room.
Cameron grabbed his notepad and started writing. Why was Arnold driving him to talk to this Taylor Stone? He didn't think it was Peasley's altruism. And why hadn't Kirk Gillum mentioned the guy?
Ann Banister poked her trip counter on her dashboard on Tuesday evening at five thirty, cranked the volume up on her Maroon 5 CD, and pulled onto I-5 heading south. She should be in Three Peaks in three hours.
Cameron flashed into her mind and she sighed.
Three days wouldn't be enough time to figure out what she would say to him when she saw him. Why did he have to ask her to come? Wasn't it enough to talk on the phone?
"Why am I doing this, God?" She smacked her steering wheel. "I could have said no. I should have said no."
But it was about more than Cameron. Why should she be burdened with only one unpleasant task when she could be weighed down by her mysterious past as well?
Ann glanced at the photo on her passenger seat. "Did you love me, Mom, in the short time we had together? Do I have any aunts or uncles out there thinking about me? Wondering about me? Do I finally get to find out?"
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
Cameron grabbed his notepad and started writing. Why was Arnold driving him to talk to this Taylor Stone? He didn't think it was Peasley's altruism. And why hadn't Kirk Gillum mentioned the guy?
Ann Banister poked her trip counter on her dashboard on Tuesday evening at five thirty, cranked the volume up on her Maroon 5 CD, and pulled onto I-5 heading south. She should be in Three Peaks in three hours.
Cameron flashed into her mind and she sighed.
Three days wouldn't be enough time to figure out what she would say to him when she saw him. Why did he have to ask her to come? Wasn't it enough to talk on the phone?
"Why am I doing this, God?" She smacked her steering wheel. "I could have said no. I should have said no."
But it was about more than Cameron. Why should she be burdened with only one unpleasant task when she could be weighed down by her mysterious past as well?
Ann glanced at the photo on her passenger seat. "Did you love me, Mom, in the short time we had together? Do I have any aunts or uncles out there thinking about me? Wondering about me? Do I finally get to find out?"
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
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