32 NoraNora stretched her right arm over the gray plastic table and opened her hand. The tips of her thumb, index, and middle fingers were coated with neon-orange dust.
Grinning, Hunter raised her hand to display matching fingertips.
Nora grinned back. “Now, we really look like sisters.”
Even without wearing twin outfits.
Nora’d pulled on the same olive-green V-neck sweater and wheat jeans she’d worn to yesterday’s meeting with the professor she now thought of as her arsenic expert.
The university hadn’t required a security scan but Washington Corrections Center for Women did. She wore her no-metal-sports-bra under the sweater.
Hunter was again dressed in a red T-shirt and khaki slacks.
She shook her orange-coated index finger at Nora. “I saw you drooling last time you came. I knew
