So, she'd focused all her energy on solving the only problem she even had a hope of solving, one for which her investigative skills came in handy. Her mother’s written word ringing in her mind: If he isn't there with you, go find him. Never stop looking.

With her mom's words in her heart, Rose had pursued every possible path she could think of to track him down; police missing person reports, social media campaigns, facial recognition software in case he didn't know who he was and someone had helped him by posting his photo online. For all of these, she used the images her partner Alex had taken when he'd been following Bellamy. Working closely with those—pretty much the only real proof that Bellamy had even existed—had lit a fire under her, had made Rose absolutely determined to find him. If he was alive at all, she would track him down.

She'd even contacted the British Admiralty archives to see if they had any information on a young sailor who'd served and died under Nelson at the Battle of the Nile. All she had was his first name, Bellamy, a possible surname, Smith, and his wife's name, Alice. The curator had emailed back saying he would look into it personally, but a couple of weeks had passed before Rose had received her first solid lead. It wasn't from the Admiralty archives, but it was from England. From somewhere called Southsea, to be precise, not far from Portsmouth. A police inspector there had picked up a confused young man in his mid-twenties, who'd been wandering around on the beach. He didn't seem to know who he was, where he was from, or what year it was. He also had no ID, no passport—he spoke with an odd American accent—and had no money. So, the inspector had contacted the US Embassy, who in turn had checked the usual channels, probably the same ones Rose had used to get word out in the first place, and had identified him as (potentially) the missing man in her adverts. Then they'd called her cell phone while she was in a bath one night. After furiously stumbling out naked and covered with soap, she'd managed to brow-beat several high-ranking diplomats and red-tape sticklers, and convinced them to let her fly over and see him in person before it went any further.

She'd sent the Southsea inspector's office enough money to put Bellamy up in a local bed and breakfast for a few days, and provide him with some spending money, until she could get there. God, the anticipation. Rose willed the plane to move faster, pulling the land towards them with her mind. Her body ached to be with him. She needed him. And the thought, the slight chance that he could be alive…