The Perfect Son by Freida McFadden(59)

“Is there anything I can help you with, Jessica?” I finally say.

She’s quiet for a moment. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I feel like I need to. Erika, I think you did the wrong thing by bailing Liam out of jail.”

I suck in a breath, my head spinning. “Jessica…”

“I know you’re going to say it’s none of my business,” she says, “but we used to be friends and I need to say my piece. We all know Liam did this. He deserves to be in jail.”

“We don’t know that…”

“Come on!” she bursts out. “Don’t insult my intelligence. I know Liam very well. He murdered a cat in my home, Erika. I know you took him to see that psychologist. Clearly, it didn’t work.”

My throat feels so dry, when I open my mouth, nothing comes out.

“Erika, you need to let the police lock him away, and then you should walk away. If you support that monster, then you—”

I press the red button to end the phone call. I can’t listen to another word of this. Especially because I know she’s right. My son is a monster, but how can I walk away?

I sink down on the bed and bury my face in my hands. I don’t know what to do anymore. My instinct is to protect Liam, but I’m not sure if it’s the right thing to do. I don’t know what’s right anymore.

The phone rings again, and I want to throw it across the room. I crack my eyes open to look at the screen. Frank Marino. He’s calling me back. This is a call I need to take. But my hands are shaking so much, I have trouble hitting the green button.

“Hello? Frank?”

He chuckles darkly. “Having yourself an interesting day, aren’t you, Erika?”

He knows. Of course he knows. He’s a detective. “Yes. I have.”

“Well, I finally understand why you were trying to scare off all those girls.”

My jaw twitches. This is not a time for jokes. “Did you get that address for me on Marvin Holick?”

“Yeah. I got it. Nice guy.” There’s an edge of sarcasm in his voice. “Like grandfather, like grandson.”

I want to slam the phone down and never call Frank Marino ever again. But more than that, I want to find my father. He could be the answer to everything. “What’s the address?”

He recites it for me and I scribble it down on a piece of paper on my nightstand. He lives in Queens, probably less than an hour drive from here. Really, right around the corner. I could pop over to see him tonight, if I wanted.

Maybe I should.

I wonder what Marvin Holick will say when I show up at his door.





Chapter 52


Olivia



I am absolutely exhausted. I have spent the better part of the day hammering away at the trap door. My arms are aching, and I’m not even sure I’ve made any progress. At one point, I was sure the wood was splintering, but then when I felt it with my fingers, it was intact. Of course, it’s hard to know for sure because I can’t see a damn thing.

I also finished the last of my food and drink today. I was trying to hold out, but I was so desperately hungry and thirsty after all the work I did. Before I knew it, everything was gone.

I have no food. No drink. Nothing.

The worst part is I have devoured every morsel there is to eat, but my stomach still feels completely empty. There’s a dull ache in the center of my chest. I feel like I don’t have the energy to move, much less go back to hammering at the trap door.

But it’s my only hope.

Well, that’s not true. The police might find me. As I lie in one corner of my cell, trying to ignore the ache of emptiness in my belly, I imagine what it will be like when the police storm in here. They’ll find me and bring me back to my family. And best of all, they’ll punish him. My parents will never give up on me. They’ll keep looking until they find me. I know it.

I don’t know what time it is when I hear the footsteps. I’ve lost all track of time, but that slice of light is gone, which means it must be dark out. I know in my heart that it’s probably him, but just in case it’s not, I scream out, “Help! Help me please! I’m down here!”

It happens just the way it did last time. I hear the locks turning and the flashlight blinding me. It occurs to me that if I had spent my time building the mound higher instead of pounding on the lock, I might have been able to be ready to jump at him when he opened the trap door.

Damn. It’s too late now.

“Olivia,” he says. “How are you doing?”

“Awful,” I spit at him. “I’m starving. I need food. And water.”

“Yes,” he says patiently. “People need water to live. Did you know that a person can survive only three to five days without water? Without water, your organs will eventually start to fail and your brain will swell up. But people can survive longer without food. Weeks. Your body will break down excess fat, and when that’s gone, it will break down muscle. Your body will effectively consume itself.”

I blink up at him, trying to ignore the shooting headache that resulted from the flashlight in my eyes. There’s a look of fascination on his face as he recites these facts. Like I’m some sort of rat in a science experiment.

“How does it feel, Olivia?”

My hunger and thirst evolve into anger. I am not a science experiment. I am a human being. And I’m not going to play his perverted game. “Fuck you.”