big guy,” Liam murmured, pitching his voice low and firm. The dog’s massive jaws snapped a foot short of his leg. Liam’s eyes roamed over the thick metal links wrapped around a willow tree, an overturned water bowl and a bone the size of his calf resting beneath it. He gave the animal a wide berth and strode up to the porch, his hand automatically running over his Glock and flipping open the holster’s snap. It paid to be ready in case these guys surprised him.
He rang the bell a few times, then tugged open the metal screen to knock, peering through the side glass panels. An empty living room and a narrow hall were visible. Little else. Still, with a vehicle on the premises, his suspects could be out back.
He shooed away the blackflies nagging at his ears and paced around the house, listening for voices.
Tinkling wind chimes sounded and birds called out their territory from the surrounding trees. Otherwise, silence reigned. When he rounded the house’s rear corner he pulled up short, the air sticking inside his lungs.
A black bear hung from a massive maple, rope tying its paws to a thick limb. He smothered an exclamation, his worst suspicions confirmed when he noted the animal’s swollen teats. A lactating female. Most likely the cub’s mother. He pulled out his cell phone and snapped a couple of photos.
Had the men answered the front door, any evidence he found without a search warrant wouldn’t be admissible. Yet glimpsing it while trying to contact them at the back door—that would squeak by the judge. And these guys would see their day in court.
His eyes narrowed as he turned away from the bear. He’d haul them in today. Vivie had mentioned they weren’t New Yorkers. Out-of-state meant flight risk and an appearance before the bench. His lips stretched in a grim smile. Justice was sweetest when served fast.
After another regretful look at the beautiful animal, he called in backup, then marched up concrete-block steps and rapped on the door. When no one answered, he pounded on it again, using the side of his fist. He doubted the hunters would leave their prize unguarded. They were skulking inside and someone better open the door, quick, before his patience ran out.
Poachers.
The lowest life-form on the planet.
“Open up. DEC!” he ordered loudly.
At last a man swung the door open, his eyes red and puffy, dark stubble shading his sagging jaw, chin and neck. At the sight of Liam, he straightened his slouch, his lax mouth closing.
Liam flashed his badge. “Officer Walsh. May I come in?”
The man nodded, then seemed to remember he had a voice. “Uh, yeah.” His eyes darted over Liam’s shoulder to the bear, then swerved back. “Come in.”
Liam stepped inside a small, square kitchen littered with beer cans and a nearly empty pizza box on the table. He scrunched his nose at the sour smell of cheap malt and sweat, and noted a high-powered rifle with a scope leaning in the far corner. No signs of fishing gear...
Liam pulled out his notebook and spoke, keeping his voice neutral. Measured. “If anyone else is here, go get them.”
The man dug at his ear and gaped at him.
“Now,” Liam repeated, his voice harder. This wasn’t a social call. Not by a stretch.
The man hurried off, his loose belly jiggling over a pair of boxers. When he returned, another man trudged behind the first, his face pinched, skin pale. In contrast to his fleshy friend, his limbs were elongated and sticklike, kneecaps nearly cutting through flesh.
“Any more weapons in the house?”
The thin man nodded, his eyes darting around the kitchen like hummingbirds. “My rifle.”
“Go get it.” Liam wasn’t worried about these guys pulling anything on him. Besides, his backup would be here in minutes.
The guy whirled and disappeared the way he’d come.
“ID?”
“I’m Tim Favero and that’s my brother Matt.” Tim lumbered over to a couple of flannel jackets hanging on the backs of chairs, pulled out wallets and fished out Montana driver’s licenses.
Liam scribbled down the information, then glanced up as Matt returned carrying his weapon.
“This is it.” He placed his gun beside the pizza box, scattering empty cans. They clattered to the floor and rolled.
“How’d that bear end up in the backyard?” Liam stared them down. Tim lowered his gaze and Matt’s mouth worked for a moment.
“Someone needs to start talking,” Liam barked. “Now.”
“I-it’s ours,” Matt sputtered, cracking his bony knuckles.
“Looks like it’s been shot.”
“Tim got it last night. About eight miles west of here.”
Matt ducked his head at his brother’s accusing stare and scratched the back of his neck.
“Could have been your shot,” Tim’s voice rose, accusingly. “We only had the one floodlight and we both fired at her.”
An argument broke out, silenced when Liam held up a hand. “You knew it was a female right away?”
The men quieted and studied their feet. At last, Tim said, “Saw a cub run up a tree, I guess.”
A sinking feeling settled in Liam’s gut. No doubt about it. Vivie’s cub was orphaned. Would need to be put down. He dragged his mind off the miserable thought. He had to focus on this job first. Hopefully his backup would arrive soon so he could ticket them and call the judge. Get things on a predictable, all-too-familiar track.
“You two have hunting licenses?”
Matt nodded, his movement jerky as he pulled the paperwork from their wallets.
Liam scanned the Montana paperwork, then glanced up. “You got some for New York?”
Tim shrugged. “Didn’t think it was necessary. We hunt big game out there.”
Liam willed the irritation off his face. Every hunter knew to get a state license. What a wise guy.
“Off season?”
The guys exchanged an uneasy glance. “No,” Matt squeaked.
“So you thought you’d come to the Adirondacks and try it?”
“Yes. I mean, no,” Matt’s answer changed at a sharp glance from his brother. “I don’t know,” he added lamely, shoving back a greasy lock of hair.
“Are these the weapons you used last night?” Liam pointed at the rifles.
The men nodded. “We’ve got our gun permits.”
Liam didn’t doubt it. Still, it paid to double-check. “Let’s see them.”
As Tim grabbed the paperwork, a loud barking erupted. Backup. Liam breathed
