“No, you may not. You may call me Mrs. Anderson.” She squares her shoulders. “You might know my husband, Dr. Benjamin Anderson? I’d be surprised if you didn’t, considering you met with him last week to seek his financial support for your mayoral campaign this fall.”
Oof.
“It seems to me,” she continues, cool and composed, “that solving a crime rooted in bigotry and homophobia would make you look like a hero to this town. A flashy narrative, wouldn’t you agree? Certainly more exciting than something as simple as a stalker.”
Damn. Go, Mom!
Detective Whitfield’s mouth is hanging open like he’s trying to catch flies. Honestly, mine would be too if I just got verbally bitch-slapped by the five-foot-four powerhouse next to me. I should text Dad to bring her flowers and a cheesecake from Saunders Bakery as a thank-you for being a badass.
She doesn’t let up. “While I still have your attention, let me be clear. You may consider this a hate crime, but you will not dismiss other possibilities until you’re absolutely certain. Understood?”
He opens his mouth, trying to form a comeback, but one glance at her gives him pause. He’s seen the mom-eyes. The same ones that promise pain and swift retribution. I’ve been on the receiving end of those eyes, and no thanks.
“Yes, ma’am,” he surrenders, clearly choking on the words. This guy clearly has a fragile ego, and he just got destroyed by a woman half his size and twenty years younger.
And I am so here for it.
“Wonderful,” Mom chirps, all smiles now. “Let’s go over what we have so far and form a plan.”
Defeated, Whitfield sighs and pulls out a folder. We go through the evidence, everything we know, and everything that’s been turned in. By the end, there’s still no lead, no real direction, but he emphasizes that he wants everything we find, including notes, photos, suspicions, even gut feelings, brought to him or Officer Martinez.
He walks us back to the waiting area, hands us his card, and adds, “Please pass my number along to Hudson. I want anything that might be connected, even if it seems insignificant.”
“Sure,” I respond, shaking his hand. Mom does the same, then we walk outside.
Once we reach our cars, I can’t hold it in any longer. “Holy shit, Mom, that wasfantastic! You shoved your foot so far up his—”
She clamps a hand over my mouth with her patentednot in publicglare. Then she laughs and pulls me into a hug.
“I just want you and Hudson safe.” She kisses my cheek. “And if he’s only willing to look down one path, he might miss the actual threat. I won’t let that happen.” She climbs into her white AMG GT and peels off down the road like a boss.
I hop in my truck and shoot off a text to Dad.
ME: Pick up flowers and a cheesecake from Saunders for Mom. She just annihilated a detective.
His reply comes fast.
DAD:Damn, I love that woman.
Same, Dad. Same.
I dial Hudson next. He answers before the first ring finishes.
“Babe? Are you okay? Where are you?”
The panic in his voice twists my gut. I should’ve answered his texts. But I’m still shaken and pissed, and that’s what’s driving my mood right now.
“I’m leaving the police station. Got a double whammy today.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, his voice shaky.
“You home? I’ll come by and explain.”
Hudson moved back in with his family yesterday, now that things with his dad are patched up. I know he loved staying with me, but he missed them too much to stay away. I’m glad they sorted it out. I hated seeing Hud so sad.
“Yeah, just got here. I’m the only one home right now.”
“Good. I’m just around the corner,” I say, jaw tight.
