“I think she already knew Liam was having these thoughts. I mean, he must have said things to her over the years.”
“Do you know if she ever got him into therapy?”
“She told me she did.”
“And did his behavior improve?”
“If you’re asking if he kept making those disturbing statements, the answer is no. He didn’t. He never saidanything like that again. But I always got the feeling…”
“What?”
“Well, like I said, Liam was a smart kid. I got the sense that the only reason he stopped saying those things was because he realized he shouldn’t say it out loud anymore. I don’t think he stopped having those thoughts though. But of course, it’s impossible to know.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“I hope I did the right thing calling you. I wasn’t sure if I should, but after I read what happened to that Mercer girl and remembered Liam was in the same grade… well, I just thought I should say something.”
“No, it’s good you did.”
“I really hope you find her.”
“We do too.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
ERIKA
I’m jumping to conclusions.
Just because a girl went missing and Liam happened to be out last night, it doesn’t mean my son had anything to do with it. Just because her name is Olivia, it doesn’t mean she was the girl Liam was interested in. Olivia Reynolds was the girl Liam was talking to in the debate team. I confirmed it was her based on her Facebook profile. This is another completely unrelated Olivia.
I’m panicking over nothing. This is going to be okay.
I pull over on a side street shortly after the kids get out of the car and take out my phone. I do a search for “missing high school student” in our town, and the name Olivia and an article instantly pop up. Olivia Mercer, sixteen years old, disappeared from her bedroom during the night. Her mother went to wake her up for school and she wasn’t there.
The police are considering the possibility that the girl has run away, but think it’s unlikely. All her clothes and luggage seemed to be present, and she also left behind her wallet and her cell phone. On the other hand, there were no signs of struggle or forced entry. Maybe she hadn’t run away, but she had left the house on her own accord. With somebody she knew.
There is a color photograph of Olivia Mercer in one of the articles. She’s not quite beautiful, but undeniably cute. Round face, lots of freckles, a little dimple on each cheek when she smiles. She looked like a sweet girl. The kind of girl you can’t help but like.
I read about ten articles on Olivia Mercer’s disappearance, but after the first three, they repeat all the same information. I refresh, hoping to discover a new article about how she was miraculously found.
But no. Olivia Mercer is still missing.
I want to go home and hide under the covers, but we need groceries. Unfortunately, the grocery store near the school will be teeming with parents, wanting nothing more than to gossip about poor Olivia’s disappearance. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t even want tothinkabout it.
There’s another grocery store that recently opened up about twenty minutes away. I won’t run into any parents there. It’s worth burning the extra gas. Maybe driving will clear my head.
I bring up the GPS in the car to lead me to the grocery store. But as I start to type in the name of the store, the GPS brings up a list of recent searches, including one address that is unfamiliar to me. The last search on the list is 41 Green St.
When was I searching forthataddress? Who lives there?
On a whim, I click on it. The British-accented voice of my GPS instructs me to drive straight and then make a right at the next light. I follow the directions, making a right at the light, followed by a left, and another right onto Green Street. I drive down the street, watching the numbers on the right side, which are the odd-numbered houses. I’m looking out for number 41.
It’s not hard to find. It’s the house that has all the police officers and reporters in front. This house is clearly of interest today.
I don’t even need to check the mailbox, but I look anyway, just to torture myself. The black letters written on the gray box are like a punch in the gut:
MERCER
