Chapter 8: The Accident Report
The police officers separated us into different rooms.
Dad remained in the living room with the older officer, Detective Harris, while the second officer spoke to Rebecca at the dining table. Eleanor stayed long enough to hand over copies of the documents, then left after providing her contact information.
Vanessa and I were told to wait upstairs.
For once, neither of us argued.
We sat on opposite ends of my bed while the house filled with the muffled sounds of questions, doors opening, and phones ringing.
My prom dress hung inside the closet.
Silver roses shimmered beneath the bedroom light.
It seemed impossible that a dress I'd created to repair one cruel afternoon had uncovered a secret that might change everything I knew about my family.
Vanessa stared at her hands.
“I didn't know about the insurance,” she said.
I looked at her.
“Is that supposed to make me forgive you?””
“No.””
“Good.””
She flinched, but she didn't argue.
For several minutes, we listened to the voices downstairs.
Then Vanessa whispered, “Mom told me Olivia was selfish. She said your mother had taken opportunities away from her and then played the victim.””
I remembered the photographs of the matching designs.
“Did you believe her?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
“Because she was my mother. And because she told me that if I wasn't better than everyone else, people would leave me behind.””
I looked at the dress.
“That's what she taught me, too. Just in a different way.””
Vanessa turned toward me.
“What do you mean?””
“She taught me that nothing I did would ever be enough. If I worked hard, I was showing off. If I got good grades, I was trying to make you look stupid. If I wanted something, I was ungrateful.””
I swallowed.
“I spent years believing there was something wrong with me.””
Vanessa began crying again.
“I didn't know.””
“You never asked.””
She lowered her head.
I wasn't ready to forgive her. An apology couldn't erase the paint on my carpet or the nights I'd spent wondering why my own family seemed to resent my happiness.
But for the first time, I saw that Vanessa had been raised inside the same poisonous story Rebecca had used to control me.
The difference was that Vanessa had been given permission to hurt people.
I hadn't.
A knock interrupted us.
Detective Harris stood in the doorway.
“Emily, your father would like you downstairs. There's something you should hear.””
I followed him.
Dad sat on the couch, looking exhausted. A folder lay open on the coffee table, and a second officer was typing notes into a laptop.
Rebecca sat opposite them, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
She had stopped crying.
“Emily,” Dad said, “the detective has found a discrepancy in the original accident report.””
Detective Harris opened the folder.
“Your mother's death was officially recorded as a single-vehicle collision on a wet road. The case was closed after investigators found no evidence of another vehicle or deliberate interference.””
He paused.
“However, the insurance file contains a statement from a witness who was never interviewed by the original investigating team.””
My throat tightened.
“What witness?””
“A mechanic who worked at the garage where your mother's car was serviced shortly before the accident.””
He turned a page.
“The mechanic reported that someone had requested access to the vehicle's service records and asked specific questions about its braking system.””
Dad gripped the armrest.
“Who?””
“The witness couldn't identify the person with certainty. He described a woman who claimed to be acting on behalf of the owner.””
Rebecca shook her head.
“This is absurd. Anyone could have asked about a car.””
Detective Harris looked at her.
“That's true, Mrs. Reed. Which is why we're examining the original records rather than making assumptions.””
He showed Dad a copy of the mechanic's statement.
The date was six days before Mom died.
I remembered the accident as a collection of fragments: a phone ringing in the middle of dinner, Dad suddenly leaving the table, the sound of his suitcase rolling across the hall, and Rebecca telling me to stay upstairs because adults needed to talk.
I'd been twelve.
I'd never been allowed to see the accident report.
“Was there anything wrong with Mom's car?”” I asked.
“According to the original inspection, the brakes were functional. The report did not identify a mechanical failure.””
“Then why would someone ask about them?””
Detective Harris looked at me carefully.
“That is one of the questions we're trying to answer.””
Rebecca leaned forward.
“This is all based on a witness who remembers something from nineteen years ago. You can't accuse me because I received an insurance payment.””
“No one has accused you of causing the accident,” Detective Harris replied.
“We're gathering information about several related allegations.””
He closed the folder.
“Mrs. Reed, did you have access to Olivia's vehicle before the collision?””
Rebecca hesitated.
“I don't remember.””
“Did you visit the garage?””
“I might have. Olivia and I knew each other.””
“Did you handle any of her insurance documents?””
“Yes, but only because she trusted me.””
Dad looked at her.
“Did she ask you to help with the policy?””
Rebecca's eyes shifted toward the window.
“She asked me to organize some paperwork.””
“Did she name you as the beneficiary?””
“I believe so.””
“Then why did you hide the policy from me?””
Rebecca's voice broke.
“Because I knew you'd think I had something to do with her death!””
The room fell silent.
Detective Harris exchanged a glance with his colleague.
Dad stared at his wife.
“Why would I think that?””
Rebecca covered her mouth.
“I didn't mean—”
“You just said you knew I'd suspect you.””
“I was upset!””
“You've had nineteen years to explain this.””
Rebecca stood abruptly.
“I want a lawyer.””
Detective Harris nodded.
“That's your right, Mrs. Reed. We'll arrange that. For now, please don't contact anyone connected to the academy, Bellamy House, or the insurance company without speaking to your attorney.””
Rebecca grabbed her handbag.
The officer asked her to leave it on the table while they completed the interview.
She reluctantly complied.
As she moved toward the hallway, Dad called after her.
“Rebecca.””
She stopped.
“Did you know Olivia was afraid someone would hurt Emily?””
Rebecca didn't turn around.
“Your daughter was always safe.””
“That's not what I asked.””
Rebecca's shoulders stiffened.
Then she walked out of the room with the officer.
The front door closed.
Dad sat motionless for a long time.
Finally, he turned to Detective Harris.
“If someone tampered with Olivia's car, I want to know who. If the accident was exactly what the report said it was, I want to know that, too. But I won't spend another nineteen years pretending there are no questions.””
The detective nodded.
“We'll review the evidence. I need you to understand that the old report alone doesn't establish criminal wrongdoing.””
“I understand.””
After the officers left, Dad and I sat together at the kitchen table.
The house felt strangely quiet without Rebecca's voice directing everyone around.
“Emily,” Dad said, “there's something I need to tell you.””
I looked up.
“When your mother died, she had been trying to arrange a meeting with me. She said she'd found something that could change our lives.””
“What was it?””
“I don't know. She never got the chance to explain.””
He rubbed his face.
“On the day of the accident, I received a voicemail from her. I was on a business trip, and the message was difficult to hear. She sounded frightened. She said she needed to talk to me as soon as I got home.””
“Do you still have it?””
“I thought it was lost when I changed phones. But I kept an old backup drive in my office.””
He stood and walked to his study.
I followed him.
Dad opened a locked drawer and removed a small black case containing old computer accessories and storage devices.
He searched through the contents until he found a flash drive.
“I saved everything from the old phone,” he said.
He connected it to his laptop.
A folder appeared on the screen, filled with old audio files and photographs.
Dad clicked on a file dated the day before Mom's accident.
The recording began with static.
Then Mom's voice filled the room.
“Michael, it's me. Please call me as soon as you hear this.””
She sounded tired, but not panicked.
“I found the original contract. Rebecca wasn't working alone. There's someone else involved, and I think that person has been using your name.””
Dad covered his mouth.
Mom continued.
“I know you trust them. That's why I'm asking you not to confront anyone until I can show you the documents.””
A pause followed.
Then she whispered, “If anything happens to me, please don't let Emily grow up believing this was her fault.””
The recording ended.
I stared at the screen.
Dad was crying silently.
I reached for his hand.
“Play it again,” I whispered.
He did.
This time, I noticed something in the background.
A faint mechanical sound.
Then a voice, distant but unmistakable, spoke behind my mother's words.
Dad stopped the recording.
He looked at me.
“That voice…”
I leaned closer to the laptop.
“Who is it?””
Dad replayed the final seconds.
The background voice said five words.
“She's already signed everything, Michael.””
Dad went completely pale.
May you like
Because he recognized the voice.
It belonged to his own brother.
