“Do you think she’s dead?” I ask in a voice that is barely a whisper.
Landon is silent for what seems like an eternity. “Honestly? Yes. I think she’s already dead. If she wasn’t at first, he probably realized he had to get rid of her to destroy the evidence.”
“God,” I whisper. I wipe my eyes with the back of my fingers.
“But I’ll do my best for him,” Landon says. “Whatever he did, I’ll fight for him. That’s my job.”
Why? That’s the question I want to ask. Because if Liam really killed that girl, he should be locked away in prison. He should be in a place where he can’t hurt anyone ever again.
I spent his entire childhood trying to protect him from himself. I have failed.
Chapter 44
Erika
When I come downstairs later in the evening to force myself to eat some dinner, I find Hannah sitting on the sofa in the living room, slouched down as she watches television. I get close enough that I can see what’s on the screen. It’s The Princess Bride.
The Princess Bride used to be my favorite movie when I was a kid. When Hannah was four years old, I showed it to her and Liam for the first time. Liam didn’t think much of it, but Hannah loved it. It became her favorite movie, and I think it still is. It’s a comfort movie. It’s her bowl of chicken soup.
I stand there for a moment, watching Hannah watch the movie. Her eyes are pinned on the screen, and she mouths the words along with the characters. She could probably recite every line in this movie from memory. Actually, so could I.
“Can I join you?” I ask.
Hannah looks up at me with her blue eyes rimmed with red. The last time I saw her, she was screaming at me. But now she lifts one shoulder. “As you wish.”
It’s a line from the movie. An olive branch?
I sit down on the sofa next to Hannah, but leaving a respectable distance between us. If I sit too close, she’ll complain I’m stifling her. But sitting too far away will make her unhappy too. I can’t figure out how to make Hannah happy—I never could. Even when she was an infant, she would howl her lungs out while I would beg her to tell me what was wrong. Even two-year-old Liam commented once, “My baby sister is always sad.”
Fourteen years later, nothing has changed.
“I’m sorry you had to see that happen earlier,” I say to Hannah.
She doesn’t take her eyes off the screen. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know, but…”
She turns to look at me. “You really think he did it, don’t you?”
I clear my throat. “Well, I don’t know for sure. I mean—”
“That’s why you hired that guy to scare off all the girls Liam likes.”
My mouth falls open. Hannah knew about that? It hadn’t even occurred to me she might know. I thought that was my deep dark secret.
“One of them told me.” Her eyes flick back at the television screen. “I assumed you were behind it. Considering you were the one who sent him to the shrink.”
“You know about that?”
“Liam told me.”
I suck in a breath. “I’m really sorry, Hannah. I’m sorry you got caught up in all of this. I promise I’ll do my best to keep you out of it from now on.”
Hannah picks up the remote control and shuts off the television. She faces me now, her eyes filling with tears. “I don’t want to be kept out of it. I just want my brother back home.”
Hannah’s loyalty to Liam is understandable. Whatever else anyone can say about Liam, he’s a good big brother. People warned me when I got pregnant that bringing a newborn home when you’ve already got a two-year-old is a recipe for jealousy. One of my girlfriends told me she constantly had to protect her infant from her toddler.
But it was never like that with Liam and Hannah. The first time I brought Hannah home, he couldn’t stop staring at her. When we finally let him hold her under careful supervision, he was so gentle. He kept stroking her little face with open-mouthed awe.
When she was about four months old, we took her to the park and a big dog rushed to the stroller, barking loudly enough to make Hannah burst into tears. Liam jumped in front of the dog, bravely holding up his hand. “Doggy, no!” he cried. “No hurt my sister! No!”
I don’t know what Liam did or didn’t do to Olivia, but he has always protected his sister.
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell Hannah. “We’re going to get him home.”
Hannah wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “Do you really believe that, Mom?”
I wish I could say I did. I wish I could tell my daughter that the truth will come out and Liam will go free. But the real truth is, whether or not the truth comes out, I believe Liam will spend the rest of his life in prison.
Chapter 45
Erika
Jason and I get ready for bed in absolute silence.
The only thing we could possibly talk about at this point is the fact that our son is in jail, and it’s all we’ve spoken about for the last several days. It’s the last thing I want to talk about now. I know Jason is still peeved at me for what I said when the police showed up to arrest Liam. But it’s not like I meant to make my son seem guilty. If I could take it back, I would.
I join my husband in the bathroom while he’s brushing his teeth. He’s got the electric toothbrush whirring in his mouth. Five years ago, Jason had a root canal, and after swearing he would never go through something like that again, he purchased an electric toothbrush and about a crate full of dental floss. He’s used them both religiously, and he’s had such good dental visits since then, I switched over to the electric toothbrush last year. I do feel like it gets my teeth cleaner, but the annoying part is that we can’t both brush at once anymore. I have to wait for him to be done, then swap out the toothbrush heads.
As I wait, I rinse off my face, although there’s not much to rinse since I didn’t bother with makeup this morning. I let the hot water wash over my skin, trying not to think about what’s going to happen tomorrow. Liam’s bail hearing. Every time I imagine it, I get a sick sensation in the pit of my stomach.
What if he doesn’t make bail? I can’t conceive of not getting to take him home tomorrow. But Landon says I have to accept the possibility that Liam might be in jail for the duration.
Liam in jail. My little boy in jail. Surrounded by murderers and thieves.
“Done,” Jason says, as he hands me the handle of the electric toothbrush.
“Thanks,” I say.
We are so polite.
My hands are shaking as I try to get electric toothbrush head in place. Jason watches me for a moment until he takes it for me and secures the brush.
“It’s going to be okay,” he says. He furrows his brow. “It’s just a misunderstanding. In a week, this will all have blown over.”
I snort. “Do you genuinely believe that?”
He stares at me, a sad look in his blue eyes. “Erika, do you genuinely believe our son killed that girl?”
The bathroom feels stiflingly small. I’ve got to get out of here. I put down the toothbrush, even though I haven’t brushed yet, and scurry back into our bedroom. Jason follows me, apparently still waiting for an answer to his question. I wish I had his faith in Liam. But I know things he doesn’t know. As much as he wants and needs to hear it, I can’t tell him I believe Liam is innocent.
“I know it doesn’t look great for him.” His tone is almost pleading. “But Liam wouldn’t do this. He’s a good kid. He comes from a good family.”
Arguably, Jason and I are good parents—both of us are so normal, we’re boring. But Jason doesn’t know my history. He doesn’t know the secret about me that I only recently found out myself. And maybe I owe it to him to tell him the truth. Maybe that’s the only way to make him understand. Even if it makes him look at me differently.
“Jason,” I say. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
His eyes widen and he takes a step back. After the number of reve
lations he’s had to deal with in the last few days, I feel bad dropping this one on him. But I owe it to him to be honest.
“You’re scaring me, Erika,” he says. “Should I… should I be sitting down?”
I reach out and take his hand, which is unsurprisingly clammy. I lead him over to the bed, and we sit side by side. Jason is staring at me intently, his brows knitted together.
“I recently found out something… kind of surprising.”
He shakes his head. “More surprising than the police arresting our kid?”
I take a deep breath. “It’s about my father. He’s… he’s alive.”
His mouth falls open. His face looks about how mine probably did when my mother dropped the bombshell on me. “Are you serious? How?”
It’s harder than I thought to tell him the truth. Because I know what it means. I have always believed that while Liam had his issues, it wasn’t my fault. But now I know the truth. Liam is the grandson of a murderer. This is in his genes. And it doesn’t help matters that he looks exactly like my father. The spitting image.
I explain it to Jason as best I can, considering all I know is from my mother. He listens, his face growing paler by the second. When I finish telling him everything, he mutters, “Jesus.”
“I know.”
“How could your mother have kept this from you?”
“I guess she thought it was easier to think he was dead. That knowing he was in jail might traumatize me.”
He frowns. “Are you going to go see him?
“Do you think I should?”
“It’s your decision, Erika.”
“Yes, but what do you think?”
He hesitates for only a second. “If I were you, I wouldn’t.”
“But he’s my father…”
“So what? The man is a murderer. Do you really want to have anything to do with him after that?”
The conviction in his voice unsettles me. After all, there might be a time in the near future when we have to visit our own son in jail. If it comes out that Liam really did kill Olivia, will Jason disown him?
The truth is, I know deep down, whether Liam did it or not, I’m going to support him. I’ll visit him every week in jail if it comes down to it. I hope it’s not true, and I pray to God that Olivia is okay, but no matter what, Liam is my son. No matter what he does, that isn’t going to change.
I’m not sure Jason feels the same way
“I haven’t decided yet.” I chew on my lip. “Obviously, this isn’t the best timing. But… I’m curious. What if Liam is the way he is because…?”
Jason cocks his head to the side. “Because of what?”
“Because of me. Because he’s inherited it from me?”
He blinks a few times. “You’re not a murderer, Erika.”
“But my father is.”
My husband stares down at his hands for a moment. My stomach fills with butterflies as I try to figure out what he’s thinking. When I can’t stand it another second, he looks back up at me. “Liam didn’t kill that girl.”
“But what if he did?”
“No.” He squares his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Erika. But just because your father was a crazy murderer, it doesn’t mean Liam is too.”
But I can see in his eyes the shred of uncertainty. For the first time, he doesn’t look so sure that our son is innocent. He had no idea when he married me that I was the daughter of a convicted murderer. A psychopath. Now that he knows what’s running through my blood and what I might have passed down, he’s finally starting to believe that our son isn’t the perfect child he thought him to be.
And it’s all my fault.
Chapter 46
Olivia
It’s night now. I know that because the slice of light has vanished, plunging me back into the worst kind of pitch blackness.
I have almost no food or drink left. One slice of bread. Some part of the last bottle of water. I’m so thirsty, I could drink my own pee. I never understood how people did that during those survival stories. But I totally get it now. I’m dizzy with hunger and thirst.
With the remaining strength I have left, I’ve been working on building up the mound using Phoebe’s bone. My little tower is about a foot high based on feel. Possibly high enough to reach the trap door.
I’ve got to give it a try. Before he comes back.
I step up on the mound with my right foot. I try to lift myself to the top, leaning against the side of the hole, but I accidentally put weight on my left ankle.
Oh my God.
I howl and double over in pain. My left ankle feels worse every day. It’s definitely broken. It’s very swollen and warm, and I’m having trouble wiggling my toes. But then again, it’s just pain. People get shot and keep moving. I have to get past it. That’s my only chance of survival.
Think of happy things, Olivia.
My parents. My mom.
My room.
Madison.
I can only imagine what Madison must be thinking right now. She warned me. She warned me and I didn’t listen.
I’ve got to get out of here. I got to see my family again.
I take a deep breath and get back up on the mound. My left ankle touches the ground and it’s agony, but I don’t allow myself to collapse again. I stand up straight, lifting a long bone in my hand over my head. It scrapes against the roof of my enclosure.
I did it! I can reach the top!
I bang on it with the bone, and I hear metal. The trap door is locked.
Of course.
I shouldn’t be surprised, because I heard the lock turning the last time he came, but my whole body sags with disappointment. I thought I was going to get out of here. I thought this was it. I’d escape and be home within the hour.
This is just a setback. Don’t give up.
I take a deep breath, pushing away a wave of dizziness. This isn’t hopeless. After all, it’s just wood above me. If I can break through the wood, I can get out of here. I’ve got all the time in the world to pound against the wood until it breaks.
Here goes nothing…
Chapter 47
Erika
By the morning, the papers are all reporting an arrest has been made in the disappearance of Olivia Mercer. It’s not just local news, but the national papers have picked up the story as well. They can’t print Liam’s name, because he’s only sixteen, but it doesn’t matter. They can’t keep people from saying his name in the online comments.
I sit in bed, reluctant to get up and face the world, reading through the comments until I can’t bear it anymore. Overwhelmingly, the general public thinks Liam is guilty.
I don’t care if this kid is sixteen. He deserves the electric chair. Some people are too sick to live.
I heard he has a long history of mental problems. Parents deserve to go to jail too for not making sure he got the help he deserves.
Lock this kid up and throw away the key!
Tragic and horrible! This is what lethal injections are for!
But the worst are the comments from people who obviously know Liam in real life. It looks like the majority of the town has decided he’s guilty. Or at least, the ones who are posting online.
I’ve known Liam Cass since grade school. He’s nuts! I could totally see him murdering someone. He’s definitely guilty!
Liam used to play with my son, but I told him Liam wasn’t welcome anymore. I knew that kid was trouble.
Olivia was a beautiful girl. She was stupid to go out with Liam Cass, just because she thought he was good-looking. Now she’s paying the price.
The family has been hiding Liam’s mental problems for years. He’s a psychopath but they’ll do anything to protect him!
The kid was kicked out of kindergarten for raping a girl. That says it all!
Great. Now the Internet has convicted him of rape when he was five years old. It’s hard to read all these comments, but somehow I can’t look away. There are a few positive ones at least, intermingled with t
he awful ones.
OMG, Liam is in my Spanish class and he is sooooo nice. He would never do this! I don’t believe it’s true!
Liam is one of the best students I’ve ever had in all my years as a teacher. I may not know all the evidence, but it’s hard to imagine such a fine young man could be capable of this.
Liam is a great teammate and great guy! This is bullshit! Someone must be framing him!
I finally put down my phone and stop reading when Jason appears at the doorway to the bedroom. We haven’t spoken since our conversation last night, and I wonder if he’s still angry with me. He doesn’t look angry though. He looks pale. “I don’t want you to freak out, Erika…”
“Then don’t start a sentence with those words.” I sit up straight in bed, clutching the covers in my fingers. “What’s going on? What happened?”
“Somebody spray-painted something on our front door.”
I can only imagine what somebody’s written on our house. Right in front of our all our neighbors, who I’m sure saw nothing. I have been doing my best to keep the tears back, but now they threaten to spill over.
“Erika…” He sits down next to me at the edge of the bed. “It’s okay. Don’t cry. I’m taking care of it. Just stay inside the house.”
But this is about a hell of a lot more than some words spray painted on our door. That can be painted over. The bigger problem isn’t as easily fixed. I wipe my eyes, trying to get control of my tears but I can’t.
Jason’s eyes soften. He puts his arms around me while I sob for our son. It’s hard to stop. I just keep thinking of my little baby. The tiny, helpless bundle I brought home from the hospital sixteen years ago. In jail. He must be terrified. I’m his mother and I’m supposed to be there to look out for him, and I failed.
The Perfect Son Page 16