Page 87 of Smokescreen

As she started toward the stairs, something stopped her.

Movement in Reid’s office.

Someone—not Reid—was inside that room.

She paused and slowly crept closer. The door was barely cracked open—just enough that Olive could see movement on the other side.

She peered inside.

A knot formed between Olive’s eyes.

It was . . . Hannah.

What was she doing in Reid’s office? Cleaning it?

Based on the way the woman stared at something on his desk, Olive doubted it.

Time was running out, and Olive was tired of skirting around the truth. She would need to be more direct, even if that meant breaking her cover again.

She pushed the door open. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Hannah startled and jumped away from the desk.

“Olive . . .” Her hand went over her heart. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Clearly.” Olive narrowed her eyes to show she wasn’t playing. “So what are you doing?”

“I’m . . . cleaning, of course.” Her voice wavered as she said the words.

“I think you’re doing a little more than that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hannah shook her head, but her jumpy actions showed she was nervous.

The front door opened, and Reid appeared in the office a moment later. Wrinkles of confusion lined his forehead. “What’s going on here?”

Hannah’s cheeks reddened. “Nothing, sir.”

“I caught her in here looking at some papers on your desk,” Olive said.

Reid’s gaze narrowed. “Hannah? You care to explain yourself?”

Tears began pouring from the woman’s eyes. “It’s not what you think. I’m not trying to do anything wrong.”

“Then what are you doing?” Olive asked.

She waited for the woman to answer.

“Why don’t you sit down, Hannah?” Reid pointed to a chair in front of his desk.

Hannah practically collapsed there.

Olive watched the woman carefully, determined to discover the truth. Hannah was clearly nervous—her limbs shook, her gaze wavered, and sweat covered her forehead.

“I didn’t want to do any of it!” Hannah buried her face in her hands. “You’ve got to believe me.”

Reid leaned against his desk in front of her, his arms crossed. “Do any of what?”

She sniffled, tears and snot pouring down her face.

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