Page 16 of The Unseen
S EAN NEVER GOT TO HEAR HIS FRIENDS’ GHOST STORY. B Y THE TIME the guys had left his room Sunday night, Coach’s car was already gone. With no idea where he was headed in Denham Springs, they gave up their screwy plan and went back to their rooms.
Sean could tell the guys were secretly glad. None of them wanted to end up spending a year in juvenile detention.
It was late on Wednesday night, and only a couple of guys still in the TV and game room, when he headed down the hall of the Spartan Wing of the dorm.
The Titan Wing sat on the opposite side.
There were twenty rooms, most of them doubles, plus the private rooms like the one he had, making a total of thirty kids in the center.
He smiled. At least he had some privacy. The smile slid off his face at the sight of Mickey Dugan sitting on his narrow bed.
Sean quickly closed the door behind him. “What are you doing here? Are you crazy? What if someone sees you?”
Mick shrugged. “I just dropped by for a visit. No big deal.”
“You’re going to get me in trouble, Mick. Get out.”
“You’re already in trouble, Sean.” Mick rose from the bed, a skinny guy with stringy brown hair and a bald spot on the back of his head. He walked over and draped an arm around Sean’s shoulders. “Why don’t we take a little walk outside? I’ll explain things.”
“It’s almost lights-out. You need to leave right now.”
“All right, fine, we’ll talk right here.” Mick pulled out the chair in front of the desk, spun it around, and straddled it.
Sean forced himself to ignore the nerves building inside him. “What do you want, Mick?”
“What do I want? It’s not what I want, Sean, it’s what the boss wants.”
The boss. Sean didn’t know his name, but he was the guy at the top of the organization, and no one ever went against him.
“So here’s the deal,” Mick said. “You owe us two cars, and the boss wants you to get ’em for us.”
“No way. I’m not stealing for you again.”
“Oh, I think you will. Your friend Artie got paid half in advance for four cars—your share and his—but you’re the only one who delivered. That means you still owe us two more cars.”
“Artie took the money and ran. I’m in here because of him. Artie is the one who owes you, not me.”
“Well, the boss doesn’t see it that way. Someone has to pay. You bring us two more cars and you’re out. If you don’t—it’s going to be your sexy sister who pays.”
Sean could feel the blood draining out of his face. “You leave my sister out of it.”
Mick shook his head. “All that gorgeous red hair and a body that makes a man hard just looking at it. Not a chance. You don’t do what we tell you, your sister’s got a date with Bruno and the boys.”
Nausea rolled in his stomach. He’d heard some of the things Bruno had done. He enjoyed hurting people, especially women.
“Why now?” Sean asked. “Why did you wait so long to come after me?”
“We didn’t need you till now. We got some monster stuff coming in. Big convention in town. Big-dollar cars—and I mean big. You’re young, but you’re a damn good driver. You bring us two more cars—two quick runs—your debt is paid. You don’t do it …” He shrugged. “You know what’s gonna happen.”
Sean said nothing. He didn’t want to imagine what they would do to Nicole.
“We’ve got some time yet,” Mick said. “Convention’s not happening for a while. I’ll be back to let you know when we’re gonna need you.”
Mick strolled to the door, checked the hallway, and stepped out of the room. As Mick’s footsteps faded, Sean realized he was sweating. A few seconds later, the lights-out warning flashed.
Sean held his breath, praying Mick had gotten out of the building and left the grounds before anyone had seen him. Time ticked past. When no one came to his door, he figured for now he was safe.
He sank down on the bed, his heart still beating too fast. Why had he ever listened to Artie? He knew the guy was trouble. But Artie had offered him a way to make money and he figured he might need it if things didn’t work out with his sister.
He’d been an idiot. He’d been mad at the world for taking his parents away from him. He was so damned lonesome, so depressed. His dad had been a mechanic who specialized in high-end imported automobiles. They both loved fast cars. His dad had taught him to drive.
The idea of stealing super-expensive vehicles was a real turn-on.
It was the first time he’d felt alive since his parents died.
His first two cars had gone down without a hitch, a Mercedes S 580 and a Porsche Cayenne.
He’d gotten paid for those two and stashed the money.
Most of it was still in a can buried in the yard behind his old house.
He’d stayed there with an older cousin until his sister had been able to get the paperwork approved to claim him.
Maybe he could go back there, find the money, and give it to Mick; then they would leave him alone.
His stomach churned. It would be impossible to leave the center long enough to retrieve the money, and even if he did, the amount they’d paid him was only part of what he owed, and nothing compared to the hundreds of thousands the cars were worth when they were sold.
It’s only two cars, he told himself. He could do it. He’d have to. He just needed to make sure he didn’t get caught this time.
Nicole stood at the kitchen sink that Friday morning. She hadn’t heard from Lucas since their trip to Darla Robinson’s house. Which meant she still hadn’t told her aunt about the sheriff’s visit.
She wanted Lucas to be there, which meant she had to call him to set up a time when they could get together.
But calling a man she was attracted to was something she didn’t want to do.
Lucas was an extremely good-looking, virile male.
She’d seen the way women looked at him. Would he think she was being too forward, pushing him to come out to Belle Reve just so she could see him?
She told herself it didn’t matter. They weren’t actually dating. And her aunt’s condition was more important than the embarrassment she was bound to feel.
With a breath for courage, she pulled out her cell and hit his contact number. Lucas picked up on the second ring.
“Nicole,” he said as her name popped up on his screen. “Everything okay?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, Lucas. I was hoping you’d still be willing to come out when I talk to my aunt about the sheriff’s visit.” She held her breath, praying she hadn’t sounded too eager.
“Of course,” he said. “I should have called sooner. Sometimes things around here just get so darned hectic I lose track of time. It’s Friday. Why don’t I save you a trip to Baton Rouge and drive Sean home for his weekend visit? We could all have supper together. Afterward, we could talk to Rachel.”
A breath eased from her lungs. “Yes, that would work.”
“You cooked last time. I’ll bring supper and do the cooking. What do you say?”
She relaxed even more. “You know how to cook?”
“I’ve been a bachelor for a long time, cher. ”
The endearment washed over her. Nicole found herself smiling. “Sounds wonderful.”
“All right, then, I look forward to seeing you tonight.”
As the call ended, Nicole felt both relieved and nervous. She began to worry about the implications of Lucas driving Sean home, then staying for supper. How would Sean react?
And what could she say to Rachel about the skeletal remains the sheriff had found—and the ghost that might or might not be haunting Belle Reve?
With a sigh of resignation, Nicole walked over and picked up her easel, paints, and brushes. The phone call had set things in motion, and there was no turning back. She’d just have to deal with whatever came.
In the meantime, she needed to paint. The world disappeared when she was immersed in her craft.
As she carried the unfinished canvas and supplies toward the pond, she pushed aside all her doubts and fears.
Setting the unfinished canvas on the easel, she looked into the image she had painted above the water—a face with the bluest eyes she had ever seen.
A chill went through her. She had no idea why she had painted the man’s handsome face. Dear God, she was beginning to wonder if she could be more like her aunt than she’d thought. It seemed as if lately, it was getting harder and harder to tell reality from fantasy.
Nicole took a steadying breath and thought of Lucas, remembered his quiet strength. Picking up her paintbrush, she studied the dark images on the canvas and went to work.