Chapter 3 - SOMEONE WAS ALREADY INSIDE THE HOUSE
Emma did not scream.
Screaming had never saved her before.
She threw the lamp.
The instant the door crashed inward, Emma hurled it toward the shadow and ran for the bathroom.
A man cursed.
The lamp shattered.
Emma slammed the bathroom door, locked it, and climbed onto the marble counter.
There was one narrow window.
Too small.
She tried anyway.
Her shoulder hit the frame.
Behind her, the bedroom floor creaked.
The man had entered.
Emma pulled harder.
Nothing.
“Think,” she whispered.
The bathroom door shook.
Once.
Emma grabbed a glass soap dispenser.
The door shook again.
Then gunfire exploded in the bedroom.
Emma dropped to the floor.
Three shots.
A crash.
Silence.
Her ears rang.
Someone knocked.
“Emma.”
Tony.
She did not move.
“Kid, it's Tony.”
“Prove it.”
Silence.
Then, unbelievably, Tony said, “My SUV is huge.”
Emma almost cried.
She unlocked the door.
Tony stood outside with blood on his collar and a gun in his hand.
Behind him, a man lay facedown near the broken lamp.
Vincent was kneeling beside the body.
Isabella stood in the hallway in a robe, surrounded by security.
Vincent looked up.
“Are you hurt?”
Emma shook her head.
“Did he touch you?”
“No.”
“Did you see his face?”
“No.”
Vincent rose.
Tony rolled the dead man over.
Emma recognized him.
Her blood turned cold.
Vincent saw it happen.
“You know him.”
Emma backed away.
The dead man had worked nights at St. Catherine's.
His name was Peter Vale.
And two days earlier, he had helped Mr. Cole search Emma's room.
Vincent stepped toward her.
“Emma.”
She could not breathe.
“His name is Peter.”
Vincent became still.
“Peter what?”
“Vale.”
“From the children's home?”
Emma nodded.
Tony swore.
Isabella stared at the body.
“How did he get into our house?”
Nobody answered.
That was when Emma understood.
The Romano estate had walls.
Cameras.
Armed guards.
Six checkpoints.
And Peter Vale had walked all the way to her bedroom.
Someone had helped him.
Someone inside Vincent Romano's house wanted Emma dead.
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And suddenly the question was no longer why Emma had been on the cliff.
The question was why someone was terrified that she had survived it.
