Page 3 of Collect the Pieces

“James!” Momma scolds. “Not now.”

“No, she needs to know this.” Daddy squats in front of me so we’re eye-level and grasps the tops of my arms. “It’s not just strangers. Even people you think are friendly can be dangerous. Never, ever go into anyone’s house without letting one of us know. Not for a minute. Understand?”

Numbly, I nod, but inside I’m a tangle of confusion and fear.

“Never get into anyone’s car, either,” he adds. “For any reason.”

I glance up at my mother. “I know. You told me.”

She clasps her hands together and stares at me. “We just love you and want you to be safe.”

I peer around Daddy to stare up at the table. “Is that what happened to him?” My small voice shakes. “He went into someone’s house without tellin’ his momma?”

Daddy clears his throat and pulls me away from the table, closer to Momma. “Something like that.”

“But why?” I choke on a sob.

Momma rests her hand on the top of my head, brushing my hair off of my forehead. “Sometimes bad things happen to good people, and it’s hard to understand. Hoyt was hurt by someone, and now he’s no longer with us. We’ll take special care of him.”

“Who hurt him?” My voice comes out small and squeaky. “Why? He was so nice.”

Momma and Daddy share a look.

“You know Mr. Gade?” Momma says.

My eyebrows pinch together. Mr. Gade lives a bunch of houses down the road. He’s weird but always hands us candy when we go by his yard.

“Don’t,” Daddy says, touching Momma’s arm. To me, he says, “The police have him. He won’t hurt anyone else.”

Tears burn my eyes. “What about Hoyt’s momma and daddy?”

Another sob escapes Momma. She closes her eyes briefly.

“We’ll do everything we can for them,” Daddy says.

“Can I say goodbye to Hoyt?” I stare up at the table.

“Yes. At the service,” Momma promises. “Now, come on. Back to bed.”

She settles one hand between my shoulders and presses, turning me toward the door. My throat tightens and my stomach churns. My heart pounds so loud it drowns out the sounds of my feet shuffling against the cold tile.

Momma doesn’t take her hand off me, guiding my steps as if she’s afraid I’ll return to Hoyt’s side. But the heavy feeling in my chest won’t allow me to move anywhere but forward.

Upstairs, Momma tucks me under my purple quilt with the rainbows and unicorns, tucking it under my chin and smoothing it out around me. The unicorns are such a bright white, I can practically see them glowing in the semi-darkness. She leans over and kisses my forehead. “Go back to sleep,” she murmurs. “I love you more than anything.”

“Love you too, Momma.” I curl my fingers in my quilt and pull it higher, then turn on my side.

My door quietly clicks closed behind her. Hoyt’s pale face and still form won’t leave my mind. My eyes pop open but staring into the darkness is even worse.

CHAPTER THREE

Jigsaw

Pants.

I need to put on my pants.

My brain might be slow to clunk its way into action, and it’s definitely having trouble instructing my body to move, but one thought keeps hammering against my skull—I can’t have this conversation with Margot while my dick’s swinging in the breeze.

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