Page 5 of Artifice

The wind whipped across her as she stepped out.

She expected to see something on the grounds to indicate children lived here.

A swing set. Traces of sidewalk chalk. Sports equipment.Something.

But there was nothing. Not even a basketball court.

Only that old bike outside the gate, a bike that no doubt wasn’t supposed to be there.

The hair on her neck rose as she felt eyes on her.

Slowly, she turned and spotted the source of the feeling.

A tall, hunched man raked leaves across the lawn. He wore a dark raincoat, but parts of his face protruded—including his craggy nose.

His deep-set eyes stared at her without apology.

She repressed a shudder.

Her heels clicked on the pavement as she headed toward the door. Before she reached the porch, lightning illuminated the sky, and she flinched.

Was this God’s way of telling her that coming here was a bad idea?

Quite possibly.

Her only comfort right now was in knowing that her colleague, Tevin McIntyre, was in a van at the bottom of the hill. Normally, she used an earpiece so they could communicate.

This time, she didn’t. This initial meeting should be easy, nothing where she’d need backup.

Usually, needing backup would come later.

As she reached the massive, nine-foot-high double doors at the front of the building, they opened.

A woman, probably in her mid-thirties, with dark hair pulled into a tight bun, waited for her. She wore all black, and her face was creased and serious.

Morticia Addams was Olive’s first thought.

This woman wasn’t the type of person people would want to cross, and most likely she knew that. Maybe she even delighted in the fact.

“You must be Liv Bettencourt.” The woman smiled with her lips but not her eyes. “It’s my pleasure to have you here with us today. I’m Margaret Ingraham.”

“I’m so glad I could come by, Director Ingraham. I’m very interested in the work you’re doing here. As I’m sure you know, my brother was in a similar program back in New York, and it changed his life.”

“Please, call me Margaret. And, yes, I’m very aware. I’m friends with Vivian, who owns the home where he was rehabilitated.”

Aegis had already set up Olive’s alibi there so if Margaret called them, they’d confirm Olive’s cover story.

Being thorough was the name of the game when it came to high-stakes investigations.

“So, welcome to Lighthouse Harbor.” Margaret closed the door, the sound echoing through the massive hallway in front of her. “Principal Denarau sends his regrets that he can’t be here right now. He’ll be in later in the week, however.”

“I understand.”

“Where would you like to start?”

Olive glanced at her surroundings.

Just like outside, the coldness of the place got to her. Where was the fun? The signs of life? The laughter?