Page 6 of Collect the Pieces

“Hoyt and I used to walk to the bus stop together,” she says softly. “He was one of the only kids who didn’t make fun of me for living in a funeral home.” The corners of her mouth tilt into a sad smile. “He’d try to defend me when kids bullied me, but he wasn’t much bigger than I was.”

“Sounds like a good kid.”

“He really was.” Her eyes shine and she drops her head, hugging Gretel closer. “He loved to be outside doing stuff. I was allowed to walk down the street to play in his backyard. His mom was really nice. She used to make us these magic cookie bars on the weekends. Sometimes he’d come over here to play. Nothing scared him.”

By eight I’d already had a brutal education in how evil people could be. I almost envy the childhood Margot’s talking about, except I know the dark turn that’s coming.

“One day Hoyt didn’t show up for school. When I came home the police were here. They questioned me about the last time I saw Hoyt. I’d said goodbye to him on the sidewalk in front of his house the day before. That was all I could tell them.”

The guilt in her voice tears me up. I reach over and rest my hand on her knee, offering my silent support.

“There was a man in the neighborhood, Mr. Gade. He seemed harmless—always tending his garden and giving out candy. Someone must’ve told the police they saw Hoyt near Mr. Gade’s house.” Her hand strokes over the cat’s fur faster. “He was a man who lived down the street. Hoyt and I always ran into him. He was friendly enough but kind of…strange. He’d stop us to ask questions about school. I used to be jealous because he’d give Hoyt candy, and little toys. Hoyt loved Hot Wheels. I did too but Mr. Gade never had any for me. As a kid I was jealous. Later on…”

“You were just a kid,” I remind her gently. What kid wouldn’t be jealous?

“When I was eight, I didn’t understand all of it. All I knew was that Hoyt was gone. But later, I learned the truth about Mr. Gade…” She shakes her head quickly, as if she’s eager to purge the rest of these memories. “They found Hoyt in Mr. Gade’s house a few days later. Stuffed into some cubby in the walls like insulation.” Her voice cracks. “The things that man did to him…” She takes several deep gulps of air. “I briefly saw his body…but I didn’t comprehend…”

“Margot.” I slide off my stool and wrap my arms around her. “It had to be traumatic to see your friend like that.” What the fuck were her parents thinking? Why didn’t they take better precautions to protect Margot? Something so deliberate and cruel happening to a friend at that age had to be devastating for her.

“It was. The neighborhood was so different after that. Even though they arrested him rather quickly for Hoyt’s death, there were stories that he’d abused a lot of other kids over the years. Kids stopped going outside to play. My mom or dad always drove me to school after that. But the worst thing was that he was only sentenced to fifteen years in prison.”

Fifteen years.Grinder, the SAA of my charter, served that much time for a crime he didn’t even commit. Some fucking child-murdering sicko did the same amount of time? “Jesus Christ.”

“I remember how angry my parents were. They called representatives and judges. My father worked on the campaign for the man who ran against the DA in the next election. It was a pretty big deal out here.”

“I can understand why.”

Her lips tighten into a flat, angry line. “He didn’t even serve the full sentence. I had just graduated from college when there was an uproar about him possibly returning to the neighborhood.”

“Really?”

Margot nods. “His mother had passed away and left the house to him.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I wish I was.” Her hands clench into fists in her lap. “I was so…furious. That wasn’tjustice. All I could think about were Hoyt’s parents. They never recovered from losing their son. They moved away. But that disgusting creature was out and about, free to live his life.”

The answer to my question is dangling in Margot’s closet but I ask anyway. “What did you do?”

She lifts her head. Slowly, a wicked gleam replaces the sorrow in her eyes.

“I started planning.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Margot

Margot,22 years old.

No trespassing.We don’t call 911.A drawing of a handgun sits in between the two warning sentences.

Since Mr. Gade is a felon, I highly doubt he has a gun in the house. The sign is meant to scare all the people who protested when he moved into the neighborhood after being released from prison. That must make for a fun visit when his parole officer stops by. Or maybe his parole officer hasn’t had time to visit yet. Who knows, maybe he thinks the sign is funny.

A gun wouldn’t save him tonight anyway.

Considering I saw Mr. Gade strolling near the elementary school Monday afternoon and caught him talking to a kid yesterday, it seems the parole board was misguided in allowing this murdering freak his freedom so early.

Another example of the many ways the justice system fails children.

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