Book of Days_ A Novel - James L. Rubart [30]
Jason drew his knife slowly across his palm and then placed the tip of it on his forefinger and pressed until it appeared deep enough to be touching bone. "If it exists on a physical plane, it's worth doing almost anything to find it."
A surge of hope filled Cameron and caught him off guard. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back.
"Are you quite well, my friend?"
Cameron nodded. But he wasn't okay. His rational, logical side said the book couldn't exist—that his dad was delusional, that Jessie had been speaking out of the emotions surrounding imminent death—but his emotional side screamed of what the book could do for him if Jason's claims were true.
Until that moment he hadn't admitted, even in his darkest moments, how much the idea of this book meant to him. He would get his memories of Jessie back, know if he would suffer the same fate as his father, and even see what he could salvage of the rest of his life.
His dad said it might heal his mind. Finding the book meant everything.
"I'm fine."
"Passion is the fuel that drives great discovery." Jason waggled his forefinger back and forth between them. "I think our passions can complement each other."
"I don't know."
"You will join me, Cameron, if not now, then someday. You want the book too much. You need me. It's only a matter of time."
"If we were to work together, what would the next steps be?"
"Good, good." Jason patted the tips of his fingers together three times, then pointed at Cameron. "There's a man in town I've always wondered about. Things have happened around him that have always made me ponder if he knows more about the Book of Days than he's told."
"Like?"
"He grew up with Midas touching his every choice. As if he knew what would happen before it did. It's always caused my curiosity to be stirred."
"So why don't you talk to him?"
"I've tried, many times, but the best of friends would not be the language used to describe our relationship. He likes to control people, and I'm not one who can be controlled."
"What's his name?"
"I think you can guess. Arnold Peasley should have given you a clue."
What was the name he'd written down after he'd talked to Arnold? "Taylor Stone."
"Have you talked to him?"
"I'm intending to."
"Good. We should chat again after you do." Jason stood and dropped fifteen dollars on the table. "That should take care of breakfast and provide a healthy tip for our waitress. Pay it forward can work wonders, don't you think?"
A short time later Cameron stood on the sidewalk outside the Outland Café and stared at the mountains looming over the town like a guardian. Apparently all roads led to Taylor Stone.
It was time to find the man and get him to talk.
CHAPTER 11
Have you read the online version of the Post today?" Tricia Stone asked on Thursday afternoon as she leaned back from her computer screen and looked at her husband.
It was a rhetorical question. Taylor had run the Three Peaks Post for eighteen years, and when it arrived each week, he scoured every story, brainstorming out loud how it might have been improved if he were still there. And wishing they'd never developed an online version.
Tricia tapped her monitor. "Jason Judah just posted an op-ed piece about this video producer from Seattle, Cameron Vaux, coming here to search for the Book of Days. He ends it by inviting people to a town hall meeting tomorrow night. Jason says he has an astounding announcement to make."
Taylor didn't respond except to shift in his dark brown leather chair and turn a page of his fly-fishing magazine.
Tricia took off her slipper and tossed it at Taylor. It smacked him in the belly. She crossed her arms and waited till he looked up. "Are you talking to me today?"
"I'm sorry, hon. I'm more than a little wrapped up in this article. It talks about a way to create makeshift flies from things in the woods."
It was a lame attempt at covering up. Even though they'd married later in life—three years after her first husband had died—she'd known Taylor since third grade. And after five years