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“I do. I need to get to work.” That wasn’t entirely true. I’d taken half the day off, so I didn’t need to be in the office until noon. But still.
“Of course,” Mom said. “It’s a weekday, and you have so much responsibility. I’ll walk you out.”
I gathered my things and Mom walked to the car with me. It was already hot out; today would be a scorcher. I stopped by the driver’s side door but paused before opening it.
“Thanks for inviting me, Mom. It’s good to see you.” And it wasn’t even a lie. She wasn’t perfect, but she was still my mom.
“You’re welcome. Are you all right? You seem stressed.”
“Yeah, well, someone vandalized my house again. We found it this morning.”
Her eyes widened. She took a step closer and lowered her voice. “What happened?”
“They spray paintedyou don’t see meon the side of the house, right where the new security cameras have a blind spot.”
“Spray paint is certainly better than animal blood.”
“It’s not as gross, and I’m glad whoever did it didn’t kill an animal this time. But what’s going on? Why would someone do this to me?”
“I tried to tell the police that they should be looking for connections to your father.”
“And I’m sure they are. But Mom, really, why are you so sure it has to do with Dad? Did something like this happen to you guys and you never told me?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“How do you know I didn’t make a bunch of enemies in Boise and one of them followed me here to become my stalker?”
“Did you?”
I rolled my eyes. “No.”
“No one ever wrote things on our house but we did have people try to heckle your father in public or smear him in the press.”
“That’s pretty normal politician stuff though, right?”
“It comes with the office.”
“But aside from being a politician, did Dad make any enemies? Did he secretly take down a local crime family or something?”
“Honey, this is Pinecrest.”
“I know, but this is getting intense. If you think it’s because of Dad, you must have a reason. What aren’t you telling me?”
Once again, most people would have missed it, but I’d grown up learning to read my mother’s cues. Usually they meant things like, “don’t speak unless spoken to”, or “smile wider and wave”. But that brief movement of her gaze to the side, breaking eye contact with me, meant there was something she didn’t want to talk about.
“I wish there was something specific I could point to, because then I could tell the police and they could find this terrible person,” she said. “I just know better than you how many hidden dangers there are when you’re a political family.”
Maybe she really was just making this all about her.
“Okay, well if you think of anything that might be relevant, call me. I need to go to work and then see if there’s a way to remove spray paint or if I just have to paint over it.”
“Take care of yourself.” She touched my arm. “I worry.”
“I know you do. I’ll be fine. It doesn’t seem like this person is interested in hurting me. Just scaring me for some reason.”
“It could still escalate. Stalkers are known for both repetitive and escalating behaviors.”
Was it weird that my mom knew facts about stalkers? “I’ll be careful.”
