Chapter 2 - The Secret In The Stuffed Rabbit
By the time we got back downstairs, the cops had already taken Derek and Vanessa out in cuffs. Derek was yelling the whole way, calling Allison a liar, calling me a bitter old woman who’d turned his own daughter against him, but Vanessa was silent — her face blank, her eyes fixed on the bracelet on her wrist like she was just now realizing it wasn’t a trophy. It was a noose.
Detective Martinez pulled me aside in the kitchen, his notebook open. “Mrs. Cole, I know this is hard, but we need to go through everything. The video is damning, but we need more — forensics, bank records, a clear timeline. The coroner’s preliminary report said the fall was consistent with an accident, but that was before we had this. We’re exhuming the body tomorrow for a second autopsy. We’re also going to need full access to Allison’s business and personal accounts.”
I nodded, pouring myself a glass of water with a hand that wouldn’t stop shaking. “Whatever you need. Allison left Benjamin full power of attorney for everything. He’ll give you all the account numbers, all the passwords.” I paused, thinking of the envelope in my hand. “She also left this. I haven’t opened it yet. I thought… I thought you should be here when I do.”
Martinez nodded, pulling out a chair. Benjamin sat next to me, Chloe curled up on his lap, her thumb in her mouth, staring at the stuffed rabbit she carried everywhere — the floppy brown one Allison had bought her the day she was born, the one she refused to sleep without. I broke the wax seal on the envelope and pulled out the papers inside.
The first page was a full audit of Allison’s design agency, Brightside Creative, going back two years. Line after line of money siphoned out — $12,000 here, $45,000 there, all transferred to a shell company called “Lone Star Holdings” that Benjamin immediately traced back to Derek. The total made me gasp: $2.8 million. Almost all the profit Allison had made in the last two years, gone. She’d worked 18-hour days, skipped Chloe’s preschool recitals once because of a client deadline, turned down a week-long vacation to Italy I’d offered to pay for, all while Derek was stealing her blind to fund a penthouse apartment for Vanessa, a $120,000 Porsche, and three trips to Europe.
The second page was a life insurance policy. $5 million, taken out 18 months before, with Derek listed as the primary beneficiary. But scrawled in the margin, dated three days before Allison died, was a handwritten change of beneficiary form, signed and notarized: Revoke all prior. Primary beneficiary: Chloe Marie Cole Lawson, held in trust until age 25. Trustee: Evelyn Cole.
Derek didn’t know. He’d killed her for the money, and he didn’t even know she’d already cut him out.
The third page was a short letter, addressed only to me.
Mom,
I’m scared. I know what they’re planning. Derek’s been asking me about the life insurance policy every night. He keeps saying “it would be so much easier if you were just gone” like it’s a joke, but his eyes aren’t laughing. Vanessa came to the house last week when I was at work — the nanny said she went through my desk for an hour. I changed the locks, but I know Derek still has a key. I hid the backup files on the agency server, but I also put a copy somewhere no one will ever think to look. Chloe’s rabbit. The one with the tear in the ear. I sewed a tiny microSD card inside. It has everything — the audio from Derek’s car, the bank records, the text messages where they planned the “accident.” Don’t trust anyone outside of Benjamin and Detective Martinez. Derek has friends on the force. I love you. Tell Chloe I love her more than the sunflowers love the sun.
I looked up at Chloe, who was now twisting the rabbit’s torn ear between her fingers, exactly the way she always did when she was tired. I held out my hand. “Can Grandma see Mr. Floppy for a second, bug?”
She handed him over without hesitation. I felt along the seam of the tear — sure enough, there was a hard little lump inside, stitched tight. Benjamin got a seam ripper from the junk drawer and carefully opened the stitching. A microSD card, no bigger than my fingernail, fell into his palm.
“Allison was always smarter than both of them put together,” he said, his voice thick. “I’ll get this to forensics first thing tomorrow. If it has what she says it does, Derek and Vanessa won’t see the outside of a prison for the rest of their lives.”
That night, I slept in Allison’s bed, Chloe curled up on my chest, Mr. Floppy tucked between us. I didn’t sleep much — every time I closed my eyes, I saw her on the stairs, heard her begging for Chloe, saw Vanessa’s smug face at the funeral whispering I won. Sometime around 3 a.m., I got up and went to the kitchen, poured a glass of milk, and opened the back door. The Texas air was thick and warm, smelling like jasmine from the bush Allison had planted along the fence, and somewhere down the street a dog barked.
I thought about what Allison had written: Derek has friends on the force.
I thought about how quickly the first investigation had been closed — “tragic accident,” case closed in 48 hours, no follow-up, no questions about why the stair railing had been loose when the handyman had fixed it two weeks before, no questions about why Derek had waited an hour to call 911 even though he’d been home the whole time.
I pulled out my phone and called Detective Martinez. He picked up on the second ring, like he’d been waiting.
“Mrs. Cole?”
“Allison said Derek has friends on the force,” I said, my voice low so I wouldn’t wake Chloe. “She said not to trust anyone but you and Benjamin. The first autopsy… the first detective on the case… are they clean?”
He was quiet for a long time. “To be honest? I don’t know. The original detective, Miller — he’s been on the take from Derek’s dad for years. Derek’s old man owns half the construction companies in Travis County. He’s got pull. That’s why I got assigned this afternoon, as soon as the DA got the video. I’m not on anyone’s payroll, Mrs. Cole. I lost my sister to domestic violence ten years ago. Her husband walked. I swore I’d never let that happen to another woman. Not on my watch.”
I leaned against the doorframe, tears finally spilling over. “Thank you.”
“We’re gonna get them,” he said. “But we have to be careful. Tomorrow, when we exhume the body, when we get the card analyzed… word’s gonna get out. Derek’s dad is gonna throw every lawyer he can buy at this. You’re gonna get dragged through the mud. They’re gonna say you’re a grieving mother who made it all up, that you brainwashed Allison, that you’re after Derek’s money. Can you handle that?”
May you like
I looked back through the kitchen window, at Chloe’s small face peeking out from under the covers, at the sunflower mug on the counter. I thought of Vanessa’s bracelet, of Derek’s cold eyes at the funeral, of my daughter’s last words on the video.
“I can handle anything,” I said. “For Chloe. For Allison.”
