The Secret of the Stones by Ernest Dempsey (good e books to read .txt) 📗

Jurgenson would have certainly found it. He hoped it wasn’t the latter. Nothing seemed to point to any sort of clue, and frustration had settled in. Without a starting point, there was no way they were going to find Tommy.

Allyson had only begun to pace back from the window in the room when suddenly she stopped. Lifting her head, she smiled at Sean.

“What?” he asked and cocked his head curiously.

Her smile was joined by a nod. “I think I know what we’re looking for.”

She took a step over to the desk and set the book down on the shiny black surface. “Did you ever read ‘The Purloined Letter’?” she asked him as her hand reached down for the envelopes on the table.

“Not that I remember. But high school English class was a long time ago.”

“Well, in that story, Poe’s main character is trying to hide a vital piece of information from the police and some other villains. The detectives and other investigators come to search his house, but they can never find what they are looking for. Essentially, they completely tear the house apart, but to no avail. Finally, the main character’s friend comes over and asks where the letter is hidden. He is directed to a pile of letters that look like ordinary bills and correspondence. In fact, if I remember correctly, the protagonist of the story had gone to extra lengths to make the letter look old and unimportant.”

“So, basically, the guy left it sitting right there out in the open where everyone could see it but where no one would think something secret should be. Pretty smart or really stupid.”

“Yeah,” she replied, pulling a very ordinary-looking letter from the small pile. “Sean, what is your middle name?”

“Matthew. Why?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I think we just found what we were looking for.”

16

Blue Ridge Mountains

Ulrich left the car parked on the street in a parallel spot about a half block from Tommy’s home. Bringing the captive archaeologist along would have been too difficult. Instead, leaving him behind in the care of his associates seemed the more logical thing to do.

As he approached the house, Ulrich moved stealthily from the open view of the street to the cover of a neighbor’s home a couple of doors down. More than likely, if the cops were there, they would be stationed at the front and back of the house. He crept around the back porch of the first house, careful to stay low and in the shadows. Inside, an enormous flatscreen television was aglow with some late-night police drama.

Ulrich reached the corner and maneuvered to the house directly next to Tommy’s. There, he crouched behind a wooden fence and waited next to a small gate. He reached up and cautiously unhooked the latch, careful not to make any noise. The last thing he needed right now was a dog to wake up. Fortunately, no canine appeared.

Keeping close to the back wall, Ulrich moved closer to his target. He could see the silhouette of what had to be a cop standing on the back porch, smoking a cigarette. Amateurs. Any moron could have seen the guard from a mile away. The man was pacing back and forth, obviously bored with his assignment for the night. As he turned in the opposite direction, Ulrich silently scuffed under the porch, squatting as he moved. Fortunately, the porch was about five feet high. Crickets chirped their night songs loudly. Hardly enough sound cover, but he didn’t need much. To get in the house, he would have to take out the guard. Maybe he didn’t need to kill the man. Knocking him unconscious could have the same effect. Ulrich preferred not to leave loose ends, though. Killing was something he’d been doing a long time, and through the years he had become quite proficient at it.

Above him, through the cracks of wood, the guard stopped his movement and spun slowly back the way he’d just come. His moment at hand, Ulrich was on the steps, flying up them in twos, careful not to trip. Unfortunately for the police officer, none of the planks made a sound, and in one swift motion, the long blade was pushed through the back of the cop’s neck and out the front of his throat. A sickening gurgle was the only noise he made before falling to the deck, shock imprinted lifelessly in his wide eyes. Blood poured freely from the wound and oozed in between the gaps in the wood to the ground below.

Ulrich wiped the blade clean on the man’s shirt then took a quick inventory, making sure there was no one standing directly inside. There wasn’t. He stepped to the door. It was unlocked. He imagined if he had shown up thirty minutes later the guards might have been discovered passed out on the couch with ESPN playing in the background. Little wonder crime was so rampant in parts of the city.

Carefully opening the door, he slipped into what seemed to be the dining room. The house was dark with the exception of a fluorescent light in the kitchen casting a pale glow into the adjoining rooms nearby. Ulrich moved stealthily across the hardwood floor. Rounding the dining room corner, he could make out the shape of the other officer through the front window, standing, obliviously unaware to what had just happened to his partner.  A few quiet steps up the stairs, and Ulrich was standing in Tommy’s study.

He had to search quickly. It would only be a matter of time before the other police officer would go back to check on his partner. Schultz had said there was an envelope on his desk that contained