Book of Days: A Novel (19 page)

Cameron strode to the window and yanked back the curtains, as if the intruder would be standing under a streetlamp staring up at him.

The street was empty, but it didn't stop a shiver from running down his back.

He spun and smacked the chair.

He needed his notes!

He flopped into the chair and didn't know whether to scream or laugh. He was getting behind somebody's curtain, and that person wanted to kick him out of the theater. But Cameron had a ticket and wasn't about to leave.

After a long shower he glanced at his watch. Five thirty. Too early to catch a movie in the Five Pine campus at the east end of town.

He stared out his window and saw the banner promoting the jazz festival. It had just started. Hadn't he looked at the banner a few days ago? Yes. He remembered. A miracle.

Why not stroll down and listen for a while? It was better than sitting in his hotel room, wondering who had broken in for a second time and trying to ignore the nauseous gurgling that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his stomach.

About halfway to the park, he caught the sound of a band. A guitarist was playing riffs in fine Robert-Cray style, and the faint smell of barbecued chicken tantalized his taste buds.

There had to be at least five-hundred people spread out on blue and green and red checkered blankets or sitting in lawn chairs, bottles of red wine at their sides or pitchers filled with what looked like iced tea.

People sat in large groups, talking and laughing, kids running from blanket to blanket acting like everyone was their mom or dad, sister or brother. One of the amazing aspects of a small town. Community was real. You knew your neighbors and everyone in town was a neighbor.

So different from his life in Seattle, where he had a lot of acquaintances but not many deep friendships. He'd always envied Jessie in that regard. She had a big group of God-buddies who would do anything for her.

Cameron was about to sit on a gray, faded picnic table on the edge of the crowd when he noticed two familiar profiles to his left: Taylor Stone and the lady who must be his wife.

As Cameron eased over to them, she smiled, whispered something to Taylor, and motioned for Cameron to join them on their checkered picnic blanket.

Taylor glanced at Cameron as he approached but stared straight ahead as Cameron sat next to him. "Still in town I see," Taylor said.

"For a while longer."

"Hello, Cameron. I'm Tricia, Taylor's wife." She leaned across Taylor and offered her hand. "I've heard positive things about you."

"Really?" Cameron grasped her hand. "Good to meet you."

"Are you a jazz aficionado perchance?" Taylor continued to stare straight ahead at the five-piece band.

"No, but I have a few CDs of the legends."

"Who do you consider legendary?"

"Coltrane, Miles Davis, Charlie Parker . . . and a few others."

Taylor raised his eyebrows.

"If Taylor were to admit it, he'd heartily approve of your choices. Good to have you join us." Tricia patted Taylor's knee as she looked at Cameron. "How is your search going?"

"For?"

"The Book of Days, of course."

"Everyone knows everyone else's business in a small town, don't they?"

"For the most part." Tricia smiled. "And your search?"

"Stymied. The people who talk about it only say the same things Jason says."

"Not surprising." Taylor eyes stayed locked on the band.

"Oh, really?"

"If you go to Roswell and asked about the alien landing, the only people who are talking about it are the ones trying to make a buck by plucking it from your wallet. The others are bored with the whole thing." Taylor sipped his tea. "Now that you've sliced open the hornets' nest with talk of your dad touching a real book, Jason and all the other whack jobs associated with Future Current will be searching for this genuine Book of Days till they bring Walt Disney's frozen body back from the dead. But they'll never find it."

Tricia offered Cameron a glass of iced tea, which he accepted.

"Once Jason drops out of sight, another New Ager will dig up the Book of Days story and continue the quest. We'll probably never be rid of it." Taylor drilled him with a frown and turned back to the band.

"Do you think Jason wants me to leave?"

"Are you kidding? You've handed him what he would call solid evidence that there's a physical book . . . No, he'd be the first member on your Book of Days Facebook fan page."

"I see. So it doesn't make sense that he or one of his followers would send me an unsigned note that somehow showed up on my hotel bed, threatening me harm if I don't get out of Three Peaks?"

An emotion flashed across Taylor's face, almost too fast for Cameron to see it. If he hadn't been staring right at Taylor, he would have missed it. Concern? Recognition? Anger? He couldn't tell. But it was enough to decide Taylor had sent the note.

"When did you get the letter?" Tricia asked.

"Yesterday."

"Did you report it?"

"No, I took it as a positive sign. That I'm on the right track. A hornet doesn't sting unless you're pounding on the nest."

"Why is it so important for you to search for this book?" Tricia asked.

Was it the town edict that everyone asked that question? Cameron let his head fall back and he stared at the thin layer of clouds above, growing pink. Why search? A moment later, Cameron found himself spilling his heart out to the two strangers beside him.

"Before my dad died, he said finding the book would answer my questions. My wife said the same thing before she died in a small plane crash. Maybe they were deluded, but I promised I'd search."

This time the emotion across Taylor's face lasted a full second, and Cameron didn't have to guess what the man felt: surprise and then conflict.

Tricia glanced at Taylor, then slid her hand on top of Cameron's and squeezed.

Taylor turned to him, a curious look on his face. "I'm sorry about your wife and the plane crash. Dying in an accident is . . . for the person who stays behind . . . It's not . . . I'm sorry for your pain."

Cameron nodded. Where had that bucket of compassion come from? Not exactly the Taylor Stone he'd met so far. It was Cameron's turn to study the band.

After the next set ended, Tricia and Taylor gathered their things and got up to leave.

"Best of success, Cameron, hang in there." Taylor bent down to shake Cameron's hand.

"Thanks, maybe we'll talk again."

"Maybe."

The park shadows grew till Cameron was the only one left in the park. The band had packed up and the last stragglers had ambled back toward their homes or hotels.

Wait. He wasn't the only one left. A figure in shadow leaned against a tree on the opposite side of the park. It was too small to be Jason. Was it a man? A woman? He couldn't tell, but he knew the person was staring at him.

Cameron stood and called out, "Hello."

No response. No movement.

"Can I help you?"

The figure shifted his weight and pulled his hood further down on his face.

As Cameron started walking toward the figure, the person walked backward a few paces, then turned and sprinted away.

Cameron raced toward the fleeing figure, but he had too much of a jump on Cameron. By the time he reached the spot where the person had stood, he had vanished.

The temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees since Cameron first arrived, or maybe the appearance of someone watching him made it seem that way.

Threatening notes. Someone stealing his research. Stalkers trailing him. Great. It added a nice flavor of fear to his quest.

But it also added validity. He was getting closer.

And Jason was right. Taylor Stone was far more tied into the Book of Days than he was willing to admit. Cameron would stay close to Taylor and somehow find a way to get the man to confess.

As he crawled under the sheets that night, hope fluttered up from his heart.

"I'm making progress, Jessie." He clicked off the lamp next to his bed. "I know you're with me. I'll see you in my dreams."

Three Years Earlier

Intermittent breezes had buffeted Cameron and Jessie as they hiked the two miles up Mount Erie in northern Washington. They could have driven, but they were considering entering their first triathlon, and the exercise would be a good addition to the mountain-bike ride they'd taken earlier in the day.

He grabbed her hand and gave a quick squeeze. She smiled, let go of his hand, and sprinted up the path. "Think you can catch me?"

Maybe not, but she'd caught him. All of him. Forever.

They crested the top of the trail and gazed down on the farmland a quarter-mile below.

It looked like a postcard, pencil-thin dirt roads separating bright green fields as far as they could see, with inlets of Puget Sound reaching out like fingers into the rich green-and-gold ground.

The sun would set in two hours, so they couldn't linger long before heading back down. They'd had one of their first dates here, and he'd taken her back once a year ever since. He would keep bringing her here till they had to drive to the top and get to the viewpoints using walkers.

They found their traditional seat, an outcropping of rocks with just enough room for both of them to sit, and dangled their legs with four hundred feet of open space below them.

"Perfect day?" Cameron asked.

"Only one thing would make it better."

"That is?"

"When we get home we find out a major studio wants to buy one of your short films, make it feature length, and have you direct."

The wind continued to swirl erratically, pushing Jessie's hair back in bursts, then dying so it fell on her shoulders like wayward feathers seconds later.

Perfection in human form.

She turned toward him. "What if I told you something you'd never believe?"

"I'd believe it."

"No. This is something I know you could never accept."

"I would accept it, because it's you."

"You wouldn't. It's the unanswerable argument. If I know you won't . . . it's like saying God, who nothing is impossible for, can make a stone too heavy for Himself to lift."

"Easy answer." Cameron laughed. "Since there probably is no God, he wouldn't be able to lift it."

Jessie ran her fingers over the top of his hands, then intertwined their fingers. "You promise to believe me?"

"Yes, tell me."

Jessie closed her eyes and smiled.

"What? You're pregnant? You were abducted by aliens? What?"

"Later."

He laughed and pulled her in tight, nuzzling her neck with his lips. "Now."

She tickled right under his arm where he was most sensitive, and he leaped back as if he'd stuck his finger in a light socket.

"I've seen proof. God is real."

"Really."

Jessie nodded.

"If you say so."

"He is."

"If you say—"

"No, Cameron, look at me. I know He's real."

"Uh-huh." Cameron drew her back into his chest and stroked her hair. "You're going to tell about this proof I suppose."

"Yes. I've seen something He made. Something amazing."

"What? The stars? The ocean?"

"Something even better."

"Tell me."

"I will, when it's time." She folded her arms across her chest, dropped her head, and leaned into him hard.

"I love you, Cameron. Always and forever."