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

He could make out that the wreckage was a late model Mercedes-Benz. The news anchor was busily describing the rescue team’s efforts but continued emphasizing that officials believed there were no survivors. No identification had been made on the vehicle or its passengers, and the authorities were expecting the worst.

Will had stopped gazing out the window at the passersby and joined his partner in watching the news story. Curious, he grabbed the waitress’s attention as she was walking by. “Excuse me. Do you know where that is?” He pointed at the screen.

Her head twisted around, and she noticed what everyone in the diner seemed to be gazing at. “Oh, yeah. That’s up near Brasstown, ‘bout forty minutes from here. Looks like somebody went through the guardrail up there. They been sayin’ fer years they was gonna put a stronger railin’ on that road. I imagine they’ll do it now. Too bad that someone’s gotta die before things get changed in this country. I suppose that’s how the government works though.” Her deep Southern accent was typical for the region. She stared at the television. “Such a shame.”

“You say that place is forty minutes from here?” Will seemed curiously interested in the accident.

“Yeah,” she answered, turning her attention back to the table. “If you get on the highway out there past the light, it will take you straight there. Don’t believe I’d want to go up there right about now though. You can see from the pictures that they’s turnin' people around.”

“Is there anything of interest up in that area? Historical sites, campgrounds…?” His voice trailed off. Trent wasn’t sure what his partner was up to.

“No…well, I mean, yeah.” Her face displayed consternation. “There’s a ton of campin’ up there, but nothing super interestin’. It’s pretty and all. I like driving through there this time of year just to look at the leaves changin’ colors.”

A gruff voice interrupted from behind the counter with the clearing of a throat. The cook had, apparently, been listening to the conversation. “There is one interesting place up near that area.”

Will and Trent both tilted their heads toward the man. “And what would that be?” the younger cop urged.

The older man, probably in his late fifties, was busily scraping the grill clean. His brow eked out a little sweat underneath his paper hat. The belly that stretched out his white T-shirt seemed to suggest he’d not only been working, but also eating, in the diner for a long time. “Up about twenty minutes past that area right there is a spot called Track Rock. It’s down below Brasstown Bald.” Even though the cook had started talking, he didn’t let that get in the way of his work as he tossed a couple of sausages and hash browns onto the hot surface. His hands busily scattered and mashed the potato strips and flipped the patties.

“Track Rock?” Trent was interested.

“Yeah,” the cook continued, glad to have someone new to talk to. “It’s fairly well known around these parts. There are four large boulders there at the trailhead leading to the top of the mountain. The big rocks have some kind of ancient writing on them that nobody’s ever been able to figure out.”

“You mean, no one has been able to translate it?”

“Exactly. I reckon about a half-dozen or so history experts and scientists come up here throughout the year to try their luck at interpreting the drawings, but no one’s ever been able to do it.”

“What kinds of drawings are on these boulders?” Will questioned.

The cook stopped shuffling the sizzling food for a minute and angled his head as if trying to visualize something he’d seen a long time ago. “It’s been a while since I been there. But I can tell you this, ain’t nothing like it anywhere I ever been. All kinds of weird lines and symbols and animal tracks painted all over four big soapstone rocks.”

Trent and Will gave each other an understanding glance. Will spoke. “It’s worth a shot. We got nothing else.”

Considering the option for a minute, Trent finally nodded in agreement. “What have we got to lose? If this guy is looking for something, where else around here would he have gone? It’s at least worth us checking out the wreckage. Maybe he got in a hurry and went off the cliff.”

Will snorted. “I doubt we’d be that lucky.”

They both dropped a few dollar bills on the table next to their empty plates and stood to leave. “We appreciate the information,” Trent offered to both of the diner workers, who simply nodded their acknowledgment as the two detectives hurried out.

38

Blue Ridge Mountains

Allyson stood quietly nearby with hands in her jacket pockets, watching the two men. Sean and Joe had been working on changing the flat tire. The work was slow, though, due to the flimsy jack that they were using to lift the heavy vehicle off the ground. Unfortunately, it was all they had.

Swapping out the old tire for the skinny doughnut had taken longer than it should have. Now, Mac was lowering the back end of the truck down, nearly finished with the chore.

His assistance unneeded at this point, Sean had walked back over to the parking area where the shootout had occurred earlier.

“Where are you going?” Allyson asked. Her tone was direct, emphasized by her hands on her hips.

“The only way that we are going to get another chance at saving Tommy is to press on and figure this whole thing out.” His jaw clenched mirroring the resolve in his voice. “Maybe we can figure out the symbols on these rocks and catch up to him.”

“Do you think Tommy solved