Rachel picked at her salad. “I’m not completely sure. Aunt Julie had always been kind to me, and for as long as I can remember, she’d been trying to talk my mother into letting me live with her. It didn’t seem like such a big deal to me. I knew life with my aunt and uncle would be great, so when they came to get me that day, I happily went with them.”
Jules’s thick brows lifted. “Came to get you? You mean this wasn’t done at a courthouse? They just picked you up one day?”
Rachel frowned. She’d never thought of it that way. “But I have my revised birth certificate. So, they did adopt me.”
“Is it legal?”
“What?” Rachel couldn’t believe her ears. “Of course it’s legal.”
Jules took a bite of her hamburger and chewed slowly as her mother let the last question roll around in her head.
“It just seems odd, Mom. Doesn’t it seem strange to you?”
It hadn’t seemed odd at all. If Jules had known what her life had been like before leaving with Julie and Gordon, she’d understand. But now that Rachel was finally talking about it, the story did have a lot of holes.
“It is weird, I’ll give you that,” Rachel finally said. “But no one came looking for me. I never saw my face on a milk carton.” She laughed, but it felt forced.
“I’m not saying they took you illegally, Mom. But it sounds strange. Is that what’s upsetting Aunt Julie now? The past?”
Rachel nodded. “Julie was so upset this afternoon. She wanted to tell me privately about my brother. She kept apologizing like she’d done something wrong. She even said I might hate her if I knew the truth. I really thought she was just rambling on. But now, I’m not sure.”
“Do you think she knows something you don’t?” Jules asked.
Rachel took a sip of her soda. “Maybe. But I don’t know what it could be. And I don’t want to press her about it in her current state of mind. It might just be a delusion on her part, too.”
Jules lifted her eyes to her mother. “Have you ever searched for your parents or brother online? That might answer all your questions.”
Rachel had thought of doing just that, years ago. And once, she’d even typed in her parents’ names, but nothing came up. She’d decided back then to let it all go. “I have no reason to search for them. They didn’t care enough about me to stay in contact, so why would I try now?”
Her daughter gave her a quizzical look. “Maybe they didn’t contact you because they didn’t know where you were. Your last name had changed. You said you moved from state to state before ending up here. Maybe Aunt Julie made sure they couldn’t find you.”
Rachel had thought that very same thing as she’d let her mind wander this afternoon. But her Aunt Julie wasn’t like that. She’d always been open with Rachel about everything. Still, they never talked about Rachel’s parents or brother after they’d moved away, except for letting Rachel write to her father. Could her aunt and uncle have been that devious?
“I guess I could do a search on them,” Rachel finally said. When she saw her daughter pull out her phone, Rachel shook her head. “Not here. I’ll do it at home, in private. Who knows what I’ll find?”
Jules looked disappointed but didn’t argue. “At least tell me what you find out, if you learn anything, okay?”
Rachel nodded. “I will. But I doubt after thirty-five years, I’ll find out anything at all.”
***
An hour later, Rachel returned home and headed directly to her office. She still had the grocery store campaign to finish, but that wasn’t foremost on her mind. Ever since telling her daughter the truth about her early years, she couldn’t get the idea of searching for her family out of her head. It was worth a try.
Opening her laptop, Rachel waited while it started up. She opened Google, and her shaking fingers hovered over the keyboard. Did she really want to unlock her past? What good would it do her now? She hesitated.
“It’s just a search,” she told herself. “It’s not like I have to ever see them if I do find them.”
With new determination, she typed in, “Keith Parnell, Casita, California.” The few seconds it took to display a response felt like an eternity. Finally, a list of headlines and links appeared.
“Keith Parnell, Life in Prison for Murder.”
“Keith Parnell Murder Case.”
“1985 Murder Case, Keith Parnell.”
Rachel stared in shock at the headlines. That couldn’t possibly be her brother. There must be a thousand other people named Keith Parnell, she thought. But then, the next headline from a 1985 article in the Casita Daily News made her eyes go wide.
“Eight-year-old Murder Victim Identified as Rachel Parnell.”
Rachel sat back and stared at the news headline in horror. “They think I’m dead.”
Chapter Three
Early the next morning, Rachel drove to her aunt’s care center and walked hurriedly to her apartment. She’d hardly slept all night after reading the many articles about her own murder and her brother’s conviction. She still couldn’t believe any of it was true. But the trial transcripts and the pictures of Keith being led into court wearing a prison uniform and chains made it all too real. Her brother had been serving the last thirty-four years in prison for her murder—but she was very much alive.
As Rachel neared her aunt’s apartment, she almost collided with Shirley.
“My, my. What’s your hurry, dear?” Shirley said, studying her. Rachel was aware of how drawn and disheveled she looked. She’d thrown on her clothes from the day before and had quickly run a brush through her hair before rushing out.
“Sorry, Shirley,” she said. “I didn’t mean to run into you. I’m on my way to see my aunt.”
“Is something wrong?” Shirley asked. “Can I help?”
Rachel shook her head. “No, thank you. I just need to talk to my aunt in private.”
Shirley looked concerned but only nodded. “Be sure to buzz me if you need anything, okay?”
Rachel nodded and headed to her aunt’s door. She knocked twice, then opened the door a little. “Aunt Julie? It’s Rachel. I’m coming inside.”
Julie was sitting on the small sofa, gazing up at the television that hung on the opposite wall. An old episode of the Andy Griffith show was playing with the sound turned low. Seeing her aunt so calm and enjoying the show made Rachel pause. She’d grown very thin and was slouching in a way that it looked like the sofa was swallowing her up. Was it really a good idea to bring up the past now? But Rachel had to know what her aunt remembered about the day she and Gordon picked her up at the park.
“Aunt Julie?” Rachel said, hoping it was a good day and Julie remembered her.
Her aunt turned her way, then smiled warmly. “Hello.”
Rachel moved closer and sat tentatively on the sofa. “How are you feeling today?”
“Oh, I’m fine. I was just watching a new episode of this show. Isn’t it cute? I get a kick out of that little boy and his antics.”
Rachel took a deep breath. If her aunt believed this was a new episode, then she was lost somewhere back in her childhood. Rachel moved closer. “Aunt Julie. Do you remember me? I’m Rachel.”
Julie gave her another warm smile. “Of course I know Rachel. She’s such a sweet kid. Someday, I’m going to bring her home and raise her as my own. That sister of mine, she doesn’t deserve a sweet girl like Rachel.” She stared at Rachel and frowned. “Do you know Rachel?”
Her heart sank. She had hoped this would be a good day. “Auntie. I’m Rachel. Remember? You and Gordon did bring me with you and adopted me. I grew up with you instead of my family. Do you remember?”
Julie’s expression turned guarded. She glanced around the room, looking anxious. “We’re Rachel’s family,” she insisted. “There is no other family.”
“Aunt Julie. It’s okay. It’s just you and me here. I need you to remember that day, thirty-five years ago, when you and Gordon picked me up, and we left Casita. Do you remember?�
��
She shook her head. “We don’t talk about that day. It’s our secret.”
“Auntie. It’s not a secret. We can talk about it. Did you know what happened to my brother that day? You must have seen it on the news or heard about it. Is that why we moved from state to state? Were we hiding from my family?” Rachel watched as her aunt’s face grew frightened.
“We don’t talk about that boy. Or that family. It’s a secret!” she insisted, her voice growing louder. Julie glared at Rachel. “Who are you? Why are you asking me these questions? You’ll never take Rachel away from me. She’s mine now!”
Rachel was immediately sorry she’d pushed her aunt so far. She tried placing her hand on Julie’s arm to calm her, but Julie stood quickly and fled from her. “Julie! Don’t!” Rachel yelled. “It’s okay.” Rachel rose to stop her, but as Julie reached the door, Shirley opened it and blocked her way.
“Now, honey. Why are you so upset? Come on inside, and let’s sit down again. We can watch that show you were enjoying so much,” Shirley said in her soothing drawl.
Julie recognized Shirley and slowly calmed down. As the two women turned to walk to the sofa, her aunt cocked her head and stared at Rachel, puzzled.
“Hello. Do I know you?” Julie said.
Rachel sighed and shook her head. Shirley’s brows rose as she watched Rachel curiously.
“I just came in to say hello,” Rachel said to her aunt. She realized she wasn’t going to get any answers from Julie today, if ever.
“Well, isn’t that nice?” Julie said, smiling. Shirley led her to the sofa and helped her get comfortable. Not wanting to upset her aunt any further, Rachel mouthed, “Thank you,” to Shirley and headed out the door.
***
Rachel couldn’t concentrate all day on anything except the old news reports about her being dead. It was unnerving. She tried to get some work done but to no avail. Finally, she gave up and searched Google again about the murder case and her brother. She searched her real mother’s name, Judith Arden Parnell, and discovered her mother still lived in the same house as when Rachel was a child. But when she typed in her father’s name, nothing came up. Her mother would be around seventy-five years old, and her father would be seventy-seven. There was no obituary for her father or report of him being deceased, so that was a good sign. It just seemed strange to Rachel that the house wasn’t in his name also.
The news reports about her murder stated that an eight-year-old girl with long, dark hair had been found dead by the river, and a witness had claimed to see Keith following the girl down the tree-lined path. But nothing stated why they thought the dead girl was Rachel. Who had identified her? Why had they said it was her? And who was the dead girl? These questions plagued Rachel’s thoughts to the point where she felt she’d go crazy.
The worst thing of all was that the girl had been found on the same day she’d left with her aunt and uncle. Was that a coincidence or something more devious?
After spending hours contemplating everything, Rachel finally made a decision. She had to go back to her hometown in California and prove she wasn’t dead.
***
Monday morning, Rachel was on a flight from Tallahassee to Sacramento, California. She’d carefully packed her amended birth certificate so she could prove she was very much alive. She didn’t have the official adoption papers, so she hoped she had enough to confirm the mistaken identity.
The night before, Rachel had called Jules to tell her an abbreviated version of what she’d learned about her family and what her plans were.
“Wow. That’s a shock to learn everyone thinks you’re dead,” Jules had said. Then she’d sucked in her breath. “You don’t think Aunt Julie and Uncle Gordon would have…”
“No!” Rachel had cut her off. “I think it was just a coincidence. If you’d known them back then, you’d know they couldn’t do something so diabolical. They’re good people.”
“I know, Mom. But it’s eerie that it all happened on the same day,” Jules had said.
Rachel agreed. It was strange. That’s why she had to clear things up so they could identify the deceased girl correctly. Somewhere, there was a family who didn’t know what had happened to their daughter. Rachel could only imagine how heart-wrenching that would be.
By the time the plane landed in California four-and-a-half hours later, Rachel was stiff and sore from sitting for so long. She’d only brought along a small carry-on bag, so she reached up and grabbed it before exiting the plane. She found the shuttle that took her to the rental car company and was soon driving down Highway 5 in a little four-door Ford Fusion toward Casita.
It was still early afternoon because she’d gained three hours flying west. The day was warm and sunny, and the traffic was mild. The farther south Rachel drove, the more nervous she became. She’d booked a room at a discount motel, and she hoped she wouldn’t need to stay longer than a couple of days. She’d finished her grocery store promotion graphic, but she had bookings for other projects over the next few days. Despite that, she realized that this was more important. She had to prove she was alive so they could find out who the real murder victim was. And if her brother had actually committed the murder.
A chill ran up her spine at the thought of her brother, Keith. She’d always thought he would be dangerous as he grew older—he’d certainly been heading in that direction. But murder? She wasn’t sure if he’d been capable of that at sixteen. Still, she’d been afraid of him, so she couldn’t positively say he was innocent, either.
In Stockton, Rachel changed over to Highway 99 south. Fields of crops filled the landscape as she drove along the road. The San Joaquin Valley was a major producer of all types of crops, from grapefruit and oranges to grapes, walnuts, kiwi fruit, and even cotton. The rich, fertile soil and warm climate made it perfect for growing large quantities of America’s food supply. Cattle also grazed the land, and oil fields were everywhere. Rachel remembered how poor her little town had been—the many ramshackle homes, including the one she’d lived in—and how half the businesses in town were shuttered. Now, looking through the eyes of an adult, Rachel wondered how an area so rich in crops and oil could be filled with so much poverty.
Rachel had known her parents weren’t wealthy or even middle class, despite her father working hard. But she hadn’t realized how poor they’d been until she’d moved away and lived with her aunt and uncle. Julie and Gordon always lived in nice upper-middle-class homes, and Rachel had lacked for nothing. Even though they’d moved a lot—from Texas to North Carolina to Ohio and then to Florida—they’d always lived in nice homes and neighborhoods. They’d paid for Rachel to attend Florida State University, like her daughter did now, and had even given her the wedding of her dreams when she’d married Carter. Rachel couldn’t fault her aunt and uncle with anything—until now. Had they known her brother had been convicted of her murder? And if so, why hadn’t they done anything about it?
Those questions worried Rachel because if they’d known, that meant they weren’t the good people she’d always thought them to be. And it was difficult for her to wrap her mind around that.
Rachel drove through Modesto and then continued to Casita. A few miles down the road, she saw the town in the distance. Her heart raced. Would Casita be the same as it had been thirty-five years ago? Or would it have grown like everywhere else? The thought that disturbed her the most, though, was if she’d see her mother. Or if her mother would even want to see her.
As she neared the edge of town, Rachel noticed a neighborhood of newer apartment buildings had been built with a park for children. Near that were strip malls filled with small shops and a 7-Eleven convenience store. Past the apartment complex, there was another new neighborhood of small homes with tiny yards and chain-link fences.
Rachel exited the highway in the direction of the downtown where City Hall sat. On the way, she passed neighborhoods of older homes that she instantly recognized. This was her old neighborhood. Squelching the impulse to drive
past her former house, she continued on to her destination.
Turning left, Rachel saw the park where she used to play. She slowed down as she drove past it. The play equipment had been updated, but there was graffiti on the picnic tables and the slide. She drove over a small bridge where the river passed under. She spotted the wooded area of the park where the river flowed through, and Rachel shivered. That was where the murdered girl had been found.
Turning away, Rachel continued heading downtown. It wasn’t as dirty and forlorn as she’d remembered. At some point, they’d laid brick on the downtown sidewalks to give it a nostalgic look and added antique-style lampposts. Stores were no longer boarded shut. In fact, all were open with a variety of wares, from women’s clothing to wedding gowns to gift and antique shops. When Rachel pulled up to City Hall, she noticed it had also been given a facelift. Although it was the same old building from the early 1900s, the bricks looked clean and graffiti-free, and the sidewalk leading to it was paved with bricks as well. It looked impressive.
Taking a deep breath, Rachel picked up the folder with her birth certificate inside and stepped out of the car. It was windy, and she remembered it used to be quite often, and the day was warm. She went up the outside steps and walked inside. Entering the foyer, she glanced around until she saw a sign that pointed toward the records office. Rachel’s heels clicked on the polished wood floors and echoed through the building as she made her way to the window that was labeled “Records.”
An older woman wearing a Hillary Clinton-style pantsuit and glasses hanging from a chain around her neck stood from her desk and ambled slowly to the window.
“May I help you?” she asked, looking up at Rachel.
“Hello.” Rachel smiled at her. “I’m not sure if this is where I should be, but I guess it’s where I’ll start.” She hesitated a moment, not sure how to say the words. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a middle-aged man in a police uniform standing inside the records office, carrying an armload of files. Turning her attention back to the woman, she said, “My name is Rachel Parnell. I understand that everyone in town thinks I’m dead.”
The Truth About Rachel Page 3
