dk.coldfire-第4章

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　arms。　
　Wincing　in　pain　as　he　continued　to　massage　his　ankle；　the　injured　man　raised　his　head　and　met　Holly's　gaze。　His　eyes　were　searingly　blue　and；　for　an　instant；　appeared　as　cold　as　if　they　were　not　human　eyes　at　all　but　the　visual　receptors　of　a　machine。　
　Then　he　smiled。　In　a　blink；　the　initial　impression　of　coldness　was　replaced　by　one　of　warmth。　In　fact　Holly　was　overwhelmed　by　the　clarity；　morning…sky　color；　and　beauty　of　his　eyes；　she　felt　as　if　she　were　peering　through　them　into　a　gentle　soul。　She　was　a　cynic　who　would　equally　distrust　a　nun　and　Mafia　boss　on　first　encounter；　so　her　instant　attraction　to　this　man　was　jolting。　Though　words　were　her　first　love　and　her　trade；　she　was　at　a　loss　for　them。　
　〃Close　call；〃　he　said；　and　his　smile　elicited　one　from　her。　
　Holly　waited　for　Jim　Ironheart　in　the　school　hallway；　outside　the　boys'　restroom。　All　of　the　children　and　teachers　had　at　last　gone　home。　The　building　was　silent；　except　for　the　periodic　muted　hum　of　the　maintenance　man's　electric　buffer　as　he　polished　the　vinyl　tile　up　on　the　second　floor。　The　air　was　laced　with　a　faint　perfume　of　chalk　dust；　craft　paste；　and　pine…scented　disinfectant　wax。　
　Outside　in　the　street；　the　police　probably　were　still　overseeing　a　couple　of　towing…pany　employees　who　were　righting　the　overturned　truck　in　order　to　haul　it　away。　The　driver　had　been　drunk。　At　the　moment　he　was　in　the　hospital；　where　physicians　were　attending　to　his　broken　leg；　lacerations；　abrasions；　and　contusions。　
　Holly　had　gotten　nearly　everything　she　required　to　write　the　story：　background　on　the　boy…Billy　Jenkins…who　had　nearly　been　killed；　the　feel　of　the　event；　the　reactions　of　the　eye…witnesses；　a　response　from　the　police　and　slurred　expressions　of　regret　mixed　with　self　pity　from　the　inebriated　driver　of　the　truck。　She　lacked　only　one　element；　but　it　was　the　most　important…information　about　Jim　Ironheart；　the　hero　of　the　whole　affair　Newspaper　readers　would　want　to　know　everything　about　him。　
　But　at　the　moment　all　she　could　have　told　them　was　the　guy's　name　and　that　he　was　from　southern　California。　
　His　brown　suitcase　stood　against　the　wall　beside　her；　and　she　kept　eying　it。　She　had　the　urge　to　pop　the　latches　and　explore　the　contents　of　the　bag；　though　at　first　she　didn't　know　why。　Then　she　realized　it　was　unusual　for　a　man　to　be　carrying　luggage　through　a　residential　neighborhood；　reporter　was　trained…if　not　genetically　pelled…to　be　curious　about　anything　out　of　the　ordinary。　
　When　Ironheart　came　out　of　the　restroom；　Holly　was　still　staring　at　the　suitcase。　She　twitched　guiltily；　as　if　caught　pawing　through　the　contents　of　the　bag。　
　〃How're　you　feeling？〃　she　asked。　
　〃Fine。〃　He　was　limping。　〃But　I　told　you…I'd　rather　not　be　interviewed。〃　
　He　had　bed　his　thick　brown　hair　and　blotted　the　worst　of　the　dirt　off　his　white　cotton　pants。　He　was　wearing　both　shoes　again；　although　the　left　was　torn　in　one　spot　and　battered。　
　She　said；　〃I　won't　take　much　of　your　time。〃　
　〃Definitely；〃　he　agreed；　smiling。　
　〃Oh；　e　on；　be　a　good　guy。〃　
　〃Sorry；　but　I'd　make　dull　copy　anyway。〃　
　〃You　just　saved　a　child's　life！〃　〃Other　than　that；　I'm　boring。〃　
　Something　about　him　belied　his　claim　to　dullness；　although　at　first　Holly　could　not　pinpoint　the　reason　for　his　strong　appeal。　He　was　about　thirty…five；　an　inch　or　two　under　six　feet；　lean　but　well…muscled。　
　Though　he　was　attractive　enough；　he　didn't　have　the　looks　that　made　her　think　of　movie　stars。　His　eyes　were　beautiful；　yes；　but　she　was　never　drawn　to　a　man　merely　because　of　his　looks　and　certainly　not　because　of　one　exceptional　feature。　
　He　picked　up　his　suitcase　and　began　to　limp　along　the　corridor。　
　〃You　should　see　a　doctor；〃　she　said；　falling　in　at　his　side。　
　〃At　worst；　it's　sprained。〃　
　〃It　still　should　be　treated。〃　
　〃Well；　I'll　buy　an　Ace　bandage　at　the　airport；　or　when　I　get　back　home。〃　
　Maybe　his　manner　was　what　she　found　so　appealing。　He　spoke　softly；　smiled　easily；　rather　like　a　Southern　gentleman；　though　he　had　no　accent。　
　He　also　moved　with　unusual　grace　even　when　he　was　limping。　She　remembered　how　she　had　been　reminded　of　ballet　when；　with　the　fluidity　of　a　dancer；　he　had　swept　the　little　boy　out　of　the　path　of　the　hurtling　truck。　
　Exceptional　physical　grace　and　an　unforced　gentility　were　appealing　in　a　man。　But　neither　of　those　qualities　was　what　fascinated　her。　Something　else。　Something　more　elusive。　
　As　they　reached　the　front　door；　she　said；　〃If　you're　really　intent　on　going　home　again；　I　can　give　you　a　ride　to　the　airport。〃　
　〃Thank　you。　That's　very　kind；　but　I　don't　need　a　ride。〃　
　She　followed　him　onto　the　porch。　〃It's　a　damned　long　walk。〃　
　He　stopped；　and　frowned。　〃Oh。　Yeah。　Well。　。　。　there's　got　to　be　a　phone　I'll　call　a　cab。〃　
　〃e　on；　you　don't　have　to　be　afraid　of　me。　I'm　not　a　serial　killer。　I　don't　keep　a　chainsaw　in　my　car。〃　
　He　stared　at　her　a　beat；　then　grinned　disarmingly。　〃Actually；　you　look　more　like　the　type　who　favors　bludgeoning　with　a　blunt　instrument。〃　
　〃I'm　a　reporter。　We　use　switchblades。　But　I　haven't　killed　anyone　this　week。〃　
　〃Last　week？〃　〃Two。　But　they　were　both　door…to…door　salesmen。〃　
　〃It's　still　homicide。〃　
　〃Justifiable；　though。〃　
　〃Okay；　I　accept　your　offer。〃　
　Her　blue　Toyota　was　at　the　far　curb；　two　back　from　the　parked　car　in　which　the　drunk　driver　had　slammed。　Downhill；　the　tow　truck　was　just　hauling　away　the　totaled　pickup；　and　the　last　of　the　policemen　was　getting　into　a　patrol　car。　A　few　overlooked　splinters　of　tempered　glass　from　the　truck's　broken　windows　still　glimmered　on　the　blacktop　in　the　late…afternoon　sunshine。　
　They　rode　for　a　block　or　so　in　silence。　
　Then　Holly　said；　〃You　have　friends　in　Portland？〃　〃Yeah。　From　college。〃　
　〃That's　who　you　were　staying　with？〃　〃Yeah。〃　
　〃They　couldn't　take　you　to　the　airport？〃　〃They　could've　if　it　was　a　morning　flight；　but　this　afternoon　they　were　both　at　work。〃　
　〃Ah；〃　she　said。　She　mented　on　clusters　of　brilliant　yellow　roses　that　hung　from　vines　entwining　a　split…rail　fence　at　a　house　they　passed；　an　asked　if　he　knew　that　Portland　called　itself　the　City　of　Roses；　which　he　did　After　another　silence；　she　returned　to　the　real　conversation：　〃Their　phone　wasn't　working；　huh？〃　〃Excuse　me？〃　〃Your　friends。〃　She　shrugged。　〃I　just　wondered　why　you　didn't　call　a　cab　from　their　place。〃　
　〃I　intended　to　walk。〃　
　〃To　the　airport？〃　〃My　ankle　was　fine　then。〃　
　〃It's　still　a　long　walk。〃　
　〃Oh；　but　I'm　a　fitness　nut。〃　
　〃Very　long　walk…especially　with　a　suitcase。〃　
　〃It's　not　that　heavy。　When　I'm　exercising；　I　usually　walk　with　handweights　to　get　an　upper…body　workout。〃　
　〃I'm　a　walker　myself；〃　she　said；　braking　for　a　red　light。　〃I　used　to　run　every　morning；　but　my　knees　started　hurting。〃　
　〃Mine　too；　so　I　switched　to　walking。　Gives　your　heart　the　same　workout　if　you　keep　up　your　pace。〃　
　For　a　couple　of　miles；　while　she　drove　as　slowly　as　she　dared　in　order　to　extend　the　time　she　had　with　him；　they　chatted　about　physical　fitness　and　fat…free　foods。　Eventually　he　said　something　that　allowed　her　to　ask；　with　；plete　naturalness；　the　names　of　his　friends　there　in　Portland。　
　〃No；〃　he　said。　
　〃No　what？〃　〃No；　I'm　not　giving　you　their　names。　They're　private　people；　nice　people；　I　don't　want　them　being　pestered。〃　
　〃I've　never　been　called　a　pest　before；〃　she　said。　
　〃No　offense；　Miss　Thorne；　but　I　just　wouldn't　want　them　to　have　to　be　in　the　paper　and　everything；　have　their　lives　disrupted。〃　
　〃Lots　of　people　like　seeing　their　names　in　the　newspaper。〃　
　〃Lots　don't。〃　
　〃They　might　enjoy　talking　about　their　friend；　the　big　hero。〃　
　〃Sorry；〃　he　said　affably；　and　smiled。　
　She　was　beginning　to　understand　why　she　found　him　so　appealing：　his　unshakable　poise　was　irresistible。　Having　worked　for　two　years　in　Los　Angeles；　Holly　had　known　a　lot　of　men　who　styled　themselves　as　laid…back　Californians；　each　portrayed　himself　as　the　epitome　of　self　possession；　Mr。　
　Mellow…rely　on　me　baby；　and　the　world　can　never　touch　either　of　us；　we　are　beyond　the　reach　of　fate　but　none　actually　possessed　the　cool　nerves　and　unflappable　temperament　to　which　he　pretended。　A　Bruce　Willis　wardrobe；　perfect　tan；　and　studied　insouciance　did　not　a　Bruce　Willis　make。　Self　confidence　could　be　gained　through　experience；　but　real　aplomb　was　something　you　were　either　born　with　or　learned　to　imitate…and　the　imitation　was　never　convincing　to　the　observant　eye。　
　However；　Jim　Ironheart　had　been　born　with　enough　aplomb；　if　rationed　equally　to　all　the　men　in　Rhode　Island；　to　produce　an　entire　state　of　cool；　unflappable　types。　
　He　faced　hurtling　trucks　and　a　reporter's　questions　with　the　same　degree　of　equanimity。　Just　being　in　his　pany　was　oddly　relaxing　and　reassuring。　
　She　said；　〃That's　an　interesting　name　you　have。〃　
　〃Jim？〃　He　was　having　fun　with　her。　
　〃Ironheart；〃　she　said。　〃Sounds　like　an　American　Indian　name。〃　
　〃Wouldn't　mind　having　a　little　Chippewa　or　Apache　blood；　make　me　lists　dull；　a　little　bit　exotic；　mysterious。　But　it's　just　the　Anglicized　version　of　the　family's　original　German　name…Eisenherz。〃　
　By　the　time　they　were　on　the　East　Portland　Freeway；　rapidly　approaching　the　Killingsworth　Street　exit；　Holly　was　dismayed　at　the　prospect　of　dropping　him　at　the　airline　terminal。　As　a　reporter；　she　still　had　a　lot　of　unanswered　questions。　More　important；　as　a　woman；　she　was　more　intrigued　by　him　than　she　had　been　by　any　man　in　ages。　She　briefly　considered　taking　a　far　more　circuitous　route　to　the　airport；　his　lack　of　familiarity　with　the　city　might　disguise　her　deception。　Then　she　realized　that　the　freeway　signs　were　already　announcing　the　uping　exit　to　Portland　International；　even　if　he　had　not　been　reading　them；　he　could　not　have　failed　to　notice　the　steady　air　traffic　in　the　deep…blue　eastern　sky　ahead　them。　
　She　said；　〃What　do　you　do　down　there　in　California？〃　〃Enjoy　life。〃　
　〃I　meant…what　do　you　do　for　a　living？〃　〃What's　your　guess？〃　he　asked。　
　〃Well。　。　。　one　thing　for　sure：　you're　not　a　librarian。〃　
　〃Why　do　you　say　that？〃　〃You　have　a　sense　of　mystery　about　you。〃　
　〃Can't　a　librarian　be　mysterious？〃　〃I've　never　known　one　who　was。〃　Reluctantly　she　turned　onto　the　airport　exit　ramp。　〃Maybe　you're　a　cop　of　some　kind。〃　
　〃What　gives　you　that　idea？〃　〃Really　good　cops　are　unflappable；　cool。〃　
　〃Gee；　I　think　of　myself　as　a　warm　sort　of　guy；　open　and　easy。　You　think　I'm　cool？〃　traffic　was　moderately　heavy　on　the　airport　approach　road。　She　let　it　slow　her　even　further。　
　〃I　mean；〃　she　said；　〃that　you're　very　self　possessed。〃　
　〃How　long　have　you　been　a　reporter？〃　〃Twelve　years。〃　
　〃All　of　it　in　Portland？〃　〃No。　I've　been　here　a　year。〃　
　〃Where'd　you　work　before？〃　〃Chicago。　。　。　Los　Angeles。　。　。　Seattle。〃　
　〃You　like　journalism？〃　Realizing　that　she　had　lost　control　of　the　conversation；　Holly　said；　〃This　isn't　a　game　of　twenty　questions；　you　know。〃　
　〃Oh；〃　he　said；　clearly　amused；　〃that's　exactly　what　I　thought　it　was　She　was　frustrated　by　the　impenetrable　wall　he　had　erected　about　himself；　irritated　by　his　stubbornness。　She　was　not　used　to　having　her　will　thwarted。　But　he　had　no　meanness　in　him；　as　far　as　she　could　see；　and　no　great　talent　for　deception；　he　was　just　determined　to　preserve　his　privacy　As　a　reporter　who