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

September to prove she was alive. Everyone had thought she was the girl in the grave from thirty-five years earlier when the truth was her aunt and uncle had taken her away all those years ago. After solving the mystery, Rachel had learned that her Aunt Julie and Uncle Gordon were her actual parents, which was why they had taken her. Now, with her Uncle Gordon deceased and her Aunt Julie suffering from Alzheimer’s, Rachel couldn’t let her know that she’d learned the truth.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Jules said sympathetically. “But at least you know the truth.”

Rachel agreed. She was no longer in the dark about her family’s history.

They left soon afterward and went to see a romantic comedy movie. It was fun relaxing with her daughter and forgetting about everything. Two hours later, Rachel said goodbye to Jules and headed back to her home a half-hour away.

As she crawled into bed, Rachel’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it and smiled. Avery Turley, the man she’d met in California in September who’d helped her solve the mystery of the murdered girl, had texted her. They’d become very close during the investigation but unfortunately hadn’t been able to find a weekend where they both could get away and see each other. He was an FBI agent at a bureau in Maryland, and his job kept him busy around the clock.

“Hope you had a fun time with Jules at the movies. Hopefully, we can grab a movie together sometime soon,” Avery texted.

“I hope so too,” Rachel texted back. “I’ll call you tomorrow night and let you know what’s new. Something interesting has happened.”

“Hopefully, nothing dangerous,” Avery texted.

She laughed. After nearly being shot and having her head smashed in with a rock in September, meeting with Ariel was not even close to dangerous.

“No. Not dangerous.”

“Goodnight.”

Rachel texted goodnight too and set her phone down. She missed Avery. He was the first man she’d become involved with since her husband, Carter, had died four years ago. She really hoped to see Avery soon.

“But first, I have to find out about the dead ex-husband stalking Ariel,” she said to herself.

***

Sunday morning, Rachel drove her Honda CRV in the rain the two hours it took to reach Ariel’s Panama City home. Luckily, the downpour had cleared by the time she drove into the elegant neighborhood and pulled into Ariel’s driveway. Rachel glanced around the quiet street. Ariel’s home had an island look to it with a long, covered porch and two large willow trees shading the front lawn. Each yard was separated by tall brick walls and had carefully manicured green lawns.

Rachel grabbed her purse and walked up to the front door where she noticed a security camera hidden under the eaves. It was warm out, but they weren’t far from the Gulf of Mexico, and she felt its cooling breeze. She’d worn jeans and a light cotton shirt with flat sandals and hoped she hadn’t underdressed now that she’d seen how nice Ariel’s house was. Before Rachel even touched the doorbell, Ariel threw open the door.

“Oh, Rachel! I’m so glad you’re here. Come in,” Ariel exclaimed, clearly thrilled to see her.

The two women embraced, and then Rachel followed her into the large, spacious living room. The home had tall, beamed ceilings with tropical fans up high and beautiful hardwood flooring all around. The kitchen and dining room were open to the living room, and across the way, out the large patio windows, Rachel saw a sparkling built-in pool and hot tub surrounded by a flowering garden.

“Your house is gorgeous!” Rachel said, glancing around. The kitchen had white cabinets with black granite countertops. Off the dining room was another space through French glass doors that looked like an office.

“Oh, thank you, dear,” Ariel said, leading her to the kitchen counter and offering her a seat. “We’ve lived here for ten years and just love it.” She worried her lip with her teeth. “Well, I live here alone now, but Randall and I bought this right after we were married. It’s only a short drive to the marina where he kept his yacht.”

Rachel nodded, not sure how to respond. She didn’t know whether or not they’d had an amicable divorce. Assuming Ariel thought he was out to kill her, it couldn’t have been too friendly.

“Can I offer you a drink? Soda? Iced tea? I just made a fresh pitcher of sweet tea.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Rachel said. She watched as Ariel dropped ice into tall crystal glasses and then poured the tea from a slender pitcher. Everything in the kitchen was just as beautiful and pristine as the rest of the house—just as Ariel was. Ariel was nearly a decade younger than Rachel at age 34 and was the same height. She was a natural blonde with a head of thick hair cut into a swingy bob, and her skin was nearly translucent. Her ice-blue eyes shone bright, and she was as slender as a fashion model. Ariel moved like a lithe dancer and dressed artfully—the only word Rachel could think of to describe Ariel’s style. While she wore skinny jeans, a flowery blouse, and tall espadrilles, it was the carefully applied makeup and many rings, bracelets, and necklaces she wore that gave Rachel the artsy impression.

Ariel’s many bracelets jangled now as she set the sweet tea in front of Rachel on the counter. “Let’s sit in the living room. It’s much more comfortable,” Ariel said, and Rachel followed her there with her drink in hand.

Once seated on the patterned cushions of the heavy wooden furniture, Rachel asked, “Why don’t we start at the beginning? Why do you think your husband faked his death?”

A long sigh escaped Ariel’s pouty red lips. She reached for one of her necklaces and toyed with the golden sun charm. “About two years ago, my book sales began to soar, which I thought was wonderful after only five years of self-publishing. Suddenly, we had more money than we’d ever dreamed possible, and for