Page 2 of Artifice
Her father smiled. “That’s interesting. How close are they?”
Olive tried to remember the chart she’d seen. “About halfway. The building’s outline is blue, and the foundation and first floor are colored in red. She said they need five million total.”
“Impressive for a school their size.” Her father’s fork paused midway to his mouth. “Does Brianna visit her father’s office often?”
Olive nodded. “She told me she brings him lunch every day because he forgets to eat when he’s working. She said she has her own key because sometimes the secretary isn’t at her desk.”
The rest of the conversation centered around the twins’ homeschooling projects and the weather and finding a new dance academy for her sisters. They loved to dance.
Later that night, Olive heard her father on the phone. His voice had carried the smooth, authoritative tone he used for business.
“Yes, I’ve been very impressed with Headmaster Sheffield’s vision . . . My firm specializes in educational investment structures . . . I’d be delighted to meet with him next week . . .”
Strange. Despite that, she turned back to her math homework.
Her father’s new business involved meeting people, learning about their finances, and offering to help.
That was what consultants did, after all. That was what Dad had told her, at least.
But maybe being at this new school wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Especially if she had Brianna as a friend.
CHAPTER 2
PRESENT DAY
The wind howled across the jagged Maine coastline, driving sheets of rain into Olive’s face as she clung to the cliff’s edge.
Thirty feet below, angry waves crashed against the rocks, retreating only to surge forward again with greater fury. Lightning split the sky, briefly illuminating her precarious position and the cave where that phone might be hiding.
Her knuckles were white against the dark stone. Thunder rattled through her chest, but she didn’t flinch. She’d been in enough risky situations to know that hesitation was more dangerous than the elements.
She tasted salt as rainwater streamed down her face and the sea sprayed its fury.
But she had to know for sure if Colin’s phone was there. The device contained everything—messages, contacts, and photos that could unravel the entire case.
Another flash revealed a narrow ledge below.
That should be the cave.
Calculating quickly, Olive shifted her weight, found a toehold, and descended a few feet. Her tennis shoes scraped against the rock as she tested each new grip.
A chunk of granite came loose in her hand, tumbling into the darkness.
Olive pressed herself into the cliff, her heart hammering against the stone. The rain plastered her dark hair to her face and neck, but she didn’t dare push it away.
Instead, she steadied her nerves and inched downward. Her muscles burned under the strain of moving precisely, even when every instinct screamed to hurry.
When she reached a small ledge, she crouched and braced herself as another gust threatened to tear her from her perch.
Lightning lit the sky again, illuminating the cave.
A red neoprene bag was inside—a red bag that might contain that phone.
If she could only reach it . . .
Olive balanced herself on the ledge near the cave.
