Chasing a Blond Moon(126)
“Was,” Atbal insisted.
After fifteen minutes, McCants got her preliminary Breathalyzer test kit out of the truck and stepped over to Valda.
“Stand up,” she said.
“Thet a lie detectin’ thang?”
“No, sir. Please hold your hands out level with your shoulders, then touch your nose with your left index finger.”
He did as he was told, the finger striking above his left eye. “Okay, other hand.”
Same result. “Sir, I want you to walk forward exactly nine steps, heel to toe, turn on one foot and return to me; do you understand?”
As often happened with people who were high, Valda started walking before she finished the instructions, stumbled, went down to one knee, tried to get up, and fell on his side.
McCants let him get up on his own. She held a penlight in front of his eyes and moved it slowly from right to left.
“Give me a number between nineteen and twenty-one,” she said.
“Twinny-two,” he said.
Service cringed.
“Okay, sir. Take a seat.”
She repeated the same tests with Atbal, who did better on the walk-and-turn, but had the same impairments in the HGN test. Horizontal Gaze Nystagmus tested the subject’s ability to track a moving object. Neither man had passed.
McCants removed the PBT device from its carrying case and took out a plasticized card and read Atbal his test rights under the Michigan statute. “You do not have to take this test,” she said after she had finished reading the card, “but you will have to take a test when you get to the station. That’s the law.”
Valda said, “Din’t have thet much ta drink.”
“How many?” McCants asked.
“Four cans.”
She didn’t hide her irritation. “There were four cans on the trail and one of you dumped another one on the way out.”
“Each,” Valda said. “What’s ta trouble? We wunt drivin’.”
McCants looked in the bed of their truck, saw two empty twelve-packs.
“How long were you in your blind?” she asked.
“Since ta sun got own high,” Valda said.
“You weren’t here at two and I saw your truck at four.”
Valda shrugged. “Four each is all we had, swear to God. I ain’t takin’ no test.”
“Me neither either,” Atbal said. “If we ain’t gotta, we ain’t gonna.”
“This is only a preliminary breath test—a PBT,” McCants said. “There will be another one at the station.”
“We wunt drivin’,” Valda said. “Why we gettin’ took ofe ta jail?”
McCants got out her Miranda card and read the men their rights. The onlookers were all listening intently and quietly. When she finished, she said, “Here’s what we have: hunting while impaired, no orange, no licenses, littering, carrying loaded weapons after dark, shooting while impaired.”
“You-un ain’t sayed nothin’ ’bout ma dawg a-bein’ kilt,” Eulik Somcoc said from the group between Linsenman and the two conservation officers.
McCants said, “We’re going to take care of it, sir.”
“Best you do,” Somcoc said. “Winston a-been with me onta five year.”
The dogs in the truck kennel started barking again. McCants said, “Go ahead and give them a drink, but don’t let them out.”
She looked back at Valda. “Anything you say can be used against you in court. I suggest you say nothing more until you talk to a lawyer.”
“Where we get a lawyer up here, you-un?”
“Sir, the state will take care of that for you.” She read Atbal his rights as well, then asked each man to sign a form verifying that they had read and understood them.
Two Delta County deputies had arrived; the whole area was illuminated now. Above them lightning was flashing inside the cloud cover, turning the night sky a ghastly yellow.
“Deputies,” McCants said.
The two Delta deputies came forward. McCants put one-time cuffs on each man and the four officers took the prisoners to the patrol cars and put them in the backseats. She gave the deputies the weapons and drugs and had them sign evidence custody cards. One of the deputies looked at the bag of dope and grinned, “Chocolate Thai make an elephant fly.” They drove away silently with flashing lights.
McCants took off her hat, ran her hand through her hair, and turned to the group. “We need to look at your licenses, boys.”
Eulik T. Somcoc said, “I want thet dawg a-mine.”
The licenses were all in order.
“I’m sorry. I can’t let you have your dog yet,” McCants said. “Your dog is evidence. Where’s your camp? Soon as we’re finished, I’ll bring him to you.”