Sisters (26 page)

‘I don’t think the police ever looked any farther than Dory,’ said Alex stubbornly. ‘And I’m beginning to have my doubts. Just humor me, if you would. When did you find about Lauren’s homosexuality?’

Elaine shuddered. ‘I hate that word.’ Then she sighed. ‘When? Well, I didn’t have any hint of it while she lived at home. I guess it didn’t really come up until that business with Walker Henley. They’d been dating for a while. I was getting impatient. They were both of age. I couldn’t see what they were waiting for. I wanted to start planning the wedding. And Lauren kept stalling. The more I pressed her on it, the more she made excuses. So finally, one day we had it out. That’s when she told me. She said she was only going out with Walker Henley to keep up appearances. She said that she was a lesbian. I wanted to die . . .’

‘Was it that bad?’

‘You wait until you have children,’ said Elaine tartly.

‘Obviously it was a big shock,’ said Alex.

‘For most people, tolerance is just a political term. It’s a whole different ballgame when it’s in your own family. Hey, why are you asking me this anyway? What has this got to do with anything?’

Alex mulled over what she wanted to say. ‘I had occasion to talk to Cilla Zander today.’

‘Cilla Zander,’ Elaine exclaimed. ‘Awful woman. Well, I shouldn’t say that. She was good for Lauren’s career. I didn’t like her personally. It was her attitude.’

‘She told me she was the one who kind of pushed Walker and Lauren together,’ said Alex. ‘They were both her clients. They both needed publicity.’

‘Maybe she did. I wouldn’t know,’ said Elaine dismissively.

‘Did Lauren ever have any . . . relationships with girls around here?’

‘No. I told you that. Lauren did not have time for relationships. She was home-schooled, and she had lots of music lessons and auditions going on. She was focused on the future. On her career.’

‘But she must have been close to someone as a teenager. Some friend or someone.’

‘She didn’t need friends. She had me. We were as close as a mother and daughter could be,’ said Elaine.

‘What about the Ennis family? Chris and Joy . . .’

‘They’re our neighbors. We share a house. Of course she was close to them. When she was in high school Joy already had Therese. Lauren used to go upstairs and help her sometimes. Just for a change of scene. But I wouldn’t say they were friends.’

‘And then Lauren moved to Branson.’

Elaine sighed again. ‘Her career was taking off. She was starting to get noticed. She hired that awful woman to manage her career, and she moved out west.’

Alex nodded. ‘That must have been tough.’

‘It wasn’t easy,’ said Elaine. ‘I adjusted.’

‘You still had Dory,’ said Alex.

‘There was no getting rid of Dory,’ said Elaine with a sigh.

‘Didn’t you tell me that Joy left her family for a while?’ Alex asked.

‘I didn’t tell you that,’ Elaine contradicted her angrily.

‘It must have been Dory who told me,’ said Alex. ‘Are you saying it’s not true?’

‘Oh, it was true all right. When Therese was about seven or eight years old, Joy decided that she had to find herself. She went to some Yoga ashram out in California. She was gone for six months. It was terribly hard on Therese. And on Chris. I stepped in and tried to help out with Therese as much as possible. She couldn’t understand how her mother could just leave her like that. Well, I couldn’t either, to be honest with you. Anyway, this has been like Therese’s second home ever since.’

‘She was lucky to have you,’ said Alex. But her mind was turning over these facts and re-examining them. Joy left her family and went out west. She said she was in California, but maybe she actually went to Missouri.

‘Why are you asking about Joy? What business is it of yours if Joy went to a yoga retreat eight years ago?’

Alex looked at Elaine coolly. ‘I’m just wondering if that’s where Joy really went,’ she said.

‘Where else would she have gone?’

‘She might have gone to be with Lauren.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ said Elaine.

‘Is it?’ asked Alex.

‘Yes. Of course. Joy’s not a lesbian. She’s married.’

Alex nodded as she caught a glimpse of uncertainty in Elaine’s eyes. Even she knew that it was not impossible. In spite of herself, Elaine was suddenly curious. ‘Cilla Zander told me that Lauren lived briefly with a woman named Joy out in Branson,’ said Alex. ‘A dark-haired woman with dimples and a beauty mark by her lips.’

Elaine thought that over for a minute and then shook her head. ‘That’s not possible. I would have known if that were true.’

‘Why would Cilla Zander lie about it?’ Alex asked.

Elaine dusted the flour off her hands and placed them on her hips. ‘I don’t know. But you know what? I don’t appreciate this. You are speculating about the most private business of a woman you didn’t even know.’

‘I’m not just speculating,’ said Alex. ‘I’m asking myself who, besides Dory, might have been angry with Lauren. Angry enough to kill her.’

Suddenly there was the unmistakable thud of a door closing.

‘What was that?’ said Alex.

Elaine looked at her, frazzled. ‘The garden door probably blew shut. Where in the world did you get these ideas?’

‘I start from the premise that my sister might be innocent,’ said Alex.

Elaine raised her floury hands as if to say STOP. ‘I don’t want to hear another word. Take all your sick accusations and get out of my house.’

Alex got up from the stool. ‘All right. If that’s what you want.’

Elaine walked into the living area and pulled open one of the French doors to the garden, which were now shut. ‘You can go out this way. Take those steps to the street. Please don’t come back.’

Alex walked past her, crossed the patio and climbed the outside stairs to the street without looking back. Elaine didn’t want to know about Lauren and Joy, even if it was the truth. She didn’t want to think of the two of them in that way. But Alex couldn’t help thinking that this was a secret that had the potential to lead to trouble.

She just wasn’t sure how to find out if it had.

As she got into her car and began to pull out of the parking space, her phone began to ring. She stopped halfway in the parking space and frowned at the unfamiliar number. Then she answered it.

‘Alex, it’s me. It’s Dory.’ Her voice was flat.

‘What’s the matter?’ Alex said warily.

‘I’m at the Suffolk County Jail. Can you come over here?’

‘I’m not sure if I’m allowed to,’ said Alex.

‘Please, Alex, I wasn’t the one who stabbed you. I wouldn’t do that to you. I want you to know that.’

‘They did find the knife that stabbed me under your mattress,’ Alex reminded her.

‘I did not put it there,’ said Dory listlessly, like a child reciting a memorized answer, ‘because I never had it. Look, I can have visitors from three-thirty to five. Will you come? There’s some things I need to say in person.’

‘Yes, I’ll come,’ said Alex. She ended the call but she knew that it was not really over. She looked up the address for the jail on her iPhone. Nashua Street, she thought. I know where that is. She thought about it for a minute, and then pulled out of her parking space.

THIRTY

T
he Suffolk County Jail was a recently built facility, situated right in downtown Boston near the waterfront. Alex presented herself at the visitors’ entrance and followed all the procedures. I’m getting to be a veteran at this, she thought. She went into the visitors’ room and waited for Dory.

In a few minutes Dory came shuffling in. Alex could hardly suppress the alarm she felt at the sight of her. Dory’s pale, freckled complexion was ashen, her shoulders hunched, her gray eyes dull and hopeless. She sat down opposite Alex without even acknowledging her.

‘Dory, are you OK?’ asked Alex.

‘OK? Do you see where I am?’ Dory asked. She looked up and around the noisy room at the green cinder-block walls, the small windows near the ceiling letting in only the narrowest shafts of light. ‘What do you think?’

‘I know,’ said Alex. ‘It’s terrible. What did Marisol tell you?’

Dory shrugged. ‘To keep quiet. Not to tell them anything they might use against me.’

Alex studied her. ‘Do you have anything they could use?’

Dory was not even indignant. ‘No,’ she said softly. ‘I didn’t do anything to you. My mother thinks I did, though. She never believes me.’

‘I know that’s hard to take,’ said Alex.

‘But do you believe me?’ Dory asked, and then she waved a hand limply. ‘Never mind. It doesn’t matter.’

‘It does matter,’ said Alex. ‘For what it’s worth, Dory, I don’t think you were the one who attacked me. But somehow, that knife got under your mattress.’

‘It doesn’t matter what I say,’ Dory lamented, as if she had not even heard Alex’s words. ‘They blame me.’

‘Look, you just need to do what Marisol tells you,’ said Alex. ‘You’ll get through this.’

Dory shook her head. ‘No. Whatever I do, this is how I end up. Alone. A prisoner. I don’t feel like fighting this anymore. It’s just my . . . destiny.’

‘That’s not true,’ said Alex. ‘It’s not your destiny.’

‘You don’t know,’ said Dory.

‘Don’t know what?’ said Alex.

‘Nothing. Never mind.’

‘Tell me,’ said Alex. ‘What are you thinking?’

Dory looked at her, and her eyes were haunted. ‘I’m not wanted,’ she said. ‘Nobody wants me.’

‘Dory, you can’t . . .’

‘That’s who I am,’ Dory insisted. ‘Someone who is not wanted. Starting with your mother. Starting from the day I was born.’

Alex wanted to protest on her mother’s behalf, but suddenly she realized that she could not. She knew that it wasn’t like that for her mother, but that wasn’t really the issue. Being unwanted was Dory’s reality and there were no words to reassure her. It would only be a further insult to tell Dory that her reality was not true.

Alex felt a nagging sense of déjà vu and could hardly bear to look in her sister’s eyes. ‘Dory, when you asked me to come over, it sounded like there was something specific you wanted to tell me.’

Dory frowned and then seemed to be struggling to remember. Finally she said, ‘I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m sorry you got hurt. And I’m sorry we didn’t have a chance to get to know each other.’

‘That’s not your fault,’ said Alex. ‘We met under some pretty . . . difficult conditions.’

Dory nodded but her eyes remained downcast, her body slumped over. ‘Still. It was kind of like a second chance that didn’t work out . . .’ Her voice trailed away.

‘It’s not too late,’ said Alex.

‘Yes, it is.’ Dory shook her head hopelessly, and the expression in her eyes reminded Alex, with a jolt, of herself, and of how she had felt the day she learned about her parents’ accident. That day, when she got the news, she’d had the sense that life was a cruel joke, and she couldn’t figure out a reason to keep going.

‘You seem terribly . . . down,’ she said.

Dory did not protest. In fact, she didn’t even reply.

‘Dory, are they giving you any medication? Anything for depression?’

‘I’m not depressed,’ Dory insisted.

‘No one would blame you if you were,’ said Alex.

‘I’m not,’ Dory insisted. ‘I’m accepting it. I need to be more accepting.’

‘No, you don’t,’ said Alex. ‘You need to have hope. You’re going to get out of here. I feel sure of it. You just need to hang on, and don’t give up hope.’

‘The real reason I asked you here was in case I don’t see you again,’ said Dory. ‘I wanted to say goodbye.’

‘Don’t say that,’ Alex insisted.

Dory said softly, ‘I’m just saying “in case.”’

‘And I’m just saying that you mustn’t give up. This is not over. OK?’

Dory shook her head. Then she stood up and reached out a hand, pressing the back of Alex’s hand with her fingertips. ‘OK,’ she said dully. Then she turned away. Alex watched her go with a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. She knew how it felt to be depressed. She had suffered a pretty terrible bout of depression this last year. But somewhere inside her, even during the worst of it, she knew that her suffering would lessen, that she would be happy again. She did not think Dory had that same bedrock sense of well-being. How could she, when she felt as if her own mother had forsaken her?

The guard in the visitors’ room came over to her, pointing to his watch. Alex got up and walked out into the main receiving area. There were two guards at the front desk. She approached them, studying the two men as she waited her turn in line. One of the guards was an enormous black man with a mustache and a forbidding expression. His badge and picture read: S. Robinson. The other guard was pale and overweight, with a crew cut and rheumy eyes. His badge read: B. Witkowski.

Finally she reached the front of the line.

The pale, sweaty guard looked at her with disinterest. ‘Yes?’

‘My name is Alex Woods. I’ve just been here to visit my sister, Dory Colson. She seems very depressed.’

‘Everybody in here is depressed, lady,’ Witkowski said dismissively.

‘I think she might need to be seen by someone.’

‘Like who?’ he asked sarcastically.

‘Like a shrink. I think she needs medication. I’m worried that she might . . . try to harm herself.’

‘She can’t,’ said the guard. ‘We keep an eye on them.’

‘She was telling me goodbye,’ Alex insisted. ‘As if she was considering it.’

‘Shrink comes in once a week,’ said Witkowski. ‘She can see him next Tuesday.’

‘We can’t afford to wait. It might be too late by next Tuesday,’ Alex said angrily. Suddenly she realized why her conversation with Dory had given her a sense of déjà vu. She thought of that story she had heard from Uncle Brian about Dory’s father, Neil Parafin, despairing at being abandoned before he shot himself in the driveway of her mother’s house. ‘There’s a history of suicide in her family,’ she said bluntly.

‘Lady, this isn’t a spa. We do things on a schedule here.’

‘No matter what,’ said Alex grimly.

‘We’ve got rules,’ he said.

Alex realized that nothing she could say was going to impress this guard. He had his mind made up about the people in this facility and he wasn’t about to start being sympathetic. To be fair, sympathy for all these inmates was a road with no end. But it was not reassuring to Alex. She looked up imploringly at the other guard. He had listened to the whole exchange but hadn’t spoken.