Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
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. That one 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.
Margot
I never expected to be having this conversation with Jigsaw so soon. After he told me what he did to his father, I knew I’d be able to trust him with my own secrets one day—just not today.
Yet, here we are.
The weight of fear I’d been carrying slowly evaporates, replaced by calm settling over me. I squeeze him tighter, rubbing my face against his shirt.
“You don’t have to give me details about the others,” he says, his words rumbling beneath my cheek. “But were they pedophiles too? How’d you…”
I sigh and pull away, meeting his gaze. He seems more relaxed now, curious even. Not the man who almost bolted from my closet earlier. But what if his calm curiosity morphs into judgment? Will he rescind his acceptance if I say no? Some men don’t think rape is a big deal—certainly not execution-worthy. Although, if he is that kind of man, it’s better I find that out now, isn’t it?
It doesn’t matter. I’m in too deep. I promised to answer his questions, and I will.
“No. One was a professor who raped one of his students.” Pain blunts my tone as memories of other students I spoke to at the funeral return. “We handled her funeral. I prepped her body.”
He drags his hands through his hair and staggers backward, bumping into the counter. “Have they all been connected to you in some way?”
“I didn’t know her before she passed,” I explain.
“That’s not what I mean.” He throws one arm wide, gesturing toward my front door. “They’ve all been connected to the funeral home in some way? That’s risky as hell, Margot. Someone could easily piece that together.”
“Why should they?” I shrug, although I’ve worried about that myself. Many, many times. “We handle most of the funerals in the area. Of course I would’ve come into contact with them.”
“Margot.” He lets out a pained huff of air and takes my hands.
“It’s only four people.” I scoff. “Four vile criminals that the justice system didn’t punish sufficiently, if at all. No one’s going to dig too deeply into their deaths, because secretly everyone’s relieved they’re gone.” I slap my hands together like I’m dusting off remnants of ashes.
“My opinion of law enforcement couldn’t be lower,” he continues in that maddeningly patient tone that suggests he’s about to disagree with me. “But some zealous detective might start sniffing around one day. And a prosecutor eager to make a name for themselves might think putting the ‘cute blonde mortician who secretly murders bad guys’ on trial would make a hell of a story.”