Book of Days_ A Novel - James L. Rubart [13]
"Three Peaks, Oregon."
"Yep. For them to choose to locate in a town of only seventeen-hundred people . . . seems like a pretty interesting coincidence. Why there, you know what I mean?"
Cameron started breaking down his tent.
"So what's next?" Ann asked.
"When can you meet me in Three Peaks?"
She sighed through the phone. "Sorry, Cameron. Why don't you check it out and call me if you need help once you get there."
"Ann? Please?"
"I'll think about it."
"Ann, I really—"
"I said I'll think about it."
The line went dead.
He didn't need her to think about it; he needed her to come. Cameron dug his fingers into his knotted shoulder and stared at the horizon, now a lighter gray streaked with hints of gold.
I have to find the book, huh, Dad? That will bring my Jessie memories back and keep them intact for the rest of my days? Will it keep me from losing any more of my mind? He rubbed his brow as the cords in his neck tightened. I can't afford to lose my brain, Dad.
Cameron finished breaking down his camp and glanced at his watch. He could be back to Seattle and packed for a trip to Three Peaks by early afternoon.
As he stuffed his tent into his pack, Jessie's stone around his neck fell out of his shirt. He dropped his pack and held the stone, staring at the markings on its surface.
This was the key?
All right, Jessie, if the wild goose is running, I'm ready to go on a chase.
All he needed to do on Monday morning was convince Brandon he could handle an extra fifty hours for the next couple of weeks.
Piece of cake.
Yeah, right.
CHAPTER 4
Cameron sat in his office on Monday morning, chewing espresso beans and getting more irritated by the second. Brandon and he played tug-of-war over his going to Three Peaks, and Cameron was getting tired of the rope burns.
"You can't go now, bud, we've got five jobs on the front burner. They're jumping off the stove, they're so hot. I'm supposed to shoot, edit, write, and do the voice work all by myself? Oh, that's right, I forgot, I don't do voice work. And I can't animate like you can. But other than that, sure, count me in for a 120-hour week. Sign me up, lock and load, make it happin' captain." Brandon did a bad version of The Twist.
"Stop."
"Huh, what? Say again. One more time?"
"Stop talking. Now. You're not funny and your dancing makes you look like you've got the dry heaves."
"That's your big comeback for why you have to go?"
"I have to do this, Brandon."
"Listen, sarcasm aside, I get it. Great. Go. That's why we started this biz. Have the freedom to get out of here and go without checking with some corporate suit. But hello, uh, not when we're in the heart of the game. Two months, then you're outta here for three weeks. Four. Six. Whatever."
"I need to go now."
"Okay, okay, I'm with you. Just give me a good reason why, and I'm on the team."
"I think I'm . . ." Cameron stopped himself. Right. As if he could tell Brandon he was losing his mind. And his dad's whacko last words and a recent recollection of Jessie's accident were about to send him on an insane goose chase to find some book that would restore his memories, cure his mind, and maybe answer ninety-nine of the other one-hundred questions of life.
"I can't tell you."
Brandon slouched back in his chair and locked his fingers behind his head. "Oh, great. Let me guess. It's some weird trek, like the time you were convinced Bigfoot had visited your campsite up near Tumwater Canyon and you needed to hang out up in the pine trees for three days trying to get his picture."
"I was seventeen when I did that. I was a little more impressionable in those days."
"So you don't believe in Bigfoot anymore?"
"No, I've shifted my focus to something fully based in reality—the Loch Ness Monster."
Brandon laughed and slumped back in his chair. "It's hard to stay ticked off at you, even when you're being an idiot."
Cameron smiled. "Thanks, I think."
"So why can't you tell me what's going on?"
"Three