Sisters - By Patricia MacDonald Page 0,75

Alex Woods.’

‘NOOOO . . .!’ Dory shrieked, and her wails echoed through the house.

Detective Langford, aided by Spagnola, lifted her by the arms and started to half-drag, half-carry her down the hallway.

Alex stood back to let them pass. She didn’t want to look at Dory as they dragged her by. She was afraid to see the hate, the contempt in Dory’s eyes. But as her gaze inadvertently met Dory’s, she saw instead the face of a frightened child looking back at her. Confused, defenseless and utterly alone.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Marisol Torres was sitting in the second-floor lounge of the Justice Initiative, eating yogurt and a payday candy bar, and drinking an Orangina while she reviewed a pile of notes spread out before her on the formica tabletop. Alex hesitated in the doorway of the makeshift lounge. The receptionist, who recognized Alex right away, had sent her up here, but now that she stood in the doorway, watching Marisol multitask, Alex was reluctant to disturb her.

‘Can I help you?’ asked a curly-headed, owlish-looking young man in shirtsleeves.

‘No, I’m fine,’ said Alex.

Hearing that familiar voice, Marisol looked up and saw Alex hovering in the doorway. Her serious face broke into a wide smile. ‘Alex!’

‘I hate to bother you,’ Alex said sheepishly.

‘I’m glad for the company. Come on in.’ She indicated a chair at the table where she was sitting.

Alex sat down across from her.

‘No offense,’ said Marisol, ‘but you’re not looking too good.’

‘I’m not feeling too good,’ Alex admitted.

Marisol looked at her expectantly.

‘Dory,’ said Alex.

Marisol sighed. ‘Well, you can’t have your money back,’ she said, only half-teasing. Alex had dropped off a generous contribution to the Justice Initiative after the DA decided not to refile the charges against Dory. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Do you know about the incident at my house?’

Marisol winced. ‘There was an incident? Oh, no. What?’

‘Somebody attacked me with a knife.’

‘Oh my God! No. Are you all right?’

‘Yes. Thanks to this vicious-looking dog named Remus that Dory got us while she was staying with me. He’s not really vicious. He’s actually a good boy. He prevented the attack from being much worse.’

‘Did they catch the guy?’

‘They think they have. This morning, they arrested Dory.’

‘Oh, Jesus,’ said Marisol, clapping her palm over her heart. ‘You’re kidding me. Tell me you’re kidding.’

Alex shook her head. ‘It’s the truth.’

‘I’m so sorry, Alex. Did you know it was her?’

‘I didn’t know who it was. I didn’t know what to think. The cops arrived this morning. Said they found the knife under her mattress at the Colsons’.’

‘Why? Why would she do that? After all this . . .’

Alex shook her head. ‘I’m not sure. She was a little jealous about this guy, Seth, that I’m seeing now.’

‘Oh, right. The good-looking guy with the glasses who was at the courthouse. I met him at your house, after the appeal hearing.’

‘That’s the one. She was attracted to him, apparently. She asked me, and I told her I didn’t have a boyfriend, because I didn’t at the time. And then things happened between Seth and me and the situation changed. She didn’t like it when she found us kissing.’

Marisol shook her head. ‘And for that she stabbed you? I’m sorry. Are other people not allowed to have a life when Dory’s around? I mean, God forbid you should have a boyfriend. Oh, Alex, there is no help for this girl. Lots of people just can’t readjust to life on the outside of prison. It happens all the time. But I had hoped she might give it a little better effort than that. How long she been out? A week?’

‘The thing is, Marisol, I’m having trouble believing it. I mean, she seemed a little . . . miffed at me. But not that angry. Not like that.’

Marisol looked at her with raised eyebrows. ‘What is this? Turn the other cheek week?’

‘She seemed . . . more hurt than anything else when they came to get her.’

‘Hurt that she got caught,’ Marisol fumed.

‘Maybe it is that. I don’t know. I was just wondering if you could talk to her,’ said Alex. ‘She really needs the advice of an attorney.’

‘I’m not an attorney, as you know.’

‘But she trusts you. And she needs someone to advise her. Even as a friend.’

Marisol sighed and shook her head. ‘Where’s she at now?’

‘I’m not sure. Two detectives – the same two that reopened Lauren Colson’s case – took her in.’

‘Then she’s probably at the Back Bay precinct,’ said Marisol. ‘I’ll make some calls and find out. I’ll go