“The guy was secretive, didn’t really tell anybody what he was doing except for Wyatt and Borringer. And I don’t think either one of them are going to be very helpful at the moment.”
Trent nodded. “There has to be someone else who knows what he was up to. I find it hard to believe that he was traveling around all over the state on some treasure hunt and no one knew what he was looking for.”
Aggravation had reached its boiling point. He took a few deep breaths and ran his hands over his head from front to back and then to the top where he stopped and dropped them back down to his hips, exasperated. “Every time it seems we’ve found something that will help us, more questions pop up.”
Will just stood quietly, letting his partner vent. They may have been a relatively new pair, but the young cop already knew enough not to say anything when Trent was frustrated.
Detective Morris was at his wit’s end. With resignation on his face, he turned and said, “Let’s get out of here.”
“Where we goin’, boss?” Will threw his arms up, not yet ready to give up the search.
“Back to Atlanta,” his voice was resolute. “We’ll search every scene again. Maybe something will turn up.”
“Trent,” Will pleaded, “maybe we should double check here. There’s got to be some kind of clue that could show us where they went.”
Morris shook his head. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but this wild goose chase has gone on long enough. Wyatt has disappeared. We’re not experts in Archaeology or ancient mysteries. You heard the Park Ranger. People from all over the world have been coming here for decades trying to interpret those stones and not a single one of them has been able to do it. You and I probably couldn’t get any more out of those drawings than a three year old.”
That last part was a good point, Will thought. “So we’re just going to head back and recover our steps?”
“Unless you got a better idea or someone that can tell us where the hell those guys went…yeah.”
There was nothing Will could say. He just shook his head.
“Then we head back.” Trent pulled his keys from inside of his pants pocket as he strode angrily towards the Charger. Will was on the other side of the car, opening his own door when the cell phone in Morris’s pocket began ringing.
“Jeez, what is it now?” He reached into the coat and pulled out the silver phone. After a quick glance at the caller ID on the screen he slid the phone open and said, “This is Morris,” his voice sounded irritated.
“Detective Morris?” the man on the other end of the line clarified.
Maybe they didn’t hear the way he answered the phone.
“Yes. This is Trent Morris. Who is this?”
From the sounds coming through the receiver, the caller must have been in a vehicle driving down the road. Even with all the background noise, he was still able to hear the answer, “This is Sean Wyatt.”
Chapter 44
Detective Morris stood next to his car, dumbfounded. Wyatt had disappeared a little over twenty-four hours ago, which only made him seem more like the prime suspect. Yet, here the man was, actually calling him.
“Sean,” Trent started off with an overly friendly tone while inside, his mind raced. “You’re a tough man to get a hold of. I had some more questions I needed to ask you.”
The voice on the other end seemed unimpressed. “Well, sorry about that. Someone made it rather difficult to stay around.”
“And who would that someone be?”
Will had closed his door when Trent motioned for him to come closer. He’d walked around the car quickly to see what was going on. Morris mouthed to him, “It’s Wyatt.”
Scribbling down the number of the cell phone that had appeared, he then handed it to the younger cop. Will knew exactly what to do and stepped away to a safe distance so Wyatt couldn’t hear him speaking to the department on his own phone.
Sean replied coolly, “Check the bottom of the mountain near Brasstown. They should still be there.”
“Oh?”
“Don’t play coy with me, Morris. I’m sure you heard about that accident by now.”
He decided to at least play along. “So, who were they?”
“How should I know? They didn’t introduce themselves when they started shooting at us.”
“Why don’t you meet me, Sean? Then we can sort all this out. I’ll come to you. Where are you right now?”
There was a pause on the other line. “Look, Detective. We just got shot at twice this morning. That makes three attacks since I talked to you the other day. No offense, but I am not sure exactly who I can trust at this point.” His voice was emphatic.
“Yeah. I know. I don’t blame you. But if you will meet up with me, maybe I can help you. We can figure it out…” Hesitation lingered in the phone’s receiver. “What did they look like, the guys who were after you?”
There was something muffled on the other line, like Sean was giving directions to someone.
“What?” He clearly didn’t hear the detective’s question.
“I asked what the men who attacked you looked like.”
“I gotta be honest, Trent. I didn’t really stop to take a good look at the guys in the ravine. Probably woulda taken me a few hours and a lot of rope to do that.” Obviously, killing the two passengers in the other car was something Sean felt was justified. “But the other guys later on…yeah, I got a real good look at them. Two of them looked like they were twins except that one was taller than the other. Both of ‘em had flat top hair-cuts and wore matching suits like they were some pop star’s bodyguards.”
On a pad of paper he’d removed from his car, Trent was busily taking down a few notes about the men who had supposedly attacked his main suspect. “Anyone else?”
“The guy who was holding Tommy was tall, probably several inches over six feet. He had blonde hair. Dressed like he was going to a trendy nightclub or something. Very European.”
This last bit of information came as a bit of a shock. “Did you say a tall, blonde European guy?”
“I don’t know if he was European. Just said he dressed like it. You know, like a German or something. I couldn’t get close enough to ask him where he was from or how he came to America.”
Again with the sarcasm, Morris thought. “We had reports of a guy named Jurgenson that was posing as one of our own running around town.”
“Yeah, Mrs. Borringer said that he came by.”
Another shock. “You went to Borringer’s house?”
“Yep.” Sean decided not to share the drama that had unfolded the night before when they had been hidden in the bathroom while the detective was downstairs.
“When was that?”
Ignoring the question, Sean began again, “Look, Detective, all I know is this guy is bad news. I’m not sure if he is the one who is pulling all the strings, but it sure seems probable. If I had to put my money on it, I’d say he was the one that killed Frank.”
“What happened during the firefight with those men?” Morris continued to string the conversation out.
“I put a couple of rounds directly into the flat top twins, right in their chests.”
“They dead?”
“No,” Sean sounded irritated. “Pretty sure they had vests on. Makes me wonder how available those things are to the general public.”
It was a well known rumor that some less than ethical police were selling some of their equipment on the black market to drug dealers and gangsters, something that seemed to happen in nearly every major city. Trent ignored the implication. “I’ll look into it. But there are a lot of places to get those things now days. What about the blonde, Jurgenson?”