Page 73 of Artifice
Exhaustion weighed on Olive’s shoulders as she climbed the creaking stairs of the Harbor View B&B. Tevin stayed in the van, doing a little more research and timing his entrance so it wasn’t so close to hers.
Seeing Ms. Strickland walk off that cliff had set her on edge. All she wanted was to collapse into bed and process everything Abe had told her about Colin and the mysterious “supplements.”
She fumbled with her key, noticing a thin strip of light beneath her door.
She froze.
Had she left a lamp on? Unlikely.
Years of constantly moving with her father had ingrained certain habits. Never leave evidence. Never waste electricity. Always maintain your escape route.
Instantly alert, she pressed her ear to the door. The faint sound of movement came from within.
Someone was in her room.
Olive slipped her hand into her pocket, fingers closing around her gun.
Curiosity won out over caution.
She silently turned the key and, in one swift movement, pushed the door open.
Simon Long sat in the armchair by the window.
He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender that somehow still managed to look mocking. “No need for that, Ms. Sterling. Or would you prefer Agent Sterling? I’m not entirely clear on your professional designation at Aegis.”
Olive’s lungs tightened as she stood in the doorway.
Simon knew who she was. How?
CHAPTER 38
“Who are you?” Olive remained in the doorway, knowing no one else was around.
“Someone who’s also investigating Lighthouse Harbor, though with considerably more resources than you appear to have.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Get out of my room.”
“After I came all this way?” His smile faded. “We need to talk. Colin Andrews isn’t the first student to disappear, and he won’t be the last unless we move quickly.”
A floorboard creaked in the hallway behind her. Olive whirled around to find Mrs. Potts frozen mid-step, a pitcher of water clutched in her hands.
“Just . . . bringing fresh water,” the older woman stammered.
Her eyes darted nervously between Olive and the glimpse of Simon visible through the doorway.
How had the woman gotten upstairs so quietly?
Olive’s muscles tightened. “How long were you listening?”
Mrs. Potts’ shoulders slumped, and the pitcher trembled in her hands.
“Long enough.” The woman looked up, her earlier nervousness replaced with something harder, more desperate.“You’re investigating the school, aren’t you? I thought so ever since you asked about the tunnels.”
Olive exchanged glances with Simon, who’d risen from the chair and moved to the doorway. “Mrs. Potts?—”
“They have Henry,” the older woman blurted, tears suddenly brimming in her eyes. “My husband. Please, you’ve got to help me!”
Olive drew in a deep breath before saying, “Tell me more.”
