Book of Days_ A Novel - James L. Rubart [22]
"This one is pretty." Susan picked a piece of jade. "I found it myself. I let it scuttle around in the polisher with all that fine sand working on it, rubbing off the rough spots, for three straight weeks." She handed him the bowl and he set it on his knees.
"You know more about the book, don't you? Will you tell me what it is?"
"Pick a stone, Cameron. To keep." Susan grabbed the edge of the dish and rattled the stones inside it.
He settled on a flat stone the color of crème brûlée streaked with black lines. Peppered along the lines were tiny red specks, connecting them, making it look like constellations of another world.
It made him think of Jessie's stone. His hand pressed against his chest and felt it under his shirt. For a moment he thought about telling Susan about the stone. Not yet. It wasn't time.
"That stone is a good choice." A pleased, almost joyful look passed over Susan's face. "A very, very good choice. Do you know where I found it?" She spoke as if talking directly to the stone. "Right here. In Three Peaks. I've never seen another like it."
She nodded twice and stood. Cameron took his cue and walked toward her porch steps. "So will you tell more about the book?"
Susan smiled and patted his arm. "You're a good man, Cameron. Keep hope, always hold on to hope."
Cameron jammed his notepad into his back pocket, clomped down Susan's stairs and toward his car. He did have hope mixed in with a full helping of discouragement. Cryptic answers was all he was getting. He didn't have time for Three Peaks' version of Where's Waldo. He needed answers before his mind went on permanent hiatus.
Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention.
A man clipped along the sidewalk directly across from Susan's house.
Who? . . . Gillum, it was Kirk Gillum.
"Hey, Kirk." Cameron gave a quick flick of his hand in greeting. "As you've probably guessed, I just met with Susan. Thanks again for the introduction."
Gillum nodded in return and kept walking.
A little more of that mayoral warmth to brighten Cameron's day.
It didn't matter. Tomorrow he'd employ an old-fashioned method of discovering what he needed to know. And he would find answers.
CHAPTER 8
On Wednesday morning Cameron headed for the Three Peaks Public Library determined to find answers. Looking in books and old newspaper articles might tell him something the Internet and the people of Three Peaks hadn't relinquished.
Five and a half hours later, after pouring over every history book housed on the sagging shelves and every article available, all he'd achieved was exhaustion. And a neck that felt like guitar strings tuned three octaves too high.
Cameron slammed a book on the history of early Oregon shut and squeezed his temples. Why couldn't he find anything? Why was this town such a vault when it came to this mysterious book?
He looked at his notes spread out on one of the library's tables in front of a huge picture window and watched a shadow creep across them as the sun started to set.
It was pointless.
"You're not getting anywhere, are you?"
Cameron turned at the sound of the voice behind him.
A young man with sky-gray eyes, a Caterpillar baseball hat and a thick black goatee sat in a corner of the library, worn cowboy boots propped up on a chair in front of him. A decades old copy of Life magazine rested on his chest. Jimi Hendrix was on the cover.
"No one is tossing out straight answers, are they?"
"About?" Cameron raised his eyebrows.
"Don't insult me." The man laughed. "News travels in a small town even faster than Twitter."
Cameron rubbed his chin and studied the man. His eyes were mischievous. "You really want to find out about this Book of Days nonsense?"
Cameron frowned. "Book of Days?"
"Yeah, that's the official title. What have you been calling it?"
How much should he tell Cowboy Bob? At least enough to keep him talking. "My dad said 'book of all the days.'"
The man set his boots on the ground and sat up. "Your dad?"
"That's what he called it."
"Close enough. Some people call it