“A Renaissance man,” Service said.
McCants grinned.
Service followed her back into the restaurant where they found Ecles behind the counter. “The girls with Verse,” she asked. “You know them?”
“Everybody in town knows all the kids—especially Cathalina Sector and Tina Kangaho. Both of ’em are fourteen and both of ’em are trouble.”
“One of them related to the Pavolas?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Is Verse related to the Pavolas?”
“Doubt that,” Eccles said. “Never seen him till ten days or so ago. Old man Pavola died some years back and his wife moved downstate to live with her daughter. Pavola’s sons and son-in-law come up for deer season, but most of the year the place is empty.”
“Posted?” Service asked.
“Not since I lived up here,” Ecles said.
“You said the girls are trouble,” McCants said. “What kind?”
“Out of control. Sex and booze, out all night, skipping school, all that. They run with older men.”
“Families?”
“Technically, but they don’t seem to pay much attention and the girls do pretty much as they please.”
“You mind if I tag along?” Service asked when they were outside again.
“Ought to let your missus know.”
“Cut that out.”
McCants grinned. “Our boy probably won’t even be there.” She dug out her Alger County plat book, and found the location of the Pavola farm. It touched up against the Delta County line and had been part of his old territory, which was now hers.
Service followed her in his truck.
A mile from the farm she pulled over and ambled back to his vehicle. “Let’s hide my wheels and take your unmarked.”
“You got a good hide in mind?”
McCants smiled. “I learned from the best.”
She parked off a two-track in a copse of pines, covered the grill and hood with downed branches and leaves, and the two officers drove on to the farm. As predicted, nobody appeared to be in the old house, which badly needed paint. A rutted track veered away from the house across a hay field. The two of them stood on the running board of Service’s truck using their binoculars to scan the surrounding fields.
“Ten o’clock,” Service said. “Looks like a straight line. Something’s back there.”
McCants said, “Let’s leave the truck behind the barn, go in on foot.”
Service pulled behind the barn and locked the vehicle.
The two of them headed across the field, circling so as not to telegraph their intended destination.
At two hundred yards they could see a beat-up green trailer and a 2002 double-cab blue Ford 150 truck. “Let’s move closer, get a plate number,” McCants said.
They moved cautiously, staying low and using natural barriers to block their approach. When they were close enough, McCants used her binoculars, got the vehicle license number, and called it in to Lansing.
The answer came back, “2002 Ford 150, dark blue, reported stolen.”
“When?” McCants asked.
“Twelve days ago.”
“Stolen,” McCants said to Service. “Two days after Verse got out of Kinross, and from Pickford, which is pretty much right out the back gate. This is starting to get interesting.”
They could hear music blasting from the trailer.
“Hip-hop,” Service said.
McCants shook her head. “Rap.”
“Same same,” he said.
“You are so white. Let’s get up close and personal.”
“Want to pay a call now?”
“No, let’s let the sun get low. He comes to the door, he’ll have to look due west. That’ll put the sun in his eyes. Let’s use what God gives us.”
Service checked his watch. “Ninety minutes, give or take.”
“Wifey expecting you?”
“Knock it off, Candi. Why’re we going slow on this?”
“Not sure,” she said. “A feeling, and not one of the nice ones, ya know?”
He did, though he felt nothing at the moment.
The two backed off a hundred yards and set up near some tamaracks. Service used his cell phone to call home.
“Nantz.”
“It’s me.”
“Thank God,” she said excitedly. “Kate Nordquist is in the hospital in Escanaba. She and Gutpile stopped to get a snack this morning in Rapid River. She stayed in the truck while he went inside to get sandwiches and coffee. When he came out he found her on the ground. One of her legs is broken in two places, Grady. She has to have surgery. It looks like somebody nailed her with an iron bar, then drove over her. Gutpile can’t understand what got her out of the truck. I called Vince. We’re gonna meet at the hospital and talk to Kate’s doctor.” Vince was Vince Vilardo, an internist, Delta County’s medical examiner, and Service’s longtime friend.