The Perfect Son Page 14

  “Liam,” Rivera says, “I’m going to need your phone.”

  Liam reaches into his pocket and hands it over to her without argument.

  “It goes without saying,” Rivera says, “you don’t leave town without letting us know. We’ll be in touch about anything we find.”

  With those words, she takes off, leaving my family alone again. I survey the living room, which doesn’t look like much has been disturbed. I wonder what they’ve been doing here all this time.

  “They were mostly in Liam’s room,” Jason says, as it reading my thoughts. “And the car. They spent forever going through your car.”

  “Are we going to see the lawyer?” I ask.

  He nods. “Yeah, he fit us in for an hour from now.” He looks Liam up and down, at his ripped shirt and bruised face. “You better change clothes.”

  Liam nods and goes upstairs. Hannah goes up to her room too, leaving Jason and me alone in the living room. Jason glances at the stairs and lowers his voice. “The attorney has a connection in the police department,” he murmurs. “He said they’re close to an arrest. They’re hoping to find something here today that will make it a slam dunk.”

  I push away a sick feeling in my stomach. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe there’s a good possibility Liam is about to get arrested.

  “But they won’t,” he says.

  I wish I believed in Liam’s innocence the way Jason does.

  _____

  Our attorney is named John Landon. He looks tall and capable, with a full head of gray hair, and a suit that looks very expensive. I didn’t even ask Jason what this guy is going to be costing us. I don’t want to know. But I know what attorneys charge, and if this guy is any good, he’s probably charging us a fortune.

  Liam sits down between us in front of Landon’s mahogany desk. Not surprisingly, his cheekbone looks even worse than it did earlier in the day. He’s going to have one hell of a shiner. It will be his first. He’s never even needed stitches or had a broken bone before.

  “What happened to your eye?” Landon asks him.

  “I ran into this kid’s fist,” Liam says.

  Jason rolls his eyes. “Some of the kids are giving him a hard time at school. They think he’s guilty.”

  “Who does?” Landon asks.

  Liam drops his eyes. “Everyone.”

  Landon nods, unsurprised. “I’m afraid it’s going to get worse before it gets better. I just spoke to my contact at the police department, and it sounds like they found something during their search.”

  All the hairs on my arms stand at attention. “What did they find?”

  Landon spreads his arms apart. “I don’t know yet. But it’s something big, apparently. They said to expect an arrest in the next twenty-four hours.”

  Liam’s face pales. “You mean they’re going to take me to jail?”

  I always thought of Liam as a kid who could deal with anything. For the most part, everything seems to always roll off his back. Even when he got expelled from kindergarten all those years ago, he didn’t seem all that bothered by it. But at this moment, he looks absolutely terrified. I don’t blame him. I would be terrified too in his shoes. I’m terrified for him.

  “I’m afraid so,” Landon says. “But I’m hoping based on your age and lack of priors, you’ll be able to make bail. They’re hoping to make a big deal out of some complaint from a guy named Richard Young—a teacher Liam had.”

  Liam looks like he’s going to be sick. Of course, we all remember Richard Young. That was the first time the police ever showed up at our door, and I thought there was a reasonable chance Liam could end up in jail. But nothing ever came of it. What Young had claimed Liam did was horrible beyond words, but the man had no proof.

  As for me, I was never sure.

  “Do you know what Mr. Young accused him of doing?” Jason says.

  “Yes. I do.”

  “So you recognize that was completely blown out of proportion.” Jason folds his arms across his chest. “That guy was really paranoid. I mean, Liam was only thirteen at the time. Can you imagine? There’s no way he could have…”

  Landon looks at Liam for several seconds. We made him put on a dress shirt and nice pants prior to this visit, and aside from the bruise on his face, he looks like his usual handsome, clean-cut self. “No, I agree. It seems unlikely.”

  I let out a breath.

  Landon folds his hands in front of him and focuses his gaze on my son. “Liam, I’m only going to ask you this one time. Do you know what happened to Olivia Mercer?”

  Liam glances at me and then at Jason. “No,” he says.

  Landon lifts an eyebrow. “You should know that anything you tell me stays in this room. Knowing the whole truth will help me to defend you. I don’t like surprises.”

  “I don’t know what happened to her,” he insists.

  I watch my son proclaim his innocence. As the words leave his mouth, I get this strong sensation that he’s lying. But then again, he’s always lying. Nothing he says anymore has any basis in reality. It makes me want to grab his shoulders and shake him.

  Landon considers his words. I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing I am. “Mr. and Mrs. Cass, may I speak with Liam alone?”

  Jason found. “Why?”

  “Because Liam is my client. The two of you are not. And the attorney client privilege doesn’t apply to you. If he gets charged, they’ll almost certainly try him as an adult. So I think we should treat him as an adult.”

  “Is that all right with you, Liam?” I ask him gently.

  I place my hand on his shoulder, even though I know he doesn’t like being touched. Not that he ever complains about it when I’m affectionate, but he never came to me for hugs the way Hannah used to. He just didn’t care. He never needed physical affection like other children.

  “It’s all right,” Liam says.

  Even though it almost kills me, we leave Liam in the room with Landon. Jason is just as unhappy about it as I am. As we sit in the waiting room, he keeps sneaking looks back at the closed office door. “What do you think they’re talking about in there?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I glance around Landon’s small waiting room—at his attractive, blond receptionist and the few people occupying seats across from us. Landon is a criminal attorney, so presumably everyone here has been accused of committing some sort of crime. The woman across from me is about my age, with schoolmarm glasses and hair gathered into a bun. I watch her flick through a copy of Good Housekeeping magazine.

  What crime could this woman possibly have committed? She looks like someone I’d run into during a PTA event.

  Then again, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last sixteen years, it’s that looks can be deceiving.

  Jason bounces his right foot against the carpeting, casting a look back at the closed door to Landon’s office. “I can’t believe they’re bringing up that garbage with the English teacher,” he mutters. “If that’s all they’ve got, they’re grasping at straws.”

  “That was really bad, Jason. Liam is really lucky he didn’t get charged.”

  “Charged? He didn’t do anything!”

  I don’t know what to say. I should probably agree, but I can’t bring myself to say the words.

  “If he really did that…” He furrows his brow. “Erika, our kid isn’t a monster.”

  I can see in my husband’s eyes that he means it. I wonder what it is they found in our house that’s so significant and if it will be enough to change Jason’s mind.

  Chapter 40

  Transcript of police interview with Richard Young:

  “You say you were Liam Cass’s English teacher?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And when was that?”

  “It was about three years ago. He was in eighth grade.”

  “And what was your opinion of him?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Of course.”

  �
�I hated him. I feel terrible saying that because what kind of teacher hates one of his students? But there was something about Liam that I instantly disliked. And I have to say, I was alone in my opinion. Universally, all the teachers adored him. Middle school kids aren’t easy, but Liam seemed like a good kid—the kind teachers hope for in our classes. He was obviously very bright, well-behaved in class, and always handed in assignments on time.”

  “But you didn’t like him?”

  “He just rubbed me the wrong way—I can’t even say why. There was something very fake about him. And also…”

  “Yes?”

  “I have a daughter. She’s Liam’s age, and she had some classes with him. And a few times, I saw them talking in the hallway and it drove me crazy. My wife told me I was overreacting, but given current circumstances, it sounds like I was reacting very appropriately.”

  “So did you do anything?”

  “…”

  “Mr. Young?”

  “I’m not proud of this...”

  “It’s important to be honest right now. A girl’s life could be at stake.”

  “Fine. I took Liam aside after class one day and told him to stay the hell away from my daughter.”

  “Did he?”

  “No. He did not. In fact, he started showing more interest in her after I said that to him. Right when he knew I was paying attention. Like he was taunting me.”

  “Well, that’s not an unusual response of a teenage boy to authority.”

  “I’m also not proud to say that I took my frustration out on his grades. English is very subjective, and I started grading his essays very harshly. He went from an A to a C.”

  “Did he do anything about it?”

  “He complained. But I refused to change his grades. I also told Lily, my daughter, that I would ground her if she spoke with him again.”

  “And how did that go?”

  “Initially, I thought it was successful. Lily stopped talking to Liam, and he just ate the bad grades. I thought it was over and done with.”

  “But it wasn’t?”

  “Obviously, I can’t prove Liam did anything to me.”

  “What do you believe he did?”

  “It was a Saturday night around two in the morning. My wife and I were fast asleep until our dog came into our bed. She vomited all over the bed and woke us up. But once I was awake, I found it very hard to think straight, and my wife and I both noticed we had splitting headaches. I called 911 and went to Lily’s room to check on her. I couldn’t wake her up at all. And then I passed out in her room.”

  “What happened?”

  “Carbon monoxide poisoning.”

  “But you recovered?”

  “Yes. Thank God for my dog. We spent several days in the hospital, but we were okay. But if Daisy hadn’t woken us up, we would’ve been dead by the morning. All three of us.”

  “Did they find out how it happened?”

  “There was a crack in our radiator. Supposedly, this sort of thing can happen, but we have a relatively new house. It was suspicious, to say the least.”

  “Didn’t you have a carbon monoxide detector?”

  “Yes. That’s the other thing. Our detector was disconnected.”

  “That’s a little suspicious.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Did you suspect Liam Cass?”

  “No. Not at first. I mean, I didn’t like the kid, but he was only thirteen years old. I didn’t even think he knew what carbon monoxide was.”

  “So what made you suspect him?”

  “One of my neighbors told me and the police they saw a kid skulking around my house shortly before it happened. I found a photo of Liam from his school records, and they confirmed it was him.”

  “Did the police investigate further?”

  “They questioned Liam, but apparently he had a friend living in my neighborhood, so that was his excuse for being there. There was no other evidence he did anything. If he was ever inside my house, he left no trace.”

  “But you believe it was him?”

  “I absolutely do.”

  “So he got away with it?”

  “He sure did.”

  “Did you do anything further?”

  “I’ll tell you, Detective, there is one thing I did.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I gave the kid an A in English. Some things are not worth dying over.”

  Chapter 41

  Erika

  Liam barely said a word during the drive home. I made a few attempts to get him to talk, but he only answered in monosyllables. I wanted to know what Landon said to him when they were alone. Or more importantly, what he said to Landon. Did he tell the attorney the truth?

  It’s a relief to find Hannah is in her bedroom where we left her when we get home. After the way Olivia Mercer disappeared, I was almost scared Hannah might be gone too. Of course, why would she be? The monster was in our car.

  As soon as I get into the bedroom, I dig around in the medicine cabinet for my Xanax. If there was ever a time I’ve needed it, it’s right now. This is too much for me to deal with. My son getting arrested? You don’t see that in many parenting books.

  Damn it, where’s my Xanax?

  It’s not in the medicine cabinet. I fumble through bottles of Tylenol, Motrin, Benadryl, triple antibiotic cream, antifungal cream, face lotion, hand lotion, expired antibiotics—God, why do we have so much crap in the medicine cabinet? But no Xanax.

  Then it hits me. I shoved the bottle back in the drawer of my nightstand last time I took them. I wanted them next to my bed for easy access the next time I woke up in a cold sweat.

  I make a beeline for the nightstand and open the drawer. The pill bottle rolls to the front, and I feel a jab of relief. I grab the bottle, wrench it open, and pop one in my mouth. I swallow it dry.

  There’s something else that catches my eye from within the drawer in my nightstand. At first, I think it’s a photo of Liam. But then I realize it’s the photo of my father. The one I always keep in my nightstand, so I don’t ever forget him.

  Of course, I put it there before I realized who he really was. What he did.

  I pulled out the photograph to get a better look at it. My father looks like he’s in his late twenties, about ten years older than Liam, but God, they look so much alike. The photograph is like looking into a time machine showing my son in the future. Same hair, same eyes, same crooked smile, same build. It’s uncanny.

  I can only imagine what else Liam inherited from this man.

  I don’t remember much about my father. I have a vague memory of holding his large hand as he walked down the street with me. I also remember when there was a mouse in our home and my father put out a trap to catch it. He showed me the trap, the mouse’s tail captured by the metal bar, as the tiny animal squealed in distress. He laughed when I cowered behind my mother’s legs. It’s one of my first memories.

  I always looked at that memory as an example of my father taking care of our family by getting rid of our rodent problem. But now I wonder if there was more to it than that. Did he enjoy torturing that little mouse the same way Liam enjoyed starving those hamsters to death?

  In the past, when I’ve looked at this photograph, I experienced a rush of affection for this man who never got to see his daughter grow up. But right now, I feel something very different. Jason and I tried to do everything right as parents, but we couldn’t change our son. There was something innately wrong with him. Something in his genes.

  Liam is, after all, the grandson of a murderer.

  I pick up my phone and punch in my mother’s number. She answers after the second ring. “Oh, Erika, thank God. I was scared you were never going to speak to me again.”

  She has no clue what we’ve been through with Liam in the last twenty-four hours. Any resentment I might have felt for her keeping a secret from me takes a backseat to everything else. “You did what you felt was right. I can’t be angry at you for that.”

 
; “I only did it to protect you. Because I love you.”

  She was protecting me because she loves me. The same way I want to protect Liam, even if he doesn’t deserve it. Even if he doesn’t love me. Even if he can’t. “Mom, can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course, darling. What is it?”

  “What was my father like?”

  “What… what do you mean?”

  “His personality. What was he like?”

  “Oh.” She hesitates. “Well, he was… very charming. As you can imagine. All the women loved him. Liam, I think, takes after him in looks. Don’t you think?”

  I think he takes after him in more than looks. That’s what I’m afraid of, anyway.

  “Would you say he was… manipulative?”

  My mother’s laugh sounds hollow. “He manipulated me into marrying him, that’s for sure. It was… well, I don’t want to say it was mistake because I got you. But he wasn’t a good husband, even before.”

  “Why not?”

  “He was just very self-absorbed. He wasn’t really ready to settle down. He wasn’t the sort of man who wanted to stay in on a Saturday night and watch television. He always wanted to be out doing something. And when we had a child, that only made it worse.”

  I take a breath. “Was he cruel to you?”

  She’s quiet for a moment. “Yes, he certainly could be. Very cruel.” She sighs. “He just wasn’t a good person, Erika. Probably the best thing that ever happened was him exiting our lives. He wouldn’t have been a good father.”

  I look down at the photograph in my hand. My mother has answered some of my questions, but I have more. I have a feeling that the only way I can possibly understand my son is to understand my father.

  And there’s only one way to do that.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I say. “I better go now.”

  “Are you okay, Erika? You sound funny.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Have they found that girl yet who went missing? Such a tragedy.”

  “I’ve got to go, Mom,” I choke out.

  I hang up the phone before my mother can ask again if I’m okay. I’m not okay. I don’t know if things will ever be okay again.