Part 20 (1/2)

Cameron sat waiting for Ann in the Ski Inn, soaking in the smell of fried onions and sauteed mushrooms, thinking about Susan's words. What kind of life was was he recording? he recording?

His dad's trips to Africa, the free medical treatment he gave to thousands-definitely worth recording. And the joy his father brought to people with his universal acceptance and uninhibited laughter? Write it down. Write it down.

Jessie's volunteering downtown at the Union Gospel Mission, taking those kids from the cancer center up flying? Leading that Bible study for those girls? Pen and paper time. Pen and paper time.

Following G.o.d gave them purpose.

But Cameron's life? Sure he coached the kids in Little League and gave extra attention to the boys who didn't have a dad at home, but there wasn't much else.

He plopped his briefcase in front of his silverware and let his head slump forward behind it. It reminded him of hiding behind snow forts as a kid. Why couldn't the days be that simple again, his quest nothing more complex than smacking another kid in the head with a s...o...b..ll?

Cameron took a drink of his ice water and smacked the gla.s.s back down loud enough to get the couple three tables down to look his direction. What hard evidence did he have after talking to Susan? He yanked his notepad out of his briefcase. Nothing.

Describing his emotional state as frustrated was an understatement. He wanted to rip the town apart and force them to give him an answer. Was he the Fool on the Hill? Was he cras.h.i.+ng through the underbrush, chasing smoke, trying to find a fire that didn't exist?

Internally he swore at Susan, Taylor, Jason, and everyone else he could think of. Why wouldn't anyone give him a straight answer?

He was finding clues but too few and not fast enough. One led him to another leading to another like a stack of Russian babushka dolls, except this stack never seemed to end.

Cameron sat up and rubbed his ears with the palms of his hands, then his eyes. As his vision cleared, he focused on the yellow pad in front of him. Five pages of notes, plus a reconstruction of the ones that were stolen. Sometimes he could remember every line; sometimes he couldn't remember a quarter of what he'd written down. He circled a few lines in red ink, then closed his eyes and let his head fall back against his chair.

Was the memory loss accelerating? He refused to let himself think about it.

He glanced at his watch-6:50-then closed his eyes. Ann should be here in ten.

”You look tired.”

Cameron jumped and opened his eyes. Taylor Stone stood in front of him, arms folded, smile on his face. He had his signature Oregon Ducks hat on, this one crisper than the one he'd worn at the creek. Probably even had one with a little bow tie on it for formal events.

He had to snap out of his descent into desolation. He wouldn't get much pity from Stone, and people didn't reveal their secrets to Eeyore. Be charming outside, even though his insides felt like grapes in a winemaker's vat during crus.h.i.+ng season.

”Don't you know as a self-respecting Husky I should rip that thing off your head?”

Taylor opened his eyes wide. ”Huskies respect themselves? I learn something new every-”

”Do all Ducks have a proclivity for talking in cliche's? Or is it just you?”

”'Proclivity.' Is that really the way video producers talk in Seattle, or are you trying to impress me?”

He offered his hand and Taylor grasped it in a warm handshake.

”Good to see you. Is this a regular hangout for you?” Cameron said.

”No. It's just where I knew I'd find you.”

”And how would you know that?” Cameron leaned back, twirled his pen, and gazed up at Taylor's knowing smile.

”I didn't.” Taylor chuckled. ”I actually had no clue. This is the fourth place I looked.”

”Would you like to sit down and tell me where I can find the Book of Days? Or can I simply abduct you at gunpoint and force you to tell me what you know about it?”

Taylor stared at Cameron.

”At some point you're going to trust me.” Cameron took a long look at Taylor and smiled. ”I know it won't be this moment, but think about it.”

Taylor sucked in a quick breath. ”You and I need to go for a drive, my Husky friend.”

”Sorry, I can't. I'm meeting someone here in a few minutes.”

”Your choice.”

Cameron clicked his teeth together. Ann would understand. ”Let me make a quick phone call.”

”I'll be outside. If you're not standing beside me in two minutes, I'll a.s.sume you don't want to talk.”

”I'll be there.”

Finally. Taylor Stone was going to grab a can opener and let the beans spill.

As Cameron walked out, he spied Kirk Gillum and a woman sitting at the bar.

”How's your search going, Mr. Vaux?”

”Not a lot of progress, but I'm still looking.”

”Good for you.” Kirk took a drink of what looked like scotch and soda. ”Listen. I'm sorry about the day we met if I was a little rude. I've been burned, you understand.”

”No problem.”

”I hope the book fairy tale comes true for you, and you find what you're looking for.”

Cameron frowned. ”I thought you were one of Jason's followers.”

”I am, and the idea of the book is real. But the book isn't real. Do you understand?”

”Yeah.” But he didn't understand. If Jason was pus.h.i.+ng the book as genuine to his disciples, why wouldn't Kirk support that belief? And why did he care what Cameron believed?

Kirk turned back to the bar. ”Take care, Mr. Vaux.”

The inside of Taylor's Toyota Tundra matched the outside. Spotless. It didn't have that new car smell but looked like it should.

Neither man spoke as they pulled into traffic and headed for the east side of town. As the Three Peaks High School football field came into view, Taylor broke the silence. ”I bled and danced on that field. Three golden years. Even had a few scouts send me letters, small college only, nothing impressive, but I did love the game.”

”I understand you were pretty decent at basketball too.”

”I see you've been conversing with Arnold Peasley.”