Page 9 of The Unseen

I T WAS SATURDAY MORNING. W ITH PLENTY OF TIME BEFORE HER DATE tonight, Nicole collected her brushes and paints, determined to finish the dark painting she had started.

She was just heading for the door when she heard the crunch of gravel under tires, went to the window, and looked out to see a white SUV with Sheriff Department West Feliciano Parish written on the side.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the carriage house.

The engine went silent, and two deputies in black uniforms got out of the vehicle.

Nicole thought they might head for the big house, but most of the locals knew about Rachel’s condition and came to Nicole with any problems that concerned Belle Reve.

She looked back out the window, her heart rate kicking up. She prayed it wasn’t a problem with Sean, but she trusted Lucas to have called her if her brother had been in any sort of trouble.

Hoping nothing was seriously wrong, she opened the front door as the two men walked up on the porch. She recognized the sheriff from his picture in the Advocate; he was the taller of the two, a man in his forties, athletic build, with short, thick black hair.

“Sheriff Matt Loewen,” he said, introducing himself. “I believe you know Deputy Beck.”

She smiled. She had met Frank Beck and his wife at a couple of town meetings after her return to Belle Reve. The house was a historical treasure. She had gone to the meetings to make sure it was safe from the likes of Phillipe Villard or anyone else who had plans to destroy it.

“It’s nice to see you, Frank.” He was shorter, slightly overweight, and going bald, but a good family man, and always willing to help in any way he could. “How’s Sarah-Beth?”

“She’s fine. Busy with the kids. I’ll tell her you asked. She loves your paintings.”

“That’s nice to hear.” She plastered a smile on her face and returned her attention to the sheriff. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”

“May we come in? We only need a few minutes.”

“Of course.” She stepped aside, her worry kicking up another notch.

Wiping his feet on the mat in front of the door, the sheriff stepped into the foyer, followed by Deputy Beck.

“Could I get you a cup of coffee or something? A bottle of water, maybe?”

“We’re fine,” the sheriff said. “We have some news. We’re hoping you or Ms. Rachel might know something that can help us.”

Her nerves continued to build. She prayed again that Sean wasn’t involved. “Why don’t we sit down?”

The sheriff and Deputy Beck followed her into the living room and sat down on the sofa behind the coffee table. Nicole took one of the matching chairs.

“We’re here about a discovery that was recently made,” the sheriff began. “Some kids were playing off Creek Road, near Bayou Sara. Their folks’ places aren’t far away. The thing is, the boys uncovered an old cedar box filled with skeletal remains.”

She blanched. “Do you know who it is?”

“No idea,” Deputy Beck said. “We’re contacting families in the area, people whose ancestors go back for generations.”

“The remains are that old?”

“We have a forensic anthropologist examining them,” the sheriff said. “They study the box, the condition of the bones inside it, how much they’re discolored and degraded. They look at the teeth, see how much wear and tear there is, that sort of thing.”

“The bones are well over a hundred years old,” the deputy said.

“Closer to at least one hundred fifty,” the sheriff added. “Caucasian male. Age between thirty-five and fifty.”

“They did some kind of isotopic analysis that can help determine the region the person lived in,” Deputy Beck said. “The test confirmed he lived in this area.”

“So you know he’s a local.”

“That’s right,” the sheriff continued. “We’ve talked to some of the old families who live here.

The Villards, of course, and the Thurbers, along with other families like yours that go back generations.

We’re hoping someone will have heard a story that’s been passed down through the years, something that might explain the bones. It’s a long shot, but worth a try.”

“Do you know how he died?” Nicole asked.

“Still working on it,” the deputy said. “No definite answer yet.”

“What will you do with the bones?” she asked.

“We’ll keep them until we figure out where they belong,” the sheriff said.

“The department is looking for any information that might help.” He glanced out the window to the big white-columned mansion.

“We’d appreciate it if you spoke to your aunt.

Let her know what we’ve found and see if she knows anything that might help us.

If either of you come across anything, please let us know. ”

“Yes, of course.”

The men rose and Nicole walked them to the door.

“Thanks for your time,” Sheriff Loewen said.

“Good luck with your search.” Nicole watched as they turned the SUV around and drove away. She needed to talk to Rachel, see if she had heard some story from the past that might give the sheriff a clue.

She felt sorry for the family of the man who had been lost so long ago. She hoped the sheriff would be able to figure out who he was.

She decided to wait to speak to her aunt. Rachel had seemed more tired than usual and oddly distracted. Perhaps tomorrow she would feel better.

Nicole spent the rest of the day painting.

It was a good way to keep her mind off her upcoming date.

As the hour drew closer, and she went into the house to change, her nerves began to fray.

She shouldn’t have agreed. Lucas was far too attractive, and a man in her life was the last thing she needed.

Unfortunately, it was too late to back out now.

At least Sean hadn’t been a problem. Just the opposite. When she’d explained this morning about her impromptu date with Lucas, Sean had seemed surprisingly unconcerned. He was more interested in getting back to work on his model car collection.

Nicole smoothed the front of the outfit she had chosen, an above-the-knee navy-blue silk cocktail dress, with narrow sequined straps that left her shoulders bare and showed a bit of cleavage.

As an art history major in college, she’d won a scholarship to the Sorbonne in Paris for her final year of study. During that time, she had realized it wasn’t the history of art but the work itself that called to her.

She had returned to the States, moved into Belle Reve with her aunt, and begun painting her own stylized version of Impressionist landscapes. Anne Winston was the first gallery to successfully show and sell her work, but by the end of that year, her paintings hung in galleries all over Louisiana.

She had learned a lot about art in Paris, but she had also learned about fashion. She checked her appearance in the mirror in the entry and finger-combed the auburn hair she’d left loose around her shoulders. Rhinestone earrings flashed in her ears.

“Wow, you look great, sis!” Sean stood in the living room, shirttail out, brown hair mussed as usual.

She smiled. “Thanks.”

“You’re gonna rock Coach’s world.”

She fiddled with her bag. “It’s just a favor, remember? It’s not a real date.”

“Yeah, right.”

The doorbell rang. Nicole took a deep breath and pressed a hand over her stomach to calm her nerves. She tucked her lipstick and compact into her satin evening bag and opened the door.

Warm golden-brown eyes ran over her with obvious approval. “Looks like you’re ready to go.”

She moistened her suddenly dry lips and nodded. “I’m ready.” She turned back to Sean. “If you need anything, Aunt Rachel is only a few yards away. I told her I was going out tonight. She knows you’ll be here alone.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to sneak out and steal another car.”

Lucas spoke up from the doorway. “Your sister wouldn’t have agreed to go if she didn’t trust you completely.”

Sean’s face reddened. “Sorry. I know that. You guys have a good time.”

“Thanks,” Lucas said. “We won’t be out late, so if you’re planning to commit a crime, you better get it done in a hurry.”

Sean seemed to think that was uproariously funny. Lucas was smiling as he closed the door behind them. He was good with Sean, good with the boys at the center.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, a crisp French-cuffed white shirt, and shiny black dress shoes, he led her over to a classy silver Lexus two-door coupe. He opened the passenger door and waited while Nicole slid into the plush gray leather seat.

“Nice car,” she said as he rounded the hood, climbed in behind the wheel, and closed the car door.

“The Jeep’s for work, hauling stuff, and maybe a little time outdoors. The motorcycle’s for fun. This one’s for a night like this, or just comfort driving.”

“Must be nice,” she teased.

Lucas smiled. “Money’s never been a problem for me. Lots of other things, but never money. I finally got old enough and smart enough to understand how to handle it.”

Nicole was amazed once more at how easy it was for Lucas to talk about his past and be honest about himself. It was the opposite for her. For Nicole, the past was a painful subject.

As the car rolled down the interstate toward Baton Rouge, she forced herself to say something—anything—that might give Lucas some insight into the kind of person she was.

“My family used to be wealthy—back in the twenties when they bought Belle Reve from the Villard family.” As she looked at him, she noticed his strong, tanned hands, the competent way he handled the car, and felt a tug of heat as she imagined those big hands sliding over her body.

Embarrassed, she glanced away, jerking her mind back to where it belonged. “You know the Villards were the original owners.”

He nodded. “After your gallery opening, I was intrigued. I went online and looked up information on the history of the house. There was an article about Villard, his family, and his current efforts to purchase the property.”

“He thinks it should be returned to his family.”

“What do you think?”