Page 5 of The Followers

Liv shook her head. “I don’t think—”

“You’re a Swiftie?” Molly burst out, making Liv jump. She was pointing at Liv’s bag.

Liv glanced down at the row of enamel pins stuck in the strap of her bag; Oliver had given them to her over the years, a nod to their shared obsession with Taylor Alison Swift. “Um, yeah,” she said.

Molly’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I love her. And those are so cute! A cardigan,” she said, leaning in closer, “and a mirrorball! Oh, and this one’s for Midnights, right? I love that album.”

“It’s great,” Liv said, a little uncomfortable with how close Molly was now standing.

“‘Anti-Hero’ is one of my favorite songs, ever,” Molly went on, seemingly oblivious to Liv’s awkwardness. “You know that line about how everyone else is a sexy baby—”

“And she’s a monster on the hill?” Liv completed.

“Yes!” Molly said, eyes lighting up. “I know exactly how that feels. Her lyrics are just... perfection. You know?”

Liv nodded, a little surprised. Not that Molly liked Taylor Swift—she talked about it constantly online—but because she, too, resonated with that line. The feeling of being apart from the rest of the world, exiled and unwanted. But why would Molly Sullivan, one of the most adored women on the internet, feel like that?

The little girl tugged Molly’s arm. “Mommy, I wanna do the awesome slide.”

“Okay, sweetie. Just one minute.” Molly glanced back at Liv, her brown eyes wide and friendly. “I’m kind of starving for people to talk to. I don’t have any friends here yet, and summer is my husband’s busy season.”

Liv wanted to ask, And what does your husband do? What’s his name and date of birth? Did he live in Ohio ten years ago? But not only would that be strange, it was impossible; her mouth had gone so dry she couldn’t say much at all.

Luckily, Molly seemed okay carrying the conversation. Liv should have guessed she’d be a talker, given her penchant for posting live videos for all the world to see.

“My husband is sort of a hermit,” Molly continued. “He used to live way out on the edge of town, in this tiny cabin buried in the trees. I convinced him to move downtown—there is no way I could survive so far from civilization. My mission this summer is to create a nice community for ourselves. I’m Molly Sullivan, by the way.” She stuck out her hand. “My husband is Scott Wander. He owns a river-rafting business.”

There it was: his new name. His new identity. A rush of exhilaration flooded Liv’s mind, but she forced herself to think. She needed to confirm, beyond the slimmest shadow of a doubt, that Scott Wander was the man she was looking for.

Taking a breath, she shook Molly’s hand, hoping Molly would keep talking about her family. Maybe mention if Scott had a daughter, a ten-year-old with dark hair and wide-set dark eyes like Kristina’s.

Molly, however, patted her little girl’s messy hair and set the crown back where it belonged. “And this is my daughter, Chloe.”

Liv was startled—Molly always referred to her daughter as Clover online. Apparently it was a pseudonym. She forced a smile and said, “Nice to meet you both.”

Liv didn’t have much experience with kids, so she couldn’t guess Chloe’s age. But she was old enough to have opinions, to make memories, to understand if her family fell apart. Liv felt a flash of guilt but brushed it aside. It wasn’t Liv’s fault that Sam Howard had lied to Molly and her daughter.

“Whass your name?” Chloe said. She had something brown smudged on her cheeks and mouth. Liv fought the urge to lick her thumb and scrub it off.

“I’m Liv.”

Chloe shoved her tangled hair out of her face and held up her hand, all the fingers outstretched. Liv had no idea what she was expected to do. Give her a high-five?

“I’m almoss a whole hand old,” Chloe said.

“That’s right.” Molly beamed at her daughter. “You’ll be five in just a few days.”

Liv glanced away to avoid seeing the adoration in Molly’s eyes. But it was too late. A tangled, mournful fury began to build in her chest. Kristina hadn’t gotten the chance to watch her daughter grow up, to push Gabriela on the swings, or celebrate any birthdays at all. Unfair. Horribly, tragically unfair.

Breathe, Liv told herself. But the fury twisted and bubbled inside her until she knew she couldn’t stand here talking to Molly for even a second longer. She’d gotten what she needed, she told herself. Now that she knew his name, she could find Scott Wander—and Gabriela.

“Shoot, we need to get going,” Molly said, glancing at her pink Apple Watch. “It was nice to meet you. Maybe we’ll see you around?”

“Maybe,” Liv said, already heading toward her car. But probably not.

In the car, Liv’s hands shook so hard she had difficulty buckling herself in. Her mind kept filling with visions of Kristina, face down on her apartment floor, bloody and beaten. The cheery intro music for a podcast started playing automatically, and Liv reached for her phone to turn it off.

But then she recognized the episode—one she’d downloaded yesterday but hadn’t listened to yet—and stopped:

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