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and I thanked him and descended the stairs toward the parking area. Something about the pictures gnawed at me, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.

“How is Gisele?” Nicole said.

“Not so good. How well do you know her?”

“She is a little older than me, but we knew each other when we were younger. Once she married Jerry she became a recluse. We have not spoken in years.”

“I need check in with her, would you like to come?”

Nicole smiled. “Yes, I would.”

The same guard who’d screened me last time answered the intercom. A minute later he informed me that Gisele didn’t wish to be bothered.

Nicole leaned over me and pressed the button. Her hair and shoulder were in my face and again I couldn’t help but smell her scent—it was from her fruit orchards, I decided.

“Tell her Nicole de Haenen is here too, and I would like to pay my respects.” She paused, nearly nose-to-nose with me, and smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to crush you.”

“Not a problem.”

The gate opened slowly. I pulled the Jeep forward and parked.

“Beautiful property,” Nicole said. “To be right on Flamands beach, what a joy.”

Gisele met us at the door. She and Nicole held each other in a long embrace, whispering in French. Both women were choked up and teary, but they were soon laughing and bantering in a fast patois I couldn’t follow. Gisele’s bruises had faded considerably, and happiness gave her a whole new aura. Seated out on the back porch overlooking the beach, I enjoyed the view and gave them time to catch up.

When they stopped talking and glanced at me, I asked Giselle whether either the Dominicans or the Americans had returned. Her face hardened before I got half the sentence out.

“They are not welcome here.”

Nicole told her we’d just been reviewing old photos at the Eden Rock. She said how strong and happy Jerry looked.

Gisele sighed. “That’s when I met him. He was a different man.”

Silence fell between the women.

“Can you think back in time for a moment, Gisele?” I said. “Did Jerry find anything important when he was clearing the property?”

Again Gisele’s face hardened. “You mean gold—mon dieu, you are no different than the others!”

“I’m not asking for myself,” I said. “I’m trying to figure out why these men are so ruthlessly chasing that belief.”

Gisele began to cry. Nicole jumped over and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“If he found gold, why did he sell the hotel at a loss?” Gisele said between sobs. “He hated himself for taking his uncle’s money, and buried treasure could have given him a way out!”

Nicole gave me a sharp glance.

“I’m sorry, Gisele—”

“No more!” she said. Nicole nodded.

I walked over to the balcony above the beach. How could I get to the bottom of this if I couldn’t ask any questions? The waves splashed hard against the sharp slope of sand. A few couples strolled along the waterline or sunbathed along the broad white beach.

The twin peaks of the island straight out from Flamands took up a large chunk of the horizon, like a giant “M” rising out of the water. I thought of Bankie Banx and wondered if he and Jerry had searched that island too. Certainly Jerry would have thought about it, since it dominated his horizon—

A synapse fired in my brain.

I walked back to the women. Gisele didn’t look at me.

“We should leave,” I said.

The women embraced and Gisele remained in her chaise longue as we entered the house. I stopped to look at Jerry’s paintings. They were different sizes and colors, but the shapes were all similar, a large imperfect oval with squares inside it and to the left side, and one of the squares was painted a different color than the others.

I stepped closer to study them.

“Buck, what are you doing?”

“One minute.”

I turned from painting to painting, starting with the largest. They were all similar, just different colors and sizes.

Maps? The same map?

“Let’s go, Buck!”

I rubbed my hands together and nearly ran from the house.

“What?” Nicole said once we were outside. “What did you see?”

“Tell you in the car.”

My hands tingled on the wheel. I’d felt a momentary piece-falling-into-place high I hadn’t experienced since e-Antiquity.

The front gates opened and I pulled through them slowly, wary of cars that sped along the road here. The gates closed behind us as I edged out—

Nicole screamed and I stomped on the brake.

“What—”

My question was answered when I saw a dark haired man with a shotgun pointed toward her head through the open window.

“Turn off the car.” The voice came from my left. I looked out the window and found the other Dominican there, also holding a shotgun.

I thought about stomping on the gas pedal but discarded that idea when he pressed the gun to my head.

The men climbed into our backseat and told me to turn right out of the driveway. We passed through the small town of Flamands—two guns in the backseat didn’t leave me much choice—past the beach entrance, and around the small rock in the circle at the end of the road. I knew it dead-ended at the trailhead to Colombier just ahead—

“Turn left here!” The man behind me pointed toward a driveway just past the circle. The tires spun then caught as we climbed the steep concrete drive cut into a sharp bank on the left, hidden by thick vegetation. At the top was a beautiful white villa with a pale green roof and shutters.

“Pull into the garage.”

Once there, he had me turn the Jeep off and we all climbed out. He led the way while the other one prodded me in the back with the shotgun. Nicole, to her credit, was quiet, but her eyes darted between the two men and she held my hand in a Kung-Fu grip. We walked through a narrow corridor that led to a covered patio behind the house, then down a few steps to

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