The Truth About Rachel by Deanna Sletten (recommended reading .TXT) 📕

were involved, I’ll have to face it,” she told her daughter. “It won’t be easy. But I need to know the truth.”

“I hope they didn’t do anything wrong,” Jules said. “It’s hard to imagine them doing something horrible. But I wonder why they wanted to take you in the first place. They risked everything by stealing you and using a false birth certificate. None of it makes sense.”

Rachel agreed. She’d been pondering their reasoning too. “Will you go check in on Julie for me this week?” she asked Jules. “I hate not being there for her.”

“I will,” Jules said. “Be careful, Mom. It sounds like you’re digging up a lot of dirt on people in that town. Someone might not like it.”

As Rachel said goodbye, she thought the same thing. Someone definitely didn’t like it already. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been followed—or chased.

Avery knocked on her door precisely at seven. She answered and was immediately glad she’d dressed in nice slacks, heels, and a blue cashmere sweater. Avery had worn a sports coat over his dress shirt and black slacks. He also looked freshly shaven. She could smell the light scent of his spicy aftershave.

“You look nice,” he said, his smile showing off movie-star teeth. “I made a reservation at a nice restaurant north of here, closer to Modesto.

Her brows rose. “Why so far away?”

“Hopefully to get away from big ears and prying eyes.” He winked.

“Ah.” She knew exactly what he meant.

He led her to a black SUV and held the door open for her as she stepped in. Rachel liked that. Her husband used to hold doors for her, even after they’d been married a long time. It was the little courtesies that impressed her.

The thick file sat on the seat between them, but Rachel didn’t reach for it. The sun was already going down, so it was too dark to read anything anyway. She couldn’t wait to get back to her motel room and sift through it.

“I see you eyeing the file,” Avery said. “I’m under no delusion that you went out to dinner with me other than to get a copy of it.” He laughed.

Rachel felt her face heat up with embarrassment. “Well, that depends on how good of a dinner companion you are.”

“Touché!” he said. “So, tell me. Since you weren’t dead, where have you been all these years, and what have you been up to? If you don’t mind me prying.”

“I can see why you’re a newspaperman,” she said, laughing. “After I left with Aunt Julie and Uncle Gordon, we moved around a lot until they landed in Tallahassee. I never really thought much of it. I guess I just thought they were looking for the perfect jobs.”

“Ah, but they were running instead, huh?”

She shrugged. “Now that I know more about what happened the day I left, it seems if they had learned about the murder of the little girl and that she was misidentified as me, they would have felt safe. All their moving around tells me they hadn’t known. At least not back then.”

He glanced over at her. “News didn’t travel as fast back then until everyone had computers at home or cell phones. In fact, maybe they never knew about it, like you.”

Rachel hadn’t thought of that. “That could be. They felt safe enough to settle in Tallahassee when I was fifteen, though. Maybe they knew something by then.”

“Or they just thought it had been long enough that they were safe,” Avery said. “Any thoughts on why they took you?”

“No. My mom and aunt argued often over Julie wanting me to live with them. I never thought too much about it. I was a kid. Julie and Gordon didn’t have children, and my mom acted like she didn’t want me. And to be honest, because my mother and brother were so mean, I wanted to live with Aunt Julie.”

“How was Keith mean to you?” Avery asked, glancing her way.

“He was always doing stuff to scare me, like the night before I left. He put me in a chokehold and squeezed tight. If my dad hadn’t been there, I really think Keith would have choked me until I passed out. I was always scared of him and Jeremy.” Rachel shivered involuntarily as she remembered that night.

“Interesting,” Avery said, his eyes on the road.

Rachel turned to look at him. “Why didn’t you like Jeremy?”

“Like I said, same reason as you. I rode the same school bus as Jeremy. He was a jerk. Every little kid on the bus prayed they wouldn’t be his target that day. And even if he didn’t bother you, there was just something about him that gave me the creeps. Still does.”

“It’s those eyes,” Rachel said. “They’re so dark blue, they look almost black. They look evil.”

Avery laughed. “You know, you’re right. They do look evil.”

She laughed, her mood lifting.

Avery parked the car behind the restaurant, and they walked inside. The hostess took them to a corner table covered in a white tablecloth with black cloth napkins. He ordered a beer, and she ordered a glass of Chardonnay.

“Nice place,” she said, glancing over at Avery. “I guess that little newspaper is doing okay after all.”

He smiled. “It barely breaks even, but I like splurging once in a while.”

They both ordered—steak for him and shrimp for her—and then silence filled their space. Rachel sipped her wine and finally spoke up. “You said you came back to buy the paper and look into your mother’s murder. Where did you come back from?”

“Ah. My turn to be questioned.” He grinned. “I went to college in Los Angeles and worked at several different newspapers around L.A for a few years. My father had passed away, and I had no ties to Casita anymore. Well, except for my aunt and a few cousins. I thought I was over the place, but I guess I wasn’t. I covered a murder case in Orange County one summer, and it brought it all back. When I saw the