Page 42 of The Unseen

W HEN L UCAS’S CELL PHONE RANG ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER THE following morning, Nicole set aside her easel and left her studio to answer it. She’d been working on the painting, careful not to put anything in it that would draw Simone’s attention.

Lucas was in town at church. He had left his phone so she could answer and he wouldn’t be disturbed. She knew he was praying, clearing his heart and mind for the confrontation ahead.

Seeing Remy’s name on the screen, she forced aside her fears and picked up the phone. “Hi, Remy. I’m sorry, but it’s not Lucas, it’s Nicole. Lucas isn’t available at the moment. Can I give him a message?”

“I have information Lucas needs, cherie. Ask him to call me.”

“He might be a while.” Did she dare say it? “He’s … umm … getting ready to exorcise a demon.”

Remy made an unpleasant sound in his throat.

“Any chance you could give the information to me?” she asked.

For several seconds, Remy didn’t answer. “Tell him the name he wants is Joseph Mercer, the man who has been breaking into the house. He calls himself Jupp.”

“Mercer works for Villard?”

“That is the word on the street.”

A chill went through her. The house was being purposely sabotaged by Villard, just as Lucas believed.

“Tell Lucas the government is investigating Villard. It is not something he can repeat, but perhaps he will be able to find a connection that will help the Feds.”

Nicole’s chest felt tight. Everything they had thought about Villard was true. “Thank you, Remy. Thank you for trusting me.”

“I know you will keep our secrets, cherie. I see the way my friend looks at you. He sees inside you. He knows the person you are. It is part of his gift.”

Her throat closed up. She thought of Lucas and how much he meant to her. How much she loved him . She wondered if he knew.

“I’ll give him the message. Thanks for being such a good friend.”

“These are dangerous people, cherie. You both need to be careful.” The call ended. Nicole picked up the notepad on the kitchen counter and wrote down the name Remy had given her.

She tapped a finger on the notepad. Lucas had told her about Nathan Silvers. Nathan was willing to continue his search for information on Phillipe Villard. The name Remy had given her could be crucial.

She looked down at the cell phone in her hand. Nathan’s name would be in the contact list. Should she wait for Lucas? Or should she call his friend Nathan and give him the name?

She thought of the demon Lucas would be facing. She thought of Phillipe Villard and his plan to destroy Belle Reve. They were surrounded by danger. She punched the contact button. It must have been Nathan’s private line because he picked up on the second ring.

“Lucas,” Nathan said, reading the caller ID.

“Hello, Nathan. I’m afraid this isn’t Lucas. My name is Nicole Belmond. I’m Lucas’s …” She started to say friend, but the word stuck in her throat. Lover? The woman who had stupidly fallen in love with him? “I’m Lucas’s girlfriend.” Am I? She wasn’t really certain.

“Nicole Belmond,” he repeated.

“That’s right.”

“You own Belle Reve.”

“Technically, my aunt owns the property.”

“Has something happened to Lucas?”

“No, he’s fine, but … he isn’t available at the moment, and this is important. I need to give you a message.”

“This is a message from Lucas?”

Well, not exactly. “Yes,” she said. “There’s a man named Joseph Mercer. People call him Jupp. Lucas is hoping you can help us find out if there is a connection between Mercer and Phillipe Villard.”

For several seconds, Nathan said nothing. “Lucas and I have discussed this. Tell him I’ll look into it. Tell him to call me as soon as he gets the chance.”

She could hear the censure in his voice. “I will.”

The line went dead. No one was happy with her today. They wanted to speak directly to Lucas. She understood. Lucas wasn’t a man who could easily be replaced.

The thought sent her mood downhill. They had never discussed their relationship or any sort of future together. If things change between us … If Lucas decides I don’t have a place in his life …

Nicole clamped down on the painful thought. She didn’t have time to indulge in self-pity. Besides, if anyone backed out of their unofficial relationship, it would probably be her.

Setting the cell phone on the kitchen counter, she headed back to her studio. She studied the unfinished canvas sitting on the easel, picked up a brush, and went to work.

Rachel was feeling sluggish today, the muscles in her legs weak, making it difficult to go up and down the stairs. Several times that morning, she’d become short of breath, her heart rate accelerating, beating way too fast. Abnormal heart rhythms were a symptom of the disease.

She felt tired and depressed, missing Francois, who hadn’t come to her since before the terrible scene with Simone in the parlor.

The weather was overcast and humid, the air dense and unpleasant.

Dressed in a loose-fitting flowered dress, she walked down the hall into the kitchen, needing something cold to drink.

Engine noise coming up the lane drew her attention and she detoured to the entry in time to see a car pulling up in front of the house. A black Mercedes sedan. She didn’t recognize the vehicle, but she recognized the two men inside: Phillipe and Christian Villard.

After her first few encounters with one or the other of the men, they had begun going directly to Nicole with their efforts to purchase the property, certain they could buy her assistance in acquiring the estate.

Rachel scoffed at the notion. Her niece was not someone who could be swayed from her principles with money.

Nicole was a Belmond. Belle Reve would one day be hers.

Rachel was certain her niece would do everything in her power to protect the land that was part of her heritage.

Part of the heritage that belonged to St. Francisville and the people who had lived and died here so long ago.

She watched the men get out of the car: Phillipe, dark-haired, lean, and elegant in a cream linen jacket over a pair of black slacks; Christian, blond, blue-eyed, and handsome in khaki slacks and a light blue short-sleeved pullover, with what was undoubtedly a country club emblem on the pocket.

Instead of heading for the carriage house, father and son crossed the gravel drive and started up the walkway to the house. Rachel waited as they climbed the wide porch steps; then, figuring she had dodged trouble as long as she possibly could, she opened the ornate white-painted front door.

“Gentlemen, what an unexpected surprise.” She forced her lips to curve upward. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Phillipe gave her one of his phony smiles. “Good afternoon, Rachel. It’s good to see you.”

“Ms. Belmond,” Christian added, with a polite nod of his head.

“It’s quite a drive for you, coming all the way up here. What can I do for you, Phillipe? If you’re here to purchase Belle Reve, I haven’t changed my mind. I have no intention of selling the property.”

Phillipe’s smile remained in place. “It’s a warm day. May we come in? Perhaps you have some of that wonderful homemade lemonade you always seem to keep on hand.”

Nicole would probably have said no, but Rachel had been raised in the South, so there was no polite way she could refuse. And she was curious to see what new tactic the Villards had planned to employ to get what they wanted.

She took a step back, allowing them into the house. “Why don’t you take a seat in the parlor, and I’ll bring us something there.”

“I’m happy to help,” Christian said.

Rachel managed to smile. “Fine.” Turning, she led the way down the hall to the kitchen, while Phillipe took a seat on one of the settees in front of the Queen Anne coffee table in the parlor.

Christian slowed his stride to allow her to walk into the kitchen first. He paused as she opened the refrigerator and took out the pitcher of lemonade.

“I saw your niece in New Orleans,” Christian said. “At her opening at the Winston Gallery. I assume she’s somewhere painting today.”

“Yes.” She didn’t say her niece was working in her studio, not out in the countryside as she often was. It was none of his business.

Rachel filled three glasses with ice, then poured them full of lemonade and set them on a silver tray, which Christian carried back into the parlor and set on the coffee table. They each took a glass and seated themselves, Rachel across from the two men on the opposite settee.

She took a sip of lemonade. “Now that we’re all comfortable, what can I do for you?”

“We’ve been hearing rumors,” Phillipe said.

“Problems with the house. Just the usual occurrences, I imagine, in a house this age. Plumbing issues, electrical fires, insects. The place is more than a hundred fifty years old and badly in need of repairs. Those repairs are costly. Our offer would eliminate having to deal with those problems and leave you with enough money to live out your life any way you wish.”

He pulled a sheaf of papers out of his coat pocket and unfolded them. “This offer is a little different from the last. It accepts the property as is. No repairs needed. Just the house and land in its existing condition. It also increases the sales price to reflect higher property values.”

Rachel said nothing.

Phillipe took a drink of lemonade and set the glass back down on a crocheted coaster on the table.

“Along with that,” he continued, “we’ll give you a life estate in one of our newly built condos.

You can choose the floor plan, the carpet, the appliances.

We’ll even give you an allowance for furniture.

” Phillipe flashed a smug, self-satisfied smile.

“It’s our final offer, Rachel. But it’s one you’d be a fool to reject. ”