Page 20 of Collect the Pieces

“No, you can hang out here.” I drop onto the bed and roll my stocking up my leg. Maybe he wants this chance to escape after everything he learned about me yesterday. “If you want to.”

Keeping his gaze focused on my hands as I work the thin black material over my knee, he leans over and scratches behind Gretel’s ears. “I don’t mind hanging out with G-kitty for a bit. But it sounds like you have a busy day.” He stands and flexes his biceps. “Let me get the grunt work done for you. Put these to use.” He pats his upper arm.

Laughing, I stand and shimmy into my skirt, tugging at the zipper in the back. Having him watch me get dressed is messing with my motor coordination. “I’d be silly to turn down that offer, wouldn’t I?” Itwouldbe a big help. My father and Paul are busy until later this morning.

He spins one finger in the air, urging me to turn around. I grab my sweater while he tugs at the skirt and slowly zips it into place.

“There.” He pats my behind. “I hope you understand how painful it is to watch you put clotheson, let alone help.”

“Well, I appreciate the assist. Having you watch me get dressed has made me forget how to use my hands.” I wiggle my fingers in front of his face, and he laughs.

Gretel scurries out of the bedroom as Jigsaw and I head toward the living room. I stop and slip into my sensible, black heels while Jigsaw laces up his boots.

I close the door behind us, double-checking that it’s locked.

“Can’t be too careful on days where we’ll have a lot of people wandering around,” I explain.

Jigsaw’s face pinches into a frown but he nods.

It’s dark and quiet downstairs. I flip on the hall lights, then wind my way into the parlor to turn on the lamps. I lead Jigsaw into the viewing room and show him the closet where we keep the wooden folding chairs stacked.

“I got this,” he says. “Go ahead and make your phone calls or whatever you need to do.”

“A few deliveries might come to the back door, but I’ll hear the bell.”

“I can get those too.” He sweeps one hand in front of him. “Everything’s going in here, right?”

I quickly flip through my mental list of items. “Um, except the food. That’ll go in the kitchen.”

“Got it.” He leans down and kisses my cheek.

We part ways at the door of my father’s office. I’m used to doing the morning prep work alone, with Paul, or one of the part-time attendants. For these smaller services, my dad only comes in to do a last-minute check these days. At least he trusts me with this much. I’m not sure what he’ll think about Jigsaw helping me.

I’m almost through with my list when the front doorbell chimes, cutting through the muffled silence and occasional thump of chairs being moved around.

I flick my gaze to the small black-and-white video monitor that shows the front porch. Two men in suits are waiting by the front door. Family members arriving early to check on things? That’s always possible.

I hurry down the long corridor, my heels thudding over the hardwood.

“Want me to get it?” Jigsaw asks.

I smooth my hands over my skirt. “No, I’ve got it.”

He retreats into the viewing room to where he can still watch the front door.

My own personal bodyguard.

Laughing to myself, I twist the knob and pull the heavy door open.

“Good morning.” The young, slender man runs his gaze over me. Not in a leering manner, more like he finds me lacking in some way. “Margot Cedarwood?” His deep voice sends an ominous shiver through me for a reason I can’t name.

“Yes. Are you here for the Lewis celebration?”

“No.” He pulls a black leather wallet out of his breast pocket, flips it open and holds it out to me to inspect the badge inside. “Dan Wood with the Slater County Sheriff’s Department. We’d like to ask you a few questions, Ms. Cedarwood.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Margot

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