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Taylor stopped talking for so long Cameron thought he'd fallen asleep standing upright. When he spoke again, his voice was like smoke in sunlight, and he could barely make out the words.

"The morning after I'd finished it, I had to go somewhere and Annie asked if she could take the car for a drive. Of course I agreed; I'd restored the car for her."

He sat next to Cameron and rubbed his face. "A 1970 Ford station wagon with three high school juniors inside ran a stop sign going like a whirly-wind and T-boned Annie. They say she probably died instantly."

Cameron shook his head.

"Are you all right?"

"Remember me telling you I restored a '65 Mustang and gave it to Jessie for Christmas one year?"

"I do."

"She only drove it once." He breathed deep and imagined he smelled the water, a pure crystal smell with no imperfections. "On the way to the airstrip. On the day she died."

Taylor put his arm around Cameron's shoulder. "Life is funny the way it puts certain people together, isn't it?"

Taylor stood and waded into the river, the water swirling around his waders. He cast in perfect rhythm, nothing moving except for his right arm.

He was a good man, a friend even, but he'd hidden the truth. It was time to confront the lie. It was time to find out exactly what Taylor knew.

"I want to talk to you about why you created a Book of Days."

"I suppose it's time, isn't it?"

"We found the hidden door."

"I thought you might." Taylor continued casting.

"Why go to all the trouble to create that elaborate set of clues and a false book? Why did you do it?"

"I had to. It was the only way to convince anyone searching for a real book that the Book of Days was only an idea." Taylor glanced back at Cameron. "I expected they would follow the clues I'd laid out, find the symbolic book, and prove to themselves the book didn't really exist. It wouldn't be a good thing for most people to find the real book."

He gathered up his rod and smiled at Cameron. "And then you came along out of nowhere, knocking over apple carts every which way, and tracked the thing down. Well done."

Cameron stared at him. "What did you just say?"

"Yes, I did say 'real book.'"

"Are you telling me—?"

"But as smart as you were, you must extend a great deal of credit to Ann, don't you think? I don't believe you would have gotten where you did without her."

"The book is real?"

"She was an interesting twist to the puzzle." Taylor shook his head. "Having a niece show up after all these years is a definite mind bender."

Taylor turned and sloshed out of the river till he reached a boulder the size of a small ottoman and sat on it. "That stone around your neck, can I see it?"

Strange. Someone else asked to see it recently, hadn't they? "Sure." He lifted it from around his neck and handed the stone to Taylor.

Taylor studied it. "I'd lay odds these markings are Native American."

Suddenly the memory of his climb two days before surged into his mind. "Grange!"

The image of Grange studying the stone just as Taylor had filled his head. The questions about why Cameron wanted to go to the place of stories. The directions . . . He'd told Cameron exactly how to find the place. What was it called? Time Stories? The Stories of Time?

"He told me how to find it." His heart beat picked up.

"He must have liked you. And trusted you. He's probably been watching you since you got here." Taylor nodded. "Grange is a good man."

"You know, don't you? You know what they are. The Stories of Time and the Book of Days are the same thing, aren't they?"

"Yes." Taylor handed the stone back to Cameron.

"Why did you lie to me?"

"I'm sorry, Cameron, forgive me. I had no choice."

"We always have a choice."

"What did Grange tell you?"

"He said few are chosen to see the stories."

"True."

"And you were one of the chosen." Cameron tossed a rock into the swirling water.

"Yes, to my eternal regret."

"Do you care to explain that?"

"After I found the book, I used it." Taylor slid his reel down to the river rock at