“Worse than now?”

“As I was saying, I remember Angie was entering the convent. We were allowed to go to the ceremony and watch from behind a carved screen. Wasn’t that big of them?”

Judy smiled. “Without your religion you’d have nothing to bitch about.”

“Yes, I would-what about my job? Anyway, I took pictures of me and Angie that day, and you could never tell we were identical twins from them. There’s Angie, looking all happy and serene. Relaxed, fulfilled. On a first-name basis with the Holy Spirit.”

“The Holy Spirit has a first name?”

“Al, of course. You can call him Al. Now will you shut up and let me tell the story? In the picture, I looked the worst I ever looked and Angie looked the best. She was becoming a nun and I was becoming a burnt-out associate. She was serving God, I was serving Satan.”

“I get it,” Judy said, though Mary remained undaunted.

“You know those ads with the ‘before’ and ‘after’ pictures? I looked like the ‘before’ picture and Angie looked like the ‘after’ picture. Especially with me in the suit and her in the nun costume.” Mary sipped cold coffee from a Styrofoam cup. “It doesn’t help when you dress differently, like Connolly and Bennie were, in court. It’s not only in the way you look, anyway.”

“How so?”

“I can tell in other ways that people are twins. I knew fraternal twins in school. They sat closer together than other people. When they talked to each other, they stood nearer. They were just used to being physically close. They gravitated to each other, like meatballs in a bowl. Angie and I used to be that way.”

“That’s so cool.” Judy straightened in her swivel chair, and Mary felt suddenly special. It was good to feel special about something, even if it was an accident of birth.

“There are things about twins no one would mistake. No one knows how to look for it like a twin. When I look at Angie, I see me. It’s not only how she looks, it’s how she acts.”

“How?” Judy asked, though she had a rough idea. She didn’t know Angie that well, but she’d noticed it, too. It was as if Mary’s twin were an echo of Mary. The same person, but not the same. A physical clone, but emotionally a different person.

“You know Angie’s body language? She sits like me. She always tucks her right leg under her butt, like me. Plus she talks too fast, like me. My mother has to ask her to repeat herself. I’m the only one who can understand her.”

Judy scoffed. “That doesn’t count. You both have South Philly accents. Nobody can understand either of you.”

“I’ll ignore that. It’s the tone of voice. And the gestures, the way she talks with her hands.”

“You’re both Italian.”

“Guilty as charged.” Mary thought a minute. “We like the same clothes. When we go shopping, we fight over the same dress. It used to happen all the time.”

“That doesn’t count. You were raised together. You’ve developed the same taste in clothes. Didn’t your parents even dress you alike when you were little?”

“True, all the time. Same birthday party, same toys. Until we were three we called each other by whatever name was handy. Angie, Mary, it didn’t matter to us.” Mary thought harder. “But there’s other things. Nature, not nurture. Stuff that you couldn’t learn. I finish her sentences.”

“We finish each other’s sentences.”

“That’s because you’re always talking about food. It’s not the same thing.”

Judy pitched a paper clip at her. “Like what, then?”

“Well, sometimes, I know what Angie is thinking. I knew when she was unhappy in the convent. I knew when she was worried about me, or about my father. I know when she’s thinking about calling me. Lots of times, I’ll pick up the phone to call her and it’s busy because she’s calling me.”

“Maybe you call each other at the same time, as a habit.”

“We don’t. It happens at all times.” Mary’s voice softened. “When she got into paralegal school, after she left the convent, I knew she got in. I could just feel how happy she was. I knew it the very minute she did. I was in the library, working on a brief. All of a sudden I felt something inside, like a rush of great feeling. Like I accomplished something. The minute I felt it, a voice inside me said, ‘I got in.’ Not ‘Angie got in.’ ‘I got in.’ It was like I was having her thoughts.”

“Whoa.” Judy’s eyes widened, Delft-blue. “Like telepathy.”

“Not exactly. Don’t get carried away.” Mary flushed with sudden regret. She hadn’t talked about this to anyone but Angie. Even she thought it sounded wacky. She wanted to change the subject, but Judy was already leaning over the conference table toward her.

“You’re telepathic, Mare! You and your twin. That’s what it means.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You had her thoughts. Can you tune her in, right now?”

Mary rolled her eyes. “No, you idiot. It’s not like a radio.”

“Tune her in. Call her up. Do whatever.”

“No. Stop. Forget it. You make it sound like the movie Carrie. It’s not like I can move things with my eyes.” Mary pulled over the police file and opened it. “We should get back to work.”

“Can Angie read your thoughts, too?”

“I don’t know. Get to work.”

“Yes, you do. Tell me.”

“We have work to do. Write your brief. And don’t tell anybody what I told you, okay? Or I’ll set you on fire with my finger.”

“Okay. Fine.” Judy fell silent. If the subject was too personal for Mary, she’d let it go. She didn’t want to upset her. But what Mary said had implications for the Connolly case. Judy felt suddenly uneasy. “Mare, if Bennie is Connolly’s twin, she shouldn’t be representing her in a murder case. She can’t see the facts objectively. She’ll be swayed by her emotions. I think she already is, the way she snapped out in Della Porta’s apartment.”

Mary looked up from the file. “Sure she is, but she has to take the case. No question. It’s an emotional decision. If Angie’s in trouble, I’m there. If Connolly is Bennie’s twin, Bennie has to defend her. Period. Whether she should or not. It’s a no-win situation.”

Judy thought about that. “You show unusual insight, grasshopper.”

“Just one of my superpowers,” Mary said, and got busy.

Bennie barreled down I-95 South as the rain evaporated, supersaturating the dusky sky. She didn’t turn on the air-conditioning in the Expedition; she liked the humid air on her cheek. So did Bear, who leaned out the back window with a doggie smile. His ragged ears took flight and ropes of saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth. Bennie had stopped home to let the dog out and had succumbed to his whimpering to come along. She didn’t bother to examine whether taking the golden was a good idea; if she were the type of person to examine what she did before she did it, she’d never have taken Connolly’s case. Or, for that matter, this little trip.

To 708 Lakeside Drive, Montchanin, Delaware.

The address had been in the prison logs and Montchanin was right outside of Wilmington. Bennie was going to see Bill Winslow. Maybe he was her father, maybe he wasn’t. In half an hour she’d know. Her fingers tightened on the wheel. And if Winslow were her father, could Connolly be her twin? She switched to the fast lane and pushed a button for the CD player. It was all Bruce Springsteen, all the time, and a clear road to Delaware. She brushed the hair from her eyes and accelerated smoothly.

In time the four-lane highway narrowed to a two-lane road that wound past towns and long strip malls with new stucco refacing and neon signs. By the time Bennie was on the second CD of the boxed set, the streetlights had been replaced by split-rail fences and lush green pastures. Trees a century old formed a verdant backdrop; the sun had set and the sky was the color of blueberries. The humidity had lifted as she drove south and the air wafted sweet and earthy. Horses grazed silently, their long tails switching at the bites of unseen flies, and raised their heads to watch Bennie cruise past. The Expedition negotiated skinny country roads that led to estates so vast she couldn’t see the houses.