True believer - Nicholas Sparks [125]
When he got back, Nate was perusing the menu. Jeremy added sweetener to the iced tea he’d ordered. He, too, scanned the menu and mentioned that he was thinking of having the swordfish. Nate looked up.
“But this is a steak house,” he protested.
“I know. I’m in the mood for something lighter, though.”
Nate’s hand absently traveled to his midsection, as if wondering whether to do the same thing. In the end, he frowned as he set the menu aside. “I gotta go with the strip steak,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about it all morning. But where were we?”
“The meeting,” Jeremy reminded him, and Nate leaned forward.
“So it’s not ghosts, right?” Nate said. “You mentioned on the phone that you saw the lights but had a pretty good idea of what they were.”
“No,” Jeremy said. “It’s not ghosts.”
“What are they, then?”
Jeremy pulled out his notes and spent the next few minutes telling Nate what he’d learned, beginning with the legend and describing in detail his process of discovery. Even he could hear the monotone in his voice. As Nate listened, he nodded continually, but when he finished, Jeremy could see wrinkles of concern forming on Nate’s forehead.
“The paper mill?” he said. “I was hoping it was some sort of government tests or something like that. Like the military testing a new plane or something.” He paused. “And you’re sure it’s not a military train? News folks love to expose anything about the military. Secret weapons programs, things like that. Or maybe you heard something out there that you couldn’t explain.”
“Sorry,” Jeremy said, his voice flat, “it’s just light that ricochets off the train. There weren’t any noises.”
Watching Nate, Jeremy could see the wheels turning. Nate, Jeremy had come to realize, had better instincts than his editors when it came to stories.
“It’s not much,” he said. “Did you find out which version of the legend was true? Maybe there’s something you could do with the race angle.”
Jeremy shook his head. “I haven’t been able to confirm that Hettie Doubilet even existed. Aside from the legends, I couldn’t find any record of her in any official documents. And Watts Landing is long gone.”
“Look, I don’t mean to be picky here, but you’ve got to pump up your delivery if you want this to work. If you’re not enthusiastic, they’re not going to be excited, either. Am I right or am I right? Of course, I’m right. But come on, be honest with me. You found something else, didn’t you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Alvin,” Nate said. “When he dropped off the videos, I asked him about the story just to get his impression, and he mentioned that you found something else that was interesting.”
Jeremy’s expression didn’t falter. “He did?”
“His words, not mine,” Nate said, looking pleased with himself. “He didn’t tell me what it was, though. He said that was up to you. Which must mean that it’s big.”
Staring at Nate, he could practically feel the diary burning a hole through the fabric of his satchel. On the table, Nate fiddled with his fork, turning it over and back again, waiting.
“Well,” Jeremy began, knowing his time to make his decision had finally run out.
When he didn’t continue, Nate leaned forward. “Yes?”
That evening, after the meeting was concluded, Jeremy sat alone in his apartment, absently watching the world outside. It had begun to snow, and the flakes were a swirling, hypnotic mass under the glow of the streetlamp.
The meeting had started out well; Nate had revved the producers up to such an extent that they were transfixed by the images they saw. Nate had done the best he could. Afterward, Jeremy told them about the legend, noting their growing interest as he spoke of Hettie Doubilet, and the painstaking way he’d approached the investigation. He interspersed the story of Boone Creek with other investigations into the mysterious, and more than once, he saw the executives glance at each other, clearly trying to figure out how to work him into the show.
But as he sat alone later that night, the diary in