The huge size and geography of the Mosquito was such that police agencies from any of four counties might respond. A voice on the radio chirped, “ETA, five mikes.” Service recognized the voice and the call sign. It was Linsenman from Marquette County.
McCants said, “Everybody stay calm.”
Service felt edgy, glad backup was close.
Dogs started barking in one of the trucks, and a man said, “I’ll fetch’em some water, Eulik.”
“Never mind water.” Service said. All they needed was for dogs to get released in this and they would have total chaos.
“They’s a-callin’ for water,” the first man said, adding, “Who shot my dawg?”
“Eulik?” Service said.
“That be me, Eulik T. Somcoc.”
McCants said, “Okay, Mr. Somcoc, let’s just relax so we can do our jobs.”
“I be waitin’,” the man said.
“Yankee justice,” one of the men near Somcoc groused quietly.
McCants said to the first two hunters, “Okay, let’s see your licenses.” She followed the two men over to their truck. Valda leaned in, moved and tossed things around, cursing under his breath. He went on for two or three minutes, then straightened up. “I speck they be back ta camp.”
“Mind if I look?” Candi asked.
“I done looked,” the man said, standing his ground.
Service looked at Atbal. “You got something to hide in there?”
“Hay-il no. Ain’t ma truck, is all.”
“Mr. Valda,” McCants said.
“They in camp,” Valda insisted.
She looked at Atbal. “Sir, I can smell alcohol on your breath. You were in the woods with loaded weapons after legal shooting hours, no hunter orange, no licenses, littering. It’s just gonna keep piling up. A little cooperation will go a long way here.”
Valda said, “Ain’t mine. Belongs ta Dermid.”
“May I look inside?”
Valda stepped aside. McCants pawed around under the seats, found a one-gallon freezer bag, lifted it out, held it up for Service to see, and held it up for Valda. “A little weed—as in half a pound?”
“Done said ain’t mine,” he said. “Talk at Dermid.” He added, “Tole you don’t be smokin’ that shit!”
“Best you-un be a-shuttin’ thet mout,” Atbal said.
“Okay,” Service said. “Mr. Valda, please join Mr. Atbal and have a seat.”
“Ground’s cold, maht rain any minute, I speck,” Atbal said.
“Bear hunters are tough,” Service said.
When neither man moved, Service said, “Put your ass in the grass, now!”
The two men did as they were ordered. Service looked at his watch, said to McCants, “Fifteen.” The law required a fifteen-minute observation period before sobriety tests could be administered. Usually this applied to the testing that went on at the station after the preliminary evaluation in the field, but Service had always followed the rule, wherever he was, and years before, he had taught McCants to do the same.
“Capisce,” she said.
They heard Linsenman coming down the road, bottoming out as he raced along. His vehicle needed a new muffler.
His patrol car jerked to a stop and aimed its headlights from behind the second group of men. Linsenman got out and stood by his patrol car with his door open to shield him. “You want me over there?”
“You’re good to go right there,” McCants said. “Thanks.”
Now that they had everyone lit, Service began to relax.
“We busted?” Valda asked.
“Sir, it’s illegal to possess drugs,” McCants said.
“Din’t possess nothin’, the man said. “Was thet nitwit dere who done hit.”
“Who shot the dog?” McCants asked.
“Weren’t no dawg ta be shet at,” Atbal said.
“Was a she-bar an’ cub,” Valda said. “Sumbitch missed ’em both.”
“Din’t miss,” Atbal said.
“Did you shoot at both of them?” McCants asked.
“Hit ’em both, d’ya know.”
“You shot at a cub?” One of the men from the second group asked, his voice strained.
“Make no sense ta pop mama bar, leave thet babe all to itseff,” Atbal said in his own defense.
Valda nodded agreement.
“You shot after dark,” McCants said.
“Did not,” Atbal said immediately. “T’was still shootin’ light.”
Service refrained from rolling his eyes.
“What took you so long to come out?” McCants asked.
“Din’t want no wounded bar a-jumpin’ us,” Atbal said.
“Weren’t no wounded bar,” Valda said.