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

careful thought, he said, “If Wyatt was here and he was involved, that means somebody was chasing him. But who?”

Will only responded with an ignorant shrug.

Trent scratched the back of his head, trying to understand what was going on. Things had just got a lot more complicated. What if Wyatt was innocent after all? The dead guys at the bottom of the canyon wouldn’t be much help. He doubted the weapons that were found near the wreck would give them any answers either.

Suddenly, one of the radios on a nearby police officer came alive with a voice from dispatch.

“What’s going on?” Trent asked the officer who was about to respond to the call.

The man did not seem bothered. “Got a call from a ranger station up near Track Rock. Someone said they heard gunshots a minute ago.” He spoke into the radio, letting the dispatcher know a unit would be on its way immediately.

Morris gave Will a quick nod that told the younger detective it was time to leave.

“Mind if we tag along?” he asked, following the cop toward a set of parked police units.

“Sure. Never a bad thing to have some backup.” The man opened the door to his squad car and added, “Shouldn’t take us too long to get there, fifteen, twenty minutes tops.”

“Lead the way,” Trent replied.

41

Blue Ridge Mountains

Sean felt horrible about Joe’s truck. The vehicle had basically been totaled from the two firefights it had endured thus far. How the thing had kept running boggled his mind.

“Aw, heck Sean, I appreciate it. But I ain’t worried about it,” Joe had replied to Sean’s apologies with a huge grin and a pass of the hand. “Now my wife on the other hand…”

They both laughed, imagining the scene when they returned to the cabin with a truck full of bullet holes. The look on Joe’s wife’s face would surely be one for the record books, followed by a fairly certain divorce filing, or at least the threat of one.

No, Sean would definitely see to it that the truck was replaced with one that looked exactly the same. The less Mrs. McElroy knew, the better.

The group got out of the truck and made their way up the short set of stairs into the old looking brick building. It seemed the library was in keeping with the town aesthetic. In the small Main Street district, most of the other buildings were very similar.

There had been a time, long ago, when the area was booming. During the Georgia Gold Rush in the early 1800s, people had moved there seeking fortune. But the vein of gold that had been found locally did not last long. A lasting tribute to the city’s past was the gold dome on top of the town hall, plated with metal from a mine nearby.

After passing through the security sensors, the room opened up into a much bigger space than seemed possible from the outside. To their right was a spiral staircase that led up to a second floor where it appeared many of the books were located.

On the ground floor, there was an open area in front of the librarian’s long checkout counter. Several computers were set up at one end. Through large, wooden doors behind the main counter was a large room with at least ten rows of reference books. Every ten feet there was a large window that looked into the reference room, perhaps to monitor patrons while they worked.

Beyond the staircase, a section for periodicals contained dozens of magazines and newspapers. A few empty couches that looked as old as the building itself sat unused in front of the shelves.

A skinny librarian, probably in her late fifties, was standing behind a computer and asked, “May I help you with something?” Her face seemed pleasant and honest behind the wire-rimmed glasses.

“Yes, ma’am,” Joe replied. “We just need to use one of your computers for a minute or two.”

She continued smiling. “Help yourself. Right over there,” she replied, pointing at the machines before going back to pecking at the keys on her own computer. The three visitors quickly stepped over to the computer nearest the door. Its screen was already on, as were the other six computers stationed in the little area.

Sean removed the digital camera from its black hard case and laid it next to the monitor. It was then that he realized they actually would need something from the lady behind the large counter.

“Ma’am,” he interrupted her politely. “You wouldn’t happen to have a camera USB cable would you?” Her eyes raised just above the glasses that were situated on the tip of her nose. The woman was still smiling as if her face were frozen permanently that way.

“Of course.” She clicked her mouse a few times, evidently saving what had been on the screen. Turning from the computer, she languidly moved over a few feet to her right. Seconds later, she had removed the needed cord from a drawer in the long counter. “Here you go,” she said, stepping toward the visitors. “Just be sure you give it back to me.”

Not like they would be able to escape the building without her noticing. She was the only other person there.

“Thanks,” Allyson offered to her. They certainly had to look awkward, the three of them coming to the library in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday. Even though the librarian was still smiling, she had to be thinking something wasn’t quite right about the crew that had just walked through her door.

“You’re welcome,” the kind voice replied. She went back to her computer, minding her own business. They must not have seemed like too much of a threat. A minute later, Sean had connected the camera to