Page 97 of The Followers

Scott seemed dazed, shaking his head. “I know. It’s strange. I don’t get it.”

A thought formed in Liv’s mind. A theory. “She called you Sam,” she said. “When she asked for you. Not Scott—Sam.”

Jeremiah sent her a strange look. “So?”

The more Liv thought about it, the more certain she became. Molly had deliberately used his real name. “Molly would never call you Sam. Something’s wrong.” She looked at Scott, willing him to understand. “Molly said she’s felt like someone’s been watching her recently. Your dog was barking out the window one night when you were gone. She said it was nothing, but I could tell she was worried. What if someone’s there?”

“Like a stalker?” Scott’s forehead remained frozen, wrinkled.

“Maybe, but what if...” Liv’s head spun as she thought about her car being broken into, the man who called the bank and pretended to be her brother. Dale McKinley, with the hummingbird tattoo on his scalp. “Someone was trying to get into Kristina’s safe deposit box—”

“What?” Scott said, stiffening. “How do you—”

“It’s a long story,” she said, cutting him off. No time to explain. “But what if that same person has been following Molly, and now he’s broken into your house? Why else would she have called asking for Sam? Why would she have had a random conversation about a burst pipe without mentioning anything else that’s happened between you?”

“Jesus Christ,” Scott whispered. Even in the darkness, Liv could see he had gone white.

In the distance, thunder rumbled. A few drops of rain fell, wetting Liv’s hair.

“Who is he?” Jeremiah asked. “What does he want from you?”

“I’m not sure,” Scott said. “But I—I think I accidentally took something he needs.”

“What?” Liv asked, but Jeremiah cut in, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“We need to call the police,” he said.

“No!” Liv and Scott said at the same time, and Jeremiah froze.

Scott stood. “I need to go. Just me. Alone.”

fifty-four

There are two basic motivating forces: fear and love.

—John Lennon

From Molly’s Pinterest board

“Words to Live by”

The next two hours seemed to stretch and pull, time becoming elastic. Each of Chloe’s quiet breaths were an eternity. Molly prayed her daughter wouldn’t wake up, and that whatever the intruder had given her wouldn’t harm her. She forced herself to think, to come up with some way out of this, but she kept drawing a blank.

What could she do that wouldn’t put Chloe at risk? If she screamed, if she ran, if she tried to alert anyone, she had no doubt he would end Chloe’s life. And hers.

Rain slanted across the windows, wind howling around the house. But the man never stopped watching her, his eyes glinting in the darkness, his foot tapping on the hardwood floor.

“When’s he going to get here?” he snapped.

“You heard him—he was two hours away.” She was shocked by the defiant tone in her voice. Inside she was liquid with fear, just a short step from dissolving into hysterical tears. But she had to keep it together for Chloe.

She hoped Scott had understood her message and knew what he was getting into. That he had left Ella with Jeremiah and Liv. She had to consider the possibility, though, that he wasn’t coming for her.

Think, she told herself. Think.

And then something occurred to her. “I’ll call him again,” she said. “See how far away he is.”

She reached for her phone, on the coffee table where she’d left it after the phone call. Her fingers wrapped around it, her thumb fumbled on the screen—