I reach out and take his hand, which is unsurprisingly clammy. I lead him over to the bed, and we sit side by side. Jason is staring at me intently, his brows knitted together.
“I recently found out something… kind of surprising.”
He shakes his head. “More surprising than the police arresting our kid?”
I take a deep breath. “It’s about my father. He’s… he’s alive.”
His mouth falls open. His face looks about how mine probably did when my mother dropped the bombshell on me. “Are you serious? How?”
It’s harder than I thought to tell him the truth. Because I know what it means. I have always believed that while Liam had his issues, it wasn’t my fault. But now I know the truth. Liam is the grandson of a murderer. This is in his genes. And it doesn’t help matters that he looks exactly like my father. The spitting image.
I explain it to Jason as best I can, considering all I know is from my mother. He listens, his face growing paler by the second. When I finish telling him everything, he mutters, “Jesus.”
“I know.”
“How could your mother have kept this from you?”
“I guess she thought it was easier to think he was dead. That knowing he was in jail might traumatize me.”
He frowns. “Are you going to go see him?
“Do you think I should?”
“It’s your decision, Erika.”
“Yes, but what do you think?”
He hesitates for only a second. “If I were you, I wouldn’t.”
“But he’s my father…”
“So what? The man is a murderer. Do you really want to have anything to do with him after that?”
The conviction in his voice unsettles me. After all, there might be a time in the near future when we have to visit our own son in jail. If it comes out that Liam really did kill Olivia, will Jason disown him?
The truth is, I know deep down, whether Liam did it or not, I’m going to support him. I’ll visit him every week in jail if it comes down to it. I hope it’s not true, and I pray to God that Olivia is okay, but no matter what, Liam is my son. No matter what he does, that isn’t going to change.
I’m not sure Jason feels the same way
“I haven’t decided yet.” I chew on my lip. “Obviously, this isn’t the best timing. But… I’m curious. What if Liam is the way he is because…？”
Jason cocks his head to the side. “Because of what?”
“Because of me. Because he’s inherited it from me?”
He blinks a few times. “You’re not a murderer, Erika.”
“But my father is.”
My husband stares down at his hands for a moment. My stomach fills with butterflies as I try to figure out what he’s thinking. When I can’t stand it another second, he looks back up at me. “Liam didn’t kill that girl.”
“But what if he did?”
“No.” He squares his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Erika. But just because your father was a crazy murderer, it doesn’t mean Liam is too.”
But I can see in his eyes the shred of uncertainty. For the first time, he doesn’t look so sure that our son is innocent. He had no idea when he married me that I was the daughter of a convicted murderer. A psychopath. Now that he knows what’s running through my blood and what I might have passed down, he’s finally starting to believe that our son isn’t the perfect child he thought him to be.
And it’s all my fault.
Chapter 46
Olivia
It’s night now. I know that because the slice of light has vanished, plunging me back into the worst kind of pitch blackness.
I have almost no food or drink left. One slice of bread. Some part of the last bottle of water. I’m so thirsty, I could drink my own pee. I never understood how people did that during those survival stories. But I totally get it now. I’m dizzy with hunger and thirst.
With the remaining strength I have left, I’ve been working on building up the mound using Phoebe’s bone. My little tower is about a foot high based on feel. Possibly high enough to reach the trap door.
I’ve got to give it a try. Before he comes back.
I step up on the mound with my right foot. I try to lift myself to the top, leaning against the side of the hole, but I accidentally put weight on my left ankle.
Oh my God.
I howl and double over in pain. My left ankle feels worse every day. It’s definitely broken. It’s very swollen and warm, and I’m having trouble wiggling my toes. But then again, it’s just pain. People get shot and keep moving. I have to get past it. That’s my only chance of survival.