Page 69 of The Followers

“Hoopi, come up here,” Molly said, patting the foot of the bed. He tilted his big head, obviously wondering why she was asking him to break the rules. She patted the bed again. “Come on, big boy.”

In one swift movement, he leaped to the bed and settled at her feet. She felt more at ease with him there. Easing back against her pillow, phone in hand, she watched the comments on her video start to roll in. Each one lit up her screen like a little beacon. Her people were always there, even at three-thirty in the morning.

Some comments were supportive:

Hang in there, Molly! We have your back!

Some were full of advice:

I could never forgive someone for lying to me. Like you said, it’s the lack of respect. If I can’t trust someone, I can’t be around them.

And some were creepy:

I like those blue pajamas. Why don’t you take them off next time?

She brushed those comments aside and tried to focus on the supportive ones. Each flash, each buzz of her phone meant someone was listening, someone had heard. But she still felt hollow, because it was one thing to get a supportive comment on your phone, from someone you’ve never met in person. It was another to have a conversation with a real, flesh-and-blood friend. Even with Hoopi at her feet and Bitsy curled up at her back, she was still alone.

thirty-six

Real friends are there for you even when it’s inconvenient for them.

@InvincibleMollySullivan

Liv opened her eyes in the darkness, awakened by a noise she couldn’t place. It took a few seconds to register the unfamiliar ceiling above her, the unfamiliar bed beneath her. Jeremiah’s ceiling and bed. They had come back from the camping trip last night, and she’d stayed over at his house with plans to spend Sunday—today—together. He lived in a cozy two-bedroom surrounded by ponderosa pines and quaking aspen, across town from Molly’s house.

“Whassat sound?” Jeremiah murmured next to her, his eyes shut.

Liv sat up, aware of a buzzing coming from somewhere nearby. Her phone, vibrating beneath her pillow. She pulled it toward her and winced as its bright surface nearly blinded her sleepy eyes.

MOLLY SULLIVAN HAS STARTED A LIVE VIDEO.

She peered at the screen; she’d set notifications for all of Molly’s content when she first came to Durango and never turned them off. Lately, she’d mostly ignored them. But why would Molly start a video at this time of night?

Jeremiah, not fully awake, rolled away and put his pillow over his head. She slid out of bed and walked out of the room, closing his bedroom door quietly.

She turned the video on, surprised to see a view of Molly’s living room. The camera was somewhere near the fireplace, and it gave the room a fishbowl appearance, the picture grainy in the dim light. Molly looked frazzled, curled up in a yellow armchair with her feet tucked under her.

Within a few seconds of listening to Molly ramble, Liv knew something was wrong.

I recently discovered that someone close to me, someone I love and trust, hasn’t been honest with me.

Her first thought was that Molly had figured it out—figured Liv out—and she felt sick at the betrayal in her voice. But soon it became apparent that Molly was talking about much more than Liv.

This person lied to me because he doesn’t respect me enough to be honest.

Scott. She must have learned something about Scott. That would account for the tears slipping down her face, the half-contained sobs in her voice.

Should she call Molly? Liv hesitated; it was the middle of the night. But then she heard something on the video that sounded like a growl. Molly had wandered into the kitchen, and somehow the video had kept up with her, bouncing between different views. The blurriness made Liv a little seasick, but eventually it stabilized, showed Molly sitting at her kitchen table. Liv could see Scott’s giant dog at her feet, his fur sticking up around his neck.

Molly’s face went white. She whispered something to the dog, then glanced behind her.

Liv flashed back to their recent conversation over lunch. Scott’s dog had barked at an open window once before, Molly had said. A feeling of being watched.

Molly ended the video and Liv held her phone in her hands, thinking about what to do next. If Molly had learned something about Scott’s past, it was safer for Liv to not get involved. Better to let Molly ask him directly. Liv had no desire to step in the middle of that.

But if someone truly was watching Molly? If she was in danger, right now?

Stop thinking of the worst-case scenario, Liv told herself as she walked down the hall and into Jeremiah’s living room. He kept his bikes right next to his sofa, apparently because they were so precious to him, which had made her laugh the first time she’d come over. Two mountain bikes and a road bike. In the tepid, pre-dawn light they looked like skeletons, like bones.

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