Buck Fever Read Online Free PDF Page B

collar. Then—”
    “Oh, no, don’t tell me what’s coming. Did she...she didn’t. Tell me the doe didn’t hurt the child,” Kottle said, bringing her hands to her mouth.
    “Get a grip,” Porter said, elbowing her.
    “I understand your concern, but no, not yet anyway. The doe carried the boy into the woods, placed him by an oak tree next to her dead fawn, and stood there over him. The deputy sheriff called earlier at the house. He’s all up in arms about what to do without the sheriff being around. I told him to get the State Police to handle it. And, maybe we can help; I don’t know. Either way, it could be a hell of a story.”
    Sanguini turned off the road into a public-access area and parked next to the ambulance and behind the police car.
    “I’m getting nervous. I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” Kottle said.
    “You can stay here if you want. I’m going in,” Porter said, getting out of the car with Sanguini.
    “Not on your life. I’m coming, too,” she said.
    ~ ~ ~
    A Michigan State Police officer, handgun drawn, maintained a steady aim at the disgruntled doe standing about 30 feet away. The deputy sheriff stood by the officer waving for everyone to stay still. The ambulance driver and his sidekick were consoling the child’s parents and grandmother who watched, horrified. The child sat on the ground, crying helplessly. The doe peered down at the toddler underneath it, snorted twice then looked up. A foot away from her right hoof laid a blob of bloody entrails. An apparently dead fawn lay to her left. She stroked the ground in a determined motion. One foot-long mark in the dirt, then another and another. In the middle of the second mark, she twisted her hoof to form a jagged line through it.
    “I haven’t seen anything this bizarre in all my years in the news business,” Sanguini whispered, walking up with Kottle and Porter to join the group.
    “Ain’t this a fine mess, Bob? Sheriff Dave is going to wish he were runnin’ this show when he gets back. Who are these folks? Should we be having the public back here?” the deputy asked, stepping over to Sanguini.
    “Hey, Dan, I see you’re in control...well somewhat, anyway. I’d like you to meet a couple of reporter friends of mine from the Detroit Times. Katie Kottle, Jeb Porter, meet Deputy Sheriff Dan Crossbine.”
    “Hi, that’s C-r-o-s-s-b-i-n-e,” he whispered, beaming.
    “Got it,” Porter said, scribbling the name in his notebook.
    “Take a photo with your cellphone camera—hurry, don’t miss this,” Kottle said, poking Porter.
    “Good idea.” Porter took his cellphone from his coat pocket, turned it on, and clicked. “Damn it,” he half shouted as the phone locked up. “This piece of shit never works when I want to.”
    Kottle shook her head.
    “Guys, we need to be quiet,” Sanguini said.
    “It’s a standoff. We’re hoping she’ll lose interest and walk away. She keeps snorting and dragging her front hoof on the ground, making some kind of pattern. What do you make of it?” the deputy said.
    “Sometimes these come in handy,” Porter said, retrieving a folded set of cheap plastic binoculars from his suit-coat pocket. He popped them open and held them up to his eyes. “Hmm. I’d say she’s drawing a ‘1’ then a...maybe a ‘7’...no, more like a ‘4’, then a ‘1’ again. Does ‘141’ mean anything to anyone?” Porter raised his voice so the others would hear.
    The old woman looked up, scowled, shook her head, and looked away. The daughter and son-in-law, hugging each other, stared at the hoof prints for a moment, then looked at Porter and shook their heads.
    “Doesn’t mean diddle to me,” Deputy Crossbine said.
    “You can’t make human interpretations of what an animal does,” Sanguini said.
    “Hey, the Port Huron man said he got sick after gutting a deer near here. You don’t think it’s the entrails from his deer do you? Eeyou, what if it’s diseased?” Kottle said, stepping