Page 92 of The Followers

“He’s never forgiven me,” he said. “Scott. Even after everything Kristina put him through, I think he still hoped they’d end up together someday. I know it’s my fault he and Ella have to live like this, always on edge, always ready to run.”

Another flash of lightning behind them, another roll of thunder. Liv still didn’t look at him, and her silence seemed to give Jeremiah the space to keep talking.

“When I saw you here, I thought, this is my chance to redeem myself. If I could keep you away from him, if I could make sure he and Ella stayed safe—well, I knew it wouldn’t make up for anything. I knew that. But I thought I was keeping things from getting worse.” He cleared his throat. Light from a passing car illuminated his face, casting shadows across the hollows of his eyes, his cheekbones, and his throat. “But I did. Make things worse, I mean. And when I think about what I did to you, I feel sick.”

“Do you want me to feel sorry for you?” The words came out more harshly than she’d intended, and she immediately regretted them. As much as Jeremiah had hurt her, she didn’t want to punish him. She got the feeling he was punishing himself enough.

“No,” he said. “I don’t.”

After an hour of bouncing along a dirt road, Liv knew they were getting close.

“What are we going to do if he’s here?” she asked.

Jeremiah shrugged. She could once again see the tension in his body, the cords of his neck strained and tight. He seemed more on edge the closer they got. “I’m going to tell him he’s being a fucking idiot, running out on his wife without warning, and he needs to grow a pair and get back to Durango and deal with this.”

Liv blinked. “Well, that’s an option.”

“You have any better ideas?”

“He ran because he’s scared, right?”

“Yeah, of getting caught.”

“Of losing Ella,” Liv corrected. “I don’t know Scott well, but think about it. On the night Kristina... on the night it all happened, he never considered leaving Ella behind. He could’ve left her there and called 911, he could’ve dropped her off at my grandma’s house and run with you, but he didn’t. He didn’t even hesitate to take Ella, did he?”

Jeremiah shook his head, eyeing her.

“I have to convince him there’s no threat to Ella. Specifically, that I,” she said, emphasizing the word, “am not a threat.”

“Are you?”

She got the feeling he was asking about more than just Ella and Scott—he wanted to know if she was a threat to him, to Jeremiah. And she realized something else, too. She had power over not only Scott and Ella’s life now, but Jeremiah’s as well. She could ruin him, if she wanted to. And yet, he’d still told the truth to her and Molly, not sparing any details.

“Of course not.” She swallowed. “I have no reason to turn anyone in. I won’t go to the police or the FBI or anyone else. I’ll leave and never speak a word about it to anyone.”

“You’ll just... leave?” Jeremiah said, and for a second he looked—what, lost, maybe? She didn’t know. Then, just as quickly, the frustrated, tense expression was back.

She didn’t want to leave Ella. But she would, if she had to. To make sure Ella’s family stayed together. To make sure Ella had the safe, stable childhood Liv never did.

She nodded. “As soon as we get back to Durango.”

Jeremiah steered the Jeep past a cluster of trees, then slowed as they reached the top of a small hill. “Good,” he said. “Because we’re here.”

She squinted into the rainy darkness, across the bowl of the valley. The dark sky, thick with clouds, made it impossible to see the hoodoos or any other defining features. But near the far rim of the valley, she saw something distinct against the rocks and trees.

“Look,” she whispered, pointing. “Think that’s them?”

Jeremiah followed her finger, then turned in that direction. The Jeep bounced along the valley floor, the windshield wipers squeaking against the glass as the rain died down. They drew closer, until Liv could see Scott’s camper. Her heart quickened and she told herself to breathe. This was her last chance to make things right.

Jeremiah put the Jeep in park, and they got out. A few drops of rain fell on Liv’s face, and she peered through the darkness as they came around the front of the Westfalia. Sitting on a camp chair next to the door was Scott, looking like a man carved from stone. In his right hand, he held a handgun, resting it against his knee.

“Welcome,” Scott said. He motioned with the gun to a couple of camp chairs across from him. “Why don’t you two have a seat.”

forty-nine

Your wife is home alone.

I’m watching her as she moves through the house, turning off lights and closing curtains.

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