Chapter 4 - The Road Behind the Villa
Police found Emily two miles away.
She had collapsed beside closed gas station after wandering through wooded service road.
Alive.
Dehydrated.
Disoriented.
Still suffering effects of contaminated food and explosion.
Her first coherent question:
“Did I kill them?”
Daniel answered carefully.
“Your mother and Claire survived.”
“My dad?”
“We don't know.”
Emily began crying.
Not relief.
Not disappointment.
Something more complicated.
“I didn't want it to happen like that.”
Daniel sat beside hospital bed.
“What did you think would happen?”
Emily stared at ceiling.
She requested lawyer.
Correct choice.
Interview paused.
But before attorney arrived, Emily voluntarily said one thing:
“The grenade was Dad’s.”
Then silence.
Police searched Richard’s collection records.
Richard Carter had once owned private security contracting company.
His study contained military memorabilia and inert collector pieces.
Inventory photographs from insurance appraisal showed object matching one Emily threw.
Listed:
DEACTIVATED DISPLAY ITEM — NONFUNCTIONAL.
If same object, Emily may have believed it couldn't explode.
Daniel asked after counsel arrived.
Emily confirmed.
“I stole it from his display case two weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“I wanted something that would scare them.”
“Why carry it that night?”
“I had been carrying it around house.”
“For two weeks?”
“Sometimes.”
Her lawyer glanced at her.
Emily continued.
“When Dad came near me, he backed off if he thought I might have it.”
“Did he know it was inert?”
“Yes.”
“So it wouldn't scare him.”
Emily hesitated.
“I don't think he knew I knew.”
Odd.
Then she explained.
She had overheard Richard telling friend display grenade was deactivated.
Emily took it because appearance alone made Claire and Margaret afraid.
She had never planned throw it.
That night, poisoned, kicked, humiliated and hearing father say nobody cared if she died, she snapped.
“I wanted them to run from me once.”
Not heroic.
Not harmless.
She had terrorized family with weapon-shaped object and thrown it.
But investigators now knew it did not cause primary blast.
“Why pull pin?”
“To make them believe it.”
No operational details discussed.
“What happened after you threw it?”
“Everyone ran.”
“And then?”
“Explosion.”
“Where?”
Emily closed eyes.
“Behind them.”
Not where object landed.
“Then ceiling came down.”
“How did you escape?”
“Someone pulled me.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Who?”
“I thought it was Olivia.”
Olivia was hundreds miles away.
“Why Olivia?”
“Because she said my name.”
“What exactly did she say?”
Emily looked frightened.
“Emily, get up. He's coming.”
“Who?”
“My father.”
Emily remembered being dragged toward service corridor by a woman.
Smoke obscured face.
The woman knew hidden passage.
Then disappeared before Emily reached outside.
Richard emerged minutes later.
Emily heard him behind her and kept moving until collapsed.
So there had been fifth person inside villa.
Someone who knew layout.
Someone who sounded like Olivia.
Daniel returned to security footage.
At 11:48 p.m.—twenty-nine minutes before explosion—a woman entered through side service door.
She wore hooded coat.
Face hidden.
But one feature visible:
blonde hair.
Claire was blonde.
But Claire had been inside all evening.
Then Daniel found hospital visitor log.
At 3:10 a.m., while Claire was unconscious, unidentified blonde woman attempted enter her room.
She left envelope.
Inside:
Emily’s childhood photograph.
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On back:
SHE WASN’T THE ONE CHARLES CHOSE.
