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did. This guy had jumped out fast. Their encounter had spooked the man. If his vehicle was ten miles south on the highway, why was he headed west? Definitely hinky.
    The man’s tracks showed that he was moving fast, using the trail for a while then going off trail, sort of zigzagging. It took an hour to find where the man had parked a vehicle. It was gone, of course, but it had been there. Judging by the width of the wheel base, it was a full-size Bronco, a Blazer, or a Ram, all models no longer in production.
    Now Service was really curious. Cutting north, he jogged quickly back to his truck, drove out, and circled back to the road where the stranger was most likely to have come out. He found tracks that fit the ones he had seen back in the woods; the pattern showed a left turn. Service drove along the road for thirty minutes, but decided to give it up. The man hadn’t done anything wrong. He had just acted strangely. So it went. Submitted to the same test, he would no doubt also fail.
    It was time for home and sleep. Tomorrow he had to be in court on a case from an arrest he had made last September. Time in court was usually a pain in the ass, and this would be no different.
    At the house Cat met him on the porch and hissed ostentatiously. He had found the animal in a bag of eight newborn kittens that somebody had drowned. Why this one survived was beyond him, but it had and had turned into a feline misanthrope. Which made it an animal he could relate to.
    â€œOkay, food coming up, you four-legged ingrate. Put your claws back in their sheaths.”
    For most of his career in the Department of Natural Resources, Service had lived in a pop-up camper that he moved from campground to campground, but five years ago he had bought property close to the Tract and built what he called a house. Others called it a shack, or worse. But the opinions of others rarely concerned him; the place suited him. It was two stories with one large room on each level. The upper level was for expansion but so far remained empty, a place for Cat to dismember mice and voles and hold forth over lesser creatures in nature’s violent chain. On the ground floor he had a kitchen area, a bathroom behind unpainted doors he had propped up to serve as screens, his communications equipment, and a dozen OD military surplus footlockers. He slept on a thin mattress on three of the footlockers set end to end.
    As soon as he shed his uniform, he checked his messages. There were the usual whinings of residents and a couple of calls from local stoolies, but only two calls interested him. Lisette McKower said she wanted to meet him tomorrow after court at the Duck. McKower was a sergeant and his protégé as well. He had trained her a long time ago and she had moved up. He wondered what she wanted.
    The other call was from Luticious Treebone.
    He called Treebone’s home number in Detroit.
    â€œThis is the Tree,” a booming voice answered.
    â€œHow’s Hoffa?” His friend’s pit bull.
    â€œBad tempered, which is just how I like my dogs. S’up, man?”
    â€œYou called me, remember?”
    â€œRight, just wanted to see if you were payin’ attention. I’ve got some time off. I’m thinking maybe I might mosey north and do some fishing. You up for it?”
    â€œTree, you hate it up here.”
    â€œThen I’ll just ride along with you. Change of scenery will do me good. Kalina’s mother is coming to town.”
    â€œNo guts?”
    â€œDiscretion, baby. There’s a time to wail and a time to bail. A man don’t wanna get the two bollixed up, dig?”
    Service laughed softly. “I’ll line up some footlockers for you.”
    â€œYou don’t own a bed yet?”
    â€œI refuse to join the conspicuous consumptionists.”
    â€œMan, you need to join the human race.” Treebone laughed. “I’ll be there day after tomorrow. I can let myself in.”
    â€œWatch