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“They remembered enough.”

“They remembered Eliza.”

“They remembered a story.”

“A story you were afraid they would tell.”

His laugh echoed through the warehouse.

“You think you know me because you looked at a few photographs?”

“I know you revisited them.”

Silence.

Judy continued.

“You watched the women before you killed them.”

Trigger looked at her.

She wasn’t stalling blindly.

She was profiling him.

Drawing him out.

“You entered their homes,” she said. “You washed them. Brushed their hair. Painted their nails and lips. You are a sick son of a bitch!”

“They deserved to look peaceful.”

“You needed them to look like they did at camp.”

No answer.

“You weren’t preserving them,” Judy continued. “You were punishing them for growing up.”

A shadow moved past the broken window.

“You should be careful,” Evan warned.

“You hated that they survived Emily.”

“They didn’t survive.”

“Rylie did.”

The shadow stopped.

“And that’s why she terrifies you.”

A roar came from inside.

Something crashed.

Trigger started forward.

I caught his shoulder.