Death at Devil's Bridge by Cynthia DeFelice

turned away from the body in the water and bolted for our bikes.
    We pedaled up the road, ditched our bikes in the town parking lot, and ran straight into the police station. Jeff’s Uncle Cully was the sergeant at the desk. He smiled when he saw us and was about to say something, then looked closer at our faces and began to frown. “You boys look pretty shook up,” he said. “What’s the problem?”
    I wanted to answer him, but something about the kindness and concern in his voice and the normal, safe, everyday surroundings of the room made the horror of what I’d seen seem even worse. I tried to talk, but instead began to cry—big, gulping sobs.
    Any other time, I’d have been embarrassed, but I was too distraught to care. Besides, Jeff was crying, too. Cully, his face creased with worry, handed us tissues. Then he led us to an office in the back of the station and sat us down.
    Jeff and I looked at each other. He said, “You tell, Ben. You saw it first.”
    â€œThere’s a body,” I said. “A person. I mean, it was a person. Now it’s—it’s—” I remembered the waving strands of sandy brown hair, and the room began to spin.
    Cully waited until I collected myself. “Where, Ben?”

    â€œIn the water. Almost up on the beach at Devil’s Bridge.”
    â€œDid you move it or touch it?” Cully asked.
    â€œNo way,” said Jeff, looking horrified.
    â€œGood,” said Cully. “Could you tell anything about the person? For instance, whether it was male or female?”
    â€œIt’s that kid,” I said. “The one who disappeared.” But suddenly I wasn’t sure. The body had been so weird and swollen, and the gulls had already been picking at it. I shuddered. It could have been anybody wearing shorts and a T-shirt, maybe even a girl with short brown hair. “I mean, we thought it was, anyway,” I said uncertainly.
    Jeff said, “Is it, Uncle Cully?”
    â€œI don’t know yet, Jeff,” Cully answered. He stood up. “We’ll have more questions for you boys, but right now I’m going to go talk to the chief. Will you be all right here for a minute?”
    Jeff and I nodded.
    â€œI’ll call over to Town Hall and tell your mother you’re here,” Cully said to me as he left the room.
    In what seemed like just a few seconds, Mom came flying into the police station from her office next door. “Ben!” she gasped, sitting down beside me and holding my face between her hands. “Are you all right?”
    â€œYeah,” I said. I twisted my head and broke free. “I’m fine now. Really.”
    â€œThank goodness.” Turning to Jeff, she asked, “How about you?”
    â€œI’m okay, Mrs. Daggett.”
    â€œYou poor boys,” Mom said. “What a terrible thing for you to see.” Her voice drifted off as Cully and Chief Widdiss walked into the room.
    The chief acknowledged us each in turn. “Hello, Kate. Ben, Jeff.” His face, which usually reflected his cheerful good nature, was serious. “The sergeant is going to meet the state police down at the beach to recover the body. You say it’s right in near shore at Devil’s Bridge?”
    Jeff and I nodded.
    â€œThe tide’s coming in, Cully, and with this wind direction, you shouldn’t have any trouble.”
    â€œRight, Chief.”
    â€œThere’s birds,” I said, and my voice came out all croaky. I cleared my throat and added, “Gulls.”
    Cully grimaced, and I felt sorry for him, having to go down there. I was really glad the chief hadn’t asked Jeff and me to go back. I thought about the search party that had found my father washed up on Cuttyhunk Island
after the hurricane, and how awful it had been when Mom and I were told that Pop was truly dead.
    I sneaked a look at Mom’s face, and knew she was remembering the same thing.