The guy in the boat pulled off his T-shirt, jumped into the waist-high water and waded over to me. He came on shore, then climbed into the runabout. He was much younger than I’d thought, probably only sixteen or seventeen. He worked at the motor, yanking the cord over and over again, but with even less luck than I’d had.

“It’s dead,” he said. He stood up, looking down at my motor, shaking his head. “Get in our boat and I’ll take you to…where do you want to go?”

“I live on the canal,” I said. I wanted to be home in the worst way.

He grunted as though he wasn’t crazy about my answer. “Okay,” he said. “Your boat’s not going anywhere. Come on.”

I waded back to his boat with him, and as his fellow sailors were helping me in, I spotted the Chapmans’ Boston whaler not more than fifty yards away. I saw my grandfather in the boat with Ned, and I was so exhausted and confused that it didn’t even register as odd to me that the two of them would be together.

“Hey!” I yelled, startling the people in the boat. “That’s my grandfather,” I said to them. “Hey,” I yelled again, and the guy who had tried to help me start my boat laid on his horn.

My grandfather looked toward us and I waved my arms over my head again. Instantly, Ned’s whaler changed direction and headed for me. When the boats were side-by-side, I thanked my rescuers and transferred to the whaler, my grandfather holding my arm. I sank down onto one of the seats, so relieved to have my ordeal over that I wanted to cry, but I wouldn’t do that in front of Ned.

“Where’s Isabel?” Ned said as the other boat pulled away from us.

“What do you mean?” I asked. A slow horror began to fill my chest.

“We woke up this morning and you were both gone,” Grandpop said.

I froze. Instinctively I started thinking of lies to protect myself.

“I…I forgot to tell her you couldn’t meet her last night,” I said to Ned. “And I…” I remembered my prayer of the night before. Keep Isabel safe and I’ll stop lying. “I didn’t forget,” I admitted. “I didn’t tell her because Bruno wanted to talk to her, so I told him she’d be on the platform at midnight.”

Ned stared at me. It was so early that he didn’t yet have his sunglasses on, and for the first time I could remember, I saw anger in his blue eyes.

“You set her up with Bruno?” He looked at me with disbelief.

“What’s this about a platform?” my grandfather asked.

Ned took a step toward me. He put his hands on my waist, lifted me up and threw me overboard.

I shot through the water like a stone, then sputtered to the surface. Ned leaned over the edge of the boat. “You little bitch,” he said.

“Hey, hey,” my grandfather said. He held his hand in the air to stop Ned’s words, then he leaned over to help me climb back into the boat. I was shivering, although the air had to be eighty degrees and the water was not much colder. My stiff neck sent shards of pain up the back of my head. “All right, you two,” my grandfather said, taking charge. “Whatever differences there are between you, put an end to them now. This is serious and I want the truth.” A larger boat sailed by and the wake lifted us up and then let us fall. I felt sick. Ned and I looked at each other. We both had things to hide, and I could tell that he knew as well as I did we could hide them no longer.

“Isabel and I meet on the platform at the beach sometimes,” Ned said. “At midnight.”

I could see my grandfather struggle with his anger, not letting it show on his face. “All right,” he said. “And what happened last night?”

“I asked Julie to tell Isabel that I couldn’t meet her last night.”

“And Bruno stopped by and asked where he could find Isabel and I said I didn’t know right then but I knew he could find her on the platform at midnight. And I was out here then, and I…” I was afraid to say the words out loud.

“You what?” Ned asked.

“I heard her scream. I heard her call for—”

“Hit your horn!” Grandpop said to Ned, but he stepped past him and blew the horn himself, waving with his other hand. Ned and I turned to see the Marine Police clipper he was trying to flag down.

We were quiet as the clipper came beside us. “We’ve got the twelve-year-old—Julie,” Grandpop said to them, and only then did I realize they’d had the Marine Police out looking for me. “But the older girl’s still missing.”

“They weren’t together?” one of the officers asked.

Grandpop shook his head. “Check the platform at the Bay Head Shores beach,” he said. “This one heard a scream there around midnight last night.”

We followed the clipper in the direction of the beach. Grandpop stood next to Ned, holding on to the windshield, staring straight ahead.

“Grandpop,” I said, “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t reply. Maybe he hadn’t heard me over the deafening sound of the engine as we sped toward the beach. Ned slowed his boat when we reached the water near the empty platform. The only person on the beach was a woman walking a large brown dog.

The Marine Police clipper pulled alongside the platform, but Ned was staring toward a clump of sea grass at the edge of the beach. Suddenly he stood up.

“Oh, God,” he said. He pulled off his T-shirt and dove from the boat. I grabbed Grandpop’s arm as we watched him swim toward the reeds and cattails, and it took me a long time to realize that there, among the low grass and seaweed, was the body of my sister.

My strongest memory from the rest of that day was of a dull pain in my chest and throat. I thought I was having a heart attack. It was the day I learned what the word keening meant. And the day my mother hit me. She’d never before laid a hand on me, but she slapped me hard across my face when she learned about my part in my sister’s death.

“How could you do such a terrible thing to her?” she asked me.

My cheek stung and tears flowed freely down my cheeks.

“You sat on the porch with your grandmother and me last night,” my mother said. “You heard us talk about the Walker boy being a rapist, and you said nothing! How could you do that? Why didn’t you tell us?” She tried to strike me again, but Grandpop had moved next to me and he raised his arm to catch the blow.

“Maria, don’t,” he said to my mother.

“Why didn’t you tell an adult what was going on?” my mother screamed at me. Grandpop put his arm protectively around my shoulders, but my mother could not stop yelling. “How could you do this?” she cried. “How?”

I had no answers and the words I’m sorry would be so weak, so useless, that instead, I said nothing. I hung my head, trying to lean into my grandfather’s chest, but even he seemed distant from me in spite of his arm around my shoulders. I felt my insides coiling up like a snake ready to squeeze the life out of me.

“I’m going to throw up,” I said, and pulling away from my grandfather, I ran to the bathroom.

I did not throw up; I had nothing inside me to come up. I sat hunched over on the closed toilet, sobbing, listening to the wailing of my mother and grandmother in the living room. No one came to comfort me. I must have sat there for forty minutes, afraid to leave the room, afraid to face my family.

I heard my father arrive, heard him with my mother in the hallway outside the bathroom. I pictured them embracing. His sobs were as loud as hers, and I cried harder, hugging my arms, rocking back and forth, knowing that I had stolen his favorite daughter from him. I heard car doors slamming and leaned forward to look out the window. A police car was parked on the dirt road in front of our house, and two men in uniform were walking up the sidewalk.

I closed my eyes, listening to the voices in the hallway. There was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Julie?” It was my grandfather. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” My voice squeaked.

“You need to come out,” he said. “The police want to talk to you.”

I wanted to stay in the small, safe room, but I stood up and opened the door. I looked at my grandfather’s basset-hound face. His eyes were red. “Grandpop,” I said. I wanted to say that I never meant for this to happen, but that was an excuse for what I’d done, and there were no excuses big enough to cover this particular multifaceted sin. He put his arm around me again and led me down the hallway. I could see all the way through the living room and porch to our yard, where the police were talking to my father. And I could hear voices coming from my parents’ bedroom. My mother and grandmother and Lucy were in there, hushed voices cut with sobs. I heard my sister hiccup.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand as we walked across the porch. Grandpop opened the screen door and I nearly tripped down the two steps to the yard, my legs felt so wobbly. My father and the policemen looked up as the screen door slammed closed behind us. I recognized one of the policemen as Officer Davis, who had lauded me when I’d found the little boy. I felt humiliated now, the fallen heroine.

Ned and his father were there as well. All at once, I realized what a fool I’d been: Ned was a man, standing there with four other men. I was a skinny-legged idiot for thinking he could ever be romantically interested in me. I’d been playing a twelve-year-old’s game with grown-up consequences.

My father limped forward to hug me, and the gesture caught me off guard. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt her,” he said into my ear, his voice cracking on the last word. I would never forget the gift he gave me with those words. He pulled away from me, turning back to the police.

“And you were supposed to meet her last night?” Officer Davis was asking Ned.

Ned looked as though he was already tired of answering questions. “Originally,” he said. “But I couldn’t…” He glanced at his father, and I remembered the argument that had led to him telling me he could not see Isabel last night. “I wasn’t allowed to go out last night. So, I asked Julie if she’d give Izzy that message.”

“Why weren’t you allowed to go out?” the other office asked.

“He hasn’t been helping out much around the house this summer,” Mr. Chapman said. “Always on the go. My wife and I decided he needed to stay in for a change. Help the family out.”

“And did you?” Officer Davis asked. “Did you help the family out last night?”

Ned nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said. The word came out in two syllables.

“What exactly did you do?”

“I didn’t kill her,” he said. “Why aren’t you talking to Bruno Walker?”

“I’m not saying you did kill her, and we’re in the process of looking for Mr. Walker,” Officer Davis said. “Right now, I’m trying to put together a complete picture of last night. What did you do around the house?”

“I swept the whole house,” Ned said. “I washed the dishes. My brother dried. I folded laundry. I fixed a radio. Is that enough?”

“Shh, Ned,” Mr. Chapman said. “That attitude isn’t going to help.”

“And where were you around midnight last night?” Officer Davis asked.

“I thought you weren’t looking at him as a suspect,” Mr. Chapman said. “He’s not answering any more questions until we contact his lawyer.” I remembered suddenly that Mr. Chapman was a lawyer himself, as well as chief justice on the New Jersey Supreme Court. He would know how to advise his son and I was relieved. I didn’t like how Ned was being questioned. Officer Davis had been so nice to me when I found Donnie Jakes. This was a different, no-nonsense side of him.

“Answer the question, Ned,” my father said. “Where were you last night?” I noticed the other cop had his hand around my father’s arm as if holding him back from punching Ned in the face, and I wondered what had transpired before Grandpop and I had gotten out there. I could imagine how Daddy’d reacted to the news that Ned and Isabel met on the platform nearly every night.

“He worked like a dog around the house,” Mr. Chapman said. “I was proud of him for finally helping out. So then he and I sat out in the yard for an hour or so looking for shooting stars. The meteor shower.” He looked at Ned. “We were eating bowls of ice cream. I think it was about twelve-thirty when we went inside. Wouldn’t you say it was about twelve-thirty?” He asked his son, who dropped his eyes under his father’s steady regard.

“I didn’t look at the clock,” Ned said.

“All right.” Officer Davis flipped his notepad closed, then nodded in my direction. “I’d like some time with Julie, here,” he said, then looked at Ned and his father. “You two can go. We’ll be in touch.”

Ned walked ahead of his father toward their house, and Daddy led me over to the double Adirondack chair. I sat down next to him and my grandfather took a seat near us, while Officer Davis and the other policeman leaned against the chain-link fence.