He drove to the nearest town. A friendly local directed him to the only pay phone still in operation. He pushed a quarter into the slot and dialed.
“Blairsville Police Department,” a female voice said.
“Is this Detective Romano’s station?”
“It is. But I’m afraid he’s not in just yet.”
Excellent. He’d hoped for that because he didn’t want to risk Romano recognizing his voice. “No problem. A friend of mine told me yesterday that he saw an article about missing Confederate gold. It mentioned that the police are searching for it and listed Romano’s name. I have information for him.”
“I see. I can transfer you to his voice mail—”
“Actually, can you take down a written message and hand it to him when he arrives?”
“Certainly.” Paper rustled on the other end. “I’m ready.”
“I thought Romano would want to know that I have a place near Blood Mountain. About a week and a half ago, I was out smoking a cigarette and saw three men unloading gold from an ATV into my neighbor’s cabin.”
“Do you know which night that was?”
“Sunday, March twenty-eighth.”
“And where is the cabin located?”
Luke rattled off the address. “It’s owned by a guy named Cliff Ollenburger, but Cliff wasn’t one of the guys unloading gold. Cliff has a son named Cody, and one of the men looked to me like Cody’s father-in-law, Ken Vance. Are you getting this down?”
“One second.” Then, “Yes. Go on.”
“Cliff has an underground bunker below the house.”
“May I have your name and number?”
“I’d prefer to remain anonymous. I wouldn’t want to stir up any trouble with my neighbor. Will you make sure that Romano gets this message?”
“I will.”
Before she could say more, Luke hung up and texted Finley.
Luke
I’m going to arrive late today. Can I pick up anything for you?
Finley
How about some vegan cinnamon rolls from Sugar Maple Kitchen?
Luke
Done.
He swung past Sugar Maple Kitchen for cinnamon rolls, then drove to Ken Vance’s Feed Supply Company. He parked half a block down and made himself comfortable.
He’d waited days for this.
He could easily wait a few more hours.
That afternoon, Luke rested a wrist on his steering wheel, gaze trained on the feed store as Detective Romano and another officer entered.
Minutes later, Ken ran out the back entrance and climbed into his Jaguar convertible. He tried to start it. No luck. Again and again he tried.
