“Huh?”

  He nods to the door. “We could just sneak out.”

  I glance back to where Shelby is still dancing, then nod. Without saying a word, the two of us slip out the door.

  “I feel like I'm playing hooky,” I say as we hurry down the path that leads to the beach steps.

  “She probably won't even miss us.”

  “Don't be so sure,” I say, suddenly feeling unexplainably bold. “Shelby seems to be pretty into you, Ryan.”

  He lets out a little groan.

  “So, are you saying you're not into her?” I ask in a slightly stunned voice.

  “I don't know… “

  Okay, that's not quite the answer I was expecting. It gives me a little bit of hope for the boy, although he does seem confused. We continue down the stairs without talking. At the bottom, I kick off my flip-flops and step into the sand, enjoying the cool, scrunchy feeling beneath my feet.

  “I know it's none of my business,” I slowly begin as we start to walk up the beach, unwilling to let this thing go just yet. “But judging strictly by appearances, I think we're all assuming you are into Shelby, Ryan. I think she assumes it too.”

  “I know.”

  “Well, like I said, it's none of my business.”

  Ryan kicks the sand with his toe like he's frustrated, but he doesn't say anything. We just walk along in silence. At first the silence bugs me, and I feel the need to say something to fill it up. But then I think, Why should I? It's not like God put me on this earth just to entertain this guy.

  So I simply walk along, keeping my thoughts to myself as I enjoy the freedom of being out here on the beach at nighttime, yet feeling safe since there's a guy I trust with me. Do I wish there was something more between this guy and me? Well, duh. I'm only human. Even so, I'm okay with it. It just feels good to walk and to enjoy the sound of the waves and to know that with or without Ryan, I'm going to be just fine. That's a nice feeling.

  hen I get back to our suite, there's no sign of Sid or Shelby I'm guessing Sid and Ian are still out enjoying the Mexican moonlight. Maybe they're dancing the night away. I could hear the music from the live calypso band as Ryan and I came in from our extremely quiet walk on the beach. A part of me longed to go listen to the band, maybe even dance, but I could tell that Ryan was not in a dancing mood. In fact, I can tell he's feeling pretty bummed. I'm not even totally sure why. Is it disillusionment over Shelby? Is he torn in his feelings toward her? Worried about where their relationship may or may not go when we're all back home in the States? Maybe I'll never know. Anyway, it was better just to call it a night.

  I tiptoe around the quiet suite, not sure I want to go to bed, but not wanting to make any noise and risk disturbing Shelby, either. I figure she's probably sleeping it off again, but then I notice her open bedroom door, and when I take a peek, I see that, although the bed's rumpled, probably from her earlier nap, she's not in it. The door to her bathroom is open too, but the light's off in there. I decide to check anyway, just in case she's passed out on the hard tile floor, but the bathroom is vacant. I even go out and check the terrace, thinking she could be fast asleep out on the lounge chair. But she's not there, either.

  I tell myself not to worry. Shelby is an adult and capable of taking care of herself. Yet I know that's really not the case. The truth is, Shelby is a mess. And suddenly I imagine an intoxicated Shelby staggering around on the beach by herself, maybe even lost, and then running into some kind of trouble. And I feel like this is partially my fault. Ryan and I shouldn't have slipped out on her like that. It was wrong and irresponsible and selfish. If anything happens to her, I will feel terrible.

  I start to go out again, thinking I will search for her and bring her back. But then I realize I might place myself in a similar position. Women just don't go out walking on the beach by themselves at night in Mexico. I glance at the clock. It's almost eleven now, but who knows when Sid will get back? I consider calling her cell phone but then notice it's sitting right here on the coffee table. Finally I realize I need to call someone. And it seems it will have to be Ryan. To be honest, I feel he's just as responsible for her welfare as I am right now— maybe even more.

  The phone rings several times, and I start to have second thoughts. Maybe I'm overreacting. Or maybe Shelby's there with him. Maybe they met after I told Ryan good night. Maybe they're having some big heart-to-heart talk…or maybe even something else. I'm about to hang up—but then he answers.

  “Sorry to bother you,” I say quickly, “but I don't know what to do.”

  “What's wrong?” He actually sounds concerned.

  “Shelby's not here.”

  “Oh…is that all?” His concern seems to evaporate.

  “Ryan, I'm worried about her. You know she's been drinking. And then we sneaked out on her. Who knows, maybe we hurt her feelings. And what if she's out there on the beach right now, just walking around totally wasted? And what if she runs into someone…someone bad? You know, someone who might take advantage of her…her inebriated state.”

  “She's probably at the bar partying.”

  “But what if she's not, Ryan? What if she's in danger? I mean, don't you remember what happened to that girl in Aruba—Natalee Holloway?”

  There's a long pause, then finally he sighs and says, “Okay, then what should we do?”

  “I was going to go out and look for her—”

  “Not by yourself, Maddie!”

  “I know. But Sid and Ian are still out. That's why I called you.”

  “Okay, meet me by the top pool,” he says.

  I grab a sweatshirt and put on my flip-flops, then head on down. Ryan is already there. And I'm relieved to see that he actually looks concerned now. First we do a fairly thorough but quick search of the resort. We check out the bars, the swimming pools, and the hot tubs, and I even look in some of the women's rest rooms. Then we head for the beach.

  “I don't remember seeing anyone walking alone when we were down here earlier,” I say to him. “But then I wasn't really looking, either.”

  “Me neither.” Ryan is peering out into the water now, like he expects to see her out there bouncing around in the surf. The moon helps to light the white crests of the waves, but I suspect if Shelby was out there swimming, we wouldn't be able to see her anyway. Not that Shelby would go swimming. I mean, she's made it clear to us that it's definitely not her cup of tea—or tequila or whatever her beverage of choice might be.

  “Do you think she has a drinking problem?” I ask Ryan.

  “That seems pretty obvious, doesn't it?” His voice sounds sharp and harsh now.

  “I guess.”

  “Sorry,” he says, turning to me. “I didn't mean to snarl.”

  “It's okay.”

  “It just bugs me, Maddie.”

  “That she drinks so much?”

  “Yeah. I know you'll probably find this hard to believe, but Shelby used to be a really great girl. She wasn't a partyer, and she was actually a strong Christian. I honestly thought she was pretty mature back in high school. For high school anyway.”

  “She's changed?”

  “A lot. When I met her down here, it didn't totally register at first. I guess I thought she was still the same old Shelby. Just more grownup. But the more time I spent with her, the more I began to see that she hasn't really grown up. It's like she's regressed.”

  “Why?”

  “At first I blamed it on the drinking, but then I thought maybe there's a reason she's drinking. You know, like some kind of self-medication. I remember a paper I wrote in psychology about addiction, and I thought maybe she'd had some traumatic experience or a chemical imbalance. Maybe she just needs help.”

  “So you were trying to help her?” Okay, I can hear the cynicism in my voice, and I'm sure he can too.

  “I know that sounds totally lame, Maddie. I mean, I know what you're thinking: like what kind of guy wouldn't want to help a girl like Shelby? Right?”

  “By ‘a girl like Shelby,’ do you mean a drop-dead gorgeous, long-legged, blue-eyed, blond beach babe?”

  “She's not that hot.”

  I make an unattractive snorting sound that was meant to be a laugh and instantly regret it.

  “She's not, Maddie!” He stops walking and turns and grabs my arm. “You are way prettier.”

  I actually laugh now. “Yeah, right.”

  “Yeah, right. You are! “

  “Okay, okay,” I say, hoping to calm things down here. “Thanks for the compliment, but we need to stay focused here.” I point down to the end of the beach. “I don't see anyone between here and there. Should we go back and check the other end?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  We walk in silence now. But I'm still playing back his words, wondering if they were really true or if he was just trying to make me feel better. Maybe it doesn't matter.

  “What if something's happened to her?” I say suddenly. “I mean, what if we can't find her anywhere tonight? What if she never comes home? What do we do then?”

  “I guess we call the police.”

  “And her parents?”

  “Yeah…”

  We walk along in silence again. Only now the silence isn't filled with the comfort of clear night air and rhythmic waves. Now it feels sinister to me. I'm imagining Shelby in serious trouble. Maybe even kidnapped, raped, or murdered…and I'm starting to get really scared.

  “This is freaking me out, Ryan,” I admit. “What if she's in trouble right now? Maybe we should've called the police already.”

  We've reached the other end of the beach, and we haven't seen anyone down here, and I'm guessing it's well after midnight. Not that this is so late by Cabo standards, but tomorrow is New Year's Eve. Perhaps the hardiest partyers called it a night early in anticipation of tomorrow.

  “I don't know.” Ryan peers down to where the rocks meet the water and rubs his hand through his hair. “From what I've heard, the police aren't a whole lot of help down here.”

  “But what if she needs help?”

  “We can call the police,” he says. “But they might just say she needs to be missing for a certain amount of time before they get involved, the way they do back in the States. I'm sure it's not that unusual for tourists, especially young partyers, to go missing for a day or two around here.”

  “I guess.”

  “Let's go back, Maddie,” he says in a tired voice. “Let's find Sid and Ian and see what they suggest.”

  It's nearly one o'clock by the time we're back on the resort grounds. “I'm guessing Sid and Ian are back in their rooms by now,” I say.

  “I'11 walk you to your suite,” he offers, “and we'll see if they're there. Maybe Shelby is home by now anyway.”

  “Yeah,” I say hopefully. “Maybe so.”

  We get to my suite, and I quietly unlock the door, and we go in. It's dark and silent inside, and, sure enough, Sid is already in bed. Without waking her, I go to Shelby's room, but it's just as before. It doesn't appear she's been back.

  “No luck?” whispers Ryan when I come into the living room.

  “No.”

  “I checked the terrace.”

  “Should I wake Sid?”

  “I don't know.”

  “I mean, I suppose it could be nothing, but I feel responsible… and worried.”

  “And it could be something, Maddie.”

  “What's going on?” asks Sid in a sleepy voice.

  I turn to see her emerging from our bedroom, tying her robe as she walks over and peers at us in the dim light. “What are you two doing?”

  “Shelby's missing,” I tell her as I turn on a table lamp. Then I explain what happened and where we've looked.

  Sid frowns. “I haven't seen her since dinner, either.”

  “I'm seriously worried,” I admit. “What if something's happened?”

  Sid considers this. “Well, in all likelihood Shelby's met up with some partyers by now. Maybe she's asleep on someone's couch.”

  “Passed out, you mean?” suggests Ryan.

  Sid just nods.

  “So we should just go to bed and forget all about her?” I ask in a slightly sarcastic tone.

  Sid frowns. “Well, I don't know.” She presses her lips together as if trying to come up with the right answer. “Truthfully, Maddie, if you were missing, I'd have called the cops by now.”

  “But that's Maddie,” says Ryan. “Shelby is different.”

  Sid rolls her eyes. “I've noticed. How about the resort security?” she says. “Did you call them?”

  “No, but that's a great idea!”

  “We should've thought of that,” says Ryan as he goes for the phone. Within seconds, we hear him talking, but it sounds like he's hit a language barrier.

  “Give it to me,” I insist, practically grabbing the handset from him. I do my best to make myself clear in Spanish, even giving the man a fairly good description, ending with “Bonita, muy bonita,” which means “very pretty.” This seems to get the security guys attention, and he assures me they will be searching diligently and will contact us if they discover anything. I give them our suite number, then hang up.

  “Are they going to look for her?” asks Sid.

  “Yes. He said they'd call if they find her.”

  Sid sighs now. “Well, I don't mean to appear unconcerned, but I am going to hit the hay now, kiddos. And you should too.”

  “I know,” I tell her. “I will.”

  “Good night,” she calls as she heads back to bed. “Don't worry. I'm sure Shelbys just fine.”

  “She's probably right, Maddie,” says Ryan.

  “I know.” I walk into the kitchen and turn on the light. “But I think I'll stay up for a while. I know I wouldn't be able to sleep much anyway. And maybe the security guy will call back with something.”

  “What are you doing?” he asks as I fill the coffee decanter with water.

  “Making coffee,” I say, as if it's perfectly normal to make coffee at 1:17 a.m.

  “And you think that'll help you sleep?”

  I smile. “Probably not. But this is what we do at my house when we have some late-night drama.”

  “What kind of late-night drama?” he asks as he pulls out a bar-stool and sits across from me.

  “Oh, you know,” I say as I measure coffee into the filter. “A calving. A foundered horse. Just regular farm stuff.”

  “That must've been so cool to grow up like that,” he says in a way that sounds like real admiration. “I'll bet you're good in an emergency.”

  “Sure, if it involves livestock,” I admit as I turn on the coffee maker. “But crises involving people are altogether different.”

  “Not necessarily, Maddie.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask as I sit on a stool across from him, leaning my chin on my hands. “I mean, here I am, all wigged out about Shelby.”

  “Not wigged out,” he corrects me. “Just worried in a nice, sisterly way.”

  “Oh.”

  “And the way you were concerned about Francesca and wanted to help her. That's like an emergency. Really, I think you ve got a pretty cool head, Maddie. I like that.”

  I smile. “Well, thanks.”

  “And you've grown up a lot since Ireland. Did you know that?”

  “Not actually. That was, what, like six months ago? I don't think I could've grown up too much.”

  “Well, you just seem older to me.”

  I sort of laugh. “Maybe it's because you've been hanging with Shelby.”

  He makes a face. “Don't rub it in.”

  Now I frown. “I still feel really worried, Ryan. I keep getting these horrible images, like we'll be hearing about her on the news. They'll be searching, and there will be stories, and no one will know.”

  “You're probably just thinking about that Holloway girl again.”

  “But Sid told me it happens more than we realize. She did a story on it. Things happen to kids our age when they come down to these tourist places and get crazy.”

  “Things happen to kids like that back home too.”

  “Well, yeah…”

  “You know what we've totally forgotten to do, Maddie?”

  “What?”

  “To pray for her.”

  I blink. “Oh yeah.”

  “Want to?”

  “Of course.”

  So we bow our heads, and first Ryan prays, asking God to protect Shelby and to get her back safely. And I agree with that, but then I also ask God to use tonight to show her that something is wrong with the way she's living. “Show her that she needs you, God. Show her that you're the only one who can fill the void within her heart. And help her to deal with whatever problems might be driving her to make such crazy choices in the first place.”

  “And remind her that you love her, God,” prays Ryan. “She used to believe that…but for some reason I think she's forgotten. Bring her back to you, God.”

  Then we both say amen, and I pour us each a cup of coffee.

  “Have you talked to Shelby about her faith?” I ask as I stir some cream into my coffee.

  “She usually brushes me off when I bring it up,” he says, then takes a sip.

  “I haven't really said anything to her,” I admit. “But then I really haven't spent much time with her, either. I mean, it's been pretty quick and random.”

  “I know.”

  “It's hard to imagine Shelby the way you described her when we were on the beach. Like being a Christian, mature and stuff. She seems like such a party girl and—”

  “Shallow?”

  “Yeah, sort of.”

  “Well, I was only sixteen when I thought I was in love with her, so I wasn't exactly mature myself. But at the time she seemed like she had it together.”

  “I wonder why.”

  “Me too. But other than her parents’ marital problems, which don't sound terribly serious, and her brother, who's sort of written off the family…well, I just can't figure it out.”

  “And you've tried?”

  He nods and takes another sip. “Yep, I've tried.”

  The phone rings, and I nearly fall off my stool and actually spill my coffee. Ryan picks it up, then hands it to me.

  “Hola,” I say, waiting, almost afraid to breathe. Then the same man I spoke to earlier tells me they've found a woman fitting the description I gave, who answers to the name Shelby. He informs me she was sleeping underneath a bush. I can't tell if he's aggravated or amused, but he says someone will bring her home. I thank him and hang up.