Book of Days_ A Novel - James L. Rubart [114]
"No."
"Trust me. It's a girl thing. Any other woman would have seen it too."
"And?"
"It was as if he'd accomplished something he wanted to see finished."
"Which was?" Cameron clicked his pen and pulled out his notepad.
"I think he wanted to keep us from finding anything else in that basement."
"Like what?"
"Something we missed."
"And that is?"
"Another room we should have seen, that should have been there but wasn't, but had to be but we didn't see it."
Cameron rubbed his forehead. "English please."
"According to the blueprints, there is one more room in that basement we didn't see. My photographic memory, remember?"
No, he didn't. "And you remember what?"
"When we dropped down to the second level of the basement, we could only go left. But there should have been a room just to the right. There wasn't."
"How big?"
"At least ten by ten, maybe bigger."
Cameron ran his fingers through his hair. Was it possible? He couldn't stop hope from stirring in his heart. "Hidden from sight just like the book room."
"That's what I'm thinking."
"You think he's stashed something in the extra room? A real Book of Days?"
"You won't be able to push me that far, Cam, but I think we're going to discover some fascinating things about Taylor Stone."
"I'm going back. Soon."
Ann dug her hands into her hips. "You mean we're going back."
"Really, even after that run-in with Jason?"
"Yes."
"I think I like you." Cameron smiled.
"It's mutual."
Finding the additional hidden room proved easier than finding the first. Behind the tapestry to their right was a small door with three ancient-looking padlocks. Time for Ann to apply her special skill again. She winked at him and two minutes later tossed the locks to the concrete floor.
"Ready?" Ann asked.
"More than."
The door scraped open and they stepped into a room the size of a small den. Cobwebs hung like layered curtains from the ceiling covered by a fine coating of dust.
"Ugh." Ann brushed them aside with her flashlight. "Someone forgot to call the cleaning crew."
"Amazing." Cameron took a slow spin, shining his light on the room's contents. "I have a whole new set of questions for Mr. Stone."
A large stack of newspapers were piled on a large oak desk directly in front of them. Hundreds of photos were tacked to the wall above the desk. On the left-hand wall was a map of Deschutes County. On the right wall hung a world map with a familiar set of dots and next to it a map of the night sky with the Vela and Pyxis constellations lined out with a white pencil.
Cameron rapped the map with his fingers. "We have just found—"
"Game headquarters."
"Take a look at this." Cameron pointed to a framed picture on the desk. It was a copy of the photo of Ann's mom flying through the air on the tire swing.
"All the secrets of Taylor Stone on display."
He continued to search the right side of the room as Ann explored the left. A few minutes later she walked back carrying something. "I think you're going to want to sit down for this, Cam. Maybe lie down. Stone created more than a game." She shone her light on an old notebook in her hand.
As Ann flipped the pages of the notebook, Cameron felt like a dentist had shot his body full of Novocain. Page after page was filled with scrawled notes on how to make leather look and feel hundreds of years old, how to hand-make parchment paper to look hundreds of years old, and notes of the fonts used in the early eighteenth century.
The realization flooded over him. "He made the book."
"Yes."
"The whole thing."
"The question is why," Ann said.
Cameron rummaged through the rest of the notes on the desk. "Native American legends of the Northwest, Native American languages, burning letters into leather . . . unbelievable. He could publish Creating a Book of Days for Dummies."
Ann didn't speak till they'd left the building, clomped the quarter-mile to Cameron's car, and slumped into their