“They tell me that if I keep agitating about arson, they’ll snatch me when I’m out some night, when I least expect it. They’ll take me to the cemetery where Sherry and Andy are buried, right to their graves, soak me in gasoline, set me on fire, do it in such a way it looks like suicide. I believe them. They’ve got everyone in their pocket, from people in the medical examiner’s office to the fire marshal’s investigators, to the police. They can get away with anything. So they’ll do it; they’ll burn me. The one with the butane lighter will even enjoy doing it. Maybe the other one will, too.”
