“Liam?”
“Mom,” he says, and his voice breaks.
And then he’s sobbing. My sixteen-year-old son—almost a man—is crying his heart out. His shoulders are shaking, and he buries his bruised face in his hands. I leap off the bed and throw my arms around him, and he clings to me. I’ve never seen him like this. Even as a child.
“Liam,” I say. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
It’s a stupid question. Whatisn’twrong? But specifically, something is bothering him. Maybe he’s frightened by the prospect of spending the rest of his life in prison. I couldn’t blame him for that one.
“There’s something…” He gulps, trying to catch his breath. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
I suck in a breath. “About Olivia?”
He nods and wipes his eyes.
“Do you… do you know where she is?”
He nods again.
It’s true. Everything that I feared is true. “Is she alive?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “I… I don’t know.”
You better hope she’s alive.It’s the difference between life in prison and a chance at maybe getting out someday. But I don’t say all that. He’s already crying. No need to make him feel worse.
“We should call the police,” I say. “Right now. We’ll tell them where she is.”
He shakes his head vigorously. “No. It’s… it’s not a good idea.”
“Liam…”
“I’ll show you how to get there,” he says. “We’ll go together.”
“We need to call the police.”
“Please, Mom.” His voice breaks again. “We’ll call the police when we get there, okay? We need to go.Now.”
The urgency in his voice surprises me. After all, wherever Olivia is, she’s been there for days. What is so important about going right now? But he’s looking at me with his swollen eyes, and it’s hard to say no. As soon as we get there though, I’m dialing 911.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s go.”
Liam doesn’t say much during the car ride. He keeps his eyes pinned on the road ahead of us, only speaking to give me directions. When I ask him for an address, he sayshe doesn’t have one. But he knows how to get there.
I focus on the road. Wherever he’s taking me, I have to pray that Olivia is still alive. If she’s alive, then we can make this right. He has a chance.
If she’s dead, then he’ll spend the rest of his life in prison.
When we come to a stop at a red light, I reach for my phone. “Let me just text your father to tell him where we’re going.”
“No,” he says sharply. “Don’t do that.”
He says it so harshly, it gives me an uneasy feeling. It occurs to me that Liam is leading me into the woods all alone and won’t tell me where we’re going or let me tell anyone else. My son may have done some bad things in his life, but he’s never laid a finger on me. Ever.
But now, for the first time in my life, I’m scared for my own safety. What if he isn’t leading me to Olivia? What if he’s bringing me out into the woods to kill me?
No. He wouldn’t. Not my son. My baby. My favorite.
“Turn right here,” Liam says.
