Chapter 5 - Secrets in the Stuffing
Upstairs, the morning sun was streaming through the bay windows of Nadia’s former nursery.
Elena was busy unpacking a small cardboard box containing their few remaining belongings when Mia walked over to the rocking chair, carrying her patched rag doll, Penny.
"Mommy," Mia said, tilting her head. "Penny’s tummy feels hard."
Elena didn't look up from folding a stack of cotton shirts. "That's just the old cotton stuffing, sweetie. Grandma made her out of scrap fabric before she passed away."
"No," Mia insisted, poking the doll’s abdomen with her tiny index finger. "It goes click-clack. Like a little metal box."
Elena paused, wiping her hands on her apron. She knelt beside her daughter and took the rag doll from her small hands.
Penny was an old-fashioned doll, roughly sewn together with thick black yarn. Elena felt along the doll’s midsection. Beneath the lumpy cotton batting, her fingers brushed against something hard, cold, and distinctly rectangular—something wrapped tightly in several layers of electrical tape and plastic wrap.
"What on earth...?" Elena whispered.
Just then, the door swung open, and Weston walked into the room. He had knocked softly, but hearing Elena’s murmur, he stepped inside.
"Is everything alright?" Weston asked, his eyes softening slightly as he saw Mia playing happily with a porcelain tea set he had instructed the staff to place in the room.
"Mr. Kade," Elena said, her voice trembling as she held out the rag doll. "I think... I think Julian left something behind."
Weston took the doll from her hands. His experienced fingers probed the stuffed abdomen. With a small pocket knife from his desk, he carefully snipped the thick black stitches along Penny's seam.
From inside the cotton stuffing, he pulled out a small, waterproof micro-cassette tape and a heavy-duty micro-SD card, both sealed securely in a medical-grade zip pouch.
Weston stared at the items, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"Julian," Weston breathed. "He knew he was being hunted."
"What is that?" Elena asked, fear and confusion warring in her eyes. "Is it dangerous?"
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"It might be the answer to everything," Weston said grimly. He pocketed the pouch and looked down at Mia, who was oblivious to the gravity of the moment, happily pouring imaginary tea into a tiny cup.
"Elena, lock this door," Weston instructed quietly. "Don't let anyone in—not the housekeeping staff, not security, and certainly not anyone connected to the Marchettis. I have to play this tape where no one can hear it."
