger sisters' faces. They knew from experience that their mother's idea of "silly" was not the same as theirs.
Emma reluctantly contorted her face into a goofy expression, but her sisters were less successful. Lily looked more like she was in pain, and the youngest struggled to keep a straight face.
Their mother was not amused. "Come on, girls! This is supposed to be fun. Let loose a little bit!" But her words only seemed to make things worse. Their forced laughter sounded stiff and awkward, and Emma was starting to feel embarrassed.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the photoshoot was over. The photographer packed up his equipment, and Emma and her sisters breathed a collective sigh of relief.
As they were leaving the studio, their mother turned to them with a smile on her face. "That was fun, wasn't it?" she asked, oblivious to the tension that had filled the room. "We'll have to come back again next year."
Emma and her sisters kept their thoughts to themselves, knowing there was no point in arguing with their mother. As they walked out into the sunlight, Emma couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that the ordeal was over.
