Page 50 of Artifice (Pros and Cons Mysteries #4)

T he wind howled, driving sheets of rain into Olive as she clung to the cliff’s edge.

Thirty feet below, angry waves crashed against the rocks, retreating only to surge forward again with greater fury. Lightning split the sky, briefly illuminating her precarious position and the cave where Colin’s phone might be hiding.

Her knuckles were white against the dark stone. Thunder rattled through her chest, but she didn’t flinch. She’d been in enough risky situations to know that hesitation was more dangerous than the elements.

She tasted salt as rainwater streamed down her face and the sea sprayed its fury.

But she had to know for sure if Colin’s phone was there. The device contained everything—messages, contacts, and photos that could unravel the entire case.

Another flash revealed a narrow ledge below.

That should be the cave’s entrance.

Calculating quickly, Olive shifted her weight, found a toehold, and descended a few feet. Her tennis shoes scraped against the rock as she tested each new grip.

A chunk of granite came loose in her hand, tumbling into the darkness.

Olive pressed herself against the cliff, her heart hammering against the stone. The rain plastered her dark hair to her face and neck, but she didn’t dare push it away.

Instead, she steadied her nerves and inched downward. Her muscles burned under the strain of moving precisely, even when every instinct screamed to hurry.

When she reached the small ledge, she crouched and braced herself as another gust threatened to tear her from her perch.

As lightning lit the sky again, the cave was illuminated.

A red neoprene bag was inside—a red bag that might contain that phone.

If she could only reach it . . .

Olive balanced herself on the ledge near the cave.

She feared if she climbed fully inside, she’d never get out.

Instead, she stretched her arm toward the red bag.

Her fingertips grazed the smooth canvas.

But her reach wasn’t enough. She would have to commit fully—to lean into the storm with nothing but the strength of one hand keeping her from joining the churning Atlantic below.

Drawing in a deep breath, Olive tightened her grip on a protruding rock with her left hand and extended her body outward.

The world narrowed to just her straining fingers and that glinting canvas bag. Everything else—the storm, the sea, the danger—faded to background noise.

Her shoulder protested as she reached farther than seemed possible.

Her fingertips touched the edge of the bag. She nudged it, nearly pushing it from the ledge. She held her breath, praying it didn’t fall into the roiling sea.

Finally, her fingers wrapped around the strap of the bag.

As she pulled it toward her, a massive wave crashed against the cliff base. Water sprayed so high she felt it mingle with the rain on her face.

But she had it. The phone.

The evidence she needed.

The reason she’d put herself in this situation.

She prayed it wasn’t broken. That Tevin could get the information they needed from it.

She secured her position on the cliff and opened the bag just to make sure.

Her heart skipped a beat. The phone was inside!

She shoved the device into her back pocket, allowing herself a moment of triumph.

But her troubles weren’t over.

Because now she needed to get back to safety.

As she glanced up, she saw a shadow standing at the top.

Without a doubt, she knew the person there wasn’t a friend but a foe.

The climb had been even more treacherous than Abe’s warnings had suggested.

Even with the figure leering at her, she had no choice but to climb back to the top.

Staying on this cliff any longer would be a death wish.

Olive’s muscles trembled with fatigue as she hauled herself over the final ledge, the weight of Colin’s phone heavy in her back pocket.

If Abe was correct, this had everything she needed to bring Lighthouse Harbor down.

Olive rolled onto solid ground, allowing herself five seconds of relief before scanning her surroundings.

Where was the shadow she’d seen?

She wasn’t sure. Had she been imagining things?

As lightning split the sky, she saw the rusted warning sign tilting precariously at the path’s edge, its faded lettering barely visible.

“Liv?”

She whirled toward the voice then relaxed slightly at the sight of Stephanie from The Salty Kettle. Her blonde hair was pulled into a messy ponytail and her waitress uniform replaced by jeans and a thick fisherman’s sweater.

“Stephanie? What are you doing here?” Olive kept her voice casual, though alarm bells rang in her head. They weren’t supposed to meet until later tonight.

“I’ve been trying to reach you. I decided it couldn’t wait.” Stephanie walked toward her, concern etched across her features. “So I went to the B&B, hoping to find you. Mrs. Potts said you might be out here. Are you okay? You look like you’ve been?—”

“Rock climbing?” Olive finished with a wry smile, wiping her wet hair from her face. “Something like that.”

Stephanie stood beside her now, peering curiously over the cliff’s edge. “That’s quite a drop.”

“Yes, it is.” Olive paused. “How did you know exactly where to find me?”

“Mrs. Potts, like I said.” A flicker of something—guilt?—crossed Stephanie’s face. “She was worried.”

Olive took a step back, her heel dangerously close to the cliff edge. “I never told Mrs. Potts where I was going.”

Stephanie’s expression hardened, just for an instant, before softening into regret. “I was hoping we could do this the easy way.”

The attack came faster than Olive anticipated—Stephanie lunged forward with a syringe that flashed silver.

Olive’s defensive training kicked in as she dodged, twisting to break the other woman’s grip.

But her foot, too close to the edge, sent loose rocks tumbling into the darkness below.

Olive stumbled.

Stephanie used that fraction of a second to drive a syringe into Olive’s neck.

Cold fire spread through Olive’s veins.

Her limbs went heavy, unresponsive. She tried to reach for Colin’s phone, to hide it, to throw it—anything to protect the evidence—but her hands refused to cooperate.

“I’m sorry,” Stephanie murmured, catching Olive as she crumpled. “I didn’t have a choice. They have my brother at the school.”

Darkness closed in around the edges of Olive’s vision.

The last thing she saw was Stephanie’s face, genuinely remorseful, as she extracted Colin’s phone from Olive’s pocket.

The last thing she heard was Stephanie’s whispered apology.

The last thing she spoke was, “Wait. Don’t . . .”

Then nothing.