route through the stranded cars.
On the other side of the intersection, he said, “So if you aren’t
worried about my driving, what is eating at you? ”
Jack hesitated, then told him about the call from Lavelle.
Nick listened, but without diverting his attention from the treacherous
streets. When Jack finished, Nick said, “Jesus Christ Almighty!”
“My sentiments exactly,” Jack said.
“You think he can do it? Put a curse on your kids?
One that’ll actually work?”
Jack turned the question back on him. “What do you think?”
Nick pondered for a moment. Then: “I don’t know.
It’s a strange world we live in, you know. Flying saucers, Big Foot,
the Bermuda Triangle, the Abominable Snowman, all sorts of weird things
out there. I like to read about stuff like that. Fascinates me.
There’re millions of people out there who claim to’ve seen a lot of
truly strange things. Not all of it can be bunk-can it? Maybe some of
it. Maybe most of it. But not all of it.
Right?”
“Probably not all of it,” Jack agreed.
“So maybe voodoo works.”
Jack nodded.
“Of course, for your sake, and for the kids, I hope to God it doesn’t
work,” Nick said.
They traveled half a block in silence.
Then Nick said, “One thing bothers me about this Lavelle, about what he
told you.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, let’s just say voodoo does work.”
“Okay.”
“I mean, let’s just pretend.”
“I understand.”
“Well, if voodoo works, and if he wants you off the case, why would he
use this magic power of his to kill your kids? Why wouldn’t he just use
it to kill you?
That’d be a lot more direct.”
Jack frowned. “You’re right.”
“If he killed you, they’d assign another detective to the case, and it
isn’t too likely the new man would be as open-minded as you are about
this voodoo angle. So the easiest way for Lavelle to get what he wants
is to eliminate you with one of his curses. Now why doesn’t he do
that-supposing the magic works, I mean?”
“I don’t know why.”
“Neither do I,” Nick said. “Can’t figure it. But I think maybe this is
important, Lieutenant. Don’t you?”
“How?”
“See, even if the guy’s a lunatic, even if voodoo doesn’t work and
you’re just dealing with a maniac, at least the rest of his story-all
the weird stuff he told you-has its own kind of crazy logic. It’s not
filled with contradictions. Know what I mean?”
“Yes.”
“It hangs together, even if it is bullshit. It’s strangely logical.
Except for the threat against your kids. That doesn’t fit. Illogical.
It’s too much trouble when he could just put a curse on you. So if he
has the power, why doesn’t he aim it at you if he’s going to aim it at
anyone?”
“Maybe it’s just that he realizes he can’t intimidate me by threatening
my own life. Maybe he realizes the only way to intimidate me is through
my kids.”
“But if he just destroyed you, had you chewed to pieces like all these
others, then he wouldn’t have to intimidate you. Intimidation is
clumsy. Murder is cleaner.
See what I mean? ”
Jack watched the snow hitting the windshield, and he thought about what
Nick had said. He had a hunch that it was important.
In the storage shed, Lavelle completed the ritual. He stood in orange
light, breathing hard, dripping sweat.
The beads of perspiration reflected the light and looked like droplets
of orange paint. The whites of his eyes were stained by the same
preternatural glow, and his well-buffed fingernails also gleamed orange.
Only one thing remained to be done in order to assure the deaths of the
Dawson children. When the time came, when the deadline arrived for Jack
Dawson and he didn’t back off as Lavelle wanted, then Lavelle would only
have to pick up two pair of ceremonial scissors and cut both ends of the
slender cord from which the photographs hung. The pictures would fall
into the pit and vanish in the furnacelike glow, and then the demonic
powers would be set loose; the curse would be fulfilled.
Penny and Davey Dawson wouldn’t have a chance.