The Perfect Son

by Freida McFadden

“Erika.” His voice quakes. “I can’t believe you’re here. Come in.”

  I step into his tiny apartment, which is sparsely furnished with an old ratty couch that looks like it came from the curb, an unfurnished bookcase, and a coffee table with one short leg. Also, the living room is beyond messy. There is laundry strewn all about the room and food cartons all over the coffee table. I suppress the urge to tidy it all up myself. He probably hasn’t lived here long enough to be a hoarder, but he’s moving in that direction.

  “Sit down!” he says anxiously, gesturing at his ratty sofa that looks like it’s crawling with worms or bedbugs. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No.” I’d be terrified to drink out of one of the glasses in this place. “Thank you.”

  My father, Marvin Holick, sits down beside me on the couch. He has a nervous smile on his lips that makes him look younger—he looks a little bit like Liam when he smiles like that. He’s not what I expected at all. I was expecting a Sean Connery type who would be smoking a cigarette and explaining casually in a possibly Scottish accent about the murder he committed. But this man is far from Sean Connery. He’s more like Mr. Magoo.

  He blinks his watery eyes at me. “I’m so glad you’re here, Erika.”

  I smile tightly.

  “I wanted so badly to contact you after I got out of prison,” he goes on. “But I knew what your mother told you about me. And I thought… well, I thought you’d be better off without me in your life. But I’m really glad you’re here.”

  I nod.

  “I want to hear everything about your life.” He starts to reach for my hand, but I pull away before he can make contact. “Are you married? Do you have children?”

  “I’m married,” I say stiffly, “and I have two teenage children.”

  “I have grandchildren?” His face lights up. “Do you have photographs?”

  I study his wrinkled face. Is this all an act just to get on my good side? Is he actually excited to see photos of my children? Because the truth is, Marvin Holick does not seem like a sociopath. At all. But he committed a murder. And the description my mother gave of him sounded just like Liam.

  I slowly pull out my phone from my purse and bring up some recent photos of the children. My father gets out a pair of glasses and looks at the photos for far too long for it to be an act. When he gets to the one of Liam right after his debate, he lets out a gasp.

  “My God!” he says. “The boy looks just like me!”

  “Yes,” I say vaguely.

  That’s not all he got from you.

  “What’s he doing there?” my father asks. “He’s all dressed up.”

  “He’s on the debate team.”

  “Debate team!” His face lights up. “What a smart kid. Wow. Your husband must be smart. He sure don’t get that from me.”

  “Mom is pretty smart.”

  The smile fades from his lips. “You’re right. She is.” He hands me back my phone, a troubled expression on his face. “I’m so sorry, Erika. About… well, about everything. I really screwed up.”

  “Yeah,” I mumble.

  He lowers his eyes. “You probably want to know what happened.”

  I don’t want to know. But I have to know. I need to know what made him kill a woman. And what I can do to keep his grandson from suffering the same fate as him—if it isn’t too late. “Yes,” is all I say.

  He nods and sighs, sinking deeper into his ratty sofa. He runs a hand through what’s left of his hair. It’s hard to imagine it was ever as dark and thick as Liam’s.

  “I was young and stupid,” he finally says. “It’s a really bad combination. I met this girl. Nancy. Christ, I wish I could take it all back. I loved your mother, but… I was too young and too good looking for my own good. And then the girl told me she was knocked up—she threatened to go to tell your mother. I thought your mother would leave me, and I’d lose the both of you.”

  “So you killed her.”

  “No!” His watery brown eyes fly open. Those eyes used to be the same color as Liam’s but now they’ve lost their vividness, like a shirt that’s been washed too many times. “I didn’t want to kill Nancy. I swear. I just… this buddy of mine gave me some pills I could slip her that would make her lose the baby. And after that, I was going to end it with her and be faithful to your mother. I never wanted to kill her. I swear it.”

  I stare at him.

  “You don’t believe me.” He shakes his head. “I don’t blame you. The police didn’t believe it either. Maybe they would have if she’d really been pregnant, but she lied about that. There was never any baby.” He takes a shaky breath. “And then I lost you both anyway.”

  I look away, unable to meet his eyes. Do I believe him?

  “It was a terrible mistake,” he says. “I wish I could take it back. I would have faced up to the music—whatever it took. But Christ, I paid for it. I missed your whole life. I missed out on having a grandson who looks just like me. I missed holding my grandkids when they were babies. And Angela… She never came to visit me. She wanted to forget I existed. Raise you herself.”

  “She did a good job.”

  “Yes. She sure did.” He pulls off his glasses and rubs his eyes. “I don’t deserve it, Erika, but I was hoping maybe I could meet your family sometime. Do you think there’s a chance of that? Someday?”

  “Maybe.” I know it would make him the happiest man in the world to tell him yes, but I can’t do that right now. He obviously has no idea about the mess Liam is in. I can’t forge a relationship with my father with that going on. And I still don’t know how to feel about his confession. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Okay.” He gives me a nervous smile. “You don’t by any chance have a photograph of you and the kids that I could… have?”

  I have wallet-sized versions of Hannah and Liam’s school photos. I slip my father copies of both of them. He spends an extra few seconds looking at Liam’s, his lips parted. He really did miss out. He would’ve loved being a grandfather to those kids.

  And what would my life have been like if he had been in it? If he hadn’t done such a stupid thing and gotten himself locked away? Everything could’ve been different.

  I glance at my watch and realize I’ve been here for an hour. I’ve got to get back home before Jason starts wondering where I really am. The last thing I need is for him to talk to Brian. So I tell my father goodbye and hurry back to my car. He insists on walking me downstairs, and he waves at me until I drive away.

  I don’t know what I expected when I went to visit my father. I wasn’t expecting a lonely old man, that’s for sure. I have no idea if Marvin Holick really wanted to kill that woman or if he was telling the truth and it was all just a horrible accident. I want to believe he isn’t a murderer. I want to believe that more than anything.

  But I know one thing: if he is a sociopath, he’s the best actor in the history of the world.

  Chapter 56

  Erika

  I’ve stopped answering my phone entirely. I don’t know where people got my number, but I’ve been getting death threats all day. They keep getting worse and worse. People are calling me up, telling me that they’re going to kill me, my daughter, and especially my son. If I don’t answer, they leave messages. It’s awful.

  To some extent though, I know how they feel. They blame me for what Liam did. I blame myself. It feels like there’s something I could’ve done. Maybe when Dr. Hebert didn’t work out, I could’ve found somebody else. Somebody better. Somebody who could have fixed him.

  Or I could’ve done what Jessica Martinson suggested. I could have had him locked him up and then walked away.

  But that wouldn’t have solved the problem. You can’t lock somebody up for their thoughts. I could have sent him away to school, but when he turned eighteen, there was nothing I could’ve done.

  At half past six, my phone rings and I flinch automatically. I’m lying on the bed, watching the clock until Jason gets home—he was supposed to
be home ten minutes ago. I had been unwilling to move from my safe cocoon on the bed until I heard him come in downstairs. But then I glance at the screen and see Jason’s name.

  “Erika?” He sounds tired on the other line. “Hey. Listen…”

  “Please don’t tell me you’re running late…”

  “I’m really sorry.” He lets out a long sigh. “I’ve been putting out fires all day—everybody knows about Liam. I’ve had two investors back out today.”

  My stomach sinks. I didn’t think this could get any worse, but here it is. We can’t afford to lose Jason’s income. We’ve got a huge mortgage and now Liam’s legal bills.

  I grip the phone tighter. “How long till you can come home?”

  “I’ve got a dinner meeting now, then I need to sit down with my staff to discuss the situation. I’m not going to be able to head home for at least two hours.”

  “Two hours?” I’m going to burst into tears. I was barely holding it together, knowing Jason would be home soon. Two hours till he gets on the road means at least three till he’s home. And that’s if traffic has died down by then.

  “I’m really sorry, Erika,” he says again.

  I don’t want to be alone right now. I’m scared somebody else will throw a rock through our window. Or set the whole place on fire. Now that the sun has gone down, I feel especially uneasy.

  “If you want,” he finally says, “I’ll cancel the meetings. If you really need me…”

  I’m tempted to say yes. I do need him. But we also can’t afford to lose his income. I’ve got to suck it up. After all, it’s just three hours. What could happen in three hours? “It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

  “If you’re sure…”

  “I’m sure.”

  He lets out a breath. “Okay, thanks, Erika. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

  I swallow hard. “I love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  Three hours. He’ll be home in three hours. It’s not that long.

  I try to take my mind off of it by watching television. Anything but the news. I stream a movie on Netflix just so there’s no chance of hearing any news reports. The only news report I want to hear is that Olivia Mercer was found and somehow my son had nothing to do with it. Fat chance.

  It’s around eight-thirty when I hear the knock on my bedroom door.

  “Come in!” I call out.

  The door swings open and Liam is standing there in the entrance. He’s wearing the same T-shirt and jeans he had on yesterday— I wonder if he slept in them. He looks up at me, and his eyes are red-rimmed. It’s something I’ve never seen before.

  “Liam?”

  “Mom,” he says, and his voice breaks.

  And then he’s sobbing. My sixteen-year-old son—almost a man—is crying his heart out. His shoulders are shaking, and he buries his bruised face in his hands. I leap off the bed and throw my arms around him, and he clings to me. I’ve never seen him like this. Even as a child.

  “Liam,” I say. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

  It’s a stupid question. What isn’t wrong? But specifically, there’s obviously something bothering him. Maybe he’s frightened by the prospect of spending the rest of his life in prison. I couldn’t blame him for that one.

  “There’s something…” He gulps, trying to catch his breath. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

  I suck in a breath. “About Olivia?”

  He nods and wipes his eyes.

  “Do you… do you know where she is?”

  He nods again.

  It’s true. Everything that I feared is true. “Is she alive?”

  He’s quiet for a moment. “I… I don’t know.”

  You better hope she’s alive. It’s the difference between life in prison and a chance at maybe getting out someday. But I don’t say all that. He’s already crying. No need to make him feel worse.

  “We should call the police,” I say. “Right now. We’ll tell them where she is.”

  He shakes his head vigorously. “No. It’s… it’s not a good idea.”

  “Liam…”

  “I’ll show you how to get there,” he says. “We’ll go together.”

  “We need to call the police.”

  “Please, Mom.” His voice breaks again. “We’ll call the police when we get there, okay? We need to go. Now.”

  The urgency in his voice surprises me. After all, wherever Olivia is, she’s been there for days. What is so important about going right now? But he’s looking at me with his swollen eyes, and it’s hard to say no. As soon as we get there though, I’m dialing 911.

  “Okay,” I say. “Let’s go.”

  Liam doesn’t say much during the car ride. He keeps his eyes pinned on the road ahead of us, only speaking to give me directions. When I ask him for an address, he says he doesn’t have one. But he knows how to get there.

  I focus on the road. Wherever he’s taking me, I have to pray that Olivia is still alive. If she’s alive, then we can make this right. He has a chance.

  If she’s dead, then he’ll spend the rest of his life in prison.

  When we come to a stop at a red light, I reach for my phone. “Let me just text your father to tell him where we’re going.”

  “No,” he says sharply. “Don’t do that.”

  He says it so harshly, it gives me an uneasy feeling. It occurs to me that Liam is leading me into the woods all alone and won’t tell me where we’re going or let me tell anyone else. My son may have done some bad things in his life, but he’s never laid a finger on me. Ever.

  But now, for the first time in my life, I’m scared for my own safety. What if he isn’t leading me to Olivia? What if he’s bringing me out into the woods to kill me?

  No. He wouldn’t. Not my son. My baby. My favorite.

  “Turn right here,” Liam says.

  I squint at where he’s pointing. I see only trees, with a narrow clearing between them. “That’s not even a road.”

  “Turn right,” he says stubbornly.

  I’m about to protest when I see a wheel spinning against a tree. I squint into the black woods. “Is that Hannah’s bicycle?”

  I look at Liam. He’s staring at the bicycle too, an unreadable expression on his face. “Let’s go.”

  “Maybe we should call the police,” I say for the millionth time.

  “Mom…”

  But I take out my phone. I’m done with these games. I’m not driving my car down this tiny road to God knows where. And the fact that Hannah is here too is incredibly unsettling. This is time for the police to take over. I know when I’m out of my depth. And frankly, Liam is beginning to scare me. He keeps staring straight ahead, squinting into the woods.

  I’m calling the police. I’m telling them everything. As soon as I…

  Oh God. No signal.

  “Let’s go, Mom.” Liam puts one hand on the steering wheel, and I can only barely make out his face in the shadows. “If you won’t drive, I will.”

  Chapter 57

  Olivia

  The piece of bread and bottle of water are long gone.

  The lack of water is much harder than the lack of food. My mouth feels so dry, I can barely get it open. It feels like my lips are sealed together with glue. And whenever I try to stand up, I feel dizzy. My head is spinning. When I doze off, I dream about water. I dream about finding a puddle and lapping it up like a dog. I’m not picky. I would drink out of the toilet bowl if I could.

  Speaking of toilet bowls, I can’t remember the last time I peed. I don’t think I’m making pee anymore.

  He’s killing me. He’s going to let me die a terrible death of dehydration. He’s not even going to let it get to the point where I starve to death, although that would be awful too.

  The only positive thing I can say is that my left ankle doesn’t throb the way it used to. I hardly even notice it, except when I run my fingers along my calf, the skin is tight and swollen. I can’t wiggle my toes anymore or move my ankle. I�
�m sure if I tried to put weight on it, it would hurt, but I don’t have the strength to stand.

  It’s nighttime now. That tiny slice of light is gone. I have gotten used to the pitch blackness of this hole. Whether I open or close my eyes, it’s the same. This must be what it’s like to be blind. It just shows that you can get used to anything. It seems normal now to feel my way around.

  The footsteps over my head startle me out of my daze. Is he back? Already? It hasn’t been long enough yet, has it?

  Maybe he brought food or water for me. I’m willing to do anything he wants if he’ll give it to me. Anything. I have no pride left. I just want a drink.

  “Hello?”

  My head jerks up. That’s not his voice. That’s a female voice. A young female voice.

  Is it someone here to find me?

  I muster up all my strength, take a deep breath and try to yell out for help. But when I open my mouth, no words come out. My throat is too dry. I clear my throat best I can. “Help! Help me! I’m down here!”

  There is a long pause and scuffling of feet. “Hello? Are you in there?”

  “Yes!” My chest fills with relief. “I’m down here! My name is Olivia Mercer! People are looking for me!”

  “Hang on,” the female voice says. “There’s a key on the wall.”

  I try to get to my feet, but it’s very hard. My left leg can’t bear any weight, and my right leg feels like Jell-O. I’ve got to stand up though. I don’t know how else I’ll get out of here.

  I hear the sound of a key turning in a lock. Metal clangs against metal, and something drops to the floor. Before I know it, that flashlight turns on me, so bright that it feels like a knife is jabbing me in my eyes. I squeeze them shut, but it’s still too bright.

  “Turn the light away!” I gasp.

  “I’m sorry,” the girl says.

  And now that the light isn’t blinding me, I can see that she really is a girl—even younger than me. I take in her reddish brown hair and round face. She looks familiar. In my confused state, it takes me a minute to place who she is.

  Hannah Cass.

  “Hannah,” I gasp. “Your—”