The Perfect Son by Freida McFadden(55)

Liam is a great teammate and great guy! This is bullshit! Someone must be framing him!



I finally put down my phone and stop reading when Jason appears at the doorway to the bedroom. We haven’t spoken since our conversation last night, and I wonder if he’s still angry with me. He doesn’t look angry though. He looks pale. “I don’t want you to freak out, Erika…”

“Then don’t start a sentence with those words.” I sit up straight in bed, clutching the covers in my fingers. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“Somebody spray-painted something on our front door.”

I can only imagine what somebody’s written on our house. Right in front of our all our neighbors, who I’m sure saw nothing. I have been doing my best to keep the tears back, but now they threaten to spill over.

“Erika…” He sits down next to me at the edge of the bed. “It’s okay. Don’t cry. I’m taking care of it. Just stay inside the house.”

But this is about a hell of a lot more than some words spray painted on our door. That can be painted over. The bigger problem isn’t as easily fixed. I wipe my eyes, trying to get control of my tears but I can’t.

Jason’s eyes soften. He puts his arms around me while I sob for our son. It’s hard to stop. I just keep thinking of my little baby. The tiny, helpless bundle I brought home from the hospital sixteen years ago. In jail. He must be terrified. I’m his mother and I’m supposed to be there to look out for him, and I failed.

“It’s all my fault,” I murmur into Jason’s damp shirt.

His warm hand strokes the back of my head. “No, it’s not. Stop saying that. You’re a great mother. It’s not your fault.”

How could he say that though? Especially now that he knows about my father?

He squeezes me tighter. “Liam’s going to be fine. This is all a mistake. He’ll be home before you know it.” He kisses me on the top of my head. “Look, why don’t you take a shower so we’ll be ready for the hearing? I’ll take care of the graffiti.”

Right—Liam’s bail hearing is at eleven. I’ve got to get out of bed and shower before that happens. I don’t know if I can muster up the energy though. I just keep thinking about Liam spending the night in jail. Or worse, spending the next thirty years’ worth of nights in jail.

“Okay,” I mumble.

Jason pulls away from me. When I look up at him, his brow is furrowed. “Are you going to be okay?”

I nod wordlessly.

“You sure?”

I swallow a lump in my throat. “Go do what you need to do.”

Jason almost looks like he’s going to insist on staying, but then my phone rings on my nightstand, so he takes the opportunity to go downstairs. I look over at the screen and see my boss’s name flashing.

Oh God—I’ve got an article due today. It’s been the last thing on my mind lately, but Brian is going to go nuts that I don’t have it ready. I don’t want to lose my job on top of everything. Especially since it’s clear Liam’s legal bills will be substantial.

“Hi, Brian,” I say. I try not to sound as terrible as I feel. If Liam can be charming when he doesn’t mean it, so can I. “I’m so sorry about the article being late. If you could just give me until tomorrow…”

Brian is silent for a moment before he says anything. “That’s the thing, Erika. I need to talk to you about your article.”

“I could probably have it by tonight if you really need it… Things have just been really crazy here.”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I heard.”

Oh no.

“Oh. I didn’t realize you knew.”

“I’m a reporter, Erika. It’s all over the news.”

“Not his name,” I squeak. As if it matters.

“I think…” Brian’s voice lowers a notch. “I think would be for the best if you took a hiatus from the paper. Until this blows over. You need to be there for your family right now.”

“It’s okay. I can still do my job.”

“This isn’t optional.”

Oh, I get it. Nobody wants to read parenting tips from the mother of a murder. I guess that makes sense. “For how long?”

“Let’s play it by ear.”

So… forever. Basically, I’m fired. There’s probably some law against this, but I don’t have the energy to fight this battle. I’m sure Brian knows it. “Fine.”

“I’ll be in touch,” he promises.

No, he won’t.

I put down the phone. I hadn’t imagined it was possible, but I feel even worse now than I did five minutes ago. On top of everything, I’ve lost my job. At least Jason can’t get fired, since he’s his own boss. It’s a small comfort.

I finally drag myself out of bed and into the shower. I let the hot water wash over me, not wanting to ever get out again. I want to live in the shower. What would Jason say if I refused to get out of the shower? But no. I have to be there for my family. It would be selfish to have a mental breakdown right now.

As I’m toweling myself dry, my cell phone starts ringing in the bedroom. I run out of the bathroom, dripping wet, and reach for my phone just before it goes to voicemail.