She takes my hands, and for a moment I forget where we are. Warmth fills my chest seeing her this way again after so long—loving, kind, the Angela who can brighten a room by entering, the effusive sister and the balance to my good, my bad, and then some.

“Angela, what changed for you here? You seem so . . . happy.”

She gives a bottled laugh. “I am. Or, I was. At first, being so far away was the answer. I no longer had to wonder whether you cared or Mom and Dad cared, by the way you included me in something or didn’t. There was no ambiguity; there was nine hours of time difference. It made me really take stock of our interactions and see them better, not listen to the usual voice that questioned all that. I learned to trust more of what you were saying before they died. Then, after, I really was alone. And I said some things I shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry for that. The distance and isolation, then, forced me to dig deep, and discover some—”

“Stability from within?” I finish.

“Yeah . . . that’s it.”

We share a smile. “Twin thought processes and twin emotional issues, huh?”

Her soft laugh mingles with mine. “Funny how that goes.”

I allow myself the first deep breath since we trudged out of the room. “Well. You’ve got a flight to catch.”

“I have to admit,” she says, “I don’t quite understand the changes you’ve undergone, either, and I don’t understand why you’re sacrificing yourself like this for me. But thank you.” She throws her arms around me with more strength than I would have guessed, had I not just witnessed the extent of it when faced with death.

“You’re my sister, Gel,” I say, simply. There’s no better answer.

My fingerprints aren’t on the scalpel, the murder weapon, and the surveillance video will show the truth: Angela killed Seb in self-defense, and Seb was the serial killer all along. I’ll be released within days. I can do this for Angela after all these years of her feeling slighted. After she made the ultimate sacrifice—taking on the burden of Seb’s death, and doing what I know in my heart I never could to ensure our escape and safety.

“Can I ask you something?” I release her from the hug and pull back. “Do you remember that day on the beach, when . . . when you tried to bury me in the sand?”

Her eyebrows pinch together. “You mean the day you almost died by jellyfish sting?”

“What?”