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

“My name is Marla Tinsley. I work at the public library in Dahlonega.”

Trent looked over at Will with an eyebrow raised, wondering what this call was about.

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded politely. “What can I do for you?”

“Well,” she began, “About an hour ago, an odd little group of people came into the library here wantin’ to use the computer. We are a public library, ya know. So, I pointed them to the computers that we have available so they could get what they needed. I figured they wanted to use the Internet. Hardly ever get people in here doin’ research with books anymore.”

Her nostalgic demeanor was wasting his time.

Morris tried to be patient with her, not quite sure where this was going. “Ma’am, you said there was a group that came into your library? What did they look like?”

The woman sounded irritated at his disinterest in the walk down memory lane. “Well, there was a girl and two men. She was kinda tall with brown, curly hair. One of the guys was probably in his late twenties or early thirties. The other man seemed to probably be in his forties. Hard to say about him.”

Trent’s interest was piqued. There was no way his luck could be this good. “What did these people want?”

“Said all they needed was to use one of the computers. I told them to go ahead. Seemed harmless enough. But something seemed mighty suspicious about ‘em.”

“What did they need a computer for?”

“Didn’t tell me. But they did have a digital camera that they hooked up to it. Overheard them talking about stones and ancient Indian symbols.”

He’d been staring at the ground, concentrating on listening to what the woman was saying, but when he heard this last little fragment, his eyes shot up to his partner. “We got something,” he mouthed silently.

“Can you tell me what they found?” He went back to the lady on the phone.

A moment of quiet came over the line before she answered. “Yeah, the older guy started looking at this Indian painting that we have hanging up. He was gazin’ at it for a couple of minutes before something musta struck him about it. They talked for a few minutes about what it meant. The picture must be real old, been here as long as I have. Anyway, something about that painting made them real excited. They went back over to the computer for another minute or two and then started talking about the old Cherokee capital.”

“Cherokee capital?”

“Yeah. They said something about going to a place called Red Clay. Sounded like that anyway. Never heard of it myself. As soon as they walked out the door, though, I called Sheriff Jenkins’s office. For all I know, they coulda just been travelers passin’ through, but like I said, something struck me funny about ‘em. A few minutes later, the sheriff put me through to Atlanta, and that’s how I came to talking with you.”

Morris had been busily writing down notations of what the old lady had been saying. He had to really focus on what she was saying in her thick Southern drawl to make sure that he got all the details right. “Was the man in his thirties tall, dirty-blond hair, blue or gray eyes?”

“Yep. That was him.” There was no hesitation from the other end. “They in some sort of trouble?”

“We just want to ask them some questions, ma’am,” he said politely without giving away what was going on. The last thing he wanted was a rumor going around Dahlonega that there were fugitives on the loose. If that news spread too quickly, they might never find Wyatt.

“Did you happen to catch any names of the people in this group?” He was merely looking for absolute confirmation at this point.

“Yeah. They were calling the older one Mac. I think the younger guy’s name was Sean.” She thought for a moment. “Didn’t catch the girl’s name.”

“Thank you, ma’am, for the information. You’ve been a big help.”

He hung up the phone in the middle of her saying, “You’re welcome.”

Sliding the phone back into his pocket, he said, “We’re going to a place called Red Clay.”

“What’s that?” Will was lost as to what had just transpired.

“We got a witness up in Dahlonega that says Wyatt and McElroy are headed there. I don’t know where it is, but apparently it used to be the site of the old capital of the Cherokee Nation.”

“How far is it?” Will asked, again opening his door.

“Don’t know. But we’re about to find out.”

Trent hopped into the Charger and searched for Red Clay on the car’s navigational system. A minute later, he said, “We can be there in an hour.”

The car tore out of the parking lot, spinning bullet casings in its wake.

45

Blue Ridge Mountains

“Very good. You may hang up the phone now.”

Marla Tinsley stood behind her desk, staring at the two strangers, a man and a woman.The librarian hung up the receiver carefully. “What is this all about?” she asked, terrified. “We don’t have any money in here. What is it you want?”

“Nothing.” The brunette’s cold reply was punctuated by a puff of smoke from the barrel of a silencer.

Fear turned to shock on Tinsley’s face as two more quiet clicks sent bullets ripping into her chest. Her legs buckled beneath her, and she collapsed to the ground.

The woman with the gun stepped quickly around behind the counter and stood over the victim. Tinsley’s shirt had quickly become soaked in red as flowers of blood bloomed from the black holes. A thin matching line streaked from her lips.

With troubling ease,