SIX
Alex burst out of the front doors of the prison as if she had just finished serving a sentence herself. The January day had turned gray but the cold air was bracing. She felt as if she had been holding her breath the entire time that she was inside the facility. How could anyone survive in there? she thought. There was nothing about the place that would make you even want to live. Alex remembered that program with the dogs which Dory had mentioned. She lived from week to week, waiting to play with those dogs for a brief while. Obviously the most ordinary of pleasures was priceless behind those walls.
When Alex reached her car in the visitors’ lot, she rolled down the windows despite the cold. She didn’t want to be closed up, even inside her own car. She laid her head back against the seat and gulped in the air. You’re free to go, she thought. And yet, she did not turn on the engine. Her visit with Dory had left her with more questions than answers, but the greatest question in her mind right now had to do with Marisol Torres. Why was she trying to get Dory out of jail? Dory had pleaded guilty. Wasn’t that the end of it?
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.’