Today, it was different. Dad’s head was listening to her, and it was nice. It almost made ending up with a security detail worth it.
Alix chose a skinny latte, and Dad picked a double espresso. They went outside and sat on the flagstone patio under the trees. It was a relief to be outside, away from routines and the frenetic activity in the house.
“All right, Alix. What’s on your mind?”
Alix sipped her coffee. She felt hesitant even asking. “Oh, I don’t know.” She hesitated again and mentally kicked herself for it. “Why did 2.0 tell me to ask you about what this was all about?”
Dad frowned. “Ah.” He sipped his espresso and set the tiny cup down in its saucer. For a moment he paused, staring down at the cup with a furrowed brow, as if he would find an answer in its coffee blackness.
“I wish I had a good answer for you,” he started slowly. “I keep wanting this to make some kind of sense, myself.” He looked up, serious. “I wish I could say that we understand who 2.0 is, or what really motivates him, but it’s all guesses.”
“So,” Alix hesitated, then made herself press the issue. “What’s your guess?”
“My guess?” Dad blew out his breath. “Okay, candidly, and without a whole lot to go on, my guess is that 2.0 is an activist of some kind. I’m sure you know that some of the work I do relates to politics, and the ugly truth is that any time you get involved in politics, you’re going to generate strong responses.” He grimaced. “We’re a radicalized culture, these days. It really doesn’t matter whether it’s the right or the left, you’re going to end up with someone who’s sure that you’re doing the worst thing in the world. A talk radio host or some blogger decides they hate something that someone you work with does, and that’s it. They whip up the witch hunts. Mob logic.” He shook his head and seemed to be considering Lisa Price and Mendoza. “I’ve seen it happen to some of my clients. You see it with movie stars, too. PETA targets someone. Or Save the Whales. Or the Tea Party. It doesn’t really matter. All that matters is that politics has gotten so ugly that it’s hard to have a civil, reasoned conversation about anything anymore. There’s no room to disagree in a civil way. Someone always has to be cast as the Antichrist.”
“But what’s that got to do with us?”
Dad laughed. It was a surprisingly bitter sound. “To be honest, I didn’t think this had anything to do with us. I really didn’t.” He reached out for Alix, his eyes pleading as he gripped her shoulder. “I am so sorry I didn’t see this coming. I should have seen it. I just…” He shrugged helplessly. “I missed it. I’ve never considered myself to be a public figure, so it never occurred to me that we might be subjected to this kind of… abuse. Some of our clients, sure. But not us.” He took another sip of his espresso and then stared down into the cup, puzzled. It was already empty.
“Do you want another?” he asked.
Alix didn’t, but she said she did just to make him feel like he wasn’t the only one. Mom told him to control his caffeine because he was intense enough and it would ruin his sleep, but he couldn’t seem to help the urge for just one more cup.
Alix watched him go to the counter, and he seemed like someone carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Once again, she thought she should tell him about 2.0 and her conversation with him. But then, she rationalized, they were already fixing the house security. And he hadn’t done anything to her, after all.
Why are you protecting him?
2.0 had said their truce was over. That she was collateral damage. So why couldn’t she just rat him out and be done with it?
Dad came back with the new skinny latte and more espresso for himself. “I got decaf,” he said gloomily.
Alix couldn’t help smiling. “Mom will be glad.”
“I’m sorry about all this, Alix.”
Alix shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.” She sipped her new latte, setting it next to her other still nearly full one. “So why did 2.0 want me to ask you about all of this? Why did he think you’d know?”
Dad sighed. “We’ve got people going over all our files and client lists, trying to identify a reason. It might be something as simple as the fact that we have a client 2.0 hates. Or it could be that we show up on a donor list, or we were photographed at a fund-raiser. We don’t know if they want to kidnap, or ransom, or terrorize.”
“You said they were vandals, before.”
“Did I?” He nodded vaguely. “Oh. In the beginning.” He rubbed his eyes and sipped his espresso. “Of course. No, this is different. These people have a history of attacking laboratories. Research facilities. We originally thought they might be associated with PETA.”
“Because of the rats.”
Her father smiled sardonically. “Yes. They stole a large number of rats from a company that uses rats as test subjects for chemical-safety testing.”
Alix made a face.
“Yeah,” Dad said. “I know. It’s not a pretty thing sometimes to see how much our prosperity depends on things like making sure products are safe. I’d rather test on rats than people, though. Science might not be pretty, but it keeps us safe.” He shrugged. “Other people see it differently.”
“So…” Alix puzzled. “They’re like animal rights activists?”
“When they were attacking testing labs, the FBI thought so.”
“But you don’t now?”
Her father looked troubled. “We have no idea. None of it makes any sense.” He leaned forward. “I know this is difficult for you, but please be patient. We’re hoping they’ll make a mistake or the case will break open somehow, and we’ll figure out what they’re about or who they are… and then we’ll all be able to go back to our regular lives, and we can just forget all this.”
Alix’s heart broke. Dad looked so sad and lost and troubled that she realized she couldn’t keep anything from him.
You have to tell him.
“Dad…” Alix lost her nerve and trailed off.
Dad looked up at her. She hesitated. Now or never. Pull yourself together, Alix. “I saw him again.”
Dad’s expression went from puzzlement to slow comprehension. “2.0?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Alix blew out her breath, feeling relieved to finally be coming clean.
“At school?”
She shook her head. “At home. A couple nights ago. When I said I saw a shadow, maybe, in the backyard. I… It was more than that. I was downstairs… getting a drink of water. I saw him through the glass. He was looking in…” She was about to continue, to tell him the rest, but Dad’s expression was changing even as she talked, turning from caring attentiveness to shock and disappointment and severity. Now that the words were coming out of her mouth, they sounded horrible to her, too. She broke off, unable to keep going in the face of Dad’s anger.
Dad’s voice was tightly controlled. “Why didn’t you say something when it happened?”
Alix shrugged, miserably. “I didn’t… I don’t know.”
She felt herself wanting to cry and forced down the reaction. It was the little-kid-nailed-by-her-parents response. She never went against Mom and Dad. She’d almost never lied to them about anything. They’d always had a policy of letting her tell them everything, so that she wouldn’t feel the need to lie.
Once, when she’d been a sophomore, she and Denise and Sarah Landow and a bunch of guys had gotten wasted over at Sarah’s house while Mr. and Mrs. Landow were in New York for the ballet. They were completely hammered, but Denise was desperate to get home, so Sarah was going to drive her. And even though it was 1 AM, Alix called her dad to be picked up. She just told him that Denise needed to get home and they were all too drunk to drive. It was the first time she’d ever been so drunk, and Dad drove over, picked up Alix and Denise, dropped Denise off, and took Alix home, and all he did was tell her she needed to drink Gatorade.