The other problem was that, out of the three possible rural residence burglary targets in the area where Mike had made the first contact with the horn-blowing Fred, there were no tracks in the farm drives. The snow had come down a couple of days ago, and any movement into those drives would have been immediately noticeable. After we saw the tools in Goober's car, Mike had driven back up the course of the chase and had checked himself. No tracks. No evidence of any crime. Well, not yet, anyway.

"So, Fred," I said. "What were you doin' out on a night like this?"

"De, de, deer," he said, still shaking.

"Deer?" I asked. "What deer?"

"The ones I was honkin' at," he replied. "I was hon, hon, honkin' at deer."

"Honkin' at deer…"

"Well," he said in a whiny voice, "… yeah. I heh-heh hit one a year ago, and I stop and honk at 'em nuh, nuh, now. That's all." He looked so serious and honest in such a studied way, it was almost painfully obvious he was lying through his teeth.

"Fred… you really expect me to believe that?"

There was a long pause. Then he said the most honest thing he'd said all night. "Well, it'd bu, bu, bu, be nice if you di, di, di, did…"

We had nothing, we couldn't hold him much longer than the time it would take to do an accident report and get his car out of the ditch, and I was very, very tired. "Tell you what, Fred… You think about it, and we'll talk again in a minute or two." I looked at him for a long moment. "Just don't lie to me, Fred. You know how I hate that."

He nodded. "Okay."

I picked up my mike. "Comm, Three. I'll be bringing the driver into the department as soon as the wrecker gets here. Any idea on an ETA for that?"

"Just a few minutes," she replied. "I called him about fifteen minutes ago, and he said he'd go right out."

"Ten-four," I said. I felt sorry for the wrecker driver. Bundling up, going out to an ice cold garage and getting into an ice cold wrecker, just to come out here and pull out some idiot's car that shouldn't have been here in the first place…