Book of Days: A Novel (38 page)

"So what's your next guess?"

"Maybe it's not a constellation. Maybe it's latitude and longitude, maybe—"

Ann shook her head. "No, I took three astronomy classes in college, I actually did okay in them and if you—"

"Great idea. I'm clueless when it comes to astronomy, but I have a friend at UW in the astronomy department. I can e-mail him this pattern. He'll probably get back to me within half a day with the possible constellations this pattern could represent. If he can't give us anything, we'll move on to the latitude-longitude theory." He kept his eyes riveted on the map.

"Cameron."

"Because it might even be a combination of constellations we're not seeing."

"Cameron."

"Have you tried—?"

He was interrupted by a rolled-up newspaper hitting him in the head.

"Ow!"

"You're making me feel like I'm in a Three Stooges movie. Didn't you hear me? Now be quiet and listen."

He rolled his eyes.

"Buddy, you roll your pupils at me again and I'll whack-smack you so hard, you won't remember tomorrow." Ann looked like she was trying to keep the grin off her face but failed.

Cameron gasped. The exact words Jessie used to use when they were bantering back and forth and she wanted to make a point stick. His stomach roiled. "I have to get out of here for a moment."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Where are you going, Cameron?"

"Be right back."

He walked down Main Street to the end of the block and stood staring at the summit of Broken Top, feeling like its jagged ridge was a picture of his mind. Maybe his heart as well. A heart in no condition to be opened up to anyone. But Ann was blowing up his steel-enforced walls with everything she said and did. He'd hardly slept last night as he wrestled his emotions for Ann into submission. Until a moment ago they'd laid dormant, but now they swam through his head like a school of maniac dolphins.

No. It wouldn't happen. He would reconstruct the walls. For Ann's sake. For Jessie's. He drilled his fingers into the back of his neck, trying to massage the ropes of tension into surrender.

He took two strides back toward Java Jump Start, then did a 360 and clipped back the way he had just come. A few seconds later he turned again. He clenched his jaw and marched toward the coffee shop. There was no debate. The argument was over.

By the time he got back to Java Jump Start, his walls were back in place and thicker than ever.

"Are you going to tell me what you know?" he said to Ann as soon as he plopped down beside her.

He couldn't decipher the look on her face. "Are you going to tell me why you left?"

"Can we get this thing done?"

She stared at him for a full ten seconds. "Sure." She scooted her chair closer to the table and leaned in. "No problem."

"Sorry."

"For what?"

"For being . . . for not . . ."

"Don't worry about it." She tapped the table with her pen. "Let me show you what I think. I was stumped for a while too because I assumed it would be one constellation. But it's more than one; it's a combination just like you guessed. Whoever put this mystery together apparently wants us to work a little harder, but not much. Do you want me to show you, or do you want to take another run at it?"

"Run." Cameron went back to work and within two minutes had the answer. "It's a combination of Vela and Pyxis."

"Yes."

"So now we figure out what these constellations have to do with the areas of the world where the stones are or what it has to do with the legend of the book, and we're on our way to discovering its resting place."

"Or it leads us to another part of an elaborate goose chase someone has cleverly devised that will never get us to the end of the rainbow."

"True believer, aren't you?" He smoothed out the map of the night sky. "Since you've had some time to think about this, what are your theories?"

Ann bobbed her head and smiled slightly. "Three ideas so far. One, of course is what you just said; that the pattern points us to Vela and Pyxis and something about those constellations is a clue. Two, it's a map or pattern you lay over each area where the rocks are found and it guides you somehow. Or three, and the most likely, it's the model of a four-dimensional portal we can build with cereal boxes and a roll of duct tape that will instantly transport us to the nearest Book of Days."

"Can we stay serious for a moment?"

Ann crossed a leg underneath her and leaned in. "If you're ready to get serious, I'm more than ready."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She waved her hand at the map, the papers, and the table. "Do I really have to convince you this whole thing is a hoax? Don't you know, right here?" Ann tapped his chest.

Cameron didn't answer.

"If you're excited about this connect-the-dots exercise because it means we're drilling down to the answers to an elaborate puzzle, great. If you think we're close to exposing a game that's been perpetuated on Three Peaks, fine. But that look in your eyes tells me you really and truly believe the book could exist."

"It could."

"How, Cameron?"

"Are the stones real?"

"Yes."

He raised his eyebrows, leaned back in his chair, and flipped open his palms. "Well?"

"Come on. I can show you evidence Kennedy was shot by seven men or the CIA or the Mafia, depending on what stack of facts I want to haul out. I can prove to you, not in theory but using photos and conversations and hardcore evidence, that we never landed on the moon."

"And your point is?"

Ann glared at him.

"Maybe you're right. But does it really matter? Say it's all faked. You're curious. I'm curious. It means we both want the same thing: to find out where this thing leads. It's a great story either way. And I have to hope this book is genuine."

"Why?"

He closed his eyes. "You know why."

"Why?"

"Can't you imagine for a moment it's real?"

"No." She took a sip of Cameron's coffee. "Did you see that movie
The Game
with Michael Douglas? It involved an
elaborate
setup that took him all over the globe hunting down clues and putting his brain through a psychological blender. Coincidences and patterns were in place that looked impossible for someone to have set up. Things were real and then they weren't, upside down, right side up."

"I saw the movie."

"Did you know it's based on real life? That there really is a 'game' where Mensa-level intellectuals race against each other? It's like a PhD-caliber scavenger hunt sponsored by guys like Bill Gates. Teams of four to six people get clues they have to solve leading them to the next clue. A lot of time the clues are so intricate and choreographed they're like small theatrical productions, with hired actors to pull it off."

"What are you driving at?"

"Someone has created an elaborate game out of this Book of Days legend. He's probably waited years for someone to discover it. And we're about to win. But we won't win the chance to see our past or our future. I think the only prize we'll get is the chance to say we figured out the clues and have some mysterious game architect pat us on the back."

"Taylor Stone's clues."

Ann nodded. "That's where I'd place my bet."

"So Taylor is the architect?"

Ann shrugged and raised her eyebrows.

"You're saying Taylor traipsed all over the globe planting rare rocks to concoct—?"

"No, I'm saying he searched until he found something unusual—those rocks—and tied it all together."

"Why take all the time and energy and money to concoct something like that?"

"I don't know, Cameron! Maybe he got bored. Let's just follow the bread crumbs. I don't believe—you do—but like you say, it doesn't matter." She grabbed her purse and stood. "Listen, I have to go."

"Go? Now? You can't go; we need to figure out what the constellations mean. Where do you have to go?"

"I have a massage appointment. I'll be back in an hour and a half max."

"Massage? How can you get a massage when we're in the middle of all this?"

"If I don't work out the kinks after rock climbing, I'm sore for days." Ann flipped her hair and laughed. "Plus massages make me more beautiful."

"You're already beau— I mean you look fine."

"Thank you." She smiled.

"When will you be back?"

She sniffed out a laugh. "I just told you, in an hour and a half or less."

He lied and said, "I remember." He mashed his forefinger into his lips. Concentrate. He needed to concentrate better.

Ann sat back down, a concerned look on her face. "You're right; I do know why it's so important for you to find this book. I nailed it yesterday after the climb, didn't I? I saw it in your face then and I'm seeing it again right now. You truly are losing your mind, aren't you?"

Cameron held his breath till he had to let it out. "Yes."

"And the book will heal you?"

"That's my hope."

She squeezed his arm. "I'm sorry, Cameron."

"It's okay."

Why couldn't he tell her the truth? Okay? No. It wasn't. He didn't want to wind up in an assisted-living facility in two years, ten years, forty years—ever. He wanted a life!

Ann wove her way up the street around tourists in bad hats worried about nothing more than finding another summer adventure.

How should she navigate the one she was on with Cameron?

She'd suspected his mind was slipping more than he'd let on, but she hadn't been around him for an extended amount of time for years and didn't know how the stress of Jessie's passing might have affected his brain.

No wonder he was so desperate.

The bells on the spa door jangled as she stepped inside and stopped. "All right, God, I get it. He needs me to help him find this thing—whatever it is—so I'll do it, with everything in me. It doesn't mean I have to believe the book is real."

As soon as the front door of the coffee shop closed behind Ann, Cameron squeezed his temples, as if the pressure could jump-start the memories deep inside his brain. A soft groan escaped. He was losing it.
Come on! Remember!

Cameron wiped his forehead, leaned back in his chair, and forced his breathing to slow. If only he could get more sleep. Maybe he should . . . No. He wouldn't see a doctor. Had he ever considered that? Forget it.

He was fine. He would be fine.

After pouring over their notes for ten minutes and getting nowhere, Cameron stepped outside Java Jump Start to take a break and a short walk. As he strolled north on Main Street, the sensation of being watched crept up his spine.

He did a slow spin studying the people on the street and even the windows of the stores across the street. Nothing.

Wait.

A man in a baseball hat and gold-rimmed sunglasses sat on a bench forty yards away at the end of the block. The man stared straight ahead, but he could have been looking at him a second before.