Page 22 of The Followers

Over half of the world’s population is on social media. That’s four billion people liking, sharing, commenting, and connecting. We’re all looking for something to belong to, something bigger than ourselves.

—An Invincible Summer: A Memoir

“You can’t be serious,” Oliver said.

Liv flopped on her bed and centered her laptop so she could see her brother’s face on the screen. Oliver looked exhausted, his dark hair matted to one side, as if he’d been up all night and was fighting a hangover.

She had just explained about the party at Molly’s, bracing herself for Oliver’s disapproval, and it had come as swiftly as she’d predicted.

“I’m dead serious,” she said. “We’re talking about our niece here. How do we know Sam isn’t abusive or a pervert or something?”

Oliver’s expression hardened. When they were little, their mother had gone through a string of awful boyfriends, which had led a young Liv to institute the No Child Left Behind rule—neither of them left the other’s side when their mom had a man in the apartment.

“Fine,” he said, “but I still don’t like it.”

“What do you not like?” Liv asked, losing patience. “She’s our niece, Ol.”

“Half-niece.”

Liv bristled. “What does that matter? Am I just your half-sister? We’ve never thought about each other that way. Never.”

He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his dark hair. “Not you, Livi. But Kristina, yeah, she felt more like a half-sister. She had another parent besides Mom.”

This was true. Whenever their mother couldn’t take care of them—if she was in rehab or prison—Oliver and Liv would stay with relatives, their aunt and uncle’s house, or Gran’s. But Kristina got to stay with her dad. Joe Casillas had been their mother’s high school boyfriend, and he’d grown up to be a police officer with a cozy house and an endless supply of dad jokes. Occasionally, Kristina would invite Liv and Ollie to sleep over. They’d watch movies and eat popcorn, and in the morning, Joe would make animal-shaped pancakes and Kristina would tease him, saying they all looked like manatees. Liv would watch them bantering together, father and daughter, and a yearning so strong it took her breath away would fill her. She wanted a family like this, a home like this, a kitchen always full of food, and a parent who was always around.

But to Oliver, that may have seemed like a world he’d never belong to.

Liv pulled the computer into her lap and stared at the camera, willing her brother to understand. “Our niece is being raised by the man who brutally murdered her mother. He should spend the rest of his life in prison. This is about what’s best for Gabriela. Kristina would have wanted us to take care of her.”

They had talked about this over the years, what they’d do if they ever got Gabriela back. It didn’t have to be a fantasy anymore. Liv had a solid career; she could put down roots somewhere, Oliver could join them, and they could raise Gabriela together.

Oliver nodded, and she knew he understood. “What if this Molly person figures out who you are?”

“She won’t. I’ll drop in, make sure it’s Gabriela, and get out.”

Liv’s biggest worry was that Scott would take off again with Gabriela before she could turn him in to the police. This kept her from confronting him directly, although she wished she could. Since seeing his picture on Molly’s Instagram feed, she had imagined meeting him face to face. She wanted to look him in the eye and let all the years of pent-up rage spill out. She wanted him to suffer like he had made Kristina suffer, like he had made Liv and Oliver and Gran suffer in the aftermath.

“Oh, hey,” Liv said, remembering something, “did I tell you about the letter I got from the bank?”

“Bank? What bank?”

The letter had come just the day before, from a branch of the PNC bank in Pittsburgh, finally arriving after weeks of being forwarded from her prior temporary addresses. “Apparently Kristina had a safe deposit box and she put me as next of kin—well, Gran first, then me. She paid in advance for ten years. The letter said the lease expires in eight weeks. I can keep paying or claim the contents. Otherwise, it’ll be opened and turned over to the state. What do you think is in there?”

“Who knows.”

Liv chewed a thumbnail, thinking. Kristina had moved around a lot, lived in some shady apartments. She’d probably needed somewhere to store her valuables. Not that she had many, to Liv’s knowledge.

Then something occurred to her. “Oh, maybe her necklace is in there—remember the one Joe gave her for her high school graduation?”

Oliver shook his head. “I hardly remember her graduation at all.”

Liv wasn’t surprised; he’d been only ten at the time. But she remembered it, vividly. Joe had brought a bouquet of pink roses for Kristina, and after the ceremony he’d rushed to find her, crushing the flowers between them as they embraced. I’m so proud of you, honey, he had said, wiping tears from his eyes.

Liv had watched, envy burning a path through her chest, as Kristina patted her dad’s cheeks and whispered, I love you, Daddy.

That’s when he’d given her the necklace, a gold cross with a rose in the center. But it hadn’t been recovered after her death; Liv had asked Gran about it. There was a strong chance that the police had simply misplaced it, but maybe Kristina had put it in her safe deposit box?

“Listen,” Oliver said, bringing her back to their conversation. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but what if you go to this party and meet the stepdaughter and she’s not Gabriela? Then what?”

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