As his fingers slipped off the keys, Ryan glanced up at the hotel and wondered what Amy was doing right now, whether she might also be thinking about him. He also wondered if she had gotten some answers as to the whereabouts of her father. Ryan had to admit, even he was curious about what was going on. But then another thought occurred to him—what if her father still wasn’t back? What if she had stumbled into an empty room? What if he was still AWOL? Might that not mean her plans would have changed? Could that mean she would need to stay in Seabrook for one more night?

Ryan sat up straight and took a deep breath. He decided that he wasn’t going home. Not yet.

•••

Amy closed the door behind her and ran her fingers along the wall of the dark room, feeling for the lights.

“Hello? Dad? Are you here?”

With a flick of the switch, she saw the room was empty. Everything was the same as when she had left: magazines scattered on the couch, his duffel lying on the floor.

Amy walked across the room and set her keys down before heading into the bedroom. The window was ajar, a cool breeze rustling the curtains. She put her hands on her hips and stared at the ocean, feeling more confused than ever. She couldn’t shrug it off anymore; her dad’s behavior wasn’t just a little strange—it was downright odd. It didn’t make any sense. If he had wanted the two of them to spend some time together—which she assumed was the reason for this trip in the first place—why disappear the moment they arrived? What possible reason could he have for leaving her behind in a strange town with no warning, no explanation, and no means of communicating with him?

Wait a minute.

Hadn’t they come down to Seabrook for only one night? They were supposed to be on their way home by now, so why wasn’t anyone knocking on the door to bundle them out of the room? Amy grabbed her key and marched back downstairs.

“Peggy, isn’t it? We spoke earlier?”

The bartender was midpour of four large jugs of beer when Amy presented herself at the counter of the bar.

“Of course, you’re from room 212, right? Can you give me a moment?” She finished serving her customer, closed the till, then shuffled sideways toward Amy, wiping the countertop with a rag as she spoke. “What can I do for ya? Is everything all right with your room?”

“Everything’s fine. My room’s fine.”

“Would you like a drink? You look too young for the strong stuff, but would ya like a soda?”

“No, no soda. Thanks. I just want to ask you something . . . it’s about my dad.”

“Your dad? Weren’t you asking about him this morning?”

“Yes.”

“And he still hasn’t shown up?”