Free Ice Hunter by Joseph Heywood Page A

the law.”
    â€œMaybe after she’s had a shower,” Service said.
    â€œSoap breaks the seal,” Allerdyce said. “God give us a seal on our skin to keep off the germs. Break the seal, you get sick. You seen a bear take a bath?”
    â€œThey swim.”
    â€œNot with soap,” Limpy said with a grin. “Check the Bible on that.” Allerdyce looked up at him. “You been out there skulking a while?”
    Service nodded.
    â€œThought so,” Limpy said. “Had me a feeling, but you know how it is when you get the pussy-wants. How’d you figure it out?”
    â€œProcess of elimination.”
    Allerdyce grunted. “Guess it don’t pay to have favorites.”
    â€œProbably not,” Service said. It always amazed him how hardened criminals would engage in weird conversations after they were in custody. It was as if nothing had happened.
    â€œGuess you healed up okay.”
    â€œGood enough.”
    â€œMe, I’m a fast healer too. You know, I coulda killed your ass that night, but the way I seen it, we were both just doing our jobs. You’d do good to remember that.”
    â€œConsidering where you are now, that blade cuts two ways.”
    Limpy looked up and grinned toothlessly. “I guess it does at that.”
    It had taken six months to try him, and he had been gone seven years since then.
    Service got two Strohs from the refrigerator, took a seat beside Treebone, and gave his friend one of the beers.
    â€œYou’d rather play with Allerdyce than face your mother-in-law?”
    â€œI’m just here to help.”
    Service said, “We have to do this my way, Tree.”
    â€œThere’s no rules for cockroaches, my man.”
    â€œI don’t break the law.”
    â€œShit,” Tree said with an expansive grin. “Bending ain’t breaking.”
    â€œI’ll decide how much bend there’ll be.”
    The two men clicked their beer cans together.
    Treebone said, “I always follow orders.”
    â€œWhen they suit you.”
    â€œWhere would we be if we always followed orders in She-it nam?”
    â€œPoint taken,” Service said.

    Most of the Allerdyce clan lived in a compound on a narrow peninsula between North and South Beaverkill Lakes. The area was a long way from civilization, not the sort of place you just stumbled across. With water on two sides and swamps on both ends, it was difficult to get to. There was a two-track from a US Forest Service road down to the compound’s parking area and then a half-mile walk along a twisting trail from there into the camp itself. The surrounding area was dense with cedars, hemlocks, and tamaracks. In terms of isolation, it was a fortress.
    Approaching from any direction other than the tote road and trail was difficult, but over the years Service had done some prowling around and had learned the family’s trail system.
    It took nearly five hours for the two men to move into position. They could smell smoke from the camp and hear the sound of rifles being fired into the air. The celebration was under way.
    â€œSounds like the boys and girls are havin’ a high old time,” Treebone said. He wiped perspiration off his forehead and slapped at the mosquitoes and insects swarming around them. “Bugs here big enough to shoot .”
    Service ignored the insects and discomfort. “You understand what we’re gonna do?”
    â€œYup.”
    â€œDon’t take this lightly and don’t overdo it. They’ve got weapons and some of them are felons. That’s all we need.”
    â€œBlack Man and Robin ride the redneck trail,” Treebone said. “I love this shit.”
    â€œThese assholes aren’t the Insane Latin Counts, but they have their unique style. Don’t underestimate them.”
    â€œYou worry too much. ‘Is You Is or Is You Ain’t My Baby?’ ”
    This was the title of an Aaron Izenhall song.