Page 100 of The Followers

Rasband’s jaw twitched. “So where’s the camper now?”

“Not far,” Scott said. “But you’re an idiot if you think I’m giving you the key before I know my wife and daughter are safe.”

The key to what? A memory flashed through Molly’s mind: two keys on a small ring in the cigar box. One silver, one gold. One that fit the safe, and one that had not.

Scott continued talking, his hand gripping her shoulder.

“This doesn’t need to involve anyone but you and me. I’ll tell my friend where to park the camper, and you and I will go together. My wife and daughter stay here.”

Molly’s mind raced. Scott and Rasband heading to some secluded location? She couldn’t think of any angle where Scott wouldn’t end up dead.

Rasband shook his head. “No. Tell your friend to bring the camper here. I stay inside with the ladies while you get the key. Once I have it in my hand, I leave.”

Molly’s phone buzzed again, and Chloe stirred in Rasband’s arms. She seemed more restless with all the talking.

Her phone buzzed again, vibrating and rattling against the coffee table.

“What key are you talking about?” she asked, hoping her voice sounded as steady as Scott’s. “I’ve been going through his things.” She tilted her head toward Scott. “Maybe I’ve seen it.”

Scott’s hand clamped on her shoulder even tighter. “Don’t,” he whispered.

But Rasband leaned forward, eagerness in his eyes. “It’s a safe deposit box key. Where is it?”

She pretended to think, because in truth she had no idea. Scott had cleared out his dresser when he took off. It was probably in the Westfalia, like he’d said.

“What does it look like?” she asked, stalling. “Is it silver? Gold?”

Her phone buzzed again, then again, and a second later, again.

“What is going on with that phone?” Rasband snapped. He leaned over and picked it up, and Molly got a glimpse of the screen before he held it to his face.

It was covered with comments from her followers.

Be strong, Molly, we’ve alerted the police.

The police are on their way.

I just called the police. Hang in there, Molly.

Prayers for you Molly. EMS and police on their way.

Rasband’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the phone. “What did you do?”

Molly lifted her chin, a gesture that didn’t match the white-hot fear she felt. “I’m currently sharing a live video from this room with all my followers. I’m guessing at least twenty thousand people are watching us right now.”

Rasband sat up straight. His movement shifted Chloe and she started crying, twisting away from Rasband in half-conscious terror. Molly lunged forward and grabbed her daughter, pulling her into her lap, as Scott stepped in front of her, putting his body between them and Rasband.

Molly squeezed her eyes shut, arms tight around Chloe, waiting for the high-pitched sound of the silencer muffling gunshot. But it didn’t come.

She opened her eyes to see Rasband standing, his gun trained on Scott.

And Scott was pointing a gun at Rasband.

Molly froze, terror streaking through her as she buried Chloe’s face against her shoulder. Bitsy cowered between Molly’s legs, trembling with fear.

The air between the two men vibrated with tension.

“I should have killed you that night,” Rasband said.

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