Free Death Roe by Joseph Heywood Page A

supervision.”
    â€œMe too. Let’s do it first thing in the morning and take it from there.”
    â€œYou gonna share what you learned?”
    â€œIn the morning. I need sleep,” Grady Service said. What he needed more was guidance for handling a case that was beginning to look like it could be far more complicated than anything he’d ever dealt with before.
    What he wanted to do more than anything was start thinking about the upcoming firearm deer season, but it was beginning to feel like this case might override the things he’d rather do, not to mention the things he knew best. It was a disconcerting thought.
    Leukonovich and Rogers headed to their rooms at a local sleep-cheap, and Service called Luticious Treebone, a habitual night owl, even though he was now retired.
    He and Treebone had finished college the same year—Service at Northern Michigan University, where he’d been a fair student and solid hockey player, and Treebone at Wayne State, where he’d graduated cum laude and lettered in baseball and football. They had both volunteered for the marines and met at Parris Island before serving together in the same long-range recon unit in Vietnam. They had been in hell together, and rarely spoke of it.
    After Vietnam they had entered the Michigan State Police Academy in Lansing and spent two years as Troops before transferring to DNR law enforcement. After a year as a CO, Tree had moved to the Detroit Metropolitan Police Department, where he had risen to the rank of lieutenant in charge of one of the city’s numerous vice units. Had it not been for his wife Kalina’s dislike for the U.P., Treebone would not have transferred to Detroit, but now that he was retired he planned to spend a lot of time at North of Nowhere, the name of the camp Service had bought for his friend.
    â€œYou know what time it is?” his friend challenged him.
    â€œDoes it matter? I’ve got what feels like a complicated case developing—involving at least two states, the IRS, environmental violations, fraud, and God knows what else. It feels way out of my league.”
    â€œBullshit. Just grow you a tree.”
    â€œSay again?”
    â€œWhat we did in Vice. You write down people, places, events, and times. Then you connect them all with different-colored lines to see if there’s a pattern, see how everything fits. It’ll look like a genetically fucked tree when you’ve got it.”
    â€œYou want to meet and show me?”
    â€œI said, we done it, not me. I had people to do that crap.”
    â€œI need help, Tree.”
    â€œMan, I hate that tone. North of Nowhere work for you?”
    â€œThat works, but I don’t know when yet. I’ve got to go to Alaska. I’ll call you and we’ll set up a time.”
    â€œI don’t mind some extra days up there. I’ll bring my bow, see what wanders by.”
    â€œBlack man with a bow and arrow?”
    â€œMan, we invented that shit in Africa. You white boys stole it from us.”

    Service slept for a few hours in the conference room and was awakened by a presence. He looked up to see Zins staring at him and looking around the room.
    â€œWhat?” Service asked.
    â€œStopped by to see Brett. I’m a little early.”
    Bosk and Zins? Odd couple.
    â€œYou look busy, so I’ll leave you alone,” Zins said, taking a final survey of the room.
    Service went into the office area but Zins wasn’t there. He found a receptionist in the canteen, making coffee. “You see El-Tee Zins?”
    â€œNo,” she said.
    â€œHe and Bosk pals?”
    â€œNot that I know of. He shows up about as often as the other lieutenants. Zins just retired, right?”
    Service nodded, went into the men’s room, and splashed his face with cold water to wake up. Afterwards he called Roy Rogers at his motel. “You coming back here this morning?”
    â€œOur flight isn’t till late