“Don’t Put On Your Red Coat Today,” My Grandson Told Me. Later That Day, I Saw the Reason – and My Stomach Dropped

Secrets of the Old Mill

On the second floor, I found him. Danny sat on an overturned crate, his face gaunt in the flashlight beam.

His eyes were red from crying or lack of sleep. He looked like he’d aged five years in three days.

“Grandma.” His voice broke. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

I rushed to him and pulled him into my arms. He was shaking. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Whatever happened, we’ll fix it.”

“No, we can’t, Grandma. I’ve done something terrible. I helped her. I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t know it would…” He choked on a sob.

“Helped who? Vanessa?”

He pulled back, wiping his eyes. “Not Vanessa. Rachel.”

“Rachel Morrison? The dead woman?”

“Tell me everything,” I said.

The story came out in fragments, with words tumbling over each other. Three months ago, Danny had met Rachel at a coffee shop near campus.

She was pretty, funny, and smart. She was 28 years old and working at County Records.

They’d started dating. She seemed perfect. “Grandma, she said she understood me. She understood how I felt about you and the farm.”

“She said her grandmother had lost her property too, that developers had tricked her.”

“Danny, what did you do?”

“She asked me about the farm, about the deed, the legal history. She said she wanted to help protect it, to make sure no one could ever take it from you.”

“She worked with property records. She knew how to check everything.”

My blood ran cold. “You gave her access to the farm documents.”

“I thought I was helping. She said she could flag the deed and put protections on it.”

His voice dropped to a whisper. “But then last week, I saw her meeting with Vanessa at a restaurant downtown.”

“I followed them, Grandma. I watched them talk for two hours. And when I confronted Rachel about it, she laughed.”

“What do you mean, she laughed?”

“She said I was just a useful idiot, that Vanessa had hired her months before we even met. That everything—the dating, the relationship—all of it was planned.”

“She was supposed to get close to me, get information about you and the farm, and help Vanessa forge the deed transfer.”

The manipulation was breathtaking, calculated, and cruel. “But why did someone kill her?” I asked.

“Because she got greedy.” Danny stood, pacing the small space.

“Rachel told me that night that she’d demanded more money from Vanessa. A lot more.”

“She said she had copies of everything: the forged signature, emails, proof of the whole scheme. She was going to blackmail Vanessa for years.”

“And Vanessa killed her?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I warned you about the coat.”

“Rachel called me at 4:30 yesterday morning. She was terrified, crying, saying someone was following her.”

“She said she’d taken your red coat from your mudroom during Sunday dinner. That’s why she was wearing it.”

“She was going to meet you at the bus stop. She was going to confess everything and give you the proof. But she was scared, Grandma.”

“She said if anything happened to her, I should warn you. And then the line went dead.”

I sat heavily on a crate, processing. So Rachel was murdered before she could meet me and expose Vanessa.

But I didn’t think it was Vanessa who killed her. Danny pulled something from his jacket pocket.

It was a thumb drive. “Rachel gave me this two days ago, before everything went bad. She said it was insurance.”

“Copies of all the documents, all the emails between her and Vanessa, recordings of phone calls.”

“Have you looked at it?”

“Some of it, Grandma. It’s bad. Vanessa forged your signature on multiple documents, not just the deed.”

“There are loan applications, power of attorney forms, even a will. A will leaving everything to Robert and her, dated six months ago.”

“And there’s more.” His hands shook as he held out the drive.

“There are emails about hiring someone. Someone to make sure you had an ‘accident’ after the deed transfer was complete.”

The abandoned mill suddenly felt very cold. Vanessa was going to have me killed.

“The emails don’t use her name. They’re coded, careful. But Rachel knew who it was. She kept records of everything.”

Danny’s eyes were desperate. “But here’s what I don’t understand. The last folder on this drive… it’s encrypted. I can’t open it.”

“And there’s a video file that won’t play. It’s corrupted or something. Rachel said it was the most important evidence, but I can’t access it.”

I took the thumb drive, turning it over in my hands. “We need to give this to the police.”

“No, Grandma, you don’t understand. There are cops involved.”

“What?”

“In the emails, Rachel mentions paying off someone in the sheriff’s department. Someone who helped file the fake deed, who made sure it looked legitimate.”

“We don’t know who it could be. It could be anyone.”

Tom’s face flashed through my mind. My old high school friend. But no, not Tom. He couldn’t be.

“There’s something else,” Danny said. “This morning, after Rachel was killed, I went to her apartment.”

“The door was open. The place was trashed. Someone had searched it, torn it apart. And I found this.”

He handed me a folded piece of paper. It was a photocopy of a bank statement.

It was Vanessa’s bank statement. Two weeks ago, she’d withdrawn $50,000 in cash.

“Blood money,” I whispered. “Payment for Rachel or payment for whoever killed her. Maybe both.”

Danny grabbed my shoulders. “Grandma, we have to run, both of us. Take this evidence and disappear until we can figure out who to trust.”

“I’m not running from my own home.”

“Then you’re going to die. Don’t you understand? Vanessa has already killed once. She won’t stop until you’re dead and that farm is hers.”

Ambush in the Night

Footsteps echoed from below. They were heavy boots on the wooden floor.

We froze. Danny killed his flashlight, and I did the same.

In the sudden darkness, I heard multiple sets of feet. There were at least three people.

“Mrs. Foster,” a voice called out. It was not Tom’s voice; it was someone younger.

“We know you’re in here. We just want to talk.”

Danny pulled me toward the back of the floor, toward a door I hadn’t noticed. We slipped through into what looked like an old office.

The windows overlooked the river 30 feet below. “There’s a fire escape,” Danny whispered, “on the other side.”

But before we could move, the office door opened. A man stood silhouetted against the dim light from the main room.

He wore a deputy’s uniform. “Mrs. Foster, please. We really do just want to talk. I’m Deputy Marcus Hall. Sheriff Brennan sent me to find you.”

“Stay back,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

“Ma’am, your son reported you missing. We’ve been searching for hours. You’re not in trouble. We just need to make sure you’re safe.”

“If that’s true, why did you bring backup? Why are you sneaking around an abandoned building at night?”

Hall’s expression shifted. In the darkness, I couldn’t read it clearly, but something changed in his posture.

Because a woman’s voice said from behind him, “We needed to make sure you came alone.”

Vanessa stepped into view. She looked different.

Her hair was pulled back severely, and her makeup was minimal. She wore dark clothing and practical boots.

This wasn’t the polished real estate agent who sat at my Sunday dinner table. This was someone else entirely.

“Hello, Alexia,” she said pleasantly. “I believe my stepson has something that belongs to me.”

Deputy Hall moved aside, and I saw he had his hand on his weapon. It was not drawn, but ready.

Danny stepped in front of me. “Get away from her.”

“Danny, Danny, Danny.” Vanessa shook her head sadly. “You really should have stayed out of this. Rachel said you were sweet, but stupid. I’m beginning to think she was right.”

“You killed her,” I said.

“Of course not. I would never do something so messy myself.” Her smile was terrible. “That’s what hired help is for.”

“Unfortunately, Rachel’s death was necessary. She got ambitious and thought she could play in the big leagues. She couldn’t.”

“And you’re going to kill us too?”

“Kill you, Alexia? Why would I do that? You’re going to sign over your farm to us tonight, willingly, with Deputy Hall here as a witness.”

“Then you’re going to have a tragic accident on your way home. Elderly woman driving alone on dark country roads… these things happen.”

“People know we’re here.”

“Do they? Your son thinks you went to bed hours ago. The sheriff thinks you’re home safe. No one knows about this meeting except the people in this room.”

She held out her hand. “Now, give me the thumb drive and let’s make this easy.”

Danny’s hand closed around mine. I felt the small weight of the drive pressed into my palm.

And I realized something. It was something important that Vanessa had missed.

“There’s just one problem with your plan,” I said calmly.

“Oh, what’s that?”

“You think I’m a helpless old woman. You think I’ve been passively letting this happen to me.”

“But Vanessa, I’ve been a farmer’s wife for 40 years. I’ve survived drought, flood, economic collapse, and the death of my husband.”

“I’ve negotiated with banks, fought off developers, and run a business that men twice your age said I couldn’t handle.”

I pulled out my phone and held it up so she could see the screen. It was recording.

It had been recording since the moment Danny started talking. “And I’m smart enough to document everything.”

The Sting

Vanessa’s face went white. Deputy Hall reached for his gun.

And that’s when the real police kicked in the door. Tom Brennan came through that door like an avenging angel, with three state troopers behind him.

The look on his face when he saw Deputy Hall reaching for his weapon was something I’ll never forget. “Marcus, don’t you dare.”

Tom’s voice was steel. “Hands where I can see them. Now.”

Hall froze, then slowly raised his hands. Vanessa tried to bolt for the window, but one of the troopers caught her arm.

“Let go of me! This is harassment! I came here looking for my mother-in-law, who’s clearly unstable and has been making wild accusations!”

“Save it,” Tom said. “We’ve been listening to everything for the past 10 minutes.”

He held up his own phone, showing a live audio feed. “Mrs. Foster called me 20 minutes ago and told me exactly where she’d be and what she suspected. We’ve recorded your entire confession.”

The rage on Vanessa’s face was something inhuman. “You stupid old woman! You think you’ve won? You have no idea what you’ve done!”

“Take them both in,” Tom ordered. “Murder, conspiracy, fraud, attempted murder, corruption of a public official. Read them their rights.”

As the troopers led them away, Vanessa turned back to me one last time. “This isn’t over, Alexia. I have lawyers, good lawyers, and friends in high places. You’ll never prove I killed Rachel. Never.”

The mill fell silent after they left. There was just the river’s constant rush and Danny’s ragged breathing beside me.

“Grandma, how did you… when did you call the sheriff?”

“In the parking lot before I came in. I texted him from the truck and told him I was meeting you but suspected a trap. I asked him to trace my phone and listen in.”

I squeezed his hand. “I trust Tom. I went to high school with him, remember? He’s one of the good ones.”

Tom came back inside, his face weary. “Alexia, you took a hell of a risk.”

“I know. But I needed Vanessa to confess, and she did. She confessed to conspiracy and fraud.”

“But she’s right about one thing. We still can’t prove she murdered Rachel Morrison. She was careful and used intermediaries.”

“The recording you got tonight helps, but a good defense attorney will argue she was just playing along, trying to protect herself from Hall.”

“What about Deputy Hall?”

“He’s already trying to cut a deal. He says Vanessa paid him $50,000 to help file the fraudulent deed and look the other way. But he swears he didn’t know anything about the murder.”

“Do you believe him?”

Tom hesitated. “I don’t know. Marcus has been on the force for eight years with a good record until now. But $50,000 can make people do things they never thought they would.”

Danny held up the thumb drive. “Sheriff, there’s more evidence on here. Emails, recordings, documents. But some of it’s encrypted. Rachel said it was the most important part, but I can’t access it.”

“We’ll have our forensic team look at it. Maybe they can crack it.”

Tom looked at me seriously. “Alexia, you and Danny need to be very careful over the next few days. If Vanessa has other people working for her, people we don’t know about yet, you could still be in danger.”

“I’m not leaving my farm.”

“I figured you’d say that. I’ll have a patrol car parked at the end of your driveway tonight.”

As we left the mill, dawn was breaking over the mountains. It painted the sky in shades of rose and gold.

It was beautiful and terrible, like everything that had happened. Danny rode home with me, neither of us speaking much.

When we pulled up to the farmhouse, I saw Robert’s car already there. It was parked at an angle like he’d arrived in a hurry.

A Pattern of Murder

He met us at the door, his face haggard. “Mom, Danny, thank God you’re both all right. The sheriff called me an hour ago and told me what happened.”

He looked at his son. “Danny, I’m so sorry. I should have seen what Vanessa was doing. I should have protected you both.”

“Dad, no…”

“Let me finish. Your mother tried to tell me. She tried to warn me that Vanessa was pushing too hard about the farm, but I didn’t want to see it.”

“I was weak. I am weak.” His voice broke. “My wife is a murderer, and I was too blind to notice.”

I touched his arm gently. “Robert, you couldn’t have known.”

“Couldn’t I, Mom? Be honest with me. How many times over the years have I chosen Vanessa over you?”

“How many Sunday dinners did I let her insult you, push you, and make you feel small? How many times did I tell you that you were being unreasonable when you were just trying to protect what was yours?”

The truth sat heavy between us. There were too many times.

There were too many years of choosing peace with his wife over loyalty to his mother. “We can’t change the past,” I said finally. “But we can do better going forward.”

Inside, I made coffee while Robert and Danny sat at the kitchen table. The house felt different now, both violated and reclaimed.

Vanessa had been in here searching through my things and stealing from me, but she’d failed. “Mom, I need to ask you something,” Robert said. “That deed she forged… is the farm really in danger?”

“I don’t know. Tom says his department will help me contest it, but it could take months or years in court.”

“And Vanessa was right about one thing: Montana property law is complicated. If a deed looks legitimate, if it’s properly notarized and filed, it can be very hard to undo.”

“I’ll testify. I’ll tell the court I never authorized that transfer, that I didn’t know about it.”

“That might not be enough. You’re her husband. They could argue you’re just protecting her.”

Danny cleared his throat. “What about the encrypted files on the thumb drive? Maybe there’s something in there that proves the deed is fake.”

“Maybe. But we won’t know until the forensic team cracks the encryption.”

I sipped my coffee, thinking. “There’s something else bothering me. Rachel Morrison worked at County Records for three years. That’s a long time.”

“What if this isn’t the first property she and Vanessa targeted?”

Robert’s eyes widened. “You think they’ve done this before?”

“Vanessa is too smooth, too practiced. The way she set everything up—the coded emails, the intermediaries—this feels like a rehearsed plan.”

“We should tell the sheriff.”

“We will. But first, I want to do some research of my own.”

I stood, heading for my small office off the kitchen. “Vanessa mentioned during one of her sales pitches that she’d helped several elderly clients transition out of their properties in the past year.”

“She made it sound benevolent, like she was doing them a favor.”

I pulled out the file where I’d kept all of Vanessa’s brochures and documents. Her real estate company was called Summit Properties.

According to her business card, she’d been the top seller for three years running. “Danny, can you search for property transfers in this county over the past two years? Focus on farms and large parcels sold by elderly owners.”

He pulled out his laptop, his fingers flying over the keys. “Grandma, do you really think…?”

“I think Vanessa is smarter and more dangerous than any of us realized. And I think Rachel Morrison wasn’t her first accomplice.”

Twenty minutes later, Danny had a list. There were 11 properties, all farms or ranches sold within the past 18 months.

All of them were originally owned by people over 65. “Now cross-reference that with obituaries,” I said quietly.

The silence that followed was thick with dread. Danny’s face went pale as he read the screen.

“Grandma, four of those people died within six months of selling their property. Two car accidents, one fall at home, one heart attack.”

Robert stood abruptly, his chair scraping the floor. “No, no. That’s too many. That can’t be coincidence.”

“It’s not.” My voice was calm, but inside I was shaking.

“Vanessa’s been doing this for years. Target elderly property owners, forge documents or manipulate them into signing, wait a few months, then arrange accidents.”