The Truth About Rachel

and valleys. Trees were everywhere, shading the headstones. Surprisingly, it was a peaceful, beautiful place among the surrounding flat farmland. But then, Rachel suspected that was the point. Rest in peace.
Not knowing exactly where the grave was, Rachel parked in the newer section of the cemetery where the headstones were placed level in the ground instead of upright. She stepped out of her car, thankful she’d worn jeans and flats, and started walking carefully among the graves. Names from her past came back to her. Alma Greer, her first-grade teacher. Marty Rathe, the man who’d driven the big, white ice-cream truck up and down the neighborhoods for years. Rachel stopped and frowned when she saw the name of a young man who’d died on September 11, 2001. Raymond Alvarez. She remembered going to school with a boy of the same name. He would have been twenty-four when he’d died. Her heart clenched when she realized he must have died in the Twin Towers attack on 9/11. It broke her heart knowing a long-ago classmate lost his life there.
Moving on, Rachel heard a twig snap behind her, and she quickly turned. No one was there. She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly chilled. Get a grip, Rachel silently admonished herself. You’re the only person here.
After a time, a familiar name appeared on a headstone, and she stopped in her tracks. “Rachel Parnell. Born: July 7, 1977. Died: August 22, 1985. Beloved Daughter.” Rachel’s heart swelled at the last words on the headstone. She knew they’d been put there by her father. She’d never doubted his love for her. She suddenly felt terrible that her father had thought she’d been dead all these years. But hadn’t she written to him that first year she’d lived with her aunt and uncle? And he’d never answered. Not once.
A thought hit her. Had her aunt even mailed the letters? If her aunt had known people believed Rachel was dead, she wouldn’t have sent them. There were so many unanswered questions.
Tall trees surrounded her grave, and the shade felt good in the heat of the morning. Rachel glanced at the headstones that bordered her grave. None had her father’s name on them, which was a relief. She thought if he’d died, he’d be buried next to her. The fact that his name hadn’t been listed with her mother’s name at their address bothered her. She wondered if he was still in town.
Suddenly, Rachel heard a crunching sound behind her. She spun and saw a figure move quickly behind a thick oak tree. Her blood pumped furiously. She hadn’t imagined it—someone was following her.
Moving slowly away from the grave, Rachel walked in the direction of her car. She heard footsteps following her and quickened her pace. Was it the man who’d parked outside her motel last night? Why was he following her? The footsteps behind her grew heavier as if he were running. Rachel didn’t dare turn around to see who it was. She broke into a sprint, heading up a small incline, avoiding the many trees in her path. If she could just get to her car, she could lock herself inside and be safe.
Rachel ran up one hill and then down another. She could still hear the thumping of footsteps trailing her. As she tried to turn to see who it was, she ran headlong into something strong and hard.
“Umph!” she cried as she collided into another body. Her head spun forward, and she saw it was a man. Scared out of her wits, she tried to move away, but he grabbed her wrists and held on tight.
“Let me go!” she screamed.
“Hey. It’s okay. I was just trying to keep you from falling down.” The man let go and took a step back, his hands in the air. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“Someone’s chasing me,” she said, her breath ragged. “He’s right behind me.”
The man looked around. “I don’t see anyone.”
Rachel turned and saw he was telling the truth. “He must be hiding behind a tree. He was right behind me!” she insisted.
“I believe you,” he said calmly. “Seeing me here must have scared him off.”
Realizing she didn’t know this man, fear gripped Rachel again. She took a step back. “Who are you?”
“I’m just a guy, visiting a grave,” he said, then smiled.
Rachel studied him a moment, wondering if she could trust him. But his face looked kind, and his smile was friendly. “I’m sorry. Someone really was following me. I feel like I can’t trust anyone.”
The man offered his hand. “Avery Turley. I run the local newspaper and weekly shopper.”
“Turley? Why is that familiar?” Rachel asked, frowning at him.
He shrugged. “There are a lot of us around here. My aunt works at City Hall. Maybe you know her. Gladys?”
Rachel sighed with relief. “Oh. Of course.” She reached out her hand to shake his. “I’m Rachel.”
“Rachel Parnell, right? I’d know you anywhere.”
She sucked in her breath. “Why don’t you seem surprised that I’m alive?”
“Because my aunt already told me about you. In confidence, not so I’d print anything in the paper. She’s a bit out of sorts over you coming back from the dead.”
“Well, I’m a bit out of sorts over being dead,” she quipped.
Avery's face broke out into a big smile, and laughter tumbled from his lips. Rachel joined in. It was a ridiculous situation.
After a moment, Rachel asked, “Who are you visiting?”
Avery’s smile faded. “My mother’s grave. It’s right here.” He pointed to the headstone to his right. A beautiful bouquet of roses lay on it. “She died when I was only eight years old.”
Rachel looked down at the name. Marie Turley. “I’m sorry. Had she been sick?”
A shadow fell over Avery’s face. “No. She was one of the women who were murdered in 1985.”
Her hand flew up to her chest. “Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
“Thank you. But you don’t have to feel bad. I’ve lived with it for a long time.”
Rachel still felt sad for him.