Chapter 55

Chapter Fifty-Five

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 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 at 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, something is 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."