Page 4 of Artifice
Right now, she wasn’t Olive Sterling. For this assignment she was Liv Bettencourt, the heir to the Bettencourt family estate.She was here to talk about investing in the programs and capital improvements at Lighthouse Harbor.
That was her cover story, at least.
In actuality, she was here to investigate.
Two weeks ago, fifteen-year-old Colin Andrews had disappeared from the facility. Administrators claimed he ran away, but his parents thought otherwise.
At least two other students had also vanished from this place in the past eighteen months. Each time, the school blamed the disappearances on them running away, which made the circumstances even more suspicious.
When Colin’s parents weren’t able to get answers from the school itself, they’d hired Aegis, the investigative firm employing Olive for the past three years.
Her job was to infiltrate the school and find out what had really happened to Colin.
Just from the looks of this building, Olive wouldn’t blame students if they did run away. She would be tempted to flee this place as well.
The building gave her bad vibes.
However, something much more sinister had happened to these students.
So far, no traces of them had been found.
She swallowed hard and pressed the call button on the gate’s intercom.
Her meeting with Director Margaret Ingraham started in five minutes.
Aegis had already established Olive’s faux background and personality by giving her several online mentions. They’d thought for this case it would be best if she came from old money.
Part of Olive’s job required her to have decent acting abilities.
It was the type of work where every day and every assignment was different, and those changes kept her on her toes.
Olive hadn’t minded the circumstances of her job. Not until recently.
In the past several months, new information about her past had come to light, and she desperately wanted time to investigate and dig deeper.
Especially when it came to Jason Stewart.
A knot formed in her throat at the thought of him.
When she thought about his family’s possible connection to everything that had happened with her own family.
Including their murders.
The lump in her throat grew larger.
“Can I help you?” A scratchy voice came through a small intercom beside her open car window.
It was showtime.
Olive made sure her voice sounded cultured and elegant as she said, “Good morning. I’m Liv Bettencourt, and I’m here for an eleven o’clock meeting with Director Ingraham.”
“Of course.” The woman’s voice turned gentler. “Come right on in, Ms. Bettencourt.”
A buzz sounded, and the gates slowly swung open. The creaking sound of disgruntled metal hinges caused a shiver to race down Olive’s spine.
She definitely didn’t like this place with its creepy vibes.
She pulled her car onto the property’s circular driveway and braked near the door.
