At the same time
He worked alone.
The idea of having a partner—even if only until he didn’t need one anymore—made him edgy. If you let someone inside, they made demands. And they made mistakes.
Justice didn’t tolerate mistakes. They were too dangerous.
From where he stood, he could see the bayou without anyone seeing him. He was hidden by the trees. Watching traffic on the water calmed him, focused him. He liked thinking about the gators in there—and the cottonmouths. He had a particular fondness for the snakes. What would it be like to carry an instrument of agonizing destruction with you?
The snakes had possibilities.
He had to stop the rage at his failure that morning. Rage was better gathered in and turned outward again.
Setting the fire had only complicated things. He should have sucked up his anger that Roche didn’t leave in time, and gone back later, or tomorrow. If the fire chief had the right resources, they’d figure out what he’d done. Then there would be a hunt, and he’d be the hunted. Not that they’d ever find out who he was.
Killing Bleu would be the fastest way to get what he wanted. Or it would be a good start.
The other one would have to go, too, but not until he got what he wanted from her.
He had picked his next diversion. When the authorities needed to be confused, there was nothing like a fresh kill to do the job.