The Follower by Kate Doughty (ebook reader with built in dictionary TXT) 📕

Cecily speaks slowly. “Mom still thinks that it could be a factory issue.”

“And you believe that?” Amber asks.

She swallows. “No,” she says quietly. “I don’t.”

Amber swallows. “We also have a theory . . . that Rudy’s allergic reaction was intentional, too.”

It does make sense.

“The police—” she starts.

“—are already investigating the crew, some of the townies, and the makeup brand about your injury,” Amber says. “And besides, we can’t prove that Rudy was targeted . . .”

“The turret, me, you, Speckles . . .” Rudy says.

“You can’t think that it’s a coincidence!” Amber says. Cecily takes in her sister’s appearance for the first time that morning. With a jolt, she realizes that Amber looks . . . not better than she always does, but different. She’s wearing more makeup, and her shirt and skirt combo are a much . . . sexier look than anything Cecily’s seen Amber wear by choice in months. She looks confident. And beautiful. “Alex is the best clue we have. The follower didn’t seem to like the idea of us looking into her on the livestream, and now . . . I guess I’m not totally convinced, but I think it’s worth a shot.”

“Besides,” Rudy says. “This has happened before. With the Andrews.”

“It was an accident . . . ,” Cecily starts, but her conviction wavers.

“Just like my allergy was an accident,” Rudy says. He switches gears. “The pills had to belong to someone living in the house at the same time as the Grables. I’ve been trying to find Doctor Lenhoff, but all I’ve gotten are dead ends. She must have retired a long time ago.”

“So we’re back to Bonnie,” Amber cuts in. “Grable-Glenarm, the one that died in the car crash. The obit says that she left behind her disabled husband, daughter, and relatives in the Norton area. The hyphen means her maiden name must have been Grable, right? I think she was Alex’s aunt. If Frank was Alex’s uncle, maybe they moved in to take care of him after his wife died? Or were just around a lot.”

“Whoever is stalking the house and coming after us is obsessed with Alex Grable,” Rudy says. “Think about it, Cecily. Whoever this is chose to use Alex Grable’s name. It all traces back to her. I really think Alex is our best shot at finding them.”

Cecily nods. It’s starting to make sense. Her mind is whirring; she’s trying to imagine the shadow she saw as a person, with a face, a name, a history.

“But there’s still the Andrews,” Rudy continues. “I’ve been trying to track them down, but I haven’t gotten anywhere. My internet research has turned up nothing so I might just start calling numbers from the phone book. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack, but I’m not sure what else to do at this point.”

As Rudy talks, Cecily continues to think. Maybe . . . maybe he does have a point. Maybe there is more to the Alex Grable story. And maybe it’s worth finding out.

“I know a girl who has some time,” Cecily says.

Rudy gives her a worried look. “Are you sure that you should be doing things? We don’t want to bother you. We—”

“I can’t just sit here!” Cecily says. “I can’t just—watch you post things for me, I can’t—”

Amber flinches.

“Amber, no, I didn’t mean it like—like that,” Cecily says. “I mean, I know you’re doing this for me, and I appreciate it . . . but I’m worried, that’s all. Mom told me you’re doing the big hair post.” The one that she was supposed to do. Cecily pictures the lovely rose-gold ombré cascading down her own shoulders . . . and then imagines it framing her burned face. She feels sick.

Amber nods. “Yeah. I am.”

Cecily forces a smile, and then something hits her with a jolt. If the follower had poisoned her makeup . . . “It’s gonna look so incredible on you. But I need you to be careful. Promise me you’ll go get all-new stuff. Please. The dye was in the turret . . .”

Amber’s eyes go wide. “Definitely.”

Cecily gives her sister a tight smile. It really will look gorgeous on Amber. Something about admitting that makes everything click for Cecily. She isn’t the perfect Cole sister anymore. She isn’t going to be a beauty guru, or a model, or start her own product line. With a face like hers, how can she? She feels tears welling in her eyes.

“I hear you’re coming home in a few days,” Rudy says.

Cecily nods. “Yeah. That’s what they tell me.” She croaks out the words.

“You don’t seem happy,” Amber says sadly.

Cecily shakes her head softly and feels a teardrop escape her unburned eye. She swipes it away, but there’s no chance her siblings hadn’t noticed. “I’m happy to be out of here, be near you, but . . .” She trails off. What can she say? That it won’t be the same? That it will never be the same? That, sometimes, the idea of anyone but her parents and her doctors seeing her face is enough to make her dissolve into an anxiety attack? No one had seen her face aside from her doctors, herself, and her parents. Not even Amber and Rudy. She’s not going to be in posts. She’s ruined. And the thought of being behind the camera as Rudy and Amber create content makes her throat close up.

Amber squeezes her hand. She doesn’t say that it’s all right, or that she understands. All she says is, “We want you home.”

A short time later, Rudy and Amber leave. Cecily feels like her head’s going to explode with all the thoughts swirling around inside her brain. She knows she needs to drown out the noise. Focus on something. So she chooses to focus on Rudy’s theory about the follower and Alex Grable.

She pulls out her phone, closes Instagram, and starts searching. Hours pass. Doctors and nurses enter and exit, the sound of the hospital carries on around her in a seamless wave of noise. And Cecily searches though internet records and archives until, just