Sisters (7 page)

It’s none of your business, Alex reminded herself. You came to introduce yourself and now you’ve done it. Nothing more could be expected of you. But still Alex sat in her car and did not move. Sooner or later, Marisol Torres was going to come out of that prison. Whatever reason she had for coming out here, Alex wanted to know about it. If there was a chance that her new-found sister didn’t belong in prison, Alex had to know. She had a right to know. Maybe, for no other reason than that, she cared enough to ask.

You should probably stay out of it, Alex told herself. But she didn’t budge. She sat and waited. Half an hour passed, and several people came and went through the front door of the prison. As she looked at the dashboard clock for the fiftieth time, Alex was struck by an unpleasant thought. What if there was another entrance? Marisol was only a law student. Maybe she didn’t have a car. Perhaps she came by bus, and entered the prison through another entrance. Alex was just about to convince herself that she must, indeed, have missed the law student’s departure, when the prison door opened and Marisol Torres hurried out, pulling on her jacket. Alex hopped out of her car and met Marisol at the entrance to the visitors’ lot.

‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘Ms Torres.’

Marisol, lost in thought, jumped at the sound of her name, and then smiled cautiously. ‘Hi, Alex.’

‘I wondered if I could talk to you for a minute.’ Alex could see her own breath in the cold.

‘About Dory?’ Marisol said.

Alex nodded. ‘I don’t know if she told you anything about me . . .’

‘She told me that you two had the same mother.’

‘That’s right. And, despite the fact that I never even met her before, I find myself feeling a little bit . . . concerned about her.’

‘Well, that’s good,’ the law student said. ‘She could use the support.’

‘I wondered . . . What exactly is going on? I mean, about her case? What is there to look into? I understood that she pleaded guilty to her sister’s murder.’

‘She did,’ Marisol said. ‘But last year the public defender who represented her came under investigation for breach of ethics. He has since been disbarred.’

‘For what?’

‘He made no effort to provide an effective defense for his clients. As you know, the Sixth Amendment guarantees that right.’

Alex didn’t actually know which amendment was which, but she nodded.

‘The cases of all his clients had to be reviewed. A huge job, as you can imagine. The Justice Initiative agreed to help. I was assigned to several cases. One of them was Dory’s. I saw pretty quickly that she was badly served by this PD. I’ve been preparing a brief on her behalf for about six months now.’

‘Wait a minute. Dory had a public defender? Isn’t that what you get when you can’t afford to hire an attorney?’

‘That’s right. They mostly serve the indigent.’

‘Dory’s family wasn’t indigent, was it?’

‘Dory was of legal age. Technically, no one else was responsible for paying for her defense,’ Marisol said.

‘I suppose not,’ said Alex.

‘Anyway, the primary job of a public defender is to arrange plea bargains, to clear the court’s calendar. Which is fine, unless the attorney is deliberately misrepresenting the advantages and conditions of a plea to his client.’

‘And you think that’s what happened to Dory?’

Marisol grimaced apologetically. ‘I can’t really talk specifics about her case without Dory’s permission. Attorney-client privilege.’

‘Oh, I see,’ said Alex.

‘And I need to get going. My mother is taking care of my daughter and I want to have some time with her.’

‘I understand,’ said Alex. ‘It’s just that I feel like I need to know . . .’

Marisol pulled her car keys out of her briefcase. She walked over to a dented maroon Ford Taurus and unlocked the door. Alex followed her. Marisol set her briefcase down on the front seat. ‘I’ll be glad to talk to you,’ she said, ‘as long as Dory gives her permission. You’ll have to ask her to contact me directly if it’s OK.’

‘I’m not sure how she would react to that,’ Alex admitted. ‘She seems a little bit suspicious as to why I wanted to meet her in the first place.’

Marisol chuckled. ‘That sounds like Dory. Well, I speak to her almost every day. I’ll ask her for you. Where can I reach you?’

‘Would you? That would be great.’ Alex fumbled in her purse for her business card and handed it to her, while Marisol fished in the pocket of her jacket and offered her own in return.

Marisol glanced at Alex’s card. ‘You live in Chichester? I grew up in Waltham. That’s where I’m headed right now. My mom still lives there. Look, I’ll speak to Dory and I’ll be in touch.’

‘Thanks,’ said Alex. ‘And thanks for helping her.’

‘I do what I can.’ Marisol waved as she slid into the front seat of her car and turned on the engine. She threw an arm over the seat and began to back out.

Alex watched her go and then, lost in thought, returned to her own car and headed for home.

It was dark when Alex got home, and she felt relieved that the day was over. Going to see Dory had been undeniably stressful. A childish, hopeful part of her, one that still secretly entertained the notion of guardian angels and love at first sight and other miracles, had wanted to believe that she and her sister would have an instant rapport. That had not happened. The reality was quite a bit more sobering.

Alex went into the kitchen and rummaged through her mother’s cabinets. She found pasta in the cupboards and some vegetables that still looked edible in the fridge. She put everything on the counter and filled a pot with water for the pasta. Then she began to chop. Suddenly she heard a knocking on the front door. Her heart leapt. Seth Paige? she thought. She chided herself for her excitement, but then remembered that he had, indeed, agreed to come over and look at her father’s books. Maybe he had chosen tonight to look through them. She noticed that the bottle of wine he brought her on Christmas Day was still on the counter. She knew where her mother kept the corkscrew. Maybe she would open it.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘Just a minute, I’m coming.’ She turned off the pot of boiling water and the burner under the sauté pan. Then she smoothed her hair as she went down the hallway. She pulled open the front door and looked out.

A black pick-up truck was parked directly in front of the house with the name ‘Details’ painted on the door. A man and a woman stood on the front steps. The woman was middle-aged with short, spiky gray-blonde hair, a fine-boned face and square jaw. Her well-shaped eyebrows arched over her light blue eyes. Her skin was lined, but she was obviously still attractive, wearing a bulky coat-styled sweater and little make-up. The man beside her was balding and his skin looked weatherbeaten. His eyelids were deeply creased, giving his gray eyes a sad expression. He was dressed in work boots and rugged, outdoorsman-style clothes.

Alex stared at them, disappointed. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Are you Alex Woods?’ the man asked. He had a slight western drawl.

‘Yes,’ said Alex cautiously.

‘We heard you were looking for us.’

Alex frowned. ‘I’m afraid there’s some mistake.’

‘I don’t think so,’ said the man. ‘We’re Dory’s parents.’

SEVEN

F
or a moment Alex just stared. These were the people whom her sister had called ‘mother and father’. The thought of it was jarring. ‘I’m . . . this is unexpected,’ she said.

‘I’m Garth Colson,’ said the man. ‘This is my wife, Elaine. May we come in?’

Alex did not move. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just a little . . . surprised to see you here.’

The couple exchanged a glance. ‘According to our neighbor, you were looking for us,’ said Garth.

Alex blushed, remembering the half-truths she told to Chris Ennis. ‘I was. But how did you . . . . That is . . . how did you find me?’

‘Dory called my phone and left me a message. She said you lived in Chichester and that you are her half-sister, and that you were coming to see her. After that, finding you was easy,’ said Elaine Colson matter-of-factly.

‘Oh, of course. I guess I probably should have . . .’

The woman shivered. ‘It’s chilly out here. May we come inside?’

Alex stepped away from the door. ‘I’m sorry. Yes, sure,’ she said.

‘Thank you,’ said Elaine. They walked in and stood uneasily, side by side, in the vestibule.

‘Nice house,’ Garth Colson said, inspecting the curved banister on the staircase. ‘When was it built?’

‘I’m not sure,’ said Alex. ‘The eighteen hundreds, I think.’

‘Garth’s an expert on old houses,’ said Elaine.

‘Please, come in,’ said Alex, gesturing to the living room.

They followed Alex in. Garth stopped in front of the framed photos of her parents which Alex kept on the mantle. ‘Look at this, honey,’ he said.

Elaine walked up beside him and stared at one of the photos in silence. Finally she said, ‘This must be your mother.’

‘Yes, and my father,’ said Alex.

‘Dory looks just like her,’ Garth said.

‘That’s what I thought,’ said Alex. ‘It was a little unnerving when I met her.’

Elaine turned her back on the photo. She picked a chair and sat down. Garth perched uneasily on the edge of an ottoman.

‘Can I get you anything?’ Alex asked.

Elaine shook her head.

Garth said, ‘No, thanks.’

Alex sat down opposite them.

‘I hope we’re not interrupting,’ Elaine said.

‘No, I was just making a little dinner,’ said Alex. ‘All that anxiety. Makes you hungry.’

‘What anxiety?’ Elaine asked.

‘Meeting Dory,’ said Alex. ‘It was very . . . emotional.’

‘I imagine so,’ said Elaine.

Garth nodded, avoiding her gaze.

‘Look, I guess I owe you both an explanation,’ said Alex. ‘I did come by your house the other day. I talked to your upstairs neighbor.’

‘Yes, we heard,’ Elaine said in a chiding tone. ‘You told Chris that you’re my cousin. Why did you lie about that?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Alex. ‘I was trying to decide what to do. My attorney had located Dory for me, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to contact her. You see, my parents died recently and my mother left me a letter telling me that she’d given up a child for adoption, so I decided to look for her. I don’t know if Dory told you when you spoke to her . . .’

‘I didn’t speak to her. I don’t speak to her,’ said Elaine.

Alex looked at her, confused. ‘But you said that she told you . . .’

‘I said that she left a message on my phone. I don’t take her calls.’

‘You don’t?’ said Alex. She looked at the composed, attractive middle-aged woman sitting opposite her. Then she looked at Garth Colson. He sighed and shook his head.

Alex looked back at Elaine. Her posture was perfect and her grooming was careful. Alex thought of her own mother with her messy strawberry-blonde hair and her softly rounded, middle-aged frame. Her sympathetic gray eyes. Alex could not imagine any circumstance where her mother would not speak to her. She just couldn’t. ‘Ever?’

‘It’s better this way,’ said Garth.

Elaine’s gaze was inscrutable. ‘Dory left me a message as soon as she first got the letter from you, saying that you thought she was the child that your mother had given up.’

‘I’m sure that came as a shock,’ Alex said apologetically.

‘I was surprised,’ Elaine admitted.

‘Well, I’m glad you aren’t angry about it,’ said Alex cautiously, although the woman she was looking at seemed far from content.

‘As I said,’ Elaine continued, ‘I was surprised, but I tried to ignore it. Dory wanted me to supply some information. Obviously I wasn’t going to do that. And then today, she called me as soon as you left. I listened to that message several times. Dory sounded quite pleased about it. Very pleased, in fact. As if this were some sort of validation. Her long-lost sister going out of her way to find her. To visit her. She wanted to let me know about that right away.’ This last was said in an accusing tone.

‘Well, I hope she was glad that I came to see her,’ said Alex carefully. ‘It’s not every day you meet a sister you never knew you had.’

Garth shifted his weight on the ottoman. ‘We kind of thought that you might give up the idea of bonding with Dory when you found out she was in prison. When you found out why,’ he said.

‘I’ll admit it – I almost did,’ said Alex. ‘That’s why I came by your house. I guess I was hoping to talk to you about it. You know, to find out what you thought.’

‘So why did you just run off?’ Garth asked.

‘I didn’t run off,’ Alex protested. ‘It was just . . . incredibly awkward. I decided to go ahead and contact Dory. I realized that no one was going to talk me out of it. Despite what Dory had done, I was still curious to meet her.’

‘You should have talked to us first,’ said Elaine flatly.

Alex proceeded cautiously. ‘You don’t . . . approve?’

Elaine took a deep breath and steadied herself. ‘Miss Woods.’

‘You can call me Alex.’

‘Alex, do you have any idea what Dory has put us through?’ Elaine asked.

‘Well, obviously, I know about what happened to . . . your other daughter.’

‘Her name was Lauren. She was a beautiful girl. A treasure,’ said Elaine, a slight tremor in her voice. ‘She was on the road to stardom.’

‘I’m sure she was,’ said Alex. ‘But it’s Dory that I’m related to.’

Elaine sighed and shook her head. ‘You look at Dory and you see this . . . sister that you didn’t know you had. Locked up in prison like some princess in a fairy tale. I’m sure it must seem very romantic, finding your long-lost sister . . .’

‘I wouldn’t say romantic,’ Alex protested.

‘She didn’t mean it like a boy-girl thing,’ said Garth, trying to be helpful.

‘She knows what I mean,’ said Elaine. Then she looked up at Alex and held her gaze. ‘I understand your curiosity. Believe me, I do understand that. But I feel that it is my duty to warn you that getting involved with her is a terrible mistake. Dory is dangerous . . .’

‘Well, obviously, I know that she’s in jail for murder.’

Elaine shook her head. ‘When you say it like that, it sounds so . . . sanitary. Nothing could be further from the truth. Dory killed her sister. Her own sister. Brutally and viciously.’