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tightened.
    “Veronica Porterie?” Frank looked confused. “The woman who runs that crazy animal rights group?”
    “AFAR,” I replied, taking a deep breath. “She was Mom’s best friend in high school.”
    AFAR stood for “Army For Animal Rights.” It had started as a group trying to keep cats and dogs in California shelters from being euthanized. But as Veronica Porterie raised more and more money, AFAR’s vision expanded and its members became more and more aggressive and belligerent. They became known for breaking into laboratories and setting test animals free. They protested against zoos and hunting. They called wearing fur murder, and as more and more time passed, Veronica Porterie seemed less connected with reality.
    I hadn’t seen her in years, and I’d never known she had a child; she always seemed to be too busy saving animals from humans to be bothered with marriage, family, or kids. She was tried for murder in California a while back—they’d broken into a testing facility to release animals and a security guard had wound up dead. There had been a hung jury—afterward, the jurors who’d voted against acquitting her felt the prosecutor hadn’t proved she was the actual killer or had even been there, which she denied. After the trial, AFAR kept a low profile for a few years, but they’d been getting more active again lately.
    “Wait a minute,” I said slowly. “One of the vet students who takes care of Mike just happens to be the daughter of a militant animal rights activist? That can’t be a coincidence.”
    “She’s going to be their top suspect once they figure it out.” Mom buried her face in her hands. “It won’t matter to them one bit that Hope hasn’t seen her mother since she was a little girl.”
    “Why not?” Frank asked.
    “After Veronica was tried for killing that security guard, her parents sued for custody of Hope and won,” Storm explained. “They also managed to get a restraining order against Veronica so she couldn’t even see the child.”
    “That seems a bit extreme.” Frank frowned.
    “That poor child—Storm, she’s going to need a damned good lawyer, and I know you’ll do the right thing and represent her.” She stood up and walked over to the window. “This is really bad. Hope wouldn’t be involved, I just know she wouldn’t.”
    I was about to ask why when the phone buzzed. “That’s our pizza,” I said, heading for the door. “No one says a word until I get back.”
    When I got back upstairs with the hot pizza, the news was back on and there was a picture of Mom on the screen. “Mrs. Bradley has been arrested before, mainly for disturbing the peace or resisting arrest, but this is her first arrest for assault,” the news anchor was saying as I kicked the door shut with my foot. “Attorney General Dufresne’s office has not returned any of our calls asking for a statement.”
    “Terrible picture,” Mom said as Storm turned off the television. “I’ve never taken a good mug shot.”
    “There’s something to aspire to,” Storm replied sourly. “I’m sure if you get arrested enough times, you’re bound to take a good one sooner or later.”
    Mom gave him a dirty look. “You’re not too old for me to spank, you know.”
    Frank interrupted before Storm could say anything. “Mom, you said you went to high school with Veronica Porterie?”
    “McGehee.” Mom nodded, making a face as she said the word. Mom hated that she went to McGehee, which to her symbolized privilege, power and snobbery—everything she believed was wrong with our country and society. When it was time for college, she refused to go to Vanderbilt—the traditional school for the Diderot family—and went to the University of New Orleans instead. She’d started dating Dad in high school. Since the Bradleys were an LSU family, Dad went to LSU for a year before transferring down to UNO. He and Mom have been together ever since. “Veronica and I were in the same