The Truth About Rachel

watched Gladys with interest. This was a nice turn of events. If she could get information from Gladys, she wouldn’t have to go digging through old microfiche in the library. “I’d like to hear anything you can tell me,” she said.
“I was a young woman when that trial happened. In my early twenties. I lived alone in a small apartment and had just started working as a file clerk at City Hall. Then that terrible murder happened, and the entire town was turned upside-down,” Gladys said, shaking her head. She looked up at Rachel. “You were very young then, so you probably didn’t know. But that summer, there were three murders before the little girl was killed. Three women at separate times were raped and murdered in their own homes. It was ghastly. And it scared everyone, especially women who lived alone, like me.”
Rachel thought back to the summer her aunt and uncle took her away. She remembered a little about those murders. Her mother always had the television on, and Rachel had heard the reports on the news. She remembered one of the women had lived only two blocks from them. Keith had worked for her, mowing her lawn a few times.
“I remember hearing a little about them,” she told Gladys. “But what do they have to do with the little girl’s murder?”
“After your father identified the body, the first person everyone thought of was your brother. Teachers reported they’d seen the bruises he’d given you over the years, and other people had witnessed how he treated you in the park. He was always frightening someone or pulling pranks around town. And he was sixteen. Old enough to be dangerous.”
“He’d always been mean to me, but I never felt he’d try to kill me,” Rachel said.
“Well, that’s not how some people in town saw it. The police had been called with complaints against him in the past. And then, there were the murdered women.”
Rachel frowned. “What are you saying?”
Gladys took a sip of her coffee and then fiddled with the spoon. “His behavior was erratic. Even teachers at the high school said he was unstable. Many believed he might be behind your murder, and possibly the other murders as well.”
Rachel sat back, stunned. “Keith was no angel but a murderer? I don’t believe it. What proof did they have?”
Gladys spoke softly. “When the police went to question your family, which is normal in a case like that, they saw that Keith had scratches on his face. Fresh scratches. The little girl had fought back. There was skin under her fingernails from clawing at the person who’d killed her.”
Rachel contemplated this new information. She remembered all too clearly the day before she left. Her brother had grabbed her in a chokehold, and she’d scratched his face to try to get away. Her father had stopped Keith. He’d been capable of cruelty, yes, but not murder.
“I was the one who scratched him,” she told Gladys. “He grabbed me at home, and I fought back. He thought it was funny to scare me that way.”
Gladys looked thoughtful. “I’d always wondered about that. Those scratches were the most tangible evidence they had, and that was what made the jury vote guilty. But what bothered me was how convenient those scratches were. Wouldn’t he have tried to hide them or run away if he’d been guilty? But there was more. The underlying fear that if he’d murdered the little girl, he might have murdered those three women. That was in the back of all of our minds.”
“Is that why you voted a guilty verdict? Because you thought he might also have been the serial rapist?” Rachel asked.
Gladys shook her head. “No. I voted guilty because of the evidence. It was clearly against him. And I’m still not sure it was the wrong verdict. After all, even if you are who you say you are, there is still a dead girl in that grave. Someone killed her.”
Rachel nodded. “That’s true. And someone killed those women, but it may not have been the same person.”
“I agree. But the murders stopped after your brother was in custody. So, everyone concluded he was probably guilty of those too,” Gladys said.
Rachel pondered that. Could her brother have been the one terrorizing women that summer? It was frightening just thinking about it.
“I’d better get back to work.” Gladys dropped a couple of dollars on the table, and the two women walked outside. “If you have any questions about the trial, please feel free to ask me. I want this mystery unraveled just as much as you do. I sent a young boy to jail for life. I felt it was the right thing to do all those years ago, but now I don’t know. I’m happy to help in any way.”
Rachel nodded. “Thank you for your help. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” She turned toward her car, but Gladys stopped her.
“One more thing, dear. Be careful who you trust. Very careful. There are some people in this town I wouldn’t want to be caught in a dark alley with, if you know what I mean.” Glady headed back into City Hall.
Rachel knew exactly who Gladys was talking about.

Chapter Six
It was still early after Rachel left Gladys, so she decided to drive to the cemetery on the north edge of town. It was a quick drive—the city was that small—and as she pulled up through the old arched stone gate, goosebumps rippled over her flesh. Rachel had no idea why. She wasn’t generally afraid of cemeteries. But knowing she was going to walk over her own grave gave her the creeps.
The graveyard was surprisingly large for such a small town. Casita had been settled in 1880 and incorporated as a town in 1890, so many people had lived and died there over the decades. The cemetery was also one of the only places in town where the land rolled and dipped in small hills