When Liam gets to the bottom of the stairs, Rivera steps forward. She holds out the handcuffs, and Liamtakes 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.
At least she cuffs him in front rather than behind his back. I flinch as the cuffs snap into place. This is it. They’re really arresting him. They’re really taking him away to jail. My baby. Injail. How could this be happening?
“Liam, please just tell them where she is!” I blurt out.
For a moment, everyone goes silent.
Jason stares at me, open-mouthed. “Erika…”
The officers are staring at me too. Liam’s face is bright pink. “Mom,” he says, “I didn’t—”
But before he can finish saying whatever it was he was going to say, Rivera puts an arm on his back and leads him out the front door. The sun is still up, and it’s obvious several of our neighbors are watching him get led to the police car in handcuffs. Everyone knows what’s going on. I expect more rocks through our window tonight.
And then they drive away. I follow them outside and watch the police car until it becomes a speck of dust in the distance. Jason comes out to join me. I expect him to yell at me for my little outburst in the house, but he doesn’t say a word.
When we get back in the house, Hannah is standing in the middle of the living room. Her eyes are bloodshot, and she looks like she hasn’t showered today. I’m fairly sure those are the jeans and shirt she was wearing yesterday. “Did they take him? They arrested him?”
Jason sighs heavily. “Yes.”
A tear escapes from her left eye. “Dad! How could you let them?”
He frowns. “I didn’t have much of a choice. They had a warrant for his arrest.”
She stomps her foot on the ground. “This is bullshit! He didn’t do it. You know he didn’t!”
“Hannah…” I say.
“Don’t even, Mom!” she snaps at me. “I know whatyouthink of him. I see the way you look at him. At least Dad thinks he’s innocent.”
They both look at me, waiting for a response. I don’t know what to say. Hannah is absolutely right.
“Even if he’s guilty, I still love him,” I finally say.
And that is the truth. Hannah and Jason might think Liam is innocent, but they’re wrong. I’m the only one who can see through him. All I can hope for now is that Olivia Mercer is still alive. Maybe if he tells them where she is, they’ll go easy on him.
“You have no idea, Mom,” Hannah says. “Liam would never have done this. He really liked Olivia.”
I wish I had a wife, so I could put her deep in a hole.
Unfortunately, Hannah is the one who has no idea what she’s talking about. I know my son. And I know this won’t end well.
When I first saw thosetwo blue lines on the pregnancy test seventeen years ago, I never would have believed the baby growing inside me would end up behind bars.
Everything about Liam’s early life was easy, starting with my pregnancy. I got knocked up on our first try—and in contrast to my pregnancy with Hannah, where I was sick for the entire time, I felt great when I was carryingLiam. People used to tell me I was glowing. And the labor was similarly easy. Five good pushes and he was out. Screaming and pink and perfect.
Liam was a really mild-mannered baby. He rarely fussed or cried. He ate whenever I offered him my breast, and he slept nearly through the night as soon as we brought him home. He was a beautiful baby too. He looked like one of the children in the magazines with his chubby cheeks and sweet smile. Other women were always stopping me in the street to admire him.
