I’m going to let your family know you’re down here. Give them closure. Give you a real burial.
And I’m going to make sure that asshole goes to prison for the rest of his life.
Chapter 43
Erika
It’s at five o’clock in the afternoon the next day that I hear a crash coming from the kitchen.
I was in the living room, trying desperately to focus on getting an article written for the next edition of the Nassau Nutshell when the sound of broken glass stole what little was left of my concentration. I slid my laptop off my legs and got up to investigate.
There’s a rock lying on the floor, in the center of our kitchen. The window above the sink is shattered, and there’s glass everywhere. I take a step and feel a sliver slice into to my foot. I wince at the pain and crouch down to pick up the rock. There’s a piece of paper taped to it with a word scribbled in red magic marker:
MURDERER
It’s starting.
“What was that, Erika?” Jason is standing at the entrance to the kitchen, still in his boxers and a T-shirt. He insisted on staying home again today, and I am intensely grateful. If Liam gets arrested today, I don’t want to be alone here. Of course, if the police show up, I feel like maybe Jason doesn’t want to be in his underwear. But I don’t want to give him a hard time. Jason’s underwear is the least of my problems.
I hold up the rock. “Somebody had a message for us.”
“Shit,” he breathes. “Should we call the police?”
“What’s the point?” I say. The truth is, Liam probably deserves it. And the last thing I want is to invite the police into our home. “Just be careful where you step until I can clean up. There’s glass everywhere.”
Jason glances down at his watch. “It’s getting late. No police yet. Maybe they’re not going to arrest him after all.”
I snort. “You’re joking.”
“Look, I know they think he did it. I’m not an idiot. But they have to have evidence to arrest him. They can’t do it on a gut feeling.”
I close my eyes. I wonder where Olivia Mercer is right now. I hope to God she’s okay.
The doorbell rings, and my eyes fly open. Every time I hear that ring, I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack. Jason and I exchange looks.
“Maybe it’s the person who threw the rock, coming to apologize?” he suggests.
I don’t dignify that with a response.
I reach the door first. I peer through the peephole and see Detective Rivera’s face. Oh no.
My hands are shaking too badly to open the door. Jason has to work the lock for me. When he gets it open, I immediately see the handcuffs in Rivera’s hands. I think I’m going to faint.
“Is Liam home, Mrs. Cass?” she asks me.
“You’re arresting him,” I say numbly.
She nods slowly. “I’m sorry.”
Jason looks down at the handcuffs, his face growing pale, but he doesn’t protest this time. He walks to the foot of the stairs and calls out, “Liam? Get dressed right now and come down here.”
I watch as my son emerges from his bedroom, wearing a plain T-shirt and a pair of clean blue jeans. In spite of the bruise on his cheekbone, he looks so young and handsome now. When he catches sight of the detectives at the door, he stops walking. I watch as he takes a deep breath, then forces himself to move forward.
I get seized by the desperate urge to throw my arms around him and tell him it’s all going to be okay. But it would be a lie.
When Liam gets to the bottom of the stairs, Rivera steps forward. She holds out the handcuffs, and Liam’s eyes widen as he takes a step back.
“Liam Cass, you are under arrest for the kidnapping and murder of Olivia Mercer.”
She reads him his rights as he listens silently with a dazed expression on his face that likely mirrors my own. I can’t believe this is happening. My legs are jello—they feel like they’re going to collapse under me.
I wonder what they found in their search. It must be something really big.
When Rivera finishes reading his rights, she holds out the handcuffs. Now Liam looks really panicked. He looks like he’s about to burst into tears, but he’s holding it back. I haven’t seen Liam cry since he was three years old. He very rarely cried as a baby. He was such a good baby. I remember thinking to myself that it was unfair any woman should be so lucky.
“Do you have to put those on me?” he asks, unable to hide the note of desperation in his voice.
“I’m afraid so,” she says, without any sympathy in her voice.