The Ravens by Vidar Sundstøl Page A

lag?”
    “Do you know what jet lag is?” Lance was surprised.
    “Uh-huh. It’s when you come back home from the other side of the world and take a dump like you’re . . .”
    Lance had to laugh.
    “But that’s what Dan Proudhom said.”
    “Who’s that?”
    “He goes to junior high.”
    “Do you know him?”
    “No. He’s Chad’s brother.”
    “And you know Chad?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “And what did Dan Proudhom say about jet lag?”
    “He said that you take a dump like you’re on the other side of the world. In China, for example. Is that true?”
    “Yeah, I take a dump like a Chinese guy now.”
    Jimmy laughed so hard he almost fell off his chair.
    AFTERWARD they drove around Grand Portage for a while, which was one of Jimmy’s favorite things to do. Just rolling quietly through the narrow streets between the high snowbanks made by the plows. Lenny Diver was from here. That was the thing about Grand Portage—for those who came from here, was it less likely that the dice would roll in their favor on the day when it really mattered?
    A white pickup came slowly toward them when they were almost back at Jimmy’s house. Lance noticed that it stopped a short distance down the road.
    After making sure his son was safely inside, he drove back the same way they had come. The white pickup turned and again slowly approached. When they were almost level with each other, the driver stuck his arm out the open window and signaled for Lance to stop.
    He pulled over and rolled down the window. There were two suspicious-looking men with long hair inside the truck.
    “Are you that forest cop?” asked the driver.
    His tone of voice was harsh, but he avoided looking Lance in the eye, as if he didn’t dare show his face.
    “Yeah,” said Lance after a moment’s hesitation.
    “The guy who found the Norwegian?”
    “Huh?”
    “At Baraga’s Cross?”
    “Yeah. That was me.”
    The man deliberately raised his index finger and slowly moved it from side to side, in a warning gesture.
    “What is it you guys want?”
    “You know,” he said.
    “No, I don’t.”
    Lance could hear how confused and pitiful his voice sounded.
    “You can save Lenny,” said the other man, partially hidden behind the driver.
    “Lenny?”
    “Lenny Diver. You can save him. If you don’t, you’ll be cursed for all eternity. You and your whole family.”
    The driver nodded, as if to underscore that they were serious. Then he rolled up his window and drove past.

17
    WHEN HE WOKE UP, Lance thought at first that he’d dreamed something, but he couldn’t remember what it was. Bewildered, he sat up in bed and looked around. The bedroom didn’t seem familiar, as if he’d gone into the wrong house and fallen asleep in someone else’s bed. Then he remembered: the white pickup. But that was no dream. His heart began pounding at a hollow, uncomfortable gallop. He got up and pulled open the curtains. The dazzling light stung his eyes.
    The clock radio on the nightstand said it was 10:41.
    He put on his bathrobe and slippers and then shuffled out to the kitchen and switched on the coffeemaker. The house had warmed up since the heaters had all been going full-blast for hours, but the rooms still had an abandoned air about them, as if they hadn’t quite woken up from a long slumber.
    Carrying his coffee cup, he went into the living room and sat down in his favorite chair. There he sat, squinting at the intense glitter coming off the snowy landscape outside the big picture window. Cars were soundlessly rushing past on the road below. His own Jeep Cherokee was parked in front of the red building that housed his cousin Rick’s hardware store. The road up to his home had been newly plowed. His cousin must have done it while Lance was asleep.
    He took a few sips of the piping-hot coffee and felt an inkling of well-being start to emerge, but then he happened to think of those two men again.
    “If you don’t, you’ll be cursed for all eternity. You and