At the time, I was not sure I believed my own words.
The Woman in the Security Footage
We began at the resort where Noah had seen the woman.
The manager, Diane, listened patiently while we explained the situation.
When Noah showed her the photograph, her expression changed.
She led us into a small office behind the front desk and reviewed security footage from the previous weekend.
For nearly an hour, we watched guests move through the lobby and courtyard.
Then Diane stopped the recording.
The woman appeared on the screen.
Same hat.
Same dress.
Same man beside her.
She walked calmly through the courtyard, smiling as though she had no reason to hide.
I pressed my knuckles against my mouth.
“You know her?” Diane asked carefully.
I could barely speak.
“I thought I did.”
The resort had no booking information for her. She and the man might have been visiting another guest or simply walking through the property.
For the next day, Noah and I searched the town.
We showed the photograph to restaurant servers, shopkeepers, street artists, and vendors along the market.
Most shook their heads.
A few stared at the photograph for an unusually long time before saying they could not help.
By late afternoon, exhaustion began replacing hope.
I sat on a bench near the boardwalk and watched waves break against the shore.
For the first time since arriving, I wondered whether we should stop.
Then I heard Noah shout my name.
The Seashells With Six Names
He was standing inside a small market stall filled with handmade jewelry, painted driftwood, and decorated seashells.
An elderly woman with silver hair and paint-covered fingers held Noah’s phone close to her face.
“Yes,” she said as I approached. “I know her.”
My heart began pounding.
“She comes here regularly,” the woman continued. “Very kind. She often orders engraved seashells.”
“What does she have engraved?” Noah asked.
The woman looked at him.
“Children’s names.”
Noah and I exchanged a glance.
“How many names?” I asked.
“Usually six.”
My knees nearly gave way.
The shopkeeper searched through an old order book and found an address the woman had once provided for a delivery.
She wrote it on the back of a receipt and handed it to me.
The house stood two blocks from the sea.
