“Demi?” I query.

She nods.

“Come in, sweetie. Take a seat. Would you like anything to drink at all?”

“Oh, no,” she says timidly. “I’m fine, thank you.” She gently lowers herself into the red tub chair.

Bek holds her hand out. “Rebekah Hough. I work with Noelle. I hope you don’t mind my being here.”

“Not at all,” Demi replies just as quietly as she did before. “It’s nice to meet y’all.”

I offer her a smile as I sit at my desk. “I’m sorry about Annabelle. I understand you were close.”

Demi nods and takes an audible deep breath. “We’ve been roommates since freshman year. It was…a shock.”

I’ll say. “I want to chat with you about the night she died. Did you see her at all?”

She nods.

“Can you talk me though it?”

“Sure.” She readjusts her purse on her lap. “She saw Billy—he was her boyfriend—for a bit. He and I don’t get along, so I headed off with some friends. We agreed to meet up since she’d driven us there, but she had a fight with Billy and wanted to head back early. I said I’d get a ride with someone else. The last time I saw her, she was chatting with some guy with blond hair and laughing.”

“Can you describe him?”

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t see him real clearly. It was after she said she was leaving though. I figured she wanted to hang around and it was just innocent, but now, I realize it might not have been.”

“Do you think you could pick him out in a crowd? Or even a lineup?”

She nibbles at the corner of her mouth. “I’m real sorry. I don’t think I could. He was tall and had blond hair. That’s all I know.”

I feel dejected yet uplifted at the same time. “Thanks, Demi. I’m sorry to drag you here for such a short chat, but this helps a lot.”

She smiles. “Don’t worry. I just hope that who did this is caught.”

“You and me both.”

“This is insane,” Bek whispers, clutching my arm. “We don’t have a right to be here.”

I frown at her. “We’re not breaking into anyone’s trailers. We’re just asking.”

“And you promised you’d bring Mike or Dean!”

“Oh, I lied. Bite me. I have my gun.” I shake it off and continue walking.

I want to talk to Eddie Roy. I’m really hoping he’s back now because I want to figure out what the hell is going on here. I’m confused as fuck, and well, if he went into Dina’s apartment after Alistair, then I’m assuming he’s a murderer.

Maybe I do need some man backup.

Wait—no, I don’t. Just because I possess a pair of tits and a vagina does not make me any less of a man than a man.

Technically, I guess it does, but who likes to get technical?

Jason’s words come filtering back into my mind, the ones about him thinking Eddie has a criminal record. I pause while I mull this over. Is it overkill to get Carlton to search this? No, I don’t think much is overkill right now.

I text him the request—to check in all fifty states. I know I’ll be waiting a while, but whatever. Something is better than nothing.

“Trust me,” I whisper to Bek, squeezing her hand as I approach the trailer Jason and Eddie share. I knock on the door three times and step back.

No one answers. I knock again, and again, nothing.

A squeak erupts from Bek. I turn, instinctively reaching for my gun. I’m happy I wore my shorts and my flowy tank because they make for easy Glock grabbing.

When I turn, I stare into the eyes of Jackson Bullock. His arm is wrapped around Bek’s chest and he has the barrel of a handgun pressed against her temple. His eyes are cold, his body rigid.

It takes everything I have to ignore my best friend and focus on him.

“Not your usual, is it, Jackson?” I ask him coolly, staring into his eyes.

“You know nothing,” he hisses, pressing the gun harder against the side of Bek’s head. To her credit, she doesn’t tremble. She doesn’t move—and I know why.

Her hand is flattened against her stomach, and her own gun is tucked against her hip, also hidden by her shirt.

“Put it down,” Jackson stutters. “The gun.”

“Put yours down,” I counter. “Go ahead. You drop it and I’ll drop mine.”

He doesn’t move. Good and bad, I suppose.

“You’re not a killer, Jackson,” I say softly. “You’re not evil. You won’t hurt her.”

“How—how do you know?”

“How do I know?” I relax my gun just a little. “Because you’re scared, honey. Look at you. You’re shaking. Your whole body is about ready to combust with fear. You can’t pull that trigger. Come on. Drop it and come with me. I just wanna talk to you is all.”

“No, you don’t. You think I did it. You think I did it. You think I k-killed all those g-girls.” His eyes fill with tears.

My heart clenches as reality sweeps over me. “You didn’t want to, did you?”

“I d-don’t know w-what you mean,” he shudders out.

“All of them… You didn’t want to poison them, did you?” I bluff. “But you were scared. Toni was the first, wasn’t she?”

He shakes even harder.

“Honey, it’s okay. You can tell me. I want to help you—I swear. I want to make this better for you. Just please let my friend go.”

“Jackson,” Bek breathes. “Jackson, are you listening to me?”

I breathe in deeply as he nods.

“She means it. We want to help you, sweetie. We know who’s done this and we want to keep you safe. It’s not your fault. You were forced into this.”

God, she’s good.

“No one is blaming you. The best thing you can do is come with us. We can keep you safe,” she continues. “Please? For your mom?”

With those final words, he breaks down. The gun, with its safety still intact, falls to the floor without discharging. Jackson drops to his knees and buries his face in his hands in anguish.

“Talk to me, Jackson. Help me. I need your help, honey,” I plead with him. “I know you know. Tell me who did this?”

All I get is a cry full of pain.

The door to the trailer slams open behind me, and I turn, my gun focused on the person.

Eddie Roy. And he’s holding a rifle.

Aimed right at my forehead.

Dear God, get me out of this, will ya?

“You’re gorgeous, Noelle,” Eddie Roy hisses. “But entirely too fuckin’ nosy.”

“I have to agree. On the nosiness. I’m like a dog with a bone when I get something in my head.” I tap my temple. “It’s a curse.”

So is having a gun pointed at you, apparently. One I have hanging over my head.

“I believe it,” Eddie responds. “I knew you were trouble the first time you ran into me. As ditsy as a fuckin’ field full of daisies.”

“That’s offensive,” I argue. “I’m not ditsy at all. Just clumsy.”

“Yeah?” He laughs, but it’s evil. Cold. Spine chilling. “How about you’re clumsy enough to fall into one of my bullets?”

“In a sec,” I say, holding my finger up. “Why’d you do it? The girls? Why’d you kill them all?”

A flash of black hints from the other end of the trailer, and I know we’re not alone.

Jason. Alex. Whoever he is today.

“Why would you kill them? What did they do to you, Eddie? All but one were kids,” I continue. “Did you even feel guilty as you made Jackson poison them? How about as you raped them? How about as you carved satanic runes into their skin? As you stabbed them to fucking death? Tell me, Eddie. Did you feel anything at all?”

I know I’m riling him. I know I’m pissing him off, and I’m baiting him deliberately. I have a sick thrill running through my body right now.

“Did you enjoy their delusional cries of pleasure as you abused them? How about their screams as you stabbed the hell out of them? Did the devil make you do it, Eddie? I want to know.”

“Noelle,” Bek whispers. “Stop.”

A hand with a thumb up pokes out from the end of the trailer.

I’m definitely not alone, and I should definitely get the confession we need.