Page 11 of Collect the Pieces

In my limited observation of Gade, I’ve already caught him wandering too close to the local elementary school. It’s all proof that it’s only a matter of time before he harms another child. He can’t help himself.

Should I try calling his parole officer first? What will they do—send him back to prison? Then I’ll be doing this in two to four years when they release him again.

No one else is going to put this man down. Ithasto be me. Besides, I’m already here and he’s already drugged.

We’re halfway there.

I’ve fantasized about this for fourteen long years. I can’t turn back now.

“I’d like to do this as quickly and cleanly as possible.” I pace in front of him, weighing my options. “I have my scalpel.” I pat my pocket. “I bought a new one, just for you.” I toss him an evil smile. “But that might get messy.” I look down at my black jacket and pants. I’m planning to burn them after tonight anyway, but I don’t want to encounter anyone between here and home with blood on my clothes. “That giant four-poster bed gave me some ideas though. I don’t need to get you high off the ground to—oh.” My nose wrinkles. “I found your disgusting stash. Your hidden room.”

His eyes widen and more gurgling noises work out of his throat.

“Yes, I think we’ll do it in your special little hidden room.”

The pieces of my macabre puzzle fall into place as I turn back to the kitchen and grab my small backpack of goodies. I take out the rope, hitch the backpack over my shoulder, and return to the living room.

“I was worried the drugs might not knock you out so I?—”

Gade’s belly-crawling and wriggling across the floor like a snake slithering for freedom.

“Oh no you don’t.” I knew I’d gotten too cocky. Hurrying to close the distance between us, I land on his back with one knee. “Where do you think you’re going?” I brace my other foot against the floor and loop the rope around his neck, yanking hard.

His forward motion stops but he thrashes underneath me. I yank the rope tighter and tighter, thankful for the gloves protecting my palms. Finally, he stops moving.

“You better not be dead yet.” Wary it might be a trick, I slowly ease myself off of him, still holding tight to the rope and breathing hard.

Now what?

Thankfully, he’s not a big man. I thread the rope through the zip ties around his wrists and use it to drag him to his bedroom. His body rustles and scrapes over the floor. Damn, the police will probably notice the drag marks through all the dustiness and grime of the house.

Then again, they’re going to find him stuffed in the wall and missing at least one body part, so that’ll kind of make it obvious it wasn’t suicide.

Dragging him down the hallway isn’t hard. Making the turn into the bedroom is a little more difficult. Pulling him into the closet and then through the space in the wall—is like pushing dough through a keyhole.

His wrists are raw and bleeding. Definitely no hiding that. Even if he’s here for a while, decomposing before he’s found, evidence that he was bound will still be there.

It’s awkward in the tight space. I end up crouching over him to tie the rope around his neck in a noose knot. Underneath me he wakes with a shuddering gasp. His body flips, his shoulder banging into my thigh and knocking me off balance.

“Shit!” I land painfully on my knees.

Still bound by the zip ties, he awkwardly flops and rolls to his hands and knees, then pitches forward, hitting the floor with his shoulder.

“Enough of this,” I growl, yanking the rope hard. The knot slides down, tightening around his neck.

He chokes and curls his thumbs under the rope, trying to tug it free but it’s sturdy rope and I practiced this particular knot over and over before tonight.

Groaning in pain, I stand and limp toward the wall. Dragging the rope with him flailing at the end with all my might, I lasso my end around the nail I almost impaled myself on earlier and tug straight down.

Gade gets to his knees and tries to crawl toward the door.

The knot around his neck tightens. He pitches forward but the rope keeps him from hitting the floor. I hurry to tie the loose end into another knot, tightening it, effectively hanging him in mid-air. I’ve assisted with a few bodies of people who accidentally strangled themselves during solo-sex sessions. I always thought it would be a fitting way for Gade to die. If I hadn’t found the nail, I probably would’ve used those tall bedposts that almost reach the ceiling. But this is better.

I pull on the rope again, wanting to choke every wisp of life from this evil man.

His body twitches and struggles as I step in front of him. The nail in the wall should hold. Even if it doesn’t, Gade’s too close to death to do much about it. I set my backpack on the floor and pull out the small glass lab jar, unscrewing the cap and setting it on the floor. I shake out a large plastic bag with a zippered seal at the top and set it next to the jar.

Gade’s eyes dart wildly while he chokes and drools, his skin turning an ugly shade of red.

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