Picking Up the Pieces (Pieces, #2)(15)

Marnie surprised me when she led me around the back of the building, nearly falling on the uneven ground three separate times. I held her arm as she stumbled onto a back patio and began fumbling with her keys. I released her so that she could unlock the sliding glass door.

“Once I get this open, I’ll get rid of the babysitter. Then we can enjoy the rest of our evening,” she slurred.

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her not to bother. There was no way I was getting it up for this chick now. She was a f*cking mess.

As Marnie continued to struggle with the door, I thought it was odd that the babysitter hadn’t come to investigate the noise, or called the cops to report the pair of psychopaths trying to break in. It was then that I noticed how dark it seemed to be inside. Was her son afraid of light or something? Shit was getting weird. Fast.

I was just about to ask Marnie if she needed help with the door when I heard glass breaking followed by a slew of hissed obscenities. Great, now we are definitely getting arrested. “Shit, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Marnie uttered. She finally slid the door open and stepped inside. “Come on in. I’ll be right back.”

I stepped into her home and quickly began to wonder if I had entered The Twilight Zone. Since it was pitch black inside, I brushed my hand over the wall until I hit a light switch. Flipping it on, her dining room lit up. From what I could see of her house, it looked tidy and well-decorated. Well, except for the blood splattered all over the floor. Wait . . . what? Jesus Christ! The hardwood floor that stretched from her dining room and down an adjacent hallway looked like a scene from CSI. Fine my ass; Marnie would have needed to have cut off her entire goddamn hand to produce that much blood.

I turned the corner and glanced down the hallway, half expecting to see Marnie’s corpse slumped against a wall. I noticed that all of the doors were shut, and light peeked out from beneath only one of them. Since the blood trail led to that door, my suspicion skyrocketed. Were the babysitter and Tyler in one of those other rooms? Were they vampires? No, they couldn’t be. Otherwise they’d have flocked to the plasma all over the floor. What the hell is wrong with me? When had this night taken such a bizarre turn that I actually started believing in vampires?

I was just about to wash my hands of this entire situation and get the hell out of there when one of the doors opened. Marnie stepped out into the hall with a towel wrapped around her hand. And absolutely nothing else. She was stark naked as she leaned against the wall in an attempt to look sexy. It didn’t work. She looked like a victim of sex trafficking: strung out, pale, and bleeding.

“Uh, Marnie, are you . . . okay?” I had no idea what to say in this situation. I briefly looked around to make sure there weren’t hidden cameras somewhere. Being on a show like Punk’d or What Would You Do? seemed highly plausible.

She used her shoulder to push off the wall, but only made it two shuffled steps toward me before slinking back against it for support. “I’m fine. Though I’m about to be better.”

The f*ck you are. “Is Tyler here?” I had to know what was going on with this kid. There were pictures scattered around the apartment of a boy. Some of the pictures even had Marnie in them. So she definitely had a son. But where the hell was he?

“Of course. He’s in there.” She gestured toward one of the closed doors with her head, nearly throwing herself off balance.

“With the babysitter?”

“No, I sent her home.” Marnie began to stumble toward me, her shoulder still resting against the wall. She reminded me of the scary little girl in The Ring.

“When? I didn’t see her leave.”

Marnie stopped suddenly, her face taking on a glint of anger. Well, as angry as it could look considering how plastered she was. “I told you I was getting rid of her. As soon as I walked in, she went out the front door.”

“Marnie, listen to me. I know that didn’t happen. I would’ve seen her. Is Tyler really here?” I became hyper-aware of my surroundings, my paternal instincts kicking in. Something was very wrong here.

“Why are you so worried about him? He’s fine. He’s always fine. I’m sure he’s sleeping soundly in his room.”

Always fine? Jesus Christ. I suddenly realized that this probably wasn't the first time this crazy bitch left her autistic kid alone in his room while she went out, got hammered, and propositioned a virtual stranger. As her fingers reached up toward her breast to fondle her nipples, I realized I'd had enough. “Um, I need to make a phone call. I just want to check on Eva. I’ll, uh, I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be right here, wet and ready,” she cooed.

I dry heaved at the image her words conjured. Practically running onto her back patio, I slid the door closed behind me and fished my cell phone out of my pocket.

“911. What’s your emergency?”

“Yes, hi, I . . . there’s a woman . . . I’m at her house, and I think . . . Listen, she’s totally f*cked up and you need to get someone out here.” I had no idea how to describe what had occurred over the past ten minutes.

“Sir, is this an emergency? We don’t have time for prank calls tonight.” The operator sounded annoyed and seemed unsure if she believed what I was saying.

That makes two of us, sweetheart. “Trust me, it’s an emergency. She’s bleeding profusely, heavily intoxicated, and I’m pretty sure she locked her special needs son in his bedroom. Oh, and she’s completely naked.”