Page 70 of The Followers

Liv sat on Jeremiah’s sofa, unsure of what to do. The image of a hummingbird tattoo on a close-shaved scalp rose in her mind, and she shivered. Better to be safe than sorry, she decided, and picked up the phone.

“Molly?” Liv whispered when she answered. “What’s wrong?”

“Liv?” Molly sounded sleepy but not nervous, and Liv felt silly for calling. “Are you okay?”

“I saw your video—it looked like you were upset.”

“Oh. Yeah. I’m so stupid,” Molly said, and her voice caught. “I believed everything he told me about the birth certificates and the safe—”

“Hang on,” Liv said, trying to sound soothing. “Molly. Tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s Scott!” she shrieked, and Liv pulled the phone away from her ear. “He’s been lying to me this entire time. Our entire relationship, ever since I met him.”

Liv’s heart rate quickened. How much did Molly know? How did she find out? She took a deep breath and steadied her voice. “Is Scott there?”

“No, he’s on an overnighter.”

“You’re all alone?” Something had caused the dog to growl. Maybe it was nothing, but Liv couldn’t take that chance.

“The girls are here,” Molly said, her voice wobbling, “but they’re sleeping.”

Liv chewed on her fingernail, trying to figure out what to do. “Why don’t I come over to your house and we can talk.”

“You don’t have to...” Molly said, but she sounded hopeful.

“I’ll be there soon. I’m not sure what to tell Jeremiah—”

“You can’t tell him anything about this,” Molly interjected.

“I won’t,” Liv said, keeping her voice firm. “I’ll tell him you need help with the girls. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Before Liv made it halfway up the walkway to Molly’s house, the sun-yellow door opened, and Molly stepped onto the front porch. Her hair was a mess, her eyes huge and red, her freckles vivid against pale skin.

“Thank you for coming,” she said when Liv reached her. “I’m sorry for pulling you away from Miah, but...” She put her hands over her face, and her shoulders started shaking. She was sobbing, Liv realized with horror, the sound echoing down the silent street.

Liv, uncomfortable with emotion anyway, knew she had to get Molly inside before neighbors started opening their doors to see what was going on. She led Molly back into the house, shutting the front door behind her. Then she stood there, awkwardly patting Molly’s back, until her deep, heaving breaths calmed.

Molly rubbed her palms over her eyes. She looked exhausted.

Liv at least knew how to handle that. She started steering Molly toward the kitchen. “I think you need some caffeine.” She almost suggested a stiff swallow of bourbon—what Gran would have done—but she figured that wouldn’t help Molly at this point.

“Coffee,” Molly said, slumping into her kitchen chair.

A half an hour later, Molly was on her third cup of coffee, speeding through her story about birth certificates and new articles so quickly Liv couldn’t keep up.

Liv tried to hide her interest—why did Scott have the original birth certificate for Gabriela? But she couldn’t waste time thinking about that right now, not with Molly barely pausing to take a breath.

“Scott’s story about the adoption seemed fishy,” she was saying, “especially when I looked back in the safe and he’d removed the original birth certificate, the one for Gabriela.”

It sounded fishy to Liv, too, but she couldn’t tell Molly that, even though the words were on the tip of her tongue.

Molly continued, explaining how she’d tried to verify the birth certificates by ordering copies from the state of Ohio. “Gabriela’s was real, but Ella’s wasn’t found.” Molly rubbed a hand through her messy hair. “Then I wondered if Scott hadn’t been honest with me.”

“Did you ask him about it?”

“No,” Molly said. “I don’t know why, but I didn’t want to pry. Or maybe I didn’t want to know what was going on. Denial, I guess.”

Liv could understand that. “But you said you found something online.”

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