Rachel stood in front of a microphone that had been placed on the steps for her and tried not to think of the hundreds of thousands of people across the country listening to her every word. Her hands were sweaty, and she was visibly shaking. She’d spent her entire life hiding on the sidelines, trying not to be noticed. And now, here she was, the country’s main attraction.
“I’d like to make a statement, and then I will answer a few questions,” Rachel said, her voice shaking. “A week ago today, I happened upon an article online about the murder of eight-year-old Rachel Parnell thirty-five years ago in Casita, California. I was not only shocked to read that she was thought to be murdered, but I was also stunned to learn that her brother, Keith Parnell, had been convicted of the crime. I was surprised because I am Rachel Parnell.”
Lights flashed, and voices in the crowd rose as Rachel took a breath. Someone behind her shushed the crowd so she could continue. “I won’t go into the details of how I left town the day of the murder or where I’ve been all these years. None of that is relevant to the reason I’ve come forward. I’m in the process of retaining pertinent information to prove I am Rachel Parnell so the investigation can turn away from me and focus on who the murdered little girl really was. Because somewhere out there is a family who lost their daughter that day and has never had answers. And I intend to find those answers for them.”
Microphones drew nearer to Rachel’s face, which made her move back a step. Suddenly, a barrage of questions came at her. Avery stepped forward and said with great authority, “Please. Only one question at a time.”
The crowd quieted down a little as one woman yelled out, “Where have you been all these years?”
Rachel moved closer to her microphone again. “I said I wouldn’t go into that for now.”
“What proof do you have that you’re Rachel Parnell?” another reporter asked.
“I have one DNA test that proves I’m related to the family and additional information that is in the process of coming. That’s all I can say for now,” Rachel said.
“Do you think Keith Parnell is innocent of the little girl’s murder since it wasn’t actually his sister?” a male voice yelled at her.
Rachel took a breath, forcing herself to take her time to answer. “I think the case should be looked at again with fresh eyes to consider all the evidence and decide whether or not he was the one who murdered her.”
“What do you get out of all of this?” the woman wearing too much makeup from the day before asked.
Her question surprised Rachel. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Just the peace of mind that the world knows I wasn’t murdered and to find out who was killed that day.”
A barrage of questions came at her again, and Rachel felt herself tensing up once more. Avery must have noticed because he moved forward, placed his arm around her shoulders, and then spoke to the crowd. “That’s enough for now. We’ll keep you abreast of the situation as it moves forward. Thank you.”
A loud voice from the back of the crowd caught Rachel’s attention. She watched as the reporters parted like the Red Sea and allowed an elderly woman, walking with the use of a cane, to move forward. The woman was heavy-set with bleached-blond hair and was wearing something like an old housedress. She stopped at the foot of the stairs, raised her cane, and pointed it at Rachel.
“You!” the woman screamed. “You ruined my life!”
Rachel nearly fell over in horror when she realized she was staring into the fiery eyes of her mother, Judith Parnell.
Chapter Twelve
The crowd was silent as everyone stared at the older woman who’d just shouted at Rachel. Cameras rolled, and flashbulbs lit up. The world was watching as Judith Parnell shook her cane at Rachel and bellowed.
“You’re the reason my son has spent the last three decades in prison. You are the reason my husband deserted me, leaving me to fend for myself all these years. You!”
Rachel recoiled as if her mother had actually hit her. If Judith had seemed scary to Rachel as a child, she was positively terrifying now. If it hadn’t been for Avery tightening a protective arm around her, she might have rolled into a ball right there on the steps of City Hall.
The officer standing behind Rachel seemed just as terrified of Judith. He quickly maneuvered Rachel and Avery away from the microphone and through the glass doors, then led them through to the police station.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he said once they were safely inside. “That woman was scary.”
“Thank you,” Rachel said, her voice dry. If the officer hadn’t thought to move them away from there, she might still be standing on the steps in complete shock as her mother continued to yell.
They weren’t any safer from being yelled at in the police department, though. No sooner had they entered, and Jeremy was standing in the doorway of his office, barking at them to come inside.
Avery led her into Jeremy’s office, but not before yelling at Jeremy. “Lay off her, you hear? She’s had enough for one day.”
“Bring in some water bottles,” Jeremy shouted to no one in particular, then shut his door and walked around his desk. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Looking calmer, he stared directly at Avery. “What the hell was that little stunt about?”
A female officer brought in three bottles of water and slunk out. Rachel felt sorry for her. She must have drawn the short straw.
“We had to tell the press something,” Avery explained. “They were going to hound Rachel if we didn’t.”
Jeremy held in his retort and looked at the television in the upper corner of his office. “Well, they’re getting an earful now, from what I can tell.” He motioned for Rachel and Avery to look.
Rachel glanced up, and there on the screen was her mother, waving her cane dramatically and talking to the reporters. She was in her glory, complaining about her life for all to hear. Rachel sighed. “She’s going to ruin everything, isn’t she?”
Avery looked thoughtful. “Maybe not.” He grinned at Rachel, and she stared back curiously. “Your mother just identified you on national television.”
Her mouth dropped open. “She did.” She smiled broadly. “She did! She knew exactly who I was.” When she turned toward Jeremy, she saw the worried look in his eyes. It was just sinking in to him what had happened. Now, he had no excuse not to reopen the case.
***
Rachel and Avery left Jeremy to stew in his office. He mumbled something about having to talk to the DA and other officials. They snuck out of the police station’s back door where Avery had left his car that morning and drove off without any reporters tailing them.
“What do you think Jeremy will do?” Rachel asked as Avery headed on Highway 99 north toward Modesto.
“I think he’s going to have to reopen the case. The press will insist on it, and maybe, if we’re lucky, your mother will want the body exhumed to find out if you’re telling the truth.” He grinned. “I think we’re going to finally get some answers.”
“I hope so,” she said, relaxing for the first time that day. She laid her head back against the headrest and sighed. “Maybe this will be over soon.”
Avery glanced over at her. “Good for you, bad for me.”
“I thought you wanted this figured out too. It might lead you to the person who murdered your mother.”
“I do want to find out who murdered her, but once your mystery is solved, you’ll go home to Tallahassee, and I’ll still be here.”
She reached for his hand and held it tight. “You could always visit.”
“Yes, I could.”
They rode in silence, each in their own thoughts. Rachel stole a glance at Avery as he drove. He was so handsome, and she loved his easy-going nature and sly sense of humor. She’d miss him when she left. But her home and life were in Tallahassee, and she couldn’t imagine leaving there for anywhere else.
They arrived at the outskirts of Modesto, and Avery began listening to his GPS for directions. They were led to a very stylish,
upper-class neighborhood where the houses were large, the lawns were green, and six-foot stone walls separated each yard for privacy. Finally, Avery pulled up in front of one house and parked. “This is it.”
Rachel’s heart began to pound. It was nerve-wracking to show up at an important person’s house and ask for help. She was so glad Avery was with her.
Avery opened her door and offered his hand, and Rachel held it as they walked up the sidewalk to the front door. He rang the bell, and they waited.
“Just a minute,” a voice called from inside the door.
An elderly gentleman opened the door and stared at them through the screen door. He was tall and slender, with a thick head of silver hair. He looked exactly as Rachel had pictured a District Attorney would look. Surprisingly, he looked nothing like his son, Jeremy.
“Well, that was fast,” the older man said. “Did Jeremy send you my way?”
“You know who we are?” Rachel asked, stunned.
“Of course. Everyone with a television knows who you are.” He opened the screen door and moved aside. “Well, come in, come in. You don’t want to stand out there with your mouths hanging open catching flies, do you?”
Rachel and Avery clamped their mouths shut in unison, and she walked inside ahead of him. Glancing around, she noted the house was very nice inside—elegant, actually. A large dining table with eight chairs sat in the formal dining room to one side, and the kitchen was a chef’s dream. Ahead of her was the main living room with the most expensive-looking leather sofas she’d ever seen.
“Come this way,” Robert Mitchell said, waving them toward the kitchen. “I was just putting a small roast in for dinner. We can talk while I cook.”
Rachel and Avery sat on the stools at the wide granite counter as Robert offered them a drink. “I have Coke or Diet Coke,” he said. “Unless you want something stronger.”
“Coke is fine,” Rachel said, and Avery agreed.
This elegant gentleman didn’t just hand them each a can. Instead, he poured ice into two beautiful crystal glasses and poured the soda into the glasses. “Here you go. I’m not much of a soda person myself, but my daughter and grandchildren like it.”
Rachel’s brows rose. “Jeremy has a sister?”
“Yes,” Robert said. “Justine. She’s two years older than he is and has two girls, one in college and one in high school. They live nearby.”
“I never knew that,” she said.
Robert finished sprinkling spices on the roast and covered it with tinfoil. “The trick to preparing a nice, juicy roast is to cook it slowly,” he said as he placed it into the stainless-steel stove. He turned to them after he’d closed the door. “But I suppose you aren’t here to learn how to cook, are you? You want to know about the Rachel Parnell murder case.”
“Yes,” Avery said. “More to the point, we’re wondering if you kept any files on it that might help us.”
Robert assessed Avery a moment, then turned back to Rachel. “I don’t have the files. I don’t believe in storing important documents like that in my home. And since I’ve retired, I left my case files where they belong—at the DA’s office.”
“Oh.” Rachel deflated, disappointed that he wouldn’t be of any help.
“But you see, it’s all right up here,” Robert said, pointing to his head and grinning. “I never forget a detail. I have a mind like a computer.”
She perked up. “Then maybe you’ll answer a few questions?”
“You can ask. I’ll decide if they’re relevant enough to answer.”
Rachel thought that was a strange response but continued. “Do you know how my father identified the body?”
“No. That never came up. The minute your father identified the body as his daughter, it was taken as fact. I mean, who would purposely misidentify their own daughter’s body?”
Avery spoke up. “No tests were done on blood, dental records, or anything?”
“As I said, we believed the father,” Robert said matter-of-factly.
“What about the skin and blood found under the girl’s fingernails?” Rachel asked. “Was that tested to see if it matched with Keith’s blood or skin?”
“Irrelevant again,” Robert said, waving his hand through the air. “Keith had scratches on his face, and the girl had skin under her nails. What more would we need? Although, I know that samples were taken from under her nails in case Keith’s lawyer insisted on testing. But he never did. His lawyer was a clod.”
Rachel’s mind was spinning. “Do you think those samples would still be in with the evidence?”
Robert nodded. “They should be. Although I wouldn’t put much confidence in them after all these years. I’m sure the samples have degraded tremendously.”
Rachel sighed. Just as she was about to ask another question, Robert turned his attention back to the small television on the counter.
“Look at that imbecile,” he said with disgust. “Archie Talbott, the Mayor. I couldn’t stand him as a teenager, and I don’t like him now.”
They watched as Archie stood on the steps of City Hall, talking to the reporters. Robert turned the volume up, and they heard Archie telling the reporters that there would be no reopening of the case, so they might as well go home. Just watching Archie made Rachel’s skin crawl.
“Why did you assume Keith was the one who killed the little girl?” Avery spoke up. “Technically, you had no hard evidence.”
Robert turned to look at him. “Keith was a slimeball, pardon me for saying so,” he said to Rachel. “But he was trouble with a capital T. He’d been caught doing a few petty crimes, like breaking into houses and stealing things. He was also a peeping Tom. Irate fathers had called the police a few times because he’d been spotted staring into their teenage daughter’s windows at night. It was only a matter of time that he’d end up in prison.”
Rachel hadn’t known any of this. “Making stupid decisions as a teenager doesn’t make him a murderer, though.”
Robert’s expression grew serious. “No. Not always. But I knew him well. He hung out around the house with Jeremy a lot, as did that creepy Archie. The three of them were terrible together.” He thought a moment. “Besides, I had Jeremy’s testimony that Keith followed the little girl into the woods. Many witnesses had told us prior to the trial that Keith had followed them down that path and purposely scared them.”
“But he didn’t murder them,” Rachel stated.
“No, dear. He did not. But again, it was only a matter of time.” He looked at Rachel thoughtfully. “Do you not believe your brother was capable of murder back then?”
She sighed. “He was capable of being cruel. He and Jeremy taunted many kids in the park as well as teenage girls. And he was always mean to me. But murder? I can’t say I completely believe he could have murdered a little girl.”
“But it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility, was it?” the older man asked.
Rachel dropped her eyes away from his probing stare. “No. I suppose it wasn’t.”
Avery placed a hand on her arm to comfort her and took over the questioning.
“What about the murders of the three women around that same time? Everyone seems to think that Keith was responsible for those, too,” Avery said.
Robert stared at the television screen a moment, watching Archie continue to talk to the reporters. He finally turned to Avery. “I never believed Keith was responsible for those. I know they stopped after he was arrested, but it wasn’t him. There was never any real evidence against anyone for those crimes. At least not that we could use to prosecute someone. Those are the cases that haunt me the most. I wish we’d been able to get that creep.”
“There was a bloody fingerprint at the Turley murder,” Avery said through gritted teeth.
Robert nodded. “Ah, yes. Your mother. I’m sorry, son. But that fingerprint didn’t match up with anyone we suspected. Unfortunately.”
Rachel piped up. “Did you have a suspect?”
“Not one that I
can share.”
She glanced over at Avery, who looked angry. It looked like they wouldn’t get anything else out of Robert Mitchell.
“Did you know that Jeremy went to college in Sacramento for pre-law?” Robert asked out of nowhere.
“Uh, no. I didn’t know that.” Rachel was confused by this sudden change of subject.
“Well, he did. But he decided not to continue and changed his major to criminal justice. I never thought he had it in him to become a lawyer anyway.”
Rachel and Avery remained silent, not sure how to reply.
“But you know who else went to Sacramento State University? Archie Talbott. They even shared a dorm room there.”
Rachel saw Avery’s face crease like he was trying to figure out what Robert was getting at.
“Four years. A lot can happen in a town in four years, you know?” Robert stared straight at Avery.
“Uh, yes, it can,” Avery said.
They thanked him for speaking to them and headed out to the SUV. Once inside and on the road, Rachel turned to Avery.
“What was that all about?” she asked.
Avery shook his head. “I don’t know. It was like he was trying to tell us something. But what?”
Rachel dropped back against the seat. “Just another strange thing in this case.”
“Maybe,” Avery said.
It was late afternoon when they returned to Casita, so they picked up fast-food chicken dinners and headed to Rachel’s hotel. Once they drove into the parking lot, though, Avery just kept driving. The whole place was swarming with media trucks.
“Let’s go to my place,” he said. “Hopefully, they don’t know or care where I live.”
She nodded, but Rachel was frustrated. “This whole thing has become ridiculous. We can’t find any answers, we’re being bombarded with the press, and now I can’t even go to my own hotel room.”
The Truth About Rachel Page 11
