Confessions of a Murder Suspect

87

The moon was high and full that night, and the water in Shinnecock Bay was the same gorgeous indigo blue as the sky. The Ponquogue Bridge stretched out before us, spanning the bay, its gleaming white arc making me think of the leading edge of an angel’s wing.

Harry, Hugo, Virgil, and I were grouped together at the foot of the bridge, listening to the soothing sound of waves slapping against the shore.

Then Hugo said, “Can we go?”

We took off our shoes and rolled up our trouser legs, each of us carrying a plastic bag with one of our sharks inside. Their green bioluminescence made the bags glow like lanterns. It was absolutely magical.

We stopped walking when the water was up to Hugo’s chest and floated the bags so that the temperature of the water within would equalize with that of the bay.

It was completely quiet. Even Hugo was mesmerized into silence by the luminous, bobbing bags. But the sharks soon became restless. They banged into the sides of the bags and lashed their tails and frothed the water.

They knew what was coming.

Harry said, “I say that it’s time.”

We undid the rubber bands and opened the mouths of the bags. My heart seemed to expand as the sharks left their cocoons and swam into the open water.

Freedom. For real this time.

We all pointed and called to one another, clapping and cheering as the sharks circled, then formed a school and headed south toward the vast, open Atlantic.

A moment later their trail went dark, and suddenly the air and the water around me felt cold. I shivered and a million unanswered questions rose up and fluttered in my mind.

What had been the truth about my father and Tamara Gee? Had Matthew killed Tamara? Would he be convicted of murdering her? How would Harry and Hugo deal with their anger? With the drug withdrawal? What would we be like without the pills?

And of course there was a lot I would need to investigate about myself, too. I knew it wasn’t a coincidence that the man suing my mother had the same last name as the boy I ran away with. James Rampling was Royal Rampling’s son—that I knew. But what happened between the night I met James at the party and the day we escaped? Had James Rampling kidnapped me with ill intentions, or had he been my first genuine taste of love and freedom? And what on earth had happened to him after we were torn apart?

Would I ever see, touch, or hold him again? Did I even want to?

There are parts of those mysteries that I do remember, friend, fragments I’m still trying to work up the nerve to talk about. There are many more parts that I no longer remember, thanks to Dr. Keyes. But I know some places where I can start looking for answers.

As I stood in the bay thinking about the future, the framed letter from Gram Hilda came into my mind. She had left my parents a hundred dollars and a stinging slap. How had she provided for the grandchildren who had not yet been born when she died?

Would she leave us a Grande Gongo? Or would it be a Big Chop?

The night my parents were found dead, Uncle Peter said to me, “After the reading of the will, we’ll see what the future will bring to the Angel family.”

Uncle Peter was wrong. Money was not going to influence our ability to succeed in the world.

The sharks had just amazed us. They had been confined for years and were now following their instincts, swimming together with strength and confidence out into the ocean.

It was a good sign.

In the last week, I had found my calling, what I was meant to do. I was going to be a detective. I might even have found mentors in Detectives Caputo and Hayes. I was surprisingly fond of them both, and I thought they felt the same way about me. They’d been unbelievably supportive and nice since they’d watched that video with us.

I could even see a possible business card in my mind:

TANDY ANGEL, DETECTIVE

MYSTERIES SOLVED. CASE CLOSED.

“What’s so funny?” Harry asked me.

I looked up at my twin brother and said, “I was just thinking how much I love you guys.”

At that, Hugo yelled, “Watch me!”

He put his arms out in front of him, dove under the water, and stroked toward the shore.

“Swim fast, die hard!” Harry hooted.

“We’re both going to have to watch Hugo closely now. More than ever. And Matthew is going to need our help.”

“It’s a deal,” Harry said. “I’m in.”

My brothers and I had grown closer over the last few weeks. We were still growing, still becoming. I felt sure we would stick together, whatever happened, wherever the currents might carry us.

I really couldn’t wait to see what we would do next.

And hey, it’s been good talking to you. Really good.