Coldfire by Dean R. Koontz

threatening-perhaps because it held the truth that would force him to

step off his narrow mental perch into one world of chaos or another.

He remembered reading somewhere that only mad people were dead certain

of their sanity. He was dead-certain of nothing, but he took no comfort

from that. Madness was, he suspected, the very essence of uncertainty ,

a frantic but fruitless search for answers, for solid ground.

Sanity was that place of certainty above the whirling chaos.

Holly pulled to the curb in front of Handahl’s Pharmacy at the east end

of Main Street. “Let’s start here.”

first “Why?”

“Because it’s the first stop we made when you were pointing out places

that had meant something to you as a kid.”

He stepped out of the Ford under the canopy of a Wilson magnolia, one of

several interspersed with other trees along both sides of the street.

That landscaping softened the hard edges but contributed to the

unnatural look and discordant feeling of the town.

When Holly pushed open the front door of the Danish-style building, its

two glass panes glimmered like jewels along their beveled edges, and a

bell had tinkled overhead. They went inside together.

but Jim’s heart was hammering. Not because the pharmacy seemed likely

to actually be a place where anything significant had happened to him in

his children hood, but because he sensed it was the first step on a path

to the truth.

The cafe and soda fountain were to the left, and through the archway Jim

saw a few people at breakfast. Immediately inside the door was the

small newsstand, where morning papers were stacked high, mostly the

Santa Barbara daily; there were also magazines, and to one side a

revolving wire rack filled with paperback books.

“I used to buy paperbacks here,” he said. “I loved books even back then

couldn’t get enough of them.”

The pharmacy was through another archway to the right. It resembled any

modern American pharmacy in that it stocked more cosmetics, beauty aids,

and hair-care products than patent medicines.

Otherwise, it was pleasantly quaint: wood shelves instead of metal or

fiberboard; polished granite counters; an appealing aroma composed of

Bayberry candles, nickle candy, cigar-tobacco efiluvium filtering from

the humidified case in behind the cash register, faint traces of ethyl

alcohol, and sundry pharmaceuticals.

Though the hour was early, the pharmacist was on duty, serving as his

own checkout clerk. It was Corbett Handahl himself, a heavy

wide-shouldered, man with a white mustache and white hair, wearing a

crisp blue starched. shirt under his starched white lab jacket.

He looked up and said, “Jim Ironheart, bless my soul. How long’s it

been-at least three, four years?”

They shook hands.

dead- “Four years and four months,” Jim said. He almost added, since

grandpa died, but checked himself without quite knowing why.

Spritzing the granite prescription-service counter with Windex, Corbett

Handahl wiped it with paper towels. He smiled at Holly.

“And whoever you are, I am eternally grateful to you for bringing beauty

into this gray morning.”

Corbett was the perfect smalltown pharmacist: just jovial enough to seem

like ordinary folks in spite of being placed in the town’s upper social

class by virtue of his occupation, enough of a tease to be something of

a local character, but with an unmistakable air of competence and

probity that made you feel the medicines he compounded would always be

safe.

Townfolk stopped in just to say hello, not only when they needed

something, and his genuine interest in people served his commerce. He

had been working at the pharmacy for thirty-three years and had been the

owner since his father’s death twenty-seven years ago.

Handahl was the least threatening of men, yet Jim suddenly felt

threatened by him. He wanted to get out of the pharmacy before. . .

Before what?

Before Handahl said the wrong thing, revealed too much.

But what could he reveal?

“I’m Jim’s fiancee,” Holly said, somewhat to Jim’s surprise.

“Congratulations, Jim,” Handahl said. “You’re a lucky man. Young lady,

I just hope you know, the family changed its name from Ironhead, which

was more descriptive. Stubborn group.” He winked and laughed.

Holly said, “Jim’s taking me around town, showing me favorite places

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