Sisters (4 page)

THREE

T
hat Christmas night, in the Reillys’ narrow guest-room bed, Alex slept restlessly and dreamed that an agitated young man whom she didn’t know was trying to force her to take a package from him. The package was wrapped in brown paper and he told her that she needed to deliver it. ‘I don’t know who it’s for,’ she protested, but he insisted that she did. She was looking down at the wrinkled paper which was wrapped around the package and was trying to read the address, but could not decipher the words written there. When she woke up, with a start, she was filled with sadness.

On the drive home from her uncle’s house, she made up her mind. In the days before Christmas it had seemed like a terrible conundrum to her, but now, suddenly, it seemed simple and clear. She was going to do it. She was going to find her sister.

She knew that Mr Killebrew’s office would be closed for the holiday, but on the following Monday morning she called the attorney’s office and told the receptionist that she needed to speak to him.

Mr Killebrew came on the line. ‘Alex,’ he said gently. ‘How was Christmas? Did you get through it all right?’

‘Somehow,’ said Alex. ‘Listen, I’ve been thinking about it and I’ve decided that I want to find my sister.’

‘OK,’ said the attorney slowly.

‘You said you could help?’

‘Well, the adoption laws in this state are quite specific,’ said Killebrew. ‘As I said before, in a closed adoption only the adoptee can instigate a search. Parents who want to find the children they gave up for adoption can register their information in case the adoptee tries to find them, but they are not entitled to the adoptee’s information. That goes for family members too. If the adoptee doesn’t come looking for them, the members of the birth family don’t really have any right to the adoptee’s information.’

‘So I can’t search for her, even if I want to?’

‘No. Not exactly,’ said Mr Killebrew. ‘We can petition the court to have the records released, but normally that is only going to happen in cases where the family of origin has an urgent need to know. For example, if there were medical reasons they might allow it.’

‘That doesn’t apply here,’ said Alex glumly. ‘There’s no other recourse?’

‘As you know, a lot has changed because of the Internet. For one thing, it’s a lot more difficult to suppress information than it used to be. Privacy is little more than a quaint concept these days.’

‘That’s for sure,’ said Alex. ‘So you think I can find her online?’

‘She may have registered on one of those websites that were set up for just this purpose,’ he said. ‘She may visit the site, every now and then, looking for members of her birth family.’

‘And if she hasn’t?’ Alex asked. ‘Is that it?’

‘Not necessarily. Our firm employs an investigator who can, very often, bypass certain channels to find the information you’re seeking.’

‘I’m not sure I understand,’ said Alex.

‘Let’s just say he is able to cut certain corners that we can’t.’

‘Oh, I see.’

‘Why don’t you just leave this to me, and I’ll get back to you.’

Alex thought about it for a moment. ‘All right. That seems . . . reasonable. I’m not sure yet what I’m going to do, so I’m not asking for anyone to contact . . . her. I just want the information.’

‘Of course. Understood,’ said Mr Killebrew.

‘OK, well, I’ll wait to hear from you.’

‘It won’t be long,’ the lawyer said.

In fact, Alex received a call from the attorney’s office just two days later. The receptionist asked if she could come in that very afternoon. Her heart thudding, Alex said, ‘Absolutely.’

When she arrived, Mr Killebrew was waiting, a grim look on his face.

‘So, you have news for me,’ Alex said expectantly, sitting down opposite him.

Mr Killebrew nodded and reached for a folder on his desktop.

Something in his expression made Alex feel suddenly apprehensive. She thought of the terrible story her uncle had told her about Neal, the young man who might have been Catherine Reilly’s lover so long ago. It seemed as if nothing but sorrow had come from that ill-starred relationship. She pressed her lips together, not wanting to let her anxiety show.

The attorney cleared his throat. ‘We have, indeed, located your sister. Her name is Dory. Dory Colson.’

Dory Colson. Alex repeated the name to herself. Somehow, the name made it real. To her surprise, she found herself fighting back tears.

Killebrew continued. ‘Dory is thirty-two years old. Unmarried. No children. She was adopted by the Colson family as an infant and grew up in Boston.’

‘Wow,’ said Alex.

The attorney looked at her. ‘What?’

‘So close? I never knew she existed, but we’ve lived our lives separated by only a few miles.’

‘Yes,’ he said gravely. ‘Are you . . .? Do you want to hear more?’

‘Sure. It’s just . . . it’s a little overwhelming. Suddenly I have a sister. Her name is Dory. It’s a lot to take in.’

Killebrew frowned. ‘There’s more,’ he muttered.

‘Did the detective speak to her? Does she know about me?’

‘No,’ said the attorney. ‘She knows nothing about this.’

Alex wished that he would just hand the file over to her. She felt as if he was keeping something from her which was rightly hers. She wanted to read it herself. She didn’t need a go-between anymore. ‘Well, is her current information in that file? I mean, can I contact her now?’

Mr Killebrew placed his hands on top of the file. ‘You can. If you wish.’

Alex recoiled at his tone. ‘What do you mean . . . if I wish?’

Killebrew sighed. ‘You may decide you don’t want to.’

‘I suppose that’s possible,’ said Alex stiffly. ‘But that’s really up to me.’

‘It is,’ he said. ‘It is up to you.’

‘May I have the file, please?’ Alex held out her hand.

Killebrew hesitated, keeping his hands on the file as if he were trying to prevent it from blowing away.

‘Is there a problem?’

‘You’ve had such a tough year, Alex. I really wanted to be able to give you some good news,’ he said.

‘Well, you already have. I wanted to find my sister, and now, thanks to you and your detective, I will be able to do just that.’

The attorney frowned. ‘Alex, I hate to have to tell you this.’

Alex felt a chill. ‘Tell me what?’ she asked.

‘There’s no easy way to say this. Your sister, Dory Colson, is in prison.’

Alex stared at him. For a minute she could not believe her ears. ‘In prison? You’re joking.’

‘It’s not something I would kid about,’ said the attorney.

‘Prison?’ Alex repeated helplessly. ‘Why?’

‘Dory Colson is in the state prison at Framingham. She’s two years into her sentence. She is doing twenty years.’

‘Oh my God!’ Alex cried. ‘For what?’

Killebrew hesitated. ‘For murder. She’s in prison for murder.’

‘Murder?’ Alex repeated the word as if she could barely comprehend it.

‘I’m afraid so,’ he said.

‘But . . . I don’t understand . . . What . . .’

‘I’m sorry to be the bearer of this news. I know this is not what you were hoping to hear.’

‘Who did she kill?’ Alex asked.

Mr Killebrew met her gaze stolidly. ‘Her sister,’ he said.

There was a long silence in the room as Alex tried to absorb what she had just heard. ‘I’m her sister,’ she said at last.

‘She had another sister,’ said Killebrew. ‘Her name was Lauren. Three years ago, Lauren was stabbed to death in the family home. Dory pleaded guilty to her murder.’

Alex recoiled. ‘Oh my God,’ she said again.

Killebrew looked at her levelly. ‘I’m sorry. I know it’s a shock.’

Alex shook her head. ‘Are you sure about this?’

‘Absolutely,’ said Killebrew. ‘Our investigator double-checked everything. I knew this was going to come as a blow.’

‘Why?’ asked Alex. ‘Do you know why?’

‘Why she killed her? No. I don’t.’

‘I can’t believe this,’ Alex murmured. She thought of her mother’s letter, urging her to find this woman. A murderer.

Killebrew frowned. ‘If you were to decide to drop the whole thing now, no one would blame you. And Dory would be none the wiser. She doesn’t even know you’re looking for her.’

‘Yes, I understand,’ said Alex distractedly.

‘I know this is not what your mom had in mind when she wrote you that letter.’

Alex nodded. He was right about her mother’s intentions. ‘Is her address in there? In case I do want to contact her?’

‘It’s all in the folder. There’s an address at the prison where you can write to her. No emails. She has no computer access. Or you could call her.’

Alex could not picture that phone call. What words would she use? ‘Can I see the folder?’

Killebrew pushed it across the desk. ‘You can have it. It’s yours.’

Alex opened it, looking at the paperwork within. Then she closed it again. She hesitated before putting it into her bag.

‘I’m so sorry about this,’ said Killebrew.

Alex felt numb. ‘It’s not your fault. You just did what I asked you to do.’ She got up from the chair. ‘Thank you so much, Mr Killebrew. I appreciate it.’

‘Do you know what you’re going to do?’

Alex shook her head. ‘I don’t. I’m very confused right now. To tell you the truth, I didn’t think it mattered that much to me. But right now, I feel . . . devastated.’

‘Alex, if you decide to go further with this, be careful. I can tell you from experience that people in prison are always looking for sympathy and will take advantage of your good will. She’s a dangerous criminal . . .’ he said.

Alex nodded. ‘I’ll be careful,’ she said in a small voice. She shook his extended hand and hurried down the stairs, leaving the office with as much dignity as she could muster. She crossed the street to her car and unlocked the door with trembling hands. She kept her composure until she was alone behind the wheel. Then she began to shake.

Alex fumbled with her keys and turned on the ignition so she could get some heat. Outside the short, cold day was dimming and the street lamps were beginning to glow. She wanted to just go home, but she was shaking too hard to drive just yet.

All her losses came flooding back to her. She felt tortured when she thought of her mother, offering her this information from beyond the grave, thinking, when she lovingly wrote that letter, that she was providing Alex with a treasure. Some treasure, Alex thought.

You don’t have to do this, she reminded herself. This is not your problem. Like Mr Killebrew said, Dory doesn’t even know that you are looking for her. You can take this folder and put it in the trash. You can forget you ever even knew about her. You don’t owe this woman a thing.

Alex took a deep breath. She turned on the car and pulled out of the parking space. Sometimes, she told herself, you need to leave well alone.

FOUR

T
he first thing she did when she got home was to put on her most comfortable sweats and make herself a cup of tea. She crawled into her father’s armchair with a book and tried to read. Her eyes scanned the printed lines but she had no idea of what she was reading. Her thoughts kept returning to what she had learned from the attorney. No matter how Alex tried to banish the thoughts from her head, it was impossible. She felt as if she had opened Pandora’s Box, and now she could not force the questions she had unleashed back into it. The questions rose and buzzed around her.

After half an hour she went over to her computer, sat down and, hating herself for her weakness, Googled Dory Colson.

With several clicks of a key she was looking at front page headlines and indistinct photos of a woman with her face a blur, her hands manacled, being hustled into a police car. Promising herself that each article she read would be the last, Alex continued on until late at night, reading everything she could find about the crime. She learned that Lauren and Dory Colson had been very close in age. According to the breathless reports in the paper, the Colsons adopted Dory after years of trying to have a baby, and then Mrs Colson, as so often happens, immediately became pregnant. At the time of her death, Lauren had been an up-and-coming country music singer who lived in Branson, Missouri, and was about to embark on a national tour. She had come back to Boston to have surgery and to recuperate from the procedure at her family’s home in the South End.

Apparently Dory, who still lived at home, began to suspect that her new boyfriend, a doctor named Rick Howland, was showing an interest in Lauren, although both the boyfriend and Lauren denied any involvement. There were some photos of Lauren, blonde and lissome, dressed in leather, jeans and chiffon. People who knew the family said that Dory had long been bitter about Lauren’s success. Tension between the sisters escalated. On the day of the murder, a deliveryman from the dry cleaner said that he heard the sisters arguing. Hours later, Dory called the police and said that she had found Lauren dead in the house. She was arrested that evening and charged with the murder. Within a few weeks she had pleaded guilty, and was sentenced to twenty years in prison.

Alex sat for a long time, staring at the blinking cursor. All right, she told herself. You did what your mother asked and now you know. Put the folder in a drawer and move on with your life. But despite the soundness of that decision, Alex could almost hear her mother’s voice, wondering how this could have happened to her child. It’s not my problem, Alex wanted to cry out. I’m not responsible for what happened to Dory!

‘Leave me alone,’ she whispered to the empty room.

The next day Alex took the train to Boston. She was excited to have been summoned for an interview at the prestigious Orenstein Gallery on Boston’s Newbury Street. But she had mixed feelings about presenting herself for a job. She felt vulnerable and definitely not at her best. She dressed carefully for the interview and covered the dark circles under her eyes with make-up. And, she thought, as she waited for the train to the Back Bay, it was a relief to be out of the house.

Louis Orenstein, a bronzed, balding man in his early fifties dressed in a bespoke silk suit, had a reputation for having discovered some of the premier artists of the day, especially in modern sculpture, which was Alex’s favorite art form. Louis needed an assistant and grilled Alex carefully about her credentials for almost an hour. When she left Orenstein said he would be in touch, and Alex was cautiously optimistic that she had made a good impression.