Jem glanced over his shoulder.
“No service,” Tean whispered.
“I’m telling you the truth,” River said.
“Who do you work for?”Tean asked.“A newspaper?A TV station?”
“I’m independent—a creator journalist.My content is on several platforms, but most of my long-form stuff ends up on my website.”
“Like a Czech cam boy,” Jem said.
River didn’t seem to know what to say to that.
To be fair, neither did Tean, so he asked, “Why are you following us?”
“I’m looking into a series of murders.”She paused.“Rydel Owens.”
Tean didn’t say anything.The past October, he and Jem had become involved in tracking down a serial killer named Rydel Owens.They’d found him—and they’d rescued Daniel—but not before a pack of killers had tortured and murdered Rydel.He hoped nothing showed on his face, nothing from that day: the clapboard rambler, the body in the bathtub, the words written in blood, the two state agents lured into a trap and attacked.And the men.The wolves.
“Jesus,” Jem said under his breath.“That’s why you were following—” The gap was only the faintest thing.Barely there at all, the kind of micro-edit that Jeremiah Berger was unnervingly good at.The one you wouldn’t notice if you hadn’t known him for a long time.Hadn’t heard it before when he was telling you what he and Scipio had eaten for breakfast, and he was starting to say the number of hash browns he’d ordered.And then Jem was past the gap, and he finished, “—us.”
“I’ve reached out by phone,” River said.“I’ve tried contacting you on social media.”
“Uh huh,” Jem said.“You’re a real trooper.Sorry we made your job so hard.You still haven’t told uswhyyou’re following us.You’re working on a story about the murders?Great.Knock yourself out.Go talk to the police, talk to the families of the victims, dig up old yearbook photos, and make everybody miserable all over again.Why the fuck do you need to talk to us so badly that you followed us up to this lodge?”
“Because—” River broke off, and she laughed strangely.Disbelief.But also, to Tean’s ear, a raw edge like the brink of tears.“Now someone is following me.”
19
Jem stared at the blond woman.She was hugging herself now, blinking rapidly, shaking her head.
“What do you mean?”he asked.
“What I said: someone’s following me.I know it sounds crazy.My gosh, thepolicethink I’m crazy.But I’m not.”She took a breath like she was trying to steady herself, but the next words came out even more frayed.“I’mnot.”
“What’s happening?”Tean said.
“There are a few different vehicles.That’s why I didn’t notice at first.I’m not sure if it’s one person switching cars or if there are multiple people.”
Behind him, Jem felt Tean tense.Multiple, Jem thought.And he knew Tean had thought the same thing.
“What are we talking about?”Jem asked.“Cars?Trucks?”
“A couple of trucks.And an SUV—an older model.”
And Jem’s mind skipped backward to Ammon’s story about the truck following Daniel.About the man who’d tried to get into the LGBTQ youth center.
It might have been a coincidence.Itcouldhave been a coincidence.
“What?”Tean whispered.“What is it?”
Jem shook his head, but he said, “All right.You noticed them following you?”
“Yes.About a week ago.A little more, maybe.Say, ten days.And I think because they were switching vehicles, it might actually have started before that.”
“Two weeks,” Jem said.
“Maybe.”
