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It was true that Jacque kept his ear to the ground. Teaching the five men, he heard a lot of gossip as they talked with each other before and after the lessons. However, he’d heard nothing salient about Mystique’s murder.

With his thoughts still racing, he got up from his chair. He fried up some fish for dinner and then cleaned up the kitchen.

The conversation with Monique had gone on much longer than he’d initially intended. He sank back down in his chair and tried to read for a little while, but his conversation with Monique kept replaying in his head.

Hopefully his mind would quiet enough so he could sleep. Even though it was a little early for his bedtime, he was tired. He turned off all the lanterns that were lit in the room except one, which he carried with him into his bedroom.

He set the lantern on one of the two nightstands and then turned down the navy blue spread on the king-size bed. He stripped off his clothes until he was only in a pair of boxers and then he climbed into bed and turned the lantern off.

Bright moonlight drifted in the window, and frogs croaked good night from the nearby pond. Insects clicked and buzzed, adding their songs to the lullaby of the night. It wasn’t long before he drifted off to sleep.

He awakened early the next morning and grabbed a towel from the closet in his bathroom. He went out on his back porch where a wooden shower stall stood.

If there was one thing he missed from his former life, it was a good, strong shower. The shower in the swamp consisted of sun-warmed rain water that trickled from a complicated structure of pipes, ultimately creating a rather weak spray. Still, it was enough to get him clean.

He took a quick shower and washed his hair, then wrapped a towel around his waist to go back inside the house. Once in his bedroom, he pulled on a clean pair of jeans and one of his short-sleeved dress shirts.

Brushing out his long hair, he decided that today was the day he was going into town to get a haircut. He’d been thinking about it for weeks. He was tired of caring for it, and he’d never really wanted long hair to begin with. It had been part laziness and part aversion of going into town that had kept him from visiting the barber for so long.

He returned to the back porch to start his generator, which would give him enough electricity to charge his phone, make breakfast and brew a pot of coffee.

Once the coffee was brewing, he put a half dozen strips of bacon to fry in an iron skillet on the electric stovetop. Within minutes, the smell of coffee and frying bacon filled the shanty.

Once it was ready, he poured himself a cup of coffee, flipped the bacon strips over and then sank down at the table to wait for the bacon to get done. Immediately his thoughts filled with Monique.

Was she having second thoughts about her plan? He hoped she was going to the chief of police instead of to a house to hunt for a stolen book and a stone-cold killer.

He got up and took the bacon out of the skillet and then fried two eggs and made toast. Once he was finished with breakfast, he cleaned up the kitchen and then decided to take his pirogue out to do a little gator gazing.

Even though he had no intention of hunting today, he went into the bedroom and pulled his shoulder holster and revolver out of the top drawer of his dresser. He never went out in the swamp without his firearm. Armed with his gun and his cell phone, he got into the shallow boat and took off.

It was beautiful at this time of the morning. The sky was an intense blue overhead, and the sun reflected in the water. Birds sang from the tops of the trees, and fish jumped as if to taunt him.

Using his push pole, he left the shore and then used a paddle to gently glide across the water. The air smelled of the many plants and trees, and he drew in deep breaths of the fresh air tinged with the faint odor of decay. He’d grown accustomed to the latter smell since it was always present in the swamp.

In the distance he saw a large gator sunning on top of a fallen log while a smaller gator swam in the water with only his eyes showing his presence. He knew they wouldn’t bother him as long as he didn’t bother them.

Four years ago, he’d arrived in the Dark Waters swamp a broken man with little will to live. He’d had no fear of anything, including the big gators that lived so close to his shanty. That was when he’d decided to become a gator-hunter…a foolish job for a man with no fear.

Lately he had no desire to catch one of the big beasts. He much preferred the peacefulness of fishing or just sightseeing in the swamp that still held so many of nature’s mysteries for him to discover. He’d learned to seek peace wherever he could.

So why the hell had he agreed to help Monique with her crazy scheme?

Deep down in his bones, he knew why. It was the yawning grief that had darkened her beautiful eyes. Despite her attractive floral scent, the smell of deep grief clung to her.

He knew that kind of grief. It was an old friend of his and one that he wouldn’t wish on anyone. If he could help her alleviate some of her grief, it would be worth it. The only thing that had helped him was time, but obviously she wasn’t in the mood to wait any longer.

At two twenty the next day, Jacque left his shanty and took off walking down the narrow path to Monique’s place. He knew where most of the people in the swamp lived. He’d made it his business to know when he first moved here.

It was another warm summer day. As he walked, something scurried in the bushes at the side of the path, but he didn’t see what kind of little animal it was. The swamp was home to so many small creatures.

He was still hoping he’d get to her shanty and she’d tell him she’d changed her mind and was taking the new list of suspects to Daniel.

But just in case she hadn’t, he wore his gun. He’d keep it on each time they went to one of the houses in town. If she was really going through with her scheme, then he intended to do everything in his power to make sure she stayed safe. Hopefully, after visiting one or two homes, she would realize the futility and potential danger she was entertaining and she would stop.

He finally arrived at her shanty and went up the bridge that led to the front door. Once there, he knocked, and she answered almost immediately.

“Hi, Jacque, come on in,” she said with one of her wide-open smiles. She looked very pretty in a long red-and-white-striped skirt and a crisp, tailored white blouse. Red beads hung around her neck and matched the earrings in her ears. “I just need to grab my purse and take care of a few things, then I’ll be ready to go. Feel free to have a seat.” She gestured toward the navy sofa with bright yellow throw pillows.