The Secret of the Stones Ernest Dempsey (ebooks online reader .TXT) 📖

the morning,” he said as he rose and walked toward a hallway that led to a spare bedroom. “You two can sleep in here tonight if you’d like.”

“I’ll stick to the couch,” Sean insisted.

“You don’t have to do that,” Allyson looked at him with a smile. “I won’t bite.”

“No, the couch is fine for me. I might snore, and I don’t want to keep you up.”

Joe stared open-mouthed at the interaction. “I don’t care what ya do or where you sleep. I’m going to get some shut eye. We got a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Mac,” Sean turned away from the previous conversation, “you don’t have to go with us.” As he spoke, Sean saw the look in his friend’s eyes. There would be no keeping Joe McElroy from at least seeing where this next clue might lead. The man had, seemingly, spent more time than Sean had imagined researching and learning about the four chambers.

They had most certainly come to the right place. “All right. But don’t tell your wife I let you do this. She already doesn’t like you hanging out with me.” Sean passed him a wicked grin.

“That’s because you get me in trouble.” Joe laughed then said, “You think I want her to know what we’re doing? She’d go friggin’ nuts. I’m just glad that she’s at her mother’s tonight. There’d be no end to the grief I’d be getting right about now.”

“Sounds like you have a good relationship,” Allyson said sarcastically.

“Oh, I love my wife,” he answered. “She just doesn’t want me to do anything crazy.”

“Wonder what would make her think you would do anything like that?” It was Sean’s turn to be sarcastic.

“Why do I feel like there is an inside joke going on right now?” Allyson stabbed.

The two old friends exchanged knowing glances as Joe headed toward his own bedroom. “That is a whole other story, my dear,” he replied.

“Yeah,” Sean continued, “maybe later.”

“I hate inside jokes,” she pouted and shut the door in Sean’s face.

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Good night then.” The smile was still on his face five minutes later as he drifted off to sleep on the sofa.

31

Atlanta

Detective Morris woke from some of the deepest sleep he’d ever had. Sunshine poured through the bedroom window of his condo as his eyes struggled against the bright light. On the nightstand, his cell phone was ringing and vibrating in the odd, circular dance that phones do when they’re on hard surfaces. He reached over and grabbed it, glancing at the caller ID to see who’d awoken him at such an early hour. Whoever was calling him was doing so from a number he didn’t recognize.

“This is Morris,” he answered groggily.

The voice on the other line sounded extremely fatigued. “Hey, Trent. It’s Lynch.”

“You been working all night?” The sound of Lynch’s voice woke him up a little.

“Yeah. I’m actually on my way home. Just didn’t want to call from an office line at this time of morning. A few too many ears around, if you know what I mean.”

Smart kid. A common misconception was that cell phones were monitored more closely than land lines. When cell phones were monitored, it was usually specific suspects who were already being watched by the police. The lines in the office, however, could be permanently tapped. Trent had asked Lynch not to let anyone know what he was investigating, and so far, the young cop had done well. A simple phone call the night before put everything in motion. Lynch was thorough and more importantly, he was honest.

“So, what you got for me, Lynch?”

“A couple of things,” he answered promptly. “First, Hartsfield said the IAA jet is still in its hangar and has been for nearly a week.

“Also, all the airlines report not having a Sean Wyatt onboard. It is possible that he has some kind of fake passport or documents as an alias, but I doubt it.”

“That means he probably didn’t leave the country.” A good sign, but the fugitive could still be anywhere. “What else did you get?”

“There are a few people here and there that he runs with, but for the most part, he’s a loner. I guess when you live most of your life in foreign countries, looking for ancient artifacts, you can’t have much of a social life.”

Trent rubbed his face. “So no real associates other than Schultz? No girlfriend? Nothing?”

“No.” The voice on the other line paused. “Can’t say I blame him for the girlfriend thing though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, several years back, when Wyatt was in college, he was in a motorcycle accident. His girlfriend was on the back. She died on the spot. He only had a few scrapes and bruises. That’s gotta mess with your mind for a long time.”

This was new information. “What happened in the accident?”

Lynch was glad he at least had something to share after working all night. “Apparently, they were on their way to the movies and passed through a busy intersection. Some moron shot right through a red light and smacked into the bike.”

Morris contemplated the story. “How was Wyatt not hurt?”

“Just one of those weird things. The car barely missed hitting his left leg, but hit her square on. Wyatt was thrown about twenty feet but left the scene with only minor injuries. The report said she was killed almost instantly.”

“Ugh. That’s rough.”

“Yeah,” Lynch went on after yawning. “At any rate, Wyatt finished college and disappeared for a few years, as I’m sure you know.”

He did. “So, there’s no one else connected to this guy?”

“Nope. Except some guy up in Cartersville. He’s a park ranger up there