The Truth About Rachel

eerie feeling had washed over her. Was Jeremy having her followed? And if so, why?
She also couldn’t get over her discomfort with Jeremy. In her mind, he was still that fourteen-year-old boy who’d followed Keith around. Even though it seemed he was trying to help her and might possibly be on her side, she still didn’t trust him. She just didn’t have a good reason why.
Before going to bed, Rachel had pulled out her computer and searched Jeremy Mitchell’s name. She hadn’t found much. He had no social media footprint. She did find that he’d graduated from Sacramento State University with a Criminal Justice degree, and then another article where he’d been hired by the Casita Police Department. That was several years ago. He’d worked his way up to Chief of Police. She supposed being a police officer, he wouldn’t want to be on Facebook or other social media sites. It made sense. But his lack of presence online bothered her.
Finally, exhausted from her long day, she slept.
At ten the next morning, Rachel met Jeremy at the local medical clinic downtown to have her DNA taken. He was there as a witness to verify it was her DNA they’d extracted and would send in.
After the nurse swabbed the inside of Rachel’s cheek, it was placed in a container, and both the nurse and Jeremy initialed it.
“Is that it?” Rachel asked.
“That’s it,” Jeremy said. “We’ll overnight it to the laboratory and see if we can put a rush on it. I’ll call ahead and say it’s for a murder case. Hopefully, we’ll hear from them soon.”
The two walked outside into the sunshine. Jeremy was wearing his dark blue uniform, and his silver badge gleamed in the sunlight. “How soon?” Rachel asked, shading her eyes with her hand.
“Could be a few days. It could be two weeks. It depends on how busy they are.”
“What? I can’t stay here that long. I have work to get back to and a home to take care of.”
He shrugged. “You could go home and wait.”
Rachel narrowed her eyes. She wondered if he was purposely trying to get rid of her. “I’ll have to think about what I can do. I suppose I could do some of my work here. It’s all online. I can’t afford to fly back and forth.”
“It’s your call,” Jeremy said, sounding like he didn’t care.
“Don’t you want to learn the identity of the little girl who was killed?” Rachel asked, incensed.
Jeremy stood with his legs planted apart, his hands on his hips. “As far as I’m concerned, Rachel Parnell is in that grave until you can prove who you are. If the DNA comes back proving you’re her, then I’ll start an investigation. Until then, I can’t do anything.”
“You’re impossible,” Rachel said, angrily. “I thought you were trying to help me find the truth. But all you’re doing is hiding the truth. I’ll investigate on my own.” She spun around and stormed away from him, heading to her car. Once inside, she glanced in her rear-view mirror. Jeremy was no longer on the sidewalk. He really didn’t care about this case.
After a moment, Rachel calmed down and looked up and down the street. The dark car that had sat outside her motel last night was nowhere in sight. Maybe it had been her imagination. Being back in this small town was making her jittery.
Rachel drove the block down to City Hall and parked. She wanted to pick up the birth certificate Gladys had found. As she walked into the old building, she wondered if the library had old newspaper articles on the murder case so she could do some digging of her own.
“Hi, Gladys,” Rachel said, smiling as the older woman ambled to the window. Today, Gladys’s pantsuit was dark green. Her glasses were hanging around her neck, and she wore a heavy gold necklace that was popular in the 1990s.
“Hello, dear,” Gladys said, giving her a smile. “Here is a copy of your real birth certificate. I’m sorry I couldn’t find any new information for you.”
“That’s okay,” Rachel said, taking the envelope. “Do I owe you for this?”
She shook her head. “Normally, yes. But in this case, it’s on the house.”
“Well, thank you. I appreciate you trying to help me.”
Gladys turned her head from side to side as if looking for someone. Then she said softly to Rachel. “Do you have a few minutes to talk? I believe it’s coffee break time.”
This intrigued Rachel. “Sure.”
The older woman walked back to her desk and picked up her large purse. She walked out of the office door, locking it behind her. “Let’s go across the street to the café where there aren’t any big ears.”
Rachel followed her, slightly amused. At first, she’d thought Gladys was much older. But now, Rachel realized she was middle-aged. Her hair was cut short and dyed dark red. She wore carefully applied makeup and red nail polish. Rachel actually had trouble keeping pace with her as she hurried across the street.
Rachel remembered the little café from when she was young. It still looked the same—a fifties-style diner with a long counter lined with stools and Formica tables with red padded chairs strewn about. The floor was still the old black and white checked tile.
Gladys picked a table in the back, away from the few patrons already there. It was between breakfast and lunch, so the little café was enjoying a lull.
“Hey, Gladys,” the waitress said as she approached the table. She looked curiously at Rachel but only asked, “What can I get you girls?”
“Just coffee for me,” Gladys said. Rachel ordered a Coke, and the waitress headed back behind the counter.
“She’s an old friend of mine, but I don’t want her to hear what I have to say,” Gladys whispered. After their coffee and soda arrived, they were finally alone.
“It’s been thirty-five years,” Gladys said softly as she broke open two sugar packets and poured them into her coffee. “I can share what I know from the trial.”
Rachel