The Secret of the Stones

by Ernest Dempsey

  “What is it?” Ulrich prodded.

  “Give me a second,” he answered, maneuvering a few more pictures around. Then, “Wow. Now, that’s interesting.”

  “What?” Ulrich was impatient. “What do you see?”

  “I really don’t understand how so many people could have missed this before, including myself. I suppose it was because of the randomness of the patterns.”

  “Missed what?” The blond man was beginning to remind Sean of a five-year-old.

  “Okay,” Tommy began, “the Cherokee nation was built on a political system similar to what we have today. Their leaders became the heads of the tribe and nation a little differently, but they ran their tribal council much like a parliament or a congressional meeting.”

  The blank looks from his audience told Schultz they were not sure what this had to do with anything, so he sped up his explanation. “However, there were some major differences. In ancient Egypt, and several other cultures, even today, the people of the country were/are divided up into a caste system. Groups like rich and poor, priests and governors, royalty and peasants.” Their eyes were still narrowly watching while he talked. “Essentially, the Cherokee in this area adopted the same system, most likely because they were from Egypt themselves!”

  “So, what does any of this have to do with what we are looking for?”

  “Everything!” Tommy was brimming with excitement. “The animal, bird, and human tracks on these rocks represent the different casts in all the clans of the Cherokee Nation. It’s pretty friggin’ cool.”

  “I still don’t understand what all of this means.” Ulrich was growing more impatient as the minutes went on.

  Sighing, Tommy pointed at the screen again. “It’s so simple. Look here. The key to the whole thing is finding the middle first, which is the opposite of the normal way to put a puzzle together.”

  “So what is the middle?” Jens asked.

  “It’s right here.” The image his finger touched was a drawing that looked like a double circle or a circle within a circle.

  “What is that? Why is it so important?”

  “Because there aren’t really any other glyphs that look like it, for starters. But the other thing you notice when I start arranging the photos around this double circle is that a pattern begins developing. See?” As Tommy placed the different pictures in the order he believed they were meant to be in, Ulrich started noticing the trend. The drawings of the animals and human footprints began spiraling outward, alternating every three spots.

  After all the photographs had been arranged on the screen, the entire scene made sense. The double circle was in the center of everything, and the subsequent forms followed after, working their way farther and farther from the middle. He tapped the center of the spiral with his fingernail. “This is where we have to go next.”

  “And where, exactly, is that?” Ulrich was still not convinced.

  Tommy responded with a question of his own, “When you look at any map, country, state, etc., what is the thing that stands out the most?”

  The two foreigners looked at each other dubiously.

  “Ugh. Do I have to do all the work here?” Sighing again, Schultz continued.

  “I know when I look at a map the thing that always jumps out at me is the capital of a country or state. Right?”

  A nod told him that they were following along so far.

  “Right. Usually, it’s marked with a star, or sometimes it even looks like a dot within a circle, similar to what you are seeing right here.”

  “So, you are saying that this symbol represents the capital of what? Georgia?” At least Jens was trying.

  “Not the capital of Georgia,” Tommy corrected. “The state of Georgia wasn’t formed until the late 1700s. These petroglyphs are pre-Columbian. I’d say even further back, more like pre-Babylonian.”

  “Egyptian?”

  “Sort of. Probably several decades removed from the original settlers, but yes, a crude form of it. That would explain why no one has been able to determine what it all means.”

  He went on, “At any rate, the place I was talking about is called Red Clay. It was the capital of the Cherokee Nation until the council was dissolved completely in 1838.”

  Ulrich was interested. “Where is this Red Clay you speak of?”

  “It’s close to Chattanooga, Tennessee.”

  “What are we looking for when we get there?”

  Tommy smiled. “Probably for something with very similar markings on it. I’d say there must be something at the council grounds that will point us to the next marker. It could be another stone, a piece of pottery, I really don’t know for sure.”

  “And how will you know what this next marker is saying?” Ulrich was still doubtful.

  “I think I can manage,” Tommy replied with a sarcastic grin. “We’ve made it this far.”

  * * *

  Two figures stood by the damaged guardrail, staring into the gorge at the wreckage below. One of them, a tall, brunette woman in a black, ankle-length jacket, was holding a cell phone to her ear. Her shoulder-length cocoa hair was pulled back into a pony tail.

  “Yes, sir. I’m certain they are dead,” she spoke with no emotion. “No. They left. We know where they are going though.”

  She paused a moment, listening to the voice on the other line, then nodded. A moment later, she had finished her conversation with an “Understood” then closed the phone and slid it into a jacket pocket.

  “What did he say?” The man accompanying her was dressed similarly, but his appearance was strong, like a rugby player, and he had short brown hair. He had been examining the debris of the crash site with binoculars.

  “He wants to move ahead.”

  “What about them?” The man turned his head back down toward the destroyed car at the foot of the mountain.

  “Leave them.” She regarded them with a flick of the head. “Only a matter of time until someone sees this mess and calls the authorities. I’d rather not be around for that.”

  He nodded in agreement, and the two slipped back into their black sedan and sped up the mountain road.

  34

  Blue Ridge Mountains

  The red Silverado looked like it had been on a mission through Afghanistan. Bullet holes were scattered across the back window, and a few more were dotting the windshield.

  Sean looked at Allyson with a quizzical face from the backseat. “So when were you planning on telling us about this little gem of information?”

  She returned the glare with a smile. “I already told you, I was just following orders. That information was on a need-to-know basis.”

  “Heck,” Joe cut in, “it might be handy to have another gun around. Seems like she’s pretty good with it.”

  Allyson raised an eyebrow and grinned at the driver. “Thank you, Mac.”

  “It’s not that I mind you helping out,” Sean explained. “I just don’t like surprises. Better to know what I’m dealing with. You know?”

  “I understand,” she replied. “Don’t worry. No more surprises.”

  “You sure about that?” He looked dubious.

  “Pretty sure.” She squinted her eyes at him.

  Sean averted his eyes to the passing countryside for a moment before returning to the conversation. “How long have you been with Axis?”

  She turned around and faced forward while she answered him. “I’ve only been working there for two years. They recruited me just before I finished college. It sounded like a good opportunity. It’s fast-paced with a lot of travel and student loan forgiveness.”

  “One that can become very dangerous,” he added. “It’s a gig that can get you killed.”

  “I’m aware of the dangers, Sean. But I do appreciate the concern,” Allyson twisted her head back around to face him. “I’m a big girl, and a well-trained girl at that. I can take care of myself.”

  His face blushed a bright red. “I’m sure you can. But it’s a fine line that you walk all
the time when you’re an agent.”

  “Is that why you quit?”

  “Mostly,” he replied. “I got tired of looking over my shoulder, wondering if there was a barrel aimed at me from the shadows. Sleeping was almost impossible. Every little noise made me pop up with my gun drawn.” He paused. “I don’t miss those days.”

  “I never have trouble sleeping,” she said defiantly.

  Sean let out a laugh and turned his head back to the window. “Give it time; you will.”

  The next few minutes passed in silence. Trees blurred by as Joe guided the truck through the twisting highway. “It’s just up ahead,” he finally broke the silence. “I doubt anyone is here at this time of day except for the ranger.”

  As the truck rounded a curve going up a slight hill, a black Hummer H2 came into view. A stumpy-looking man in a black trench coat and a flattop haircut was standing in front of the grill.

  With quiet calm Sean said, “Mac, they’re here.”

  “What?” Joe’s demeanor was not as composed.

  “Take it easy. Just drive by, and don’t do anything brash. Let’s just keep going, like we’re going to the visitor center.”

  Understanding the situation, Joe continued on past the black SUV. The man standing in front of it had noticed them, but once they had passed, he paid them no mind.

  After the pickup rounded the next curve, Sean again spoke evenly, “Tommy’s back there with two other guys. They’re looking at the stones. Looks like they brought some backup.”

  “What should we do?” Allyson and Joe thought out loud, simultaneously.

  “Turn around up there,” Sean directed, pointing at a gravel turnoff next to the road.

  Joe did what his friend asked and pulled the truck off to the side of the little street.

  “Okay,” he continued as he loaded another clip into his Ruger. We’re only going to have one chance at this. Mac, here’s what I want you to do…”

  35

  Cartersville

  The police-issue Charger came to a crunching halt on the gravel driveway in front of the log cabin. Trent looked through the windshield, trying to detect if there was any movement inside the dwelling. His partner, Will, had met up with him at the exit off of Interstate 75 and followed the road from there into the national forest a few miles from Cartersville. He pulled his unmarked vehicle into a spot next to Trent.

  Will rolled his window down and asked, “You think anyone’s here?”

  A silver Nissan Maxima sat off to the side of the house near a carport. Under the outdoor roofing, a white Subaru wagon was parked next to the wooden dwelling. Trent motioned over to the two empty cars. “Not sure, but we’re going to find out,” he said.

  After taking a brief look around the back of the house, the two detectives marched up the front steps and knocked on the door. From inside, a dog howled the long, bellowing barks of a hound. A few moments later, they heard a woman’s voice call from inside, “Just a minute.”

  They adjusted their stance and tried to look professional, removing their wallets to show their identification. There was a sound of a deadbolt turning before the door opened to a short, pretty woman who looked to be in her late forties. Her hair was brown with a few streaks of gray. Her clothes were simple: blue jeans and a snug-fitting T-shirt that accentuated her slim physique. She smiled at the two strangers and held back the hound that seemed to be a little on edge with the unexpected visitors. “What can I do for ya, fellas?”

  Trent spoke first, “Hello. I’m Detective Trent Morris, and this is Detective Will Anderson. We are with the Atlanta Police Department.” The two men raised their badges simultaneously while he talked. “We were wondering if you could help us.”

  Her face curled in confusion. “What’s this about? You boys are a little far from home for Atlanta police, don’t you think?” She spoke with a thick Southern accent.

  Will answered politely, “We just need to ask you a few questions, ma’am.” He put his wallet back into a jacket pocket. “Your husband home, too?”

  She eyed them suspiciously. “He’s out of town today. Should be back later tonight though.”

  Morris continued, “You happen to know where he went?”

  “Didn’t say. Just told me that he would be back tonight.

  “Does he go off like this a lot?” Trent scoped out the surroundings while he talked.

  “Just depends. He might have gone huntin’. I assumed that was what he was doin’. I stayed at my mother’s last night about thirty minutes from here. His truck was gone when I got back this mornin’.” She waved a hand carelessly toward the carport. “Ya’ll can come on in and have a seat if you want to. I was just about to have a cup of coffee.”

  They nodded and followed her into the living room of the enormous cabin. She directed them to some deep couches in the center of the room while closing the door behind them. The rustic feel of the interior meshed well with the natural surroundings of the woods. “Would either of ya’ll like a cup of coffee?”

  Morris raised his hand and shook his head politely, “No, thank you, ma’am. I appreciate it though.”

  Will shook his head, “I’m good.”

  “So your husband does a lot of hunting, Mrs. McElroy?” Trent asked as she sat down in a soft-looking, dark brown seat.

  “Depends on the time of year, but he doesn’t really go very often,” she took a sip of her coffee. “But you boys didn’t drive all the way up here from Atlanta just to talk about my husband’s hobbies. Why don’t you just cut through the bull and ask me what you came here to ask me?”

  Trent smiled at her frankness. “Fair enough, Mrs. McElroy. Are you familiar with this man?” He produced a picture from his jacket pocket and handed it to her across the coffee table.

  She smiled, “Of course. That’s Sean Wyatt. He’s been a friend of ours for years. Joe’s known him since they were boys. Sean’s about eight years younger, but they have always had a good friendship. I suppose it’s on account of their families bein’ so close for so long.”

  “Their families?” Will interrupted.

  “Yep. They’ve known each other for decades, going all the way back to their grandparents. Joe’s parents got married at an early age and started having kids shortly thereafter. Sean’s parents wanted to travel the world and see everything before they had children, so that’s why the boys are so many years apart.”

  “Have you seen Sean recently?” Will continued.

  “Nope. Can’t say that I have. He was up here a month or so ago, but he’s always so busy with work and all.” There was a pause before she said, “Now that you mention it, I guess it’s time he get his butt up here to say hello.”

  Trent pressed her, “So, he hasn’t called or anything in the last couple of days?”

  She looked at him like he had just asked a stupid question. “I just told you I ain’t heard from him for nearly a month.” Looking from Trent to Will and back she asked, “What does the Atlanta PD want to do with Sean Wyatt anyway? He ain’t never done anything wrong. One of the nicest guys I’ve ever met.”

  The two cops looked at each other as if to ask permission to tell her. Trent spoke up, “Mrs. McElroy, we have reason to believe that Sean Wyatt was involved in the murder of Frank Borringer two days ago. There is also suspicion that he murdered two police officers at the residence of Thomas Schultz yesterday.”

  If they had slapped her across the face with an iron skillet she could not have been more surprised. “Are you two out of your minds?” Her voice raised. “The idea that Sean Wyatt could be implicated in a murder, much less three of ‘em, is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. What would make you think something crazy like that?”

  “Wyatt is our only suspect at this time. We have reason to believe that he is somehow involved. That’s all I can tell you at this time.” Trent tried not to be insulted.

  The stare she gave him could have melted steel. “You have reason?”

  These guys were just doing their
jobs, but the idea that Sean had murdered someone was overwhelming. After taking a second to calm herself down, she spoke again, “Gentlemen, I am sure that you have got something that is making you think that Sean was the one who did these things. But I can tell you right now, you’re wrong about it. Now, I haven’t seen or heard from him in nearly a month, like I told you. But I will say this, if my husband is helping him, then I don’t blame him. I’d a done the same.”

  It was Will’s turn to speak again, “Would you help him if he had betrayed his best friend?”

  She looked at them both, not sure what the younger detective was talking about.

  “You see, ma’am,” Will explained, “Tommy Schultz was kidnapped a few days ago, just before a press conference he had scheduled at the Georgia Historical Center. Apparently, he had found a new artifact that was going to be put on display at the center, but he disappeared a few hours before it took place.”

  At this, she stood up. “Now I know you two are crazy. You’re insinuating that Sean killed three men and kidnapped his best friend who, by the way, he’s known since childhood?” Her head shook violently. “I’ve heard enough of this.” She waved a dismissive hand.

  “Mrs. McElroy, we just need to know where your husband is,” Morris pleaded. “I promise, if Sean is innocent, we will clear his name and let him go. We just need to know where they might have headed.”

  For the last thirty seconds, she’d been pacing back and forth behind the sofa. The dog stared at her with big, droopy eyes, wondering what was going on. After another few steps, she stopped. “I don’t know where he is.” Her face was one of resigned honesty. “But I do know this, if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you. My husband hasn’t done anything wrong, and neither has Sean Wyatt.”

  “Your husband is aiding a fugitive of justice and…” Will started in angrier than Trent had ever seen.

  “Mrs. McElroy,” Morris cut off his partner, “we thank you for your time. If you do find out where your husband might be and you change your mind, please let us know.” He produced a business card from his wallet. “Just call my cell phone if you need anything. We’re just trying to figure this out. Okay?” Will slunk back a little, understanding Trent was pulling rank.