"Ah, the secret," Chet said. "You needed the template and the knowledge of two things, the keystone and the guide."
"Template, keystone and guide?" Rory repeated.
Chet nodded, "To relocate the cache, the signs were copied onto a slicker in the exact pattern in which they're found in an area. The slicker would then be placed over top of a topographical map, scaled to fit the area where the signs were found. This produced a very specific and accurate map. Now...one of the signs in the area was the keystone. You had to align some feature of the template over the keystone and something on the template would indicate a direction. But still not the exact direction. Or the distance. The cache could still be miles away from the area where the signs are found. And that brings up something my grand-daddy told me about, something most people don't know. One of the signs was the guide. You had to align the template over the keystone and the guide to tell you the specific direction. And one of the signs would then tell you how far in that direction you needed to go–"
"What would the template look like?" Rory asked.
Chet shrugged, "I'm not really sure. I've heard some of the smaller templates consisted of a Confederate soldier's uniform with one of the seams pointing in the direction–"
Donna-Lou's eyebrows shot up, "A seam?" She looked down at the Confederate flag. She held it up to Chet, "Like the seam in this flag?"
Chet gave the piece of slicker material back to Rory and took the Confederate flag. He ran his hand along the seam, "Oh wow!"
Donna-Lou and Rory stood up.
"One of the stars has stitching around it as well," Rory said as he pointed to the flag.
Chet took a closer look. He then looked at Donna-Lou. "Remember that sign in your backyard? It has a five-point star over the head of the rider?"
Donna-Lou nodded.
Chet looked at Rory, "And the one on the whiteboard?"
Rory nodded, "It has a star as well. But the head is looking a different way."
"If this is a template...and you align this star with either star...and you follow the seam..."
"That's the keystone," Rory said in realization.
Chet nodded.
"What about the guide?" Donna-Lou asked.
Chet looked at the Confederate flag for a moment and then shrugged, "I'm not sure what it would be. We would have to have all the signs in the area to figure that out."
Donna-Lou crossed her arms, looking at the items from the trunk, "Maybe that's why there wasn't any dust when we pulled the attic stairs down. There should have been. Maybe Corry came snooping up here and found my grandfather's oilskin in this old trunk. And all of this other stuff...."
"And he went looking for the treasure," Rory added.
"And got closer than somebody liked," Donna-Lou concluded sadly.
"Can we use any of this to figure out where he went looking, Chet?" Rory asked.
Chet shook his head, "Not that I can see. We have one big problem."
"What's that?" Rory asked.
"As I already said, at least a couple of those signs on the whiteboard are not from around here. That I'm positive about."
Rory looked at Donna-Lou, "Was your son ever away from home overnight or...?"
Donna-Lou shook her head no emphatically, "Never. Home every night. Never really strayed far from home. No field trips for the school. Nothing that I can think of. Sorry."
"So...does any of this really help us...or not?" Rory asked finally.
No one had any answers.
Chapter 12
NORA-JANE JACKSON pressed down on the gas, hitting 90 mph. It was a little risky on these older back roads, but she was determined and excited. She glanced over the two photocopies on the passenger seat. She had no idea if this far-fetched lead from Chet Calhoun would pan out. But at least something was being done for all those missing children. Months and months of pressing the authorities had done little good. Experience told her to keep pressing until something gave.
A low mechanical growl took her out of her thoughts. Nora-Jane looked in her rearview mirror. She could see a vehicle far behind her, too far to tell her who it was. Then again, she had been living elsewhere for years and couldn't identify the locals by their vehicles like she could before she went away.
Her thoughts went back to the photocopies on the passenger seat. Everybody here knew about the treasure legends, but she wondered if people would be so low as to harm children over protecting caches. Then again, in the years since she'd been away, she covered a lot of people who were willing to do a lot of cruel things for money or power. But that was the big city, not small-town Golden. She slowed down, anticipating the three twisting turns coming up. She remembered nearly losing it through this stretch when she was first learning to drive. Taking the twists on her bicycle had been a lot easier, she remembered with amusement. She dropped her speed a little more just to make sure, took the turns with caution and then entered the straightaway. This was always a pretty part of the drive. Large mature trees lined the two-lane road with a wall of lush green. She pressed down on the gas again.
A few minutes later Nora-Jane heard the mechanical growl behind her again. Only it sounded louder. She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the vehicle coming around the last corner. The idiot behind her must have kept his speed up and had been lucky not to lose it around those sharp bends. Nora-Jane could now see it was a red, heavy-duty pickup truck with an extended cab and an extended rear cargo area. She learned those terms from her cousin Granville, who had a similar blue truck with four-wheel drive. And like him, this one had those big tires –
The red, heavy-duty pickup truck growled louder once it hit the straightaway.
Nora-Jane could see it was coming fast. Idiot!
The pickup closed the distance to Nora-Jane's Lincoln rapidly.
The newswoman felt herself tighten her butt cheeks as the pickup came up so fast she thought he was going to ram her.
The growl was loud as the pickup stayed mere inches away from the Lincoln's bumper.
Nora-Jane couldn't see the driver through the tinted windows. Who was this idiot? She contemplated slowing down and letting the driver pass. But he was so close! She wondered if he wouldn't react in time. She pressed down on the accelerator.
The big pickup began to fall back, the sound of the engine dropping away.
Nora-Jane felt some relief. She consciously tried to relax her body.
Suddenly, the 310 hp engine of the red pickup truck growled harshly again.
Looking in the rearview mirror, Nora-Jane's body tightened up as the heavy-duty pickup truck shot forward like a cannonball to within inches of her bumper again. She swore and yelled, "Why don't you just pass, you idiot!"
But the pickup truck just stayed glued to the Lincoln's bumper.
Nora-Jane squinted, trying to figure out who the driver was. And what his game was. She couldn't see anything through those stupid tinted windows. Nora-Jane pressed down more on the accelerator, opening a gap again.
The red pickup reacted by accelerating and closing the gap again.
Nora-Jane gave her car more gas.
The pickup accelerated just enough to stay on the Lincoln's tail.
"What are you doing, you idiot," she yelled again. She gripped the steering wheel tighter and gave it more gas.
The heavy-duty pickup upped its speed to close in again. Then it began to weave back and forth in the lane, mere inches from the Lincoln's bumper.
That angered Nora-Jane. Playing a stupid game like this at high speeds was reckless and dangerous. She didn't know what to do. She was afraid to slow down. If he wasn't expecting it...bang. If he accelerated while she slowed...bang. A collision at this speed wouldn't be pretty.
A moment later, the pursuing vehicle swung left into the opposite lane and the engine growled as it accelerated. The nose of the bonnet moved up to the back door of the Lincoln.
Nora-Jane shot a look down into the side mirror.
Was he finally passing?
The pickup stayed in the opposite lane, matching the big Lincoln's speed.
The scared woman glanced ahead, afraid even a glance might set off some burst of anger. Usually there weren't many vehicles on this road, but if one came along now–
Suddenly slowing, the pickup dropped back and then moved back in behind the Lincoln.
What in the world? What was he doing? Nora-Jane wondered.
The heavy-duty pickup began to weave back and forth again, inches from the Lincoln's bumper.
Nora-Jane Jackson pounded the steering wheel in frustration. "What are you doing!" she yelled. She wished she could just pull over and give the jackass a talking-to. This must be what road rage feels like, she thought.
The red pickup stopped weaving. It slowed and moved back from the Lincoln's bumper.
Nora-Jane felt relief.
But she also felt sick at her stomach.
Stupid games!
The truck's engine growled and the vehicle accelerated again, coming back hard at the Lincoln's bumper.
Nora-Jane gripped the steering wheel in anticipation of getting rammed!
The huge pickup loomed large in her rearview mirror
Nora-Jane screamed. He was going to hit her this time, she was sure of it.
The pickup slowed down and backed away.
Nora-Jane Jackson almost threw up.
Vomit burned her throat.
The pickup accelerated again.
Nora-Jane tensed, anticipating the collision again, but it never came.
The pickup slowed down again and backed away. He did it several more times, coming up close at high speed and then backing away quickly.
Nora-Jane yelled as she hammered at the steering wheel again, "Son of a bitch. Why are you doing this?" She floored the gas. The big Lincoln accelerated away from the heavy-duty pickup. She glanced in the rearview mirror. She was getting away. Nora-Jane kept the gas pedal to the floor. She tried to remember how far to the next curve. She heard a roar and glanced into the rearview mirror.
The huge pickup accelerated and chased the Lincoln.
Nora-Jane pushed her foot down on the gas pedal, trying to get more speed. She felt like the gazelle trying to escape the lion in those nature shows her mother used to watch.
The red pickup roared, coming closer...closer....
Nora-Jane glanced back and forth from the road ahead to the rearview mirror.
The pickup closed the distance and hung on to the Lincoln's bumper again.
Nora-Jane willed her car to go faster, bile rising in her throat.
The pickup swung left into the opposite lane again, the engine growling as it continued accelerating.
Looking across, Nora-Jane could see the pickup truck was right there now, right beside her. It was taller than the Lincoln, she could only see the lower half of the passenger side window. But she still couldn't see anything through the tinted glass.
The pickup truck moved a foot away and she could see more of the passenger side window. It was like a big black evil eye staring at her. Then it suddenly swung sharply left, away from the Lincoln and almost off the road.
Nora-Jane looked ahead quickly, thinking a vehicle was approaching ahead of them. But the road ahead was empty. She looked back at the pickup truck, wondering....
The big red pickup growled and swung back towards her.
Nora-Jane Jackson let out a surprised scream as her Lincoln was bashed from the side. Her right wheel hit the gravel shoulder on the right and she nearly lost control. Holding the steering wheel tight with a death-grip, she fought to get the big luxury car back onto the pavement.
The pickup truck swung to the left in its lane again, then aggressively moved back to pound the side of the big Lincoln again.
Nora-Jane felt the jolt and the big Lincoln luxury sedan swayed and she fought to maintain control as her right wheels fought with the gravel shoulder.
The pickup truck moved left again.
Nora-Jane got the wheels back on the pavement.
The pickup truck came back at the Lincoln even harder this time.
Nora-Jane actually felt her driver-side door buckle inward from the blow.
The red pickup move left and came back again, crunching in the Lincoln's left front fender.
The 4,200 lbs of the Lincoln was a poor match for the 6,000 lbs of the heavy-duty pickup truck. Nora-Jane's right wheels left the pavement again, hitting the gravel. She fought to maintain control as the Lincoln shuddered half on the pavement and half on the shoulder. The trees on the right were just a blur.
The pickup moved to the right, not hitting her again but keeping pace.
"You're not running me off the road," she yelled.
The trees were right there, certain death at this speed.
The red, heavy-duty pickup truck stayed put, never wavering in its path.
Nora-Jane struggled to maintain control as the right wheels continued to fight with the soft gravel of the shoulder.
The pickup truck kept pace, a huge menacing hunk of red metal.
Nora-Jane Jackson felt hot tears stream down her cheeks as she realized what was about to happen. He wasn't trying to run her off the road. Her brain sent the signal but her foot only made it halfway from the gas to the brake. The Lincoln MKS stopped dead as it hit the steel framework of the Knox River bridge.
Chapter 13
IT WAS EARLY MORNING, an hour after sunup, and Rory sat in a window seat in Martha's diner, eating a breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast and great coffee. Donna-Lou Haney had insisted he and Chet meet her for breakfast. He hadn't expected her to be serving and paying. But she was extremely grateful at having someone looking for her son beyond the cursory search she felt the FBI had done. Chet hadn't shown up yet, which Donna-Lou thought was unusual. Chet was a regular and loved this place.
Jesse had said she was surprised he hadn't shown up either. She kept one eye on Rory, making sure his coffee was topped up, and one eye on the door.
The diner had been filled to the brim with locals and tourists when Rory first came in. But right now it was thinning out as people headed off to work or wherever they were going for the day.
As he watched people leaving through the large window overlooking the parking lot, Rory finally saw Chet Calhoun's battered old Chevrolet Impala pull off the road. The Chevy took a spot a few cars down from the diner.
Chet got out and headed for the door of the diner.
Rory noted the walking with his head down like he was thinking heavily about something. And he looked somber.
Chet gave a subdued greeting to a couple of locals who passed him on their way out.
Rory watched him weave his way through the tables, head still down as he headed towards Rory. Something wasn't right; he could see it in Chet's walk. And he never once hitched up his pants.
Chet sat down heavily across from Rory without saying a word. His head was still down.
Jesse hustled over with her pot of coffee, "Well, ain't you just an old sleepyhead."
Donna-Lou Haney moved in beside Jesse, "We was getting worried about you, Chet. It isn't like you –"
Chet Calhoun slowly raised his head. His eyes were brimming with tears.
Jesse put her hand on his arm, "What's wrong, Chet? What is it?"
"Nora-Jane Jackson–" the words caught in his throat.
"What about her?" Donna-Lou asked.
Chet cleared his throat, trying to say something.
"You're worrying me, Chet," said Jesse with concern. "What's happened?"
"She died last night," said Chet simply. He let out a sob.
Rory sat up straighter, "What? What happened?"
Chet cleared his throat again, "Her...her car hit the Knox River bridge."
Jesse to
ok a step back like she had been hit with a brick, "What!" "How can that be? She's drove that road for years, knew it like the back of her hand. That's impossible."
Chet nodded his head as tears spilled out, "I know...I know. I heard it on the police scanner this morning, just after I got up. I went out there to see it for myself. They've taken her body up to the morgue in Greenville. Teddy Atkinson brought her car in on the flatbed and put it in the scrap yard behind his auto body shop. She went off the road and hit dead center into the steelwork...."
Jesse broke down in tears.
Donna-Lou Haney broke down in tears as well, putting her arms around Jesse.
The locals still sitting in the diner heard the news and came over, talking and consoling one another.
Rory stayed quiet as he set his fork down and sat back, watching the grief etched on the faces of everyone around him.
Chet Calhoun stayed sitting on the other side of the table, his body sagging under the weight of his own grief. His voice was hoarse and low as he looked out the window, "I never thought I'd be making a radio announcement like this for Nora-Jane Jackson. First those kids, now this...."
Rory sat there. Not much he could say at a time like this. But as he watched the grief-stricken people around him, his radar was working overtime.
Chet Calhoun looked up at Rory, wiped a tear from his eye and made a gesture with his head toward the front door of the restaurant.
Rory watched Chet slide across on his seat on the other side of the table and stand up.
Jesse embraced Chet and they said a few words to each other.
Rory slid out and got up. He rested a hand on Donna-Lou's shoulder for a moment. He received a slight nod from her as she embraced one of her friends. Rory looked at Chet and Jesse, then headed for the front door. He stepped outside into the sunlight, leaving the darkness of death temporarily behind him. He put his hands into his pockets and waited, thinking about the woman he had only just met. The woman headed for a cold slab in the Greenville morgue.
Chet Calhoun stepped out of the restaurant, wiping tears from his red eyes, "Sorry...but I just didn't want to stay in there a moment longer. I never was much good with all that grief stuff since my daddy and my granddaddy's wake." He looked back into the restaurant and didn't say anything for a moment. Then he slid his hands into his pants pockets and looked straight at Rory, "Did I just get her killed?"
Knights of the Golden Circle Page 7