Page 16 of Artifice (Pros and Cons Mysteries #4)
F rom where Olive stood, she could now see how a section of the floor had been partially sawn through, leaving it weakened but intact enough to be inconspicuous at first glance.
“You did this.” Her heart pounded in her ears as she stared at the boy. “Why?”
“Maybe I did, or maybe it was already like this.” He shrugged. “Either way, with the right pressure in the right spot, it’s a long way down.” He nodded toward the cliff edge. “They’ll say it was an accident. Rich lady didn’t heed the warnings about staying on marked paths.”
Olive calculated her options, acutely aware of how vulnerable her position was.
The compromised floorboards stood between her and the only exit, where the boy blocked her path.
“Do you come out here a lot?” She needed to buy some time.
“What’s it to you?”
“Seems like a good place to look at the ocean, to keep an eye on things. Or maybe a good place to have a little privacy.”
The boy stared at her, his gaze untrusting.
“Move away from her, Ethan.” The deep voice came from behind the boy, startling them both.
A fifty-something man filled the entrance to the gazebo, tall and hunched over in a dark raincoat.
Olive recognized him immediately—the groundskeeper she’d seen working on the grounds when she’d first arrived.
“Mr. Thorne,” the boy—Ethan—stammered, instantly deflating. “I was just?—”
“Endangering our guest and yourself,” the man finished, his voice like gravel. “Get back to the house. Now. Director Ingraham will hear about this.”
Ethan hesitated, shooting Olive a look of pure hatred before slipping past the groundskeeper and disappearing down the path.
Mr. Thorne turned to Olive, his gaze stormy. “Don’t move. That section’s been compromised for months. I roped it off, but someone must have taken the warning signs down.”
Olive wasn’t sure if she believed him or not.
He extended a hand, his weathered face giving away nothing. “Step exactly where I tell you to.”
With careful precision, he guided her across the gazebo, pointing out which boards would hold her weight.
When she reached solid ground, Olive released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “That could have ended very differently.”
“Ethan’s troubled but not usually violent.” Mr. Thorne studied her with unsettling intensity. “Makes me wonder what you did to provoke him.”
Did Mr. Thorne really just say that? Talk about victim shaming.
“Nothing.” Olive squared her shoulders, defiance radiating from her. “I was just exploring the grounds, and he showed up.”
Mr. Thorne’s gaze shifted toward the cliff edge. “This particular spot seems to attract a lot of interest lately.”
“I can see why. The view is stunning.”
His eyes returned to her, searching. “What were you asking Ethan about?”
The rain fell now, starting with a few drops and then going from zero to sixty, the downpour plastering her hair to her forehead.
Olive forced a smile. “Just general chitchat. I figured Ethan was out here for some reason when he came across me, and I was curious what he might be doing here. The mind of a troubled teenager can be quite mysterious. Wouldn’t you agree?”
An unreadable emotion flickered across Mr. Thorne’s face. “Indeed, Ms. Bettencourt. Almost as mysterious as wealthy socialites who suddenly develop an interest in obscure youth facilities on dangerous coastlines.”
Her breath caught. Did he suspect something?
She made sure to keep her expression steady and even.
Mr. Thorne gestured toward the path. “Let’s get you back before this storm worsens. Director Ingraham would be devastated if anything happened to her potential benefactor.”
As they walked side by side down the muddy path, Olive couldn’t shake the feeling that Mr. Thorne knew exactly why she was there—and that he would be keeping a watchful eye on her.