Book of Days: A Novel (39 page)

A moment later the man turned and, yes, his gaze was drilling Cameron from behind his sunglasses. He was sure of it.

As Cameron started to trot toward him, the man stood. It was him. The figure from the park. No question. Same height. Same build. Same gait.

Cameron broke into a sprint as the man ambled down a side street, then ducked behind the Grand Palace Hotel.

Cameron rounded the corner of the building. "Hey!"

The alley was empty except for an old Pepsi can rocking back and forth in the slight breeze.

The man had vanished.

CHAPTER 36

You can't hide from me, so why hide it from yourself? Whether you admit it to me or not, you and the Book of Days have a deep connection." Tricia thrust her shovel into the soil and heaved another pile of dirt out of the trench she was digging. Why did she love the man so much? He drove her nuts at times. Most of the time.

"Are you positive you don't want a hand with that?" Taylor said from the cast-iron bench he sat on in their backyard.

"One hundred percent."

"Building a pond is a great idea."

"Don't try to change the subject." She pointed her forefinger at him. "You know something."

"So what if I do? I don't see how that obligates me to tell you."

"What makes you come to the conclusion I'm talking about me?"

Taylor blinked and turned away.

"You have a newly found niece. And a young man she likes. And he likes her. And they're looking for this book which is probably a fake. But it really doesn't matter because you're not going to lift even your pinky to help them." Tricia scooped out another shovelful of dirt and tossed it at Taylor's feet. "And it's wrapped up in something you've carried around in the dark ever since Annie died, and it's time you lay the burden down and forgive yourself for whatever it is you think you did."

"Are you finished?"

"I'm just getting started, Taylor."

"Great."

"You lose Annie when you're young, Cameron loses his wife when he's young—don't you think that's an interesting coincidence? Have you considered for more than a passing moment that God might have something to do with putting you two together? That maybe He's asking you to give Cameron a little help?"

"I wouldn't be much help."

Tricia shoved her shovel into the sod and trudged over and sat next to her husband.

"We both see it, so I might as well come out and say it—Cameron is headed down the same path you've been on for too many years. Holding on to the past with a grip even death would have trouble releasing, unable to get past the tragedy of losing someone he loved.

"Helping him find this book of his would go a long way toward getting him to open up to you, and then maybe you can talk some sense into him that you haven't been able to talk into yourself."

Taylor sighed. "There are some things you can't forgive yourself for. Things you shouldn't forgive yourself for." He rose from the bench, grabbed Tricia's shovel, and started digging.

"It's amazing to meet someone greater than God."

Taylor frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"He's willing to forgive everything you've ever done, or ever will do, but since your wisdom is much greater than His, you know you shouldn't accept that kind of love."

"And if I forgive myself?"

"It would give you the ability to forgive others."

"Who haven't I forgiven, Tricia?"

She shifted on the bench, took off her work gloves, and tossed them onto the grass. "Your best friend."

"I don't have a—"

"Jason. You need to forgive Jason too."

"You're not going to start talking about that again, are you?"

"It would set you free."

"That's what you've told me."

Tricia took off her sunglasses. "It's true."

"The past is the past is the past. I'm not going back there."

"If you've forgotten the past, why do you have a vacation home there?"

Taylor dropped the shovel onto the dark soil and strode over to the edge of their property, hands on the cedar fence, face turned to the sky.

Tricia let him have a few minutes of solitude before strolling over to him. "Hello, my name is Tricia. What's yours?"

"I'm guessing there's a point to this."

"You're not you."

"Uh, I think I am." Taylor whapped his stomach with his palm. "Yep, still me."

"Do you remember when you and Annie and Susan and I were all around thirteen years old and you blindfolded us and took us down to Munson's Bridge and had us get out on the edge? You were so excited. It was only twenty-five feet up, but it felt like two hundred. You jumped first and watched as each of us jumped, but only if we wanted to. And of course we all wanted to, and when we'd all leaped, you gathered us on the shore?"

Tricia waited till Taylor looked right at her. "Do you remember what you said?"

He didn't answer.

"You said, 'I was so scared to jump, but I was even more scared to tell you I was scared. But if we can't tell each other our greatest fears, then what would our friendship be?' That was profound wisdom coming from a thirteen-year-old. Do you remember?"

"Yes." He looked back to the sky.

"I don't see that Taylor so much anymore. Do you?"

Silence.

Tricia took his hands in hers. "What happened when Annie died? And why is this book business turning you inside out?"

Taylor leaned back against the fence and sighed again. "Maybe I'll never open up. Maybe this is who I am now. Maybe it's all I'll ever be. Am I so bad?"

"You are wonderful in so many ways. But there is still so much more inside you."

"Maybe there isn't, Tricia. Maybe that part died along with Annie and is impossible to resurrect."

"I don't believe that."

"Maybe you should."

Tricia trudged up to the house and tossed her work gloves on the deck. She glanced back. Taylor walked to the shovel and picked it up again. For a few moments she watched him work up a sweat, trying to pay penance for the rooms of his heart he'd shut her out of.

"Break him open, Lord. There's gold inside, but no one can get to it but You."

Cameron glanced at his watch. An hour and a half had come and gone. At an hour-forty-five the bells on the coffee shop door chimed and Ann walked in.

"You're late," he said when she reached their table.

"Are you going to dock my pay?"

"Sorry, I'm a little hyped up here. You won't believe what I'm going to tell you."

"You could use a massage too." Ann slid into the seat next to him and squeezed the back of his neck. "You're tight."

He didn't need that. Cameron shifted in his chair and pulled away from her touch.

"Sorry."

"While you were gone, I did a little research on Vela and Pyxis."

"And?"

Cameron leaned further over the table and tapped his pencil against the constellation map like a woodpecker. "Guess what the translation of Vela is?" He slid a piece of paper in front of her.

"The Sail," she read off the paper.

"And here's the translation of Pyxis." He slid another small piece of paper in front of Ann.

"The Compass."

"Now take a look at this business card from a well-known Three Peaks restaurant."

Ann eyes went wide. "The Sail & Compass Bar & Grill. Oh, wow."

"Great burgers. But we're in the middle of the high desert. Why would someone name their restaurant Sail & Compass when it's 160 miles from the ocean? Bronco Billy's, sure. Pine & Post Bar and Grill, absolutely. But Sail & Compass? It doesn't fit. Unless they were sending out a New York-sized neon sign."

"We need to find out who started the restaurant."

Cameron nodded. "My thinking precisely."

"You already know."

"Yes, I do." Cameron bent the Sail & Compass business card in the middle and spun it on the table like a top.

"Tell me."

"Take a wild guess."

"Taylor Stone."

"He sold the restaurant three years ago, but Taylor still owns—"

"The building."

"Correct. Owned one-hundred percent by him and him alone. No partners. It's the perfect place for him to store all his large secrets." Cameron gathered up his papers.

"Are you saying the Book of Days is inside that building?"

"I'm saying we should head for the courthouse and look at the blueprints of the structure. It wouldn't surprise me to find a basement."

"Are you hoping to find blueprints that say 'Book of Days' room?"

Cameron grinned. "That would be nice."

Ann and Cameron stepped into the county courthouse at two o'clock. A large sign on the door told them the building would close at three. Plenty of time to find what they needed.

As they approached a tall counter with a black and white Information sign, the floorboards creaked, as if they were about to snap, but the bespectacled middle-aged man behind didn't look up.

After clearing his throat three times, each time raising in volume but eliciting no reaction from the clerk, Cameron looked around for another way to get the man's attention. A bell sat at the far end of the counter and Cameron stepped over to it.

A tiny sign matted down with yellowed Scotch tape said, "Ring bell for service." He looked at Ann, shrugged, and gave the bell a sharp rap.

The clerk instantly looked up from his Dean Koontz novel and smiled. "Hello! Nice to have you here today. How can I assist you?"

"We're selling hearing aids, are you interested?" Cameron said under his breath.

Ann elbowed him. "We'd like access to some public records."

"Sure, what of?" He set down his book and stood.

"The building where The Sail & Compass restaurant is."

The clerk frowned but trudged off and came back six minutes later with blueprints of the building.

"Be careful with those, please. That's Taylor—" The clerk stopped himself as if he'd been caught taking a cookie out of a kid's lunch box.