Page 13 of Collect the Pieces

What happened here is visceral. Messy.

I step out of the small door, leaving it open. The musky bedroom air is a welcome relief. Should I close the door? Thelonger the body decomposes, the better for me. But the sooner the police find those videos and photos, the sooner they can try to find those children.

I leave the hidden door as it is. And I leave the closet door wide open.

Part of me is shocked and sickened by what I’ve done. The other part hoists my backpack over my shoulders and carefully retraces my steps, checking the house for anything I might have left behind. Hopefully, I’ve left no trace. But I’ve always known this was a gamble. All it takes is one footprint or hair I missed, and everything could unravel.

I’m okay with that.

Justice for Hoyt. That’s all I wanted.

And now I have it.

I’ll never murder again. One and done.

If only I’d known it was just the beginning.

CHAPTER FIVE

Jigsaw

Good versus Evil.

Some people think it’s easy to see the difference. Society might think I’m evil for killing my father—never mind all the evil things he did to me when I was a kid, what he did to my sister, or all the ways he destroyed so many other lives.

Margot wants justice for innocent people—not herself. She’s not motivated by selfish reasons.

She’s an angel of goodness.

Someone who needs to be protected at all costs as far as I’m concerned.

I don’t care if she’s killed a few predators. She’s right. The world’s safer without them.

As she finishes her story, I release the air trapped in my lungs.

“You could’ve gotten hurt.” She’d been so reckless with her own safety that first time. “Shit, Margot. Zip ties? You didn’t bring a bigger weapon than some rope and a scalpel?”

Why am I questioning her when she obviously did just fine? Am I really mansplaining murder to her?

She doesn’t seem bothered by my questions, though. “He was a wuss. The second guy—he was much more dangerous.Thatone was close.”

Anxiety I didn’t even know I was capable of leaps into my throat.

She stands and walks to the refrigerator, taking out a can of seltzer and cracking it open. She takes several long sips, then sets the can on the counter. “Can I tell you about that one another time? I really don’t like dwelling on those memories for too long.”

I slide off the stool and hurry to her side, pulling her into my arms. The remorse she carries still weighs her down, even though they deserved everything she did, I’m sure of it. Me? I never think about a man I’ve killed again. Unless it’s with relief that they’re no longer a problem. I certainly don’t have any guilt about it.

“You can tell me anything you want any time you want,” I assure her, holding her tight.

“Thank you.” She returns the embrace, burrowing her face against my chest. “Thank you for not hating me.”

“I could never hate you.”

Margot’s pure goodness. Nothing she just told me changes my mind.

Destroy the world or save it? Good versus evil is more complex than that. I’d rather burn down the world to protect the people I consider family.

And I’d absolutely slaughter anyone who tried to hurt Margot.

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