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The Perfect Son(59)

Author:Freida McFadden

Those words said in Liam’s four-year-old baby voice made me feel really uneasy. “Liam,” I said in a choked voice. “You’re being mean to the ant.”

He scrunched up his little face. “But it’s just an ant, Mommy. Who cares?”

“It’s a living creature, Liam.”

But he just looked at me blankly until I told him to go play at the monkey bars again. He obligingly went back to the jungle gym, but I couldn’t get the incident out of my head. That night, I told Jason about what he said, but Jason wasn’t at all concerned. “Boys like to play with bugs,” he said.

But he wasn’t playing with the bug. He was torturing it.

It only got worse after that. More disturbing statements that got harder and harder to shrug off. And then that girl found duct-taped in the closet when he was in kindergarten. He got kicked out of school for that one. I told him he could never do anything like that ever again, and technically, he didn’t. I finally took him to that child psychologist, Dr. Hebert, but I don’t believe she did anything to help him. He just got smarter about keeping his mouth shut.

And not knowing what he was thinking was the hardest part of all.

After the police take Liam away, Jason immediately calls Richard Landon. We sit on the sofa and he puts our lawyer on speaker phone, so we can both listen in. We have to order Hannah to go upstairs, because she shouldn’t be listening to this, and also, she’s almost hysterical.

“John,” Jason said. “They just took him. The police. They cuffed him and put him in the car. They’re taking him to jail.”

“Yes.” Landon’s voice jumps out of Jason’s phone. “I had a feeling that was going to happen today.”

“What are they going to do now?” I ask.

“They’re going to bring him to the police station and book him,” Landon says. “They’ll photograph him and fingerprint him, and then put him in one of their holding cells.”

My son behind bars. Tears spring to my eyes. I can’t bear it.

“We’ll get him a bail hearing tomorrow morning,” Landon says. “Hopefully they’ll set bail and he can go home until the arraignment.”

Jason looks up at me, his brow furrowed. “You think they won’t set bail?”

“It’s possible. They’re charging him with murder.”

“But they don’t even know if Olivia Mercer is dead!” Jason says.

“Right. They have to prove that a crime was actually even committed, so that’s in his favor.” Landon pauses. “Also, he’s only sixteen. I’ll argue all that at the bail hearing.”

“So there’s a chance they might not even be able to charge him?” I ask hopefully.

Landon is silent for several seconds. “I’m not going to lie to you, Erika. They may not have a body, but they’ve got a strong case against him.”

My stomach drops. “What have they got?”

“Well, for starters, it was known that they were at least dating, if not boyfriend and girlfriend. We have the neighbor who is testifying not only that Olivia and Liam were together that night, but that she got into his car.” He clears his throat. “But it was what they found in your car that was the nail in the coffin. They found traces of blood that matched Olivia’s blood type and three of her hairs. In your trunk.”

“In my trunk?” I say numbly.

“Yes,” Landon says. “If they were just in the seat, we could argue she was in the car, but the trunk is a bit more damning.”

“But it’s a hatchback,” Jason points out. “If she was in the backseat, her hair could’ve gotten into the trunk. It’s not like the trunk is an enclosed space.”

“I can argue that. But it doesn’t explain the blood, does it?”

Jason leans back against the sofa, shaking his head. I think he has just checked out of this conversation.

“Are you still there?” Landon asks.

“I’m here,” I say.

“I’m going to go over to see Liam now. He’s probably very scared so I’ll tell him what’s going to happen next. Also…”

“What?” I say.

Landon sighs. “I’m going to try to convince him to tell me where Olivia Mercer is. Whether or not she’s alive. We can use that as a bargaining chip.”

I swallow a lump in my throat. This is the last thing I wanted to hear. “Did Liam tell you he did it?”

“You know I can’t tell you that, Erika. Confidentiality.”

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