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back. “Maybe it was her mate and she’s pissed. And now they killed her fawn and she’s going to get even.”
    “Hmm, you just sparked an idea. What do you do to get even?” Porter asked, jotting some ideas on his note pad. “Let’s see: You give what you get, settle the score, make it right.”
    “Eye for an eye,” Kottle chimed in.
    “Good. What else?”
    “What are you looking for? Some meaning out of the doe’s hoof prints?” Sanguini queried.
    “What if it’s not a ‘1,’” Deputy Crossbine said. “What if—”
    “Hah, I know where you’re going,” Porter said, gleaming. “It’s an ‘I,’ as in ‘I-4-I,’ or eye for eye .”
    “Come on people, you’re more intelligent than that. Can’t be. No animal is that smart. Sure, an animal might seek revenge, maybe, but associate to a human concept—no way.” Sanguini said.
    “Monkeys and apes are capable of learning human gestures, why not deer?” Porter said.
    “Because someone would have to spend a lot of time teaching it, and I don’t think this doe has ever been around humans much except to run from hunters and local farmers.”
    “Maybe we’re up against a quirk of nature,” Kottle said.
    “Did you see how the doe reacted when I said, eye for eye ? There, she did it again,” Porter said, pointing.
    “Quiet down people, or get the hell out of here,” the State Police officer commanded, lowering his stance, raising his handgun and bobbing his head to the side taking determined aim at the doe.
    The doe lowered her head, lifted it up quickly, and down again.
    “Yes, she’s indicating: yes.” Porter repeated in a high-pitched whisper.
    Each time the doe responded as before.
    “My baby, my baby,” the old woman’s daughter yelled. “It’s going to kill my baby!”
    The child flipped over trying to crawl forward. The doe lowered her head, pushing the boy back against the tree making it cry again.
    Pop. Pop.
    Two puffs of smoke rolled forward from the State Police officer’s gun as it recoiled. The impacting bullets forced the doe off balance. She bowed her head trying to grasp the child in her teeth. She chomped at the air around the small boy’s head, staggering sideways.
    “Oh, my God,” Kottle said. “She’s falling on the kid.”
    Porter reacted and ran toward the deer.
    “Stop, stop! Let me get another round off,” the officer said.
    Crossbine and Sanguini, hesitated, then jumped forward as well. Porter slammed the doe’s head with his right fist, but she continued to bite wildly at the air over the child’s head. He reached down, grabbed the child, turned and gently launched the struggling boy into Sanguini’s arms.
    “Ugh. Shit. She bit my ass.” Porter grimaced, putting his hand back to feel the damage. The doe chomped onto his suit coat sleeve, yanking and twisting. He let the coat slip away from his arms and leaped forward.
    Pop. Pop.
    Another two shots rang out. The doe exhaled; her legs slid out to four corners as she lowered to the ground.
    Whoomp. The skirmish ended.
    ~ ~ ~
    “Front page story, I’d say,” Porter said, scribbling more notes as the old woman, daughter, son-in-law and small child were escorted into the State Police vehicle. “Ah, I didn’t get their names.”
    “I’ll ask them,” Sanguini said, walking over to the police car. He leaned over and chatted through the window. The son-in-law waved his hands wildly. Sanguini shook his head, stood up and returned to the standing reporters.
    “They refused to give their names to maintain their privacy. They’re afraid others will threaten them.”
    “Threaten them? Doesn’t make sense,” Kottle said.
    “Actually it does. Many local business owners around here don’t want any negative hunting stories to get into the news. Can mean lost tourist dollars. Also, squatters and meth-lab operators don’t want the general public grousing around the woods on private property.”
    “So what do we do?” Kottle asked.
    “We’ve got the