Page 11 of Misdirection

Olive offered a gentle smile to reassure the woman. “Hopefully, detectives on the case will find the answers.”

“Let’s hope. Everyone in the office is nervous right now, to say the least.” Claudine rubbed her arms as if chilled as she glanced around.

“As they should be. Things like this shouldn’t happen in the workplace. People shouldn’t have to be scared when they go to their job.”

“Or when they go home,” Claudine added. “Or when they ride public transportation. Or walk down the street. The list goes on.”

Her words were true. Yet those things seemed to be the reality of life today. Every time there was an incident, news traveled quickly.

Olive firmly believed people’s brains weren’t wired to absorb so much tragedy and bad news like that which social media gave them access to. The constant overload put people in a continual state of anxiety.

Then when disaster hit home, it made a person realize that no one was insulated. There wasn’t a threshold on how many bad things happened to you either. People didn’t hit their quotas and move on, relaxing for the next several years because there were limits on how much a person could absorb.

Olive had learned that the hard way.

She pulled herself from the heavy thoughts and looked back at Claudine. “Well, if you’ll excuse me. I need to run.”

Claudine nodded and straightened her shoulders. “Of course.”

Olive hurried into Corridor 5.

Before she’d ever stepped foot into this building, she’d studied the layout. She’d also studied the executives. Their history. Their past projects. She wanted to learn everything she could.

It was time to put that knowledge to good use.

As she headed down the hallway, her gaze zeroed in on Bennett’s office. She’d have to pass four other doors before she reached it.

The large executive offices lined one wall. On the other there were cubicles where support staff worked. Many of thosesupport staff milled around each other’s desks, whispering to each other.

When they spotted Olive, they resumed their work as if they hadn’t been gossiping.

She couldn’t blame them. Someone dying at the office gave people a legitimate concern to talk about.

Olive nodded at several employees as she headed down the hall.

Rule number one when making things look believable: you had to look confident, like you knew what you were doing. At the first sign of self-doubt, other people would also doubt you.

It was one of the many life lessons her dad had taught her.

Olive was certain he would have never guessed she’d use those skills in her job one day.

Just forty more feet, and she would be at Bennett’s office.

Right now, no one was near it, not even his administrative assistant.

As Olive walked past an unmanned desk, she grabbed a manila folder off a file rack. She needed to have a reason to go into the office.

When she paused at Bennett’s door, she didn’t look to see if anyone was around. It would be too obvious she shouldn’t be here if she did.

Instead, she twisted the knob.

But before she could open it, a voice sounded behind her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Olive froze, preparing herself to talk her way out of this situation.

Olive slowly turned toward the high-pitched voice.

Wanda Billings. Sixty-two. Short salt-and-pepper hair. Stern and humorless but dependable.

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