An older woman wearing a Hillary Clinton-style pantsuit and glasses hanging from a chain around her neck stood from her desk and ambled slowly to the window.
“May I help you?” she asked, looking up at Rachel.
“Hello.” Rachel smiled at her. “I’m not sure if this is where I should be, but I guess it’s where I’ll start.” She hesitated a moment, not sure how to say the words. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a middle-aged man in a police uniform standing inside the records office, carrying an armload of files. Turning her attention back to the woman, she said, “My name is Rachel Parnell. I understand that everyone in town thinks I’m dead.”
Chapter Four
As the words left Rachel’s lips, the officer stopped dead in his tracks and dropped the files. The woman stared at Rachel, her brows high on her forehead.
“Who did you say you were?” the woman asked.
Rachel’s heart pounded in her chest, but she spoke as calmly as she could. “I’m Rachel Parnell. I read newspaper accounts online that claimed I’d been murdered by my brother thirty-five years ago. But as you can see, I’m very much alive.”
The officer stepped over the files he’d dropped and walked to the window, his expression dazed. “No. That’s not possible. Rachel Parnell was murdered.”
She turned to him, seeing the shocked look on his face. There was something familiar about his dark blue eyes. “No, I wasn’t murdered. I left town that day with my Aunt Julie and Uncle Gordon Scott. They adopted me, and I lived with them. I have my revised birth certificate.” She pulled the original from her folder and slid it under the glass. “See. It doesn’t state that I was a Parnell, but it shows that they became my legal parents. My Aunt Julie is my mother’s sister. Judith Parnell can attest to it.”
The officer glanced down at the birth certificate, then back up to Rachel. “All this tells me is your name is Rachel Scott. There’s no proof you were ever Rachel Parnell.”
“But I am Rachel Parnell,” she insisted. “I lived here until I was eight. My best friend was Amy Harmon, I attended the local grade school, and my brother was Keith Parnell.”
The officer slid Rachel’s birth certificate back toward her under the glass. “Rachel Parnell is dead. This isn’t funny. Leave before I arrest you for impersonating a dead person.”
The woman stood quietly, watching their exchange. Finally, she spoke up. “This birth certificate was issued here in Stanislaus County. Were you born here, too?”
“Yes,” Rachel said.
“Well, it wouldn’t take long to look up your adoption files if they’ll let me see them. Was it a closed adoption?”
Rachel wasn’t sure. “My parents approved of it, so it might have been an open adoption. I never knew any of the details.”
“Let me make a copy of this, and then I’ll give you the original back,” the woman said. “I can do some checking with the county courthouse in Modesto.”
“Gladys, don’t you dare spend a moment of your time on this. She’s a fraud. We all know that Rachel is dead. You were on the jury for Christ’s sake,” the officer said, glaring at the older woman.
Gladys’s eyes narrowed. “Jeremy Mitchell, you may be the Chief of Police around here, but you’re not my boss. I will look into this matter to the best of my ability, as I would for anyone who comes in here.” She waved her hand at him. “Now be off with you. Go back to your own office.”
Rachel stared through the glass as the officer spun angrily on his polished heel, bent to pick up the file folders, and stormed to the other side of the office.
Jeremy Mitchell. Rachel suddenly knew why his blue eyes looked so familiar. The officer was Keith’s teenage sidekick.
Gladys came back with the birth certificate and slid it under the glass. She smiled at Rachel. “I’ll check this out, dear. Don’t mind Jeremy. He’s a little sensitive about that old murder case. Keith Parnell was a friend of his.”
Rachel nodded. “You served on the jury that convicted Keith?”
The older woman nodded solemnly. “Yes, I did. It seemed like an open and shut case, although I’ve always had my doubts. Not about his being guilty, but about the murder in general. It never made sense why he’d kill his own sister. That’s why I’m willing to help you. If you’re who you say you are, I need to know.”
“Thank you,” Rachel said, relieved that she had at least one ally in town. “Will you call me if you find anything out about my adoption?”
Gladys handed her a Post-it Note. “Write your phone number, and I’ll call you.”
Rachel thanked her again and headed toward the door. In the entryway, she was shocked to see Jeremy waiting for her.
“We need to talk.” Jeremy reached for her arm as if to drag her along.
Rachel pulled away and stepped back. “Don’t touch me. I can walk on my own.”
He pursed his lips but nodded. “Come to my office next door. We can talk in private.”
Rachel followed him down the block and into the police station. It was such a small town that the police station wasn’t very large. Passing several partitioned desks where officers and other workers sat made Rachel feel safer about going into Jeremy’s office.
He closed the door and offered her a chair. “Do you want some coffee or water?” he asked brusquely.
“No, thank you.” Rachel sat down tentatively.
Jeremy walked around his desk and sat. Papers were in piles everywhere, and he had an empty mug sitting in a puddle of coffee stains. “Sorry about the mess. I never seem to get through all the paperwork.”
“Why did you want to see me?” Rachel asked, wanting to get to the point. She wondered when he’d get to the fact that he’d been Keith’s friend.
He let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry I was so
