Book of Days_ A Novel - James L. Rubart [20]
She sighed and stomped on the gas. Fine. Let's go. It was time to uncover the past, face Cameron, see if any of Jessie's story of the Book of Days held any truth, and determine what all three things would tell her about the future. But she didn't have to like any of it.
Ann passed through Marion Forks at seven thirty and flicked on her headlights against the growing dusk. Another forty-five minutes and she'd be there.
The highway was nearly empty. She rubbed the back of her neck. It would be okay. What was the worst that could happen? She'd see Cameron, get over it, confirm that Jessie's tale was another instance of her imagination spinning out of control, find out she had no living relatives, and be done with it. Then head back to Portland to move on with life.
Simple.
Ann closed her eyes for a second. She was tired. Emotionally, physically . . .
What was that—?
No!
A deer stood in the middle of the highway, fifteen yards ahead, eyes wide.
Ann swerved into the oncoming lane of traffic, a horn wailed at her, and she yanked the wheel back to the right. The car on her left passed her by inches at the same time her right bumper clipped the deer's back leg.
She screeched to the side of the road and grabbed her legs in an attempt to keep them from shaking. It didn't work. Ann rubbed her face. "Oh, no, no . . . deep breath now. Get out, see if it's okay. Come on."
It was one of her worst nightmares. Her passion for animals overrode most other things in life.
She fumbled with the release on her seat belt, flipped it back, and stumbled out of her car.
"Please don't be dead."
When she reached the spot where she'd hit the deer, there was no sign of it. No blood, no fur, nothing.
Was the deer all right? She glanced off the road on both sides. "Please let it be okay."
Ann returned to her car and eased back onto the highway. Was this a sign of how much pain she'd have to go through before she was done with Three Peaks, or Three Peaks was done with her?
CHAPTER 7
Cameron looked at the address on Gillum's piece of paper and then gazed at the numbers on the two-story house in front of him. This should be the home of Susan Hillman.
Thirty seconds after the chime of the doorbell faded, Susan opened her door. Her short, tossed brown hair made her look like she'd just come in from a windstorm.
She offered iced tea—must be the official Three Peaks' drink—which Cameron declined explaining he'd had a glass during his last visit. But he did accept two cookies and a glass of milk, making him feel six years old again. They sat outside on her covered redwood front porch and made small talk for a few minutes about the heat of a Three Peaks summer and how long she'd lived in town.
"Fifty-seven winters." A smile played at the corners of her eyes. "But my age and how warm it gets here isn't what you want to know, is it?"
The small-town gossip grapevine must be on overdrive. "No. I'd like to talk about my dad. About his childhood."
Susan nodded.
"His name was Boscoe Vaux and he lived here till he was nine."
Susan laughed. "Well, fancy that." She leaned back in her chair till it bumped into the planter behind her filled with blue Larkspur. "I remember him."
"You what?" Cameron jerked his head and squinted. "You remember my dad?"
"Isn't that funny? I haven't mulled over the memory of Little Boss for ages. And you're his son. He was one of my closest friends in those days. Fascinating." Susan ran her hands through her hair. "God has a sense of humor, yes? Little Boss and I shared the same paint set in first and second grade."
"Little Boss?"
"That's what we called him, due to his being named after your grandfather, who of course was Big Boss." She smiled again. "Boscoe wasn't the best name for a little boy to have. I think he appreciated being called something different." She shook her head. "That takes me back a few years. If Little Boss went two minutes without laughing that was a long time. And