The Truth About Rachel by Deanna Sletten (free books to read .TXT) 📗

pair of jean shorts, white socks, and red slip-on sneakers. Rachel didn’t recognize any of it.

There were smaller envelopes too, marked as blood and tissue evidence. Rachel picked one up but didn’t open it. “This is the tissue found under the little girl’s fingernails,” she said, staring at Jeremy. “This little envelope has the power to exonerate Keith.”

Jeremy’s jaw tightened. “Or keep him in prison.”

“Maybe,” Rachel said. “But I know from the court documents that it was never tested. Now, this evidence could prove who the killer was. Or who the killer wasn’t.”

“I saw him walk in the woods that day,” Jeremy insisted.

“But he may not have been the only one in there,” she countered. She picked up two other small envelopes. “We need to have these tested.”

“They’ve probably degraded after all this time,” Jeremy said.

Rachel sighed loudly. “Jeremy. You were wrong about who walked into the woods that day. You could be wrong about who murdered the girl. We need to learn the truth.” She lowered her voice. “It’s your job, Jeremy.”

Jeremy dropped his head. “Yes. It is.” He reached out for the envelopes, and she handed them to him.

“Will you send them in?” she asked, afraid he’d toss them instead. She still didn’t trust Jeremy.

He nodded. “I’ll do it. I promise. Once we’re finished here.”

Hoping he’d keep his word, Rachel looked at a few more envelopes. Jeremy had opened one of the files and was reading it. Suddenly, something caught Rachel’s eye. An envelope was marked bracelet.

She carefully unsealed the small envelope and peered inside. A thin, handmade bracelet made of yellow and blue thread lay inside. There were small brown spots on it—more than likely dried blood. Suddenly, Rachel was transported back to the day before her Aunt Julie and Uncle Gordon took her away. She was in the park, braiding friendship bracelets with her friend. A little girl with tan skin and dark hair had shyly walked up to her, and Rachel had asked if she wanted to make a bracelet. “I like yours,” the little girl had said. Rachel had been wearing a blue and yellow bracelet, just like this one.

Rachel stared at the bracelet, frozen back in time. That night, after she’d fought off Keith and scratched him, her father had asked her about the bracelet, and then he’d said, “It’s pretty. Like you.” Rachel had remembered how proud she’d felt that her father had noticed something she’d made.

Something she’d made.

Looking up, she noted that both Officer Carswell and Jeremy were distracted. She slipped the envelope into her small purse as her heart pounded in her chest.

“I know why my father identified the body as mine,” she announced. Both officers turned and stared at her. “And I know who the dead girl is.”

Chapter Sixteen

“Who?” Jeremy asked, coming over to her.

“I’ll tell you as soon as you send this evidence to the lab,” Rachel said. “We can pack up the rest. I’ve found what I need.”

Jeremy gave the three small envelopes to Officer Carswell with explicit instructions to send them off to the lab for DNA testing. He also left her to pack up the evidence while he and Rachel rode the elevator up to the offices.

“Tell me who you think the little girl is,” Jeremy said, sounding anxious.

“In your office,” she told him.

He hurried her to his office and shut the door. Rachel sat in one of the chairs, still unable to believe she’d finally figured everything out. Jeremy sat on the corner of his desk.

“So? Tell me,” he said.

She took a breath. “I think my father identified the body as mine because of the bracelet I was wearing. You said the little girl’s face was smashed in—completely unrecognizable. I’m sure it was a gruesome sight for my father to see. He had to have been an emotional wreck. When he saw the bracelet, he just assumed it was me.”

Jeremy frowned. “Bracelet? What bracelet?”

“I saw it in the evidence box,” Rachel said, feeling her cheeks burn at the thought that she’d so blatantly taken it. “Do you remember that day, before the murder, when you and Keith came over to the table I was sitting at? There was another little girl with me, and we were making bracelets. She was a migrant worker’s daughter, but she and I had the same hair and eye color.”

Jeremy’s forehead wrinkled as he thought. “I really don’t remember. I mean, you were in the park all the time, and your brother bothered you a lot. Every day just seems to blend together.”

“Anyway,” Rachel continued. “That little girl made the same color bracelet as the one I was wearing. And that night, my dad had come home from trucking and noticed my bracelet. When he saw it on the dead girl’s arm, he must have immediately thought it was me.”

Jeremy stood up and walked around to the other side of his desk. “It sounds logical. I mean, it could have happened that way,” he mumbled to himself. He looked directly at Rachel. “So, who was she?”

Rachel’s heart beat quickly. She couldn’t believe she’d finally fit all the pieces together. And once she’d remembered the bracelet, a floodgate of memories filled her mind. She remembered going home and hearing Julie and Judith fighting. She remembered the news her mother was watching about another woman found dead in her home. How Keith had put her in a chokehold, and she’d scratched his face. Her father coming to her rescue. It all came back to her along with the name of the little girl she’d met that day.

“Luna. Luna Hernandez. Her father was a migrant worker but had found a permanent job here, and they’d rented a house. I remember it all—everything she said.”

Jeremy stared at her, his expression blank. “Luna Hernandez?”

“Yes.”

“And she was your age?” he asked.

“Yes. Same age, same hair, same build. We looked a lot alike,” Rachel said.

Jeremy sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Rachel asked, suddenly confused. Why wasn’t Jeremy as excited as she was about finally having