The Secret of the Stones by Ernest Dempsey (reading fiction .TXT) 📕

at that Indian mound state park, Etowah or something like that. Found a few pictures of them together and looked him up. Name’s Joe McElroy, in his mid fifties. He and his wife have a cabin in the woods up there about twenty minutes from the park.”

Trent’s mind snapped awake instantly. “You have the address of that cabin?” His voice had lost its scratchy sound.

“Yeah. I got it here somewhere.” There was a silent moment as the cop on the other end of the line was busy looking through what Trent imagined to be a small pile of papers in the passenger seat. A few seconds later, Lynch came back on, “You ready?”

Morris wrote down the address quickly with a pen and notepad from the nightstand. “Anything else I need to know?”

“No. I don’t really think that this McElroy had anything to do with what’s been going on though. He was on duty at the park all day yesterday.”

“You checked?”

“Of course.” The young cop’s tone of voice made it sound like it was a routine thing. Good kid.

Lynch continued, “From what I can tell, McElroy is probably your best bet.”

“Probably,” Morris agreed while getting out of bed and heading toward the bathroom. After a quick shower, he would be on his way north.

“Should I get a unit out there to the McElroy place?” Lynch broke into Trent’s thoughts.

“No. I’m already on my way there. Just get some sleep.”

“All right. Sorry I couldn’t find anything else, sir.”

“You did great, Lynch. Thanks.” Trent hit the end button on his phone while he turned on the water.

He showered quickly and threw on some clothes, barely drying off. A few minutes later, he was out the door and in his car, flying down the street toward the interstate.

32

Blue Ridge Mountains

The highway from Cartersville to the Track Rock Gap Archaeological Area is a rolling and twisty stretch of road, bending in and around the Blue Ridge Mountains. During the warmer months, motorcycle enthusiasts frequent the area in search of the fantastic mountain views and curvy asphalt that make for a spectacular ride. Autumn in the area also provides some of the most vibrant colors in the country with trees of red, orange, and yellow spiking the normal green of the forest.

Joe, Allyson, and Sean had arrived in the mountainous region only thirty-five minutes after leaving his cabin, and the sun was shining brightly in the midmorning sky. Joe had got up early and made an enormous pancake breakfast for his guests. Sparing no thought to gluttony, he made eggs, a bowl of fresh fruit, hot maple syrup, and turkey sausage to accompany the flapjacks.

Allyson and Sean had barely taken the time to chew the delicious food. They’d been extremely hungry, not having eaten a meal since the previous day’s breakfast. Sean had slept well on the soft couch, insisting that Allyson take the guest bed. Of course, Joe had said he would sleep on the couch, but Sean couldn’t allow his friend to follow through with that generous offer.

Most of the drive so far had been spent in silence; the three companions were either too tired to talk or still in a post-breakfast coma. After looking out the window at the passing countryside for a while, Allyson broke the quiet. “Thanks again for the food, Joe. It was amazing.”

“You’re more than welcome.” He grinned across the center console at her.

Joe continued guiding the truck through what the locals called, “God’s Country.” With the amazing views, the passengers in the truck could understand why. “I wonder why more people don’t visit this area,” Allyson remarked.

“We do get a fair share of visitors coming through here, but it certainly doesn’t get a lot of the publicity state parks in the West get, or even as much as the ones in the Northeast. Can’t say that I mind that though,” Joe looked over at her in the front passenger seat. “I kinda like it quiet up here. Too many people comin’ and goin’ might take away from the beauty of the place.”

“I guess,” she returned to staring out across the rolling valleys from their high vantage point.

In the backseat of the truck, Sean had been checking his voicemail messages for the last few minutes. Odd, he thought, that Detective Morris had called several times trying to get ahold of him. Morris should have got the hint.

Looking in the rearview mirror, Joe noticed the perplexed look on Sean’s face. “What’s goin’ on, buddy? You okay?”

“Yeah,” Sean slid his phone closed, “just checking my messages.”

“You sure everything’s all right?”

“Everything is fine. A detective from Atlanta PD called a few times. Said he wanted to ask me some more questions.” Sean stared at his phone. “Not sure what’s going on.”

Allyson turned around. “Was it the same guy you talked to the other day?”

“Yeah.”

Joe had a serious look on his face. “I wonder if they heard something from the people that took Tommy.” His country accent seemed to get deeper with the grave tone that accompanied the statement.

“Maybe,” Sean contemplated. “Or he still thinks I had some part in his disappearance.”

“I can’t believe this cop thinks you had something to do with it. Tommy’s your best friend.”

McElroy listened to the conversation patiently. He understood exactly what Sean was saying, and it made sense. The thought that the police were probably looking for them caused him to speed the truck up a little.

“I know,” Sean said with resolve. “But right now, I guess I am the most logical suspect to the cops. That just means we have to figure this thing out so we can find Tommy and whoever has done this.”

Behind the wheel, Joe was increasingly becoming