Page 29 of Artifice (Pros and Cons Mysteries #4)

O live didn’t want to stay at the table with Abe too long and raise any suspicions. So as soon as she finished eating she made her way around the cafeteria, trying to talk to as many students as she could.

The students seemed on edge—some huddled in tight groups, whispering, while others sat alone, hunched over their food trays. Several kept glancing toward the doors, as if expecting someone to burst in at any moment.

The atmosphere of the cafeteria was notably tense, with an anxious energy that made the hair on Olive’s arms rise.

Right now, she sat at a table of girls—all of whom looked rough.

Were any of these girls Peyton? Or was Peyton a boy?

Maybe she could find out.

She turned toward them. “Say, does anyone here know a Peyton?”

As soon as she said the name, the table went quiet. The girls’ faces dropped several shades.

And no one answered.

She’d definitely touched on a nerve.

“No one?” Olive said.

Still nothing.

Someone had gotten to them, she realized.

She wasn’t going to get anywhere here.

As she stood from talking to the girls, she nearly collided with someone.

She glanced up and saw none other than Simon Long standing there.

She fought a frown.

“Finding out a lot of information?” His words sounded as if they had a double meaning.

And Olive didn’t like it. She didn’t like the fact this guy thought he knew things about her.

And the thing was . . . he might not know anything. Or he might know more than she wanted.

Either way, the man made her uncomfortable.

“I’m doing my due diligence.” She raised her chin. “How about you? How is your consulting going?”

“Swimmingly.” His eyes glimmered.

They began walking toward an exit, their steps slow as if they both wanted to draw out this conversation.

Olive remembered everything that happened last night. Remembered just how adept this man had maneuvered them away from the danger.

Later today, she needed to call Rex Blackwood, her boss, and find out what he knew about this man. She needed to know if Simon was a friend or an enemy.

“I’m glad you got home safely last night,” she told him. “The water was rough.”

“And you had a long walk.”

“Nothing me and my heels couldn’t handle.”

“But the torn dress may have gotten a little breezy for you.”

She narrowed her eyes, finding this man a little too cocky.

For a moment, she wished she could be blunt with him. Ask him outright what he was up to.

But that wouldn’t be happening. Being blunt was entirely too risky.

They paused near the wall and stared at each other a moment.

Neither of them spoke. Just sized each other up.

That was okay with Olive. She could hold her own.

Just then, a shout sounded, followed by a loud bang.

In two seconds flat, Simon placed himself in front of Olive, separating her from whatever was happening.

But she hardly had time to think as screams sounded around her.

The cafeteria erupted into chaos.

Olive peered around Simon’s protective stance. She caught glimpses of overturned chairs and students scrambling away from the far corner of the room.

A boy—she recognized him as Peter from one of her earlier interviews—stood on a table.

His body looked rigid, his eyes wild and unfocused. Blood trickled from his nose as he convulsed, knocking over trays and pitchers.

“Get them out! They’re in my head!” Peter screamed, clawing at his temples. “Make it stop!”

Three staff members rushed toward him. But Peter grabbed a metal tray and swung it, connecting with a cafeteria worker’s shoulder.

The man dropped with a cry of pain.

“Everyone remain calm.” Director Ingraham’s voice cut through the panic, amplified by the PA system. “This is a Code Indigo. All students return to your dormitories immediately. All visitors and nonessential personnel report to the administrative offices.”

Code Indigo? Olive had read about the protocols during her research. Medical emergency with potential violence—standard procedure in institutions like this.

But something about Peter’s behavior struck her as odd. It wasn’t even his actions. It was the timing.

Everything had happened so suddenly, so violently.

Almost as if he’d been triggered.

Simon gripped her arm. “We need to move. Now.”

Students streamed toward the exits in orderly lines, their expressions a mix of fear and—strangely—resignation. As if this wasn’t entirely unexpected.

“What’s happening to him?” Olive allowed Simon to guide her toward the door while still keeping her eyes on Peter.

The boy had fallen to his knees now, still screaming but growing hoarser. His movements remained jerky and uncoordinated.

“Reaction to his medication, most likely.” Simon’s tone indicated he didn’t believe that explanation any more than she did.

Dr. Wells appeared with a medical bag, flanked by two larger staff members Olive hadn’t seen before. Security, based on their stance and the way they positioned themselves between Peter and the remaining students.

“Ms. Bettencourt.” Director Ingraham materialized at Olive’s side, her face composed despite the chaos. “Please, come with me. For your safety.”

Before Olive could respond, a piercing alarm began to sound—three long blasts followed by a short one, repeated in an endless cycle.

“Lockdown,” Simon whispered, so only Olive could hear. “No one in, no one out.”

She didn’t like the sound of that.