The Follower Kate Doughty (general ebook reader .txt) 📖

small. “I mean, she’s crazy. And pretty much a serial killer . . .”

“If we don’t expose her, she’s going to go after Mom and Dad,” Rudy says. “Look, I know this is terrifying, but what choice do we have?” He pauses, and Cecily feels him look at her. Then she feels Amber’s eyes on her, too.

Cecily realizes her brother and sister are leaving it up to her.

Cecily grits her teeth. “She—she killed Bella.” It’s all she has to say.

Amber dials the police station and speaks frantically to Officer Perry while Cecily and Rudy leaf through Evan Andrews’s journal. I think someone is watching me. I think someone is here. Clue?

There are other trophies up here, too—Alex’s track medals, a brooch with an engraved BG that must have belonged to Bonnie. Photographs of what can only be Frank Glenarm and his young family.

Amber hangs up the phone. “They’re sending officers over.”

Rudy nods. “Ready?”

Amber holds up her cell phone, preparing the camera for their livestream. “Get in frame.” Rudy joins her to stand in front of the bed, the full wreckage of the attic behind them. But Cecily—she can’t move. Amber sees her hesitate.

“Come on, Cecily,” Amber says, her voice forceful. “We do this together.”

Almost unconsciously, Cecily raises a hand to her bandages.

“For Bella,” Amber says.

Cecily steps forward, joining them in the frame.

Amber flicks the camera on. Immediately, their account is flooded with comments.

You’re back!

Where are you?

What the hell is that room?

Amber doesn’t address any of the questions. “We found you,” she says, her voice shaking. “We found your home. The attic. We know who you are. The police know who you are.”

Rudy chimes in next. “The police are already on their way to your house.”

They wait, as if Cecily is going to say something. She opens her mouth then shuts it. Comments are flying in; her eyes snap to them.

My god, Cecily!

What happened to Cecily’s FACE?

Amber has the final word. “Leave our parents alone.” She turns off the livestream and takes a breath. “And now we wait.”

The echoes of what they’ve done ring around the room. Cecily can’t believe it. Everything feels fake, wrong, like a fever dream. She doesn’t want to see the shadow in real life. She doesn’t want to know. All she wants to do is escape . . .

“Let’s wait downstairs,” Rudy says. Cecily agrees. The sooner they get out of this horrible nightmare of a room, the better. Rudy goes first, then Amber, followed by Cecily. They descend the terrible shaft and back into safety. But the house doesn’t feel like their house anymore to Cecily. It feels like . . . it belongs to someone else.

They have barely reached the second floor when the pings come in. The Cole Patrol is alerting them to the follower’s latest message. A response:

Home Alone.

Home Alone.

Home Alone.

CHAPTER 31

Rudy

Rudy sits next to Cecily at the stained kitchen island and waits, drumming his fingers across the wood and then over the plastic of the cassettes. In the background, Amber is calling their parents, over and over. After they’d gotten down from the attic, she had sprinted to the end of the driveway to see if she could spot one of the police cars that was supposed to be there, or at least patrolling the neighborhood, but she had no luck.

At first, Rudy had wanted to flee the house, but their parents had the Range Rover. Cecily was all too quick to remind him that the follower had no problems running people over.

Rudy bounces the ball of his foot on the ground as he sits with one of his free weights across his knees, ready to use it as a weapon if the need arises.

He wonders what the hell is taking the police so long to get here.

“They’re not answering,” Amber says, desperation tinting her voice as she redials for the millionth time.

At the kitchen island, Cecily clutches a lacrosse stick, although Rudy doesn’t think she’ll be able to do much damage with it. She looks terrified, and he doesn’t blame her.

But they have a plan. Amber has her phone at the ready. When the follower comes, they’re going to livestream Mrs. Armstrong’s arrival. They’re going to get a confession and stream it out for the world to see, in a last-dich effort to clear their name and Steve’s, and to save their parents. After the most recent livestream, their followers are a chaotic mass, asking questions, demanding answers. They want everything from a statement on Bella’s death, to an explanation of why the siblings keep exploiting the murder for internet fame, to an opportunity to see Cecily’s face—

A car pulls up to the driveway.

The kids freeze. A door opens; feet step onto the porch. Then, someone knocks.

Cecily peers through the window. “It’s the police,” she whispers, sagging with relief. “Thank god.”

She opens the door, and there’s Officer Perry, panting, as if she’s run here. Rudy waits for her to say something, but for a few seconds she just stands in the open door gasping for breath.

“Uh, thank you for coming,” Amber says, ushering her inside. “The follower said they were coming here. That’s why we called—”

“We figured out who it is,” Rudy adds, trying to shake off the sense of unease that’s gnawing at the pit of his stomach. “We think it’s Mrs. Armstrong, our realtor, and we think that she’s the daughter of someone who used to live here.”

Officer Perry cocks her head at him. “Like I said before,” she says. “You’re quite the investigator.”

Perry steps into the foyer, and Cecily locks the door behind her. Perry strides into the house, motioning for Rudy and his sisters to follow her into the kitchen. She is just turning around to speak when another car roars down the driveway.

All at once, this small woman seems fierce, dangerous. “Get behind me.”

Rudy steps in front of his sisters as a second