Part 16 (1/2)

She raised her eyebrows.

”Rock climbing,” he finished.

The line to buy tickets was long, and Cameron didn't try to break the awkward silence till it had stretched past a minute. ”Have you found anything more about your family?”

”I'm getting almost nowhere.”

He could relate.

Ann stepped out of line and folded her arms, probably to see why the line was moving so slow. She wore faded Levi's and a dark blue Nike sweats.h.i.+rt, her hair cascading over it like water.

Beautiful. He locked his hands behind his head and put his chin down. Stop it! Stop it! The feelings were wrong. This is the way to honor Jessie? To remember her? By letting possible emotions for Ann dance around in his head like a tango? He had to get a handle on it. The feelings were wrong. This is the way to honor Jessie? To remember her? By letting possible emotions for Ann dance around in his head like a tango? He had to get a handle on it.

”Do you want to help me investigate?” She stepped back into line beside him. ”The way I see it, we have similar skills. Find the interesting angle to a story whether it's with words or with the lens of a camera. We know how to draw the deeper parts out of a subject or a scene. It's always easier to find the answers with two minds focused on the story. I help you with the book; you help me with my family history. So?”

Great. More time with her. That wouldn't help. But it was fair. ”Fine. I'll help.”

”Thanks.”

Cameron gave Ann a thin-lipped smile and half a nod.

She stepped in line in front of him and whispered over her shoulder, ”When can you start helping me?”

”You're up.” He motioned toward the cas.h.i.+er window with his eyes.

Ann bought her ticket and eased over to the right as Cameron stepped up to the window. He glanced at her face as he bought a ticket to a different movie. It was blank. If she felt something either way she didn't show it.

He shoved his wallet into his coat and walked with her toward the ten-foot high gla.s.s doors leading into the theaters. ”What have you uncovered so far?”

”I think my mom was born in Three Peaks and lived here till she was at least a teenager.”

He raised both eyebrows, an invitation for her to elaborate.

Ann glanced at her watch. ”My movie's starting. Next time I'll give you the gory details.” She winked at him, not a flirtatious wink, but certainly playful.

All it took was a truce on the mountain for her to get a personality transfusion?

He watched her till she disappeared into theater number seven, then tapped himself hard on the forehead when she turned back and gave a little wave, as if she knew he'd be watching. He spun on his heel and strode toward theater number two.

Cameron left the theater two hours later. He glanced around the lobby looking for Ann. Why did he do that? Would he ask her to go for ice cream if he found her? Hardly. She was wrong for him, not even close to what he would want because no one could ever take Jessie's place.

He needed to get his mind back on the book. Tomorrow he would take another run at getting Taylor Stone to talk. A hard run.

CHAPTER 18.

Ann chose the wrong movie. A romantic comedy was the worst salve possible for a heart aching over a guy she couldn't have. She tried to keep from putting herself onscreen, but it was impossible when the male lead reminded her of the Cameron she knew before Jessie died.

When the lead started to throw away his collection of cla.s.sic baseball cards to prove his love-with a smile on his face-Ann laughed and cried at the same time. That scene was Cameron personified.

And she would have stopped him just like the scene played out onscreen.

After the closing credits, Ann strode out the theater with her head down. ”Get out of my heart, Cameron!”

A couple walking out of the theater with her tried to hide their laughter.

She turned her head toward them. ”I'm thinking about the cla.s.sic girl-loves-boy-but-there's-no-way-they-can-ever-be-together-but she wants-to-be-more-than-anything storyline.”

”And you're the girl?” the woman asked.

She was the girl.

He took one more glance at Cameron's notes, then let out a chuckle as he lifted them from under his reading lamp and filed them away inside his oak cabinet. It was such good news. Cameron's late wife had a stone she gave to him. And it was the key to finding the book?

Fascinating.

But where was the stone? Cameron must have it with him. It certainly wasn't in the hotel room.

Didn't matter. The stone was another confirmation the book truly did exist in physical form. He would keep watching. And waiting. And learning. Young Cameron was doing his work for him.

Thank you very much.

He picked up his Glock and looked at it from all angles, the oil he'd used earlier allowing the gun to spin easily around his fingers.

”We haven't played together in a long time, have we?” He laid it on his desk and spun it counterclockwise. ”Have patience. We will dance together again soon. I can feel it. Can't you?”

He leaned back, smiled, and gazed at a map of Three Peaks and the surrounding land. He picked up his knife by the point, let it settle into his callused fingers, then flung it at the map.

Thunk!

It pierced the center of the map and sunk into the wood paneling behind it. ”Wherever you're hiding, I will find you. And you will be mine.”

CHAPTER 19.

The Monday morning sun was bright as Cameron approached Taylor's house, the late model Ford truck out front throwing off little bursts of light like a dis...o...b..ll from the seventies. The guy must polish it every day.

When no one answered the doorbell, he walked around the back of the house and found Taylor sitting on his back deck, wearing a tie-dye T-s.h.i.+rt, khaki shorts, and nothing on his feet.

He didn't acknowledge Cameron but had to know he was there. The boards on the deck squealed as Cameron walked across them, announcing his arrival as loudly as the mermaid wind chime would have if a wind had been blowing.

Cameron grabbed one of the Adirondack chairs against the house and pulled it within a few feet of Taylor and sat. A few minutes later, Taylor broke the silence.

”My feet roast in anything but sandals, still. Till age five I don't remember wearing shoes at all from April through September, except in church. Maybe sitting on those church pews-hard as granite, mind you-shoved the memory right out of my mind.”

Taylor reached in and pulled something metal from his pocket. ”I hated church. Not just 'cause of having to wear shoes. Every Sunday morning Pastor Davis Darton ranted about G.o.d's love and G.o.d's forgiveness but with a red face that looked like an overripe tomato ready to burst. I couldn't figure out how G.o.d could forgive anyone if He was perpetually angry.