Page 79 of Someone Just Followed You

‘Maple, don’t let me down after all the effort I’ve been to.’

His hand slips away, and the relief gives me just enough energy to lift my fork. But that’s it. My hands are in handcuffs – my legs too this time – and the chain between them is short. As it pulls taut, I want to scream. How does he think me sharing a meal with him like this is normal behavior? I’m his prisoner, for fuck’s sake. I lower the fork again, swallow a sob.

He leans toward me, his hot, damp breath landing on my cheek. ‘Listen, we can do this the easy way or the hard way,’ he says quietly. ‘I’m a reasonable guy; I know you need a bit of time to settle in. But if you don’t make any effort, well, that’s gonna rile me, you know? And then I’ll start wondering why I’m being so patient.’

He takes my chin, gentle but firm, and pulls it round until our eyes meet. His are a faded blue, more tired than alert, I see that now. He’s clean-shaven, short-haired, with nothing special about his face. He looks like a regular guy, not the kind of man who drugs girls and then chains them up. Except what do those men look like?

‘Why do you want me here?’ I whisper, my heart booming, just for asking a question. Then it slows, maybe even stops, when his eyes move down my body.

‘From the moment I first saw you,’ he says, ‘I had a feeling that we’d end up together. Like it was our destiny. I thought it might happen differently, more mutually, you know. But sometimes one person needs to take the initiative, don’t they?’ He sighs and his eyes go hazy. ‘I imagine it was a little scary for you, waking up in a strange house. But I promise I’ll make it up to you.’

He leans closer, nuzzles his face into my neck. I jerk away on instinct. I’m scared he’ll get mad, hit me or something. But he just laughs, like he gets off on humiliating me, and it causes some anger to flicker in my belly. ‘But I don’t want you to,’ I say. ‘I don’t want to be here.’

The laughter dies. He clicks his tongue. ‘Well, spoilt influencer brats don’t always get what they want, Maybe Maple.’

I blink away his warning. ‘The bus station will have heaps of CCTV,’ I say. ‘And my friend Coco will have called the police too. They’ll find your truck, run your license plate. There’s no way they won’t find us.’

‘You think so, huh?’ His voice is so calm; I want to scratch at his throat. ‘Do you remember anything about getting here?’ he continues. ‘The different routes we took, how I changed my plates, where we even are?’

Acid swirls in my gut. I look away, will myself not to cry. Because of course I don’t.

‘No one’s coming for you, Maple,’ he continues, smug now. ‘Just like no one looked for Ella.’

I jolt. The name hits like a firework exploding in my ear. When I woke up here, I figured Brandon claiming to know where Ella lived was bullshit, just a way to coax me to Vegas. But is that wrong? Is taking girls what he does?

Or maybe I’m being stupid. Ella has been gone for eighteen months, and thanks to Dylan and me, the whole world knows that she’s still missing, that no one has cared enough to look.

‘Do you know where Ella is?’ I murmur. ‘Please, I just want the truth.’

‘Oh come on, Maple. The truth doesn’t exist anymore. You know that just as well as I do.’

Chapter 93

Kirsten

@MollyMarch14, TikTok

If there were naked photos of me on the dark web, I think I’d want to hide away too. Maybe we should let Ella be? #findMaple #dontfindElla

I pull into a space in the airport parking garage and unfurl my fingers from the steering wheel. This Lexus was supposed to be a symbol of my success, but today it feels more like a getaway car. Helping me escape Detective Nicholls’ clutches.

I climb out, zap the lock, and take the elevator to departures. Judging by Ella’s address, a penthouse apartment in LA’s Century City, she’s clearly not in need of saving, but it sounds like an awesome place to hang out, so I’m praying that’s what Maple’s doing. Enjoying the fruits of whatever labor is funding Ella’s luxury lifestyle.

And that everyone else – Garrett, the police, the internet – has got it wrong.

I shake off an uncomfortable sense of foreboding, a whispering voice telling me my mother’s instinct is off, and head to airport security. I flash my driver’s license and the boarding pass for my Delta flight to LAX at the TSA officer, then drop my bag into the plastic bin. I have to remove my phone, expose it to people in uniform, which makes my neck bead with sweat. But it slides through the X-ray machine without anyone showing an interest, and I arrive at the gate just as the screen above the desk flashes, Boarding.

It’s late afternoon by the time the Uber pulls up outside Ella’s address, and I instantly realize that this isn’t going to be as easy as I hoped. Park Place is a sprawling, gated community, with a gatehouse that doesn’t look easy to slip past.

I take a deep breath, find my best smile, and walk up to the gate attendant. ‘Hey there,’ I say breezily. He’s young, dark and beautiful, so looking doe-eyed and grateful isn’t too much of a stretch. ‘I’m here to see Leah Tarl in apartment 106.’ That’s the fake name Stu Miller told me about in his voice message. And maybe Ella thought she was being clever, but frankly, it doesn’t take a genius to work out an anagram of her own name.

‘Of course,’ the attendant says, with the requisite Californian smile. ‘Is she expecting you?’

I shake my head, max out on my demure look. ‘No, it’s a surprise,’ I say. ‘I guess surprises are allowed here?’

His sparkle dims. ‘We actually value privacy a little more here at Park Place. How about I call Ms. Tarl, check she’s cool with your visit. If you could give me your name?’

I sigh silently. Here goes. I lose the smile. ‘Detective Nicholls. With the Provo police department in Utah. I’m investigating the disappearance of a minor in my jurisdiction and there’s strong evidence to suggest that Ms. Tarl has information that could help us locate her.’