dk.coldfire-第17部分
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is grandparents' farm。 To a young boy born and raised in the city； there mill had been an exotic and mysterious structure； a perfect place to play and fantasize； a refuge in a time of trouble。 He could not understand why he was having nightmares about a place that held only good memories for him。
After the frightening dream passed without waking her； Holly Thor slept peacefully for the rest of the night； as still as a stone on the floor the sea。
Saturday morning； Holly ate breakfast in a booth at the motel coffeeshop。
Most of the other customers were obviously vacationers： families dressed almost as if in uniforms of shorts or white slacks and brightly colored shirts。 Some of the kids wore caps and T…shirts that advertised Sea World or Disneyland or Knott's Berry Farm。 Parents huddled over maps and brochures while they ate； planning routes that would take them to one of the tourist attractions that California offered in such plenitude。 There were so many colorful Polo shirts or Polo…shirt knockoffs in the restaurant that a visitor from another planet might have assumed that Ralph Lauren was either the deity of a major religion or dictator of the world。
As she ate blueberry pancakes； Holly studied her list of people who had been spared from death by Jim Ironheart's timely intervention： May 15 Sam （25） and Emily （5） Newsome…Atlanta； Georgia （murder） JUNE 5 Louis Andretti （28）…Corona； California （snakebite） JUNE 21 Thaddeus Johnson （New York； New York （murder） JUNE 30 Rachael Steinberg （23j…San Francisco； California （murder） JULY S Carmen Diaz （30）…Miami； Florida （fire） JULY 14 Amanda Cutter （30）…Houston； Texas （murder） JULY 20 Steven Aimes （57）…Birmingham； Alabama （murder） AUGUST 1 Laura Lenaskian （28）…Seattle； Washington （drowning） AUGUST 8 Doogie Burkette （11｝…Peoria； Illinois （drowning） AUGUST 12 Billy Jenkins （8）…Portland； Oregon （traffic fatality） AUGUST 20 Lisa （30） and Susan （10） Jawolski…Mojave desert （murder） AUGUST 23 Nicholas O'Conner （6） Boston； Massachusetts （explosion） Certain patterns were obvious。 Of the fourteen people saved； six were children。 Seven others were between the ages of twenty…three and thirty Only one was older…Steven Aimes； who was fifty…seven。 Ironheart favored the young。 And there was some evidence that his activities were increasing in frequency： one episode in May； three in June； three in July and now five already in August with a full week of the month remaining。 Holly was particularly intrigued by the number of people on the list who would have been murdered without Ironheart's intervention。
Far more people died each year in accidents than at the hands of others。
traffic fatalities alone were more numerous than murders。 Yet Jim Ironheart intervened in a considerably greater number of homicides than accidents； eight of the fourteen people on the list had been spared from the malevolent intentions of murderers； over sixty percent。
Perhaps his premonitions more often related to murder than to other forms of death because human violence generated stronger psychic vibrations than accidents。 。 。
Holly stopped chewing and her hand froze halfway to her mouth with another forkful of blueberry pancake； as she realized just how strange the story was。 She had been operating at a breathless pace； driven by reportorial ambition and curiosity。 Her excitement； then her exhaustion； had prevented her from fully considering all of the implications and ramifications of Ironheart's activities。 She put down her fork and stared at her plate； if she could glean answers and explanations from the crumb patterns and smears in the same way that gypsies read tea leaves and palms。
What the hell was Jim Ironheart？ A psychic？ She'd never had much interest in extrasensory perception and strange mental powers。 She knew there were people who claimed to be able to 〃see〃 a murderer just by touching the clothes his victim wore； who sometimes helped police find the bodies of missing persons； who were paid well by the National Enquirer to foresee world events and forthing developments in the lives of celebrities； who said they could channel the voices of the dead to the living。 But her interest in the supernatural was so minimal that she had never really formed an opinion of the validity of such claims。
She didn't necessarily believe that all those people were frauds； the whole subject had bored her too much to bother thinking about it at all。
She supposed that her dogged rationality…and cynicismcould bend far enough to enpass the idea that now and then a psychic actually possessed real power； but she wasn't sure that 〃psychic〃 was an adequate description of Jim Ironheart。 This guy wasn't just going out on a limb in some cheap tabloid to predict that Steven Spielberg would make another bit picture next year （surprise！）； or that Swartzenegger would still speak English with an accent； or that Tom Cruise would dump his current girlfriend； or that Eddie Murphy would still be black for the foreseeable future。 This guy knew the precise facts of each of those impending deaths。 。 。 who； when； where； how…far enough in advance to derail fate。 He wasn't bending spoons with the power of his mind； wasn't speaking in the gravelly voice of an ancient spirit named Rama…Lama…Dingdong； wasn't reading futures in entrails or wax drippings or Tarot cards。 He was saving lives for God's sake； altering destinies； having a profound impact not only on those he saved from death but on the lives of the friends and families who would have been left shattered and bereaved。 And the reach of his power extended three thousand miles from Laguna Niguel to Boston！ In fact； maybe his heroics were not confined to the borders of the continental United States。 She had not researched the international media for the past six months。 Perhaps he had saved lives in Italy； France； Germany； Japan； Sweden； or in Pago Pago for all she knew。
The word 〃psychic〃 definitely was inadequate。 Holly couldn't even think of a suitable one…word description of his powers。
To her surprise； a sense of wonder had possessed her； like nothing she had felt since she was a kid。 Now； an element of awe stole over her as well； and she shivered。
Who was this man？ What was he？ Little more than thirty hours ago； when she had seen the story about young Nicholas O'Conner in Boston； Holly had known she was on to a big story。 By the time she examined the material that Newsweb found for her she felt it might be the biggest story of her career； regardless of how long she worked as a reporter。
Now she had begun to suspect that it might grow into the biggest story of this decade。
〃Everything okay？〃 Holly said； 〃Everything's weird；〃 before she realized that she had not asked the question of herself The waitress…Bernice； according to the name embroidered on her uniform blouse…was standing beside the table； looking concerned。 Holly realized that she had been staring intently at her plate while she'd been thinking about Jim Ironheart； and she had not taken a bite in some time。
Bernice had noticed and thought something was wrong。
〃Weird？〃 Bernice said； frowning。
〃Uh； yeah…it's weird that I should e into what looks like an ordinary coffeeshop and get the best blueberry pancakes I've ever eaten。〃
Bernice hesitated； perhaps trying to decide if Holly was putting her on。
〃You。 。 。 you really like 'em？〃 〃Love them；〃 Holly said； forking up a mouthful and chewing the cold sodden pancakes with enthusiasm。
〃That's nice！ You want anything else？〃 〃Just the check；〃 Holly said。
She continued to eat the pancakes after Bernice left； because she was hungry and they were there。
As she ate； Holly looked around the restaurant at the colorfully decked out vacationers who were absorbed in discussions of amusements experienced and amusements yet to e； and the thrill of being an insider coursed through her for the first time in years。 She knew something they did not。 She was a reporter with a carefully husbanded secret。 When fully researched； when written up in crystalline prose as direct and yet evocative as Hemingway's best journalism （well； she was going to try for that； anyway）； the story would earn front…page； top…of the…page exposure in every major newspaper in the country； in the world。
And what made it so good； what made her tingle； was that her secret had nothing to do with a political scandal； toxic dumping； or the other myriad forms of terror and tragedy that fueled the engine of modern news media。 Her story would be one of amazement and wonder； courage and hope。 a story of tragedy avoided； lives spared； death thwarted。
Life is so good； she thought； unable to stop grinning at her fellow diners。
First thing after breakfast； with the aid of a book of street maps called the Thomas Guide； Holly located Jim Ironheart's house in Laguna Niguel。
She had tracked down the address via puter from Portland； by checking the public records of real…estate transactions in Orange County since the first of the year。 She had assumed that anyone winning six million dollars in a lottery might spend some of it on a new house； and she had assumed correctly。 He hit the jackpot…presumably thanks to his clairvoyance…in early January。 On May 3； he finalized the purchase of a house on Bougainvillea Way。 Since the records did not show that he had sold any property； he apparently had been renting before his windfall。
She was somewhat surprised to find him living in such a modest house。
The neighborhood was new； just off Crown Valley Parkway； and in the neat； well…landscaped； precision…planned tradition of south Orange County。 The streets were wide； gracefully curved； lined with young palms and melaleucas； and the houses were all of patible Mediterranean styles with roofs in different shades of red and sand and peach tiles。 But even in such a desirable south…county city as Laguna Niguel； where the per…square…foot cost of a tract home could rival that of a Manhattan penthouse； Ironheart could easily have afforded better than he had purchased： It looked like a little more than two thousand square feet； the smallest model in the neighborhood； creamy…white stucco； large…pane French windows but no other apparent custom features； a lush green lawn； but small with a
