Page 96 of Artifice

“They’re going to wrap this operation up,” Mr. Thorne said. “It’s become too risky.”

Olive stared at him another moment. “I thought you were on their side. I saw you in my room at the B&B. Saw you at the warehouse.”

“I’m . . . an informant. And I was caught before I could stop them.” He closed his eyes.

“I saw you take those drugs from the dispensary.”

“Only as evidence.” His voice cracked. “I’m . . . sorry. I let everyone down. Now . . . it’s too late.”

A chill ran through Olive that had nothing to do with the damp air.

Before she could ask any more questions, a scream echoed through the tunnels—raw, agonized, animalistic. It went on and on, the sound of someone whose mind was being unmade.

Then, abruptly, it stopped.

The sudden silence left a hollow feeling swirling in Olive’s gut.

CHAPTER 52

Cold continued to seep through Olive’s clothes as she worked at the ropes binding her wrists. The scream she’d heard had made her move faster, more urgently.

“Any luck?” Tevin whispered, nodding toward her restraints.

“Almost,” Olive murmured, feeling the rope give slightly. The knots were professional but hurried—a small advantage.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the tunnel. Olive went still, pretending unconsciousness as a beam of light swept over them.

“They’re still secure,” came a woman’s voice—Director Ingraham. “How long until the demonstration?”

“Everything’s prepared.”

Olive tried to place the second voice, but she couldn’t. She’d expected to hear Denarau . . . but it wasn’t him.

When someone smacked her cheek, Olive jerked her eyes open.

The face staring back at her sent waves of shock through her system.

“Henry?” Olive gasped as she recognized him from the pictures at the B&B. “What?—”

The man smiled in front of her. “Ms. Bettencourt. Sorry to meet you face-to-face under these circumstances.”

Olive exchanged a stunned glance with Tevin before looking back at Henry. “You’re not a prisoner?”

“Quite the opposite.” Henry straightened his cuffs with practiced precision. “I’m the reason Lighthouse Harbor exists. Dr. Wells handles the medical aspects, but the formulations—the real innovation—they’re my contribution.”

Disgust roiled inside her.

“And your wife?” Tevin asked. “She’s been worried sick.”

Henry waved dismissively. “Martha has always been . . . useful. The bed-and-breakfast provides perfect cover for monitoring visitors to our little town.”

Olive felt sick. Then she had another realization.

Henry was using his mind-control pills on his wife, wasn’t he? That would explain her behavior and her sincere worry at her husband’s disappearance.

The man truly was despicable.

But why had he told her about the drugs?