Shepard's calm demeanor hid a volcano of rage when he sat down at the microphone that night. In the two hours since leaving Miranda's half-charred house, his mind had built a dozen scenarios. Each horrified him more than the last.
Miranda might have died in that fire.
Miranda could have been murdered by the knife-wielding arsonist.
Dave could have been sliced in two by that same knife.
If the arsonist had waited five minutes longer, Pietro, Shep, and Dave would not have been home to intervene.
Every house in Minokee could have burned.
The whole forest could have been reduced to charcoal.
Okay, probably not the whole neighborhood or the whole forest. But the most tragic scenarios—death to those he loved—were too deeply within the realm of possibility.
Shep's fury had a target. His enemy had a name, if not yet a face. Iggy had declared war. Bad news for Iggy.
Promptly at 11:00 p.m., Shep hit the button to start his theme music. He waited two seconds then pulled down the music and potted up his mic. Like hot fudge syrup his deep voice flowed from radios across north-central Florida.
"This is Shepard Krausse, and you're listening to Sheep Counters with Shep and Dave on eighty-three point nine, WLOK-FM in Live Oak. We're here to help you light the night. And you fellow sheep counters out there are a vital part of this program. So make some notes about the issues that keep you awake, and let's talk about them. Call us at 877-555-S-H-E-P."
Outside the slanted glass of the control room window, Pietro began answering phones and taking caller information. Inside the control room, Shepard dragged air into his lungs and leaned into the microphone.
"Before we talk with our first caller," he said, "I've got a story of my own to share. It's about a guy named Iggy. Iggy has a lot of power in this state. Iggy has been making a lot of money fixing bids on state construction projects for the last few years. Iggy has been costing us taxpayers a ton of cash.
"That's tax money we paid—sometimes willingly, sometimes not, but we paid—because we know tax money builds schools, maintains and builds roads, builds low-income housing, builds libraries and parks and mass transit systems. And Iggy took our money and lined a dishonest contractor's fat pockets with it. A lot of that cash landed in Iggy's pocket, too.
"Iggy committed fraud upon fraud upon fraud, and he stole from all of us. That was bad enough. But, you see, Iggy is not just a thief. He's also a coward.
"It takes a coward to murder a little old lady because of a letter she wrote or some pictures she might have taken when she was out bird-watching.
"It takes a coward to plant a venomous snake in the path of a blind man.
"And just tonight, a coward set fire to a harmless young lady's home and nearly killed her.
"You've gone too far, Iggy. We've been waiting for you to come forward, turn state's evidence, and redeem yourself by putting an end to the bidding scheme and sending the rich contractor to jail.
"We've waited while you went from conspiracy and fraud to murder and attempted murder and arson. We're through waiting."
The pitch of his voice fell from dark chocolate to black tar pit. Instead of delicious warmth, the sound boiled with menace and danger. Shepard spoke as if whispering into someone's ear, "I'm coming for you, Iggy."
Outside the slanted window, Pietro had gone still, staring at Shep. Then Pietro closed his eyes and shook his head.
"We'll be back with our first caller in just a minute. You're listening to Sheep Counters with Shep and Dave on eighty-three point nine, WLOK-FM, Live Oak. Be right back."
A commercial message replaced his voice on the airwaves. Shep potted down his mic and leaned back in his chair. The next few hours should be very interesting.