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

over to see what his partner had found. “These shots came from over there,” he pointed back across toward the other side of the parking lot.

Nodding, Trent stood and walked with him about thirty feet away, both sets of eyes closely examining the ground for more clues. “There are some more,” he stated, as if the bullet casings were right where they belonged.

Both cops bent down to see the remnants from the firefight. “Forty cal,” Will confirmed.

“Yeah,” Morris agreed. “There was definitely an exchange of fire here.”

“So, my question is this: Who was doing the shooting? There must have been a second group involved that wasn’t part of the shootout on the road.”

“No way to know that right now, but we do know they were here.” He looked down the road that went up over the hill from the way they’d come just a few minutes earlier. There were two spots with heavy concentrations of empty bullet shells in separate locations. If Sean Wyatt was involved with this whole thing, then someone else didn’t want him there. “We need to find out exactly what it was that Tommy Schultz was looking for and what he found.”

“The guy was secretive, didn’t really tell anybody what he was doing except for Wyatt and Borringer. And I don’t think either one of them are going to be very helpful at the moment.”

Trent nodded. “There has to be someone else who knows what he was up to. I find it hard to believe that he was traveling around all over the state on some treasure hunt, and no one knew what he was looking for.”

Aggravation had reached its boiling point. He took a few deep breaths and ran his hands over his head from front to back and then to the top where he stopped and dropped them back down to his hips, exasperated. “Every time it seems we’ve found something that will help us, more questions pop up.”

Will just stood quietly, letting his partner vent. They may have been a relatively new pair, but the young cop already knew enough not to say anything when Trent was frustrated.

Detective Morris was at his wit’s end. With resignation on his face, he turned and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Where we goin’, boss?” Will threw his arms up, not yet ready to give up the search.

“Back to Atlanta,” his voice was resolute. “We’ll search every scene again. Maybe something will turn up.”

“Trent,” Will pleaded, “maybe we should double check here. There’s got to be some kind of clue that could show us where they went.”

Morris shook his head. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but this wild goose chase has gone on long enough. Wyatt has disappeared. We’re not experts in archaeology or ancient mysteries. You heard the park ranger. People from all over the world have been coming here for decades trying to interpret those stones, and not a single one of them has been able to do it. You and I probably couldn’t get any more out of those drawings than a three-year-old.”

That last part was a good point, Will thought. “So we’re just going to head back and retrace our steps?”

“Unless you got a better idea or someone that can tell us where the hell those guys went…yeah.”

There was nothing Will could say. He just shook his head.

“Then we head back.” Trent pulled his keys from inside of his pants pocket as he strode angrily toward the Charger. Will was on the other side of the cars, opening his own door when the cell phone in Morris’s pocket began ringing.

“Jeez, what is it now?” He reached into the coat and pulled out the silver phone. After a quick glance at the caller ID, he slid the phone open and said, “This is Morris,” his voice sounded irritated.

“Detective Morris?” the man on the other end of the line clarified.

Maybe they didn’t hear the way he answered the phone.

“Yes. This is Trent Morris. Who is this?”

From the sounds coming through the receiver, the caller must have been in a vehicle driving down the road. Even with all the background noise, he was still able to hear the answer. “This is Sean Wyatt.”

44

Blue Ridge Mountains

Detective Morris stood next to his car, dumbfounded. Wyatt had disappeared a little over twenty-four hours ago, which only made him seem more like the prime suspect. Yet here the man was, actually calling him.

“Sean,” Trent started off with an overly friendly tone while inside, his mind raced. “You’re a tough man to get ahold of. I had some more questions I needed to ask you.”

The voice on the other end seemed unimpressed. “Well, sorry about that. Someone made it rather difficult to stay around.”

“And who would that someone be?”

Will had closed his door when Trent motioned for him to come closer. He’d walked around the car quickly to see what was going on. Morris mouthed to him, “It’s Wyatt.”

Scribbling down the number of the cell phone that had appeared, he then handed it to the younger cop. Will knew exactly what to do and stepped away to a safe distance so Wyatt couldn’t hear him speaking to the department on his own phone.

Sean replied coolly, “Check the bottom of the mountain near Brasstown. They should still be there.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Morris. I’m sure you heard about that accident by now.”

He decided to at least play along. “So, who were they?”

“How should I know? They didn’t introduce themselves when they started shooting at us.”

“Why don’t you meet me, Sean? Then we can sort all this out. I’ll come to you. Where are you right now?”

There was a pause on the other line. “Look, Detective. We just