I woke up the next morning around eleven. My husband had disappeared, but had wrapped all the blankets around me before he left. I vaguely remembered the rough (from his stubble, I mean) kiss he had given me this morning.

I got out of bed and found the pajamas I had put on last night when we went to the snack machine. I sat in the bed and stared at the TV, which I itched to turn on, but I ignored it the best I could and went out on the balcony. The sun was warm on my skin and the sounds of a busy beach and pool floated up. Did these people know a disappearance - possibly a murder - had taken place in this very hotel?

"Are you hungry?" Jesse asked behind me, making me jump. I turned to look at him, in jeans and a t shirt and still styling the sex hair. "I brought you some food from breakfast."

"Yeah," I said, taking a deep breath. "Breakfast sounds good." My stomach grumbled in agreement.

He smiled at my stomach, then pulled me through the door. My breakfast had been laid out on the desk - fruit, cereal, muffins. I picked up a strawberry and popped in into my mouth. There was a brochure that said CONGRATULATIONS! on it. I picked it up and opened it.

"Here's all the honeymoon stuff," I said, turning in the desk chair to face Jesse, who was making the very messy bed. "Let's see . . . complimentary breakfast, oh, free beach chair rentals. That's nice. A coupon for two free drinks. Two free massages." I opened the third leaflet, and something fell out. I reached down and picked it up.

EAST COVE.

The words were written in blue pen on hotel stationary.

"Jesse," I said, putting the last of my breakfast away. "Do you know what East Cove is?"

He smiled at his handiwork with the bed and said, "Never heard of it, querida."

"Oh." I put the piece of paper into the drawer of the desk. "I'm full," I announced.

He came over and picked me up. I laughed as he kissed me. "Bed or shower?"

"Shower, please. I feel . . . " I kissed him gently. "Very dirty."

The shower was very clean and roomy, and it gave us plenty of space to . . . take advantage of. Once we were finished I went to my suitcase which, compliments of Gina and her new job as a clothes buyer, was filled with all kinds of designer stuff. I found a Ralph Lauren bikini (the black kind with the pink polo horses . . . it was so cute) and put it on, then dried my hair and put on a little eye liner.

"I have no idea why you have to get dressed up to go to the beach," Jesse said as I put away my makeup bag.

"Jesse, not everyone gets the luxury of seeing me without makeup."

"It's a luxury?"

I gave him a dirty look.

"I was just kidding, querida." He came and wrapped his arms around me. "Can we go now?"

I fixed my hair in the mirror and nodded.

To get to the beach you had to walk past the pool, which had several waterfalls and a big tiki bar and a lot of annoying kids dashing in front of us. Jesse kept his arm around me, and I got a lot of jealous stares in my direction. That's right, ladies. He's mine. Eyes off.

The beaches of Hawaii looked a lot like our own. But, of course, we didn't have the wait staff, free beach rentals, and drinks.

Jesse had bought a paper before we came down, and had read through it and laid it in the sand. The wind suddenly picked up and the top page flew up and hit me in the face. I pealed it off and was face to face with a picture of a woman - brown hair, brown eyes, a little chubby, in her twenties.

CLOTHING DISCOVERED IN DISAPPEARANCE CASE the head line said. Under that it read: A yellow jacket that Stephanie Hills was reported wearing at the time of her disappearance was found washed up on a Waikiki beach this morning.

I looked over at Jesse. He was wearing his glasses, but I could tell he was asleep. I picked the paper back up and read the article.

Stephanie Hills, the twenty-four year old newlywed from Tampa, Florida, was reported missing late Tuesday night. She was on her four-day honeymoon at the Honolulu Hilton with her husband of two weeks, Mark Hills. The couple had previously dined at The Golden Star, located only a mile from the hotel. Hills reported her missing after he came back from the hotel's bar late Tuesday night. He had reportedly left her in their hotel room after she had fallen asleep that evening. When he came back to find his wife missing, he searched the perimeter of the hotel as well as the beach before calling police. Investigators found a full bottle of anti-depression medicine prescribed to Mrs. Hills. "This looks like a classic case of wondering off from depression," Officer Tom Hanmark told Sun reports yesterday morning. This morning detectives discovered a yellow sports jacket that Hills reported her wearing at the time of her disappearance on a Waikiki shore. Police are checking transportation records in hopes that Mrs. Hills traveled to the island Tuesday night. There is no foul play suspected.

I read the last sentence again and again. No foul play suspected.

Seriously? A newlywed disappears on her honeymoon after her husband has had a few rounds at the bar? There is no record of her leaving one island for the next, and her jacket mysteriously washes up on shore one day? Were these people serious?

I put the paper down and shook Jesse's shoulder. He lifted up his glasses and opened one eye.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," I told him. "Upstairs, I mean. Our bathroom."

He nodded and let his glasses fall. I found my shoes and my matching Ralph Lauren cover up and walked determinedly back to the pool and into the hotel. There weren't many people around, and all the receptionists were at lunch. There was a new bartender, but he was watching baseball and didn't even look my way. I marched to the elevators and pressed the up button. The doors opened automatically, and I hopped on. I pressed the button for the fourteenth floor and waited.

I saw that the cop was still at the end of the hall when I got off the elevator. He watched me idly, but when I got close he straitened up and crossed his arms. He wasn't the same guy as last night - this one was in his forties and had a beer belly.

"I'll have to ask you to stop there, miss," he said when I got to the tape, which he was standing on the outside of.

"Actually, it's ma'am," I snapped, "and I would like to speak to a detective."

He narrowed his eyebrow. "Do you have information about Mrs. Hills?"

I bit my lip. There was least of a possibility Jesse would find out I did this if I didn't lie. "No," I said, still determined. "But I do have some things to say."

The officer refolded his arms. "Oh, really? And what would that be, honey?"

"I'm not your honey," I said, narrowing my eyes. "And who in the hell doesn't think the husband is involved? He obviously did it. I mean, you just don't go wondering off a place with water on all four sides."

He was getting annoyed. "You shouldn't make accusations without good information, ma'am."

"Come on! Are the interns running the investigation here?"

"Alright," he said, putting up a hand. "If you have anymore to say you can call the Sheriff's department."

I crossed my arms, not willing to be turned away. "Is there a detective in there? Because I would like to talk to someone other than the police department bodyguard, thank - "

He grabbed my arm. "That is confronting an officer, ma'am," he spat, and walked me to the elevator. "Now would you like me to press charges or would you like me to just take you to the lobby?"

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. The elevator doors opened and he pushed me in. We rode in silence to the lobby, where the doors opened on the impossibly beautiful view.

Oh, and Jesse.

"Jesse!" I cried when I saw him. The cop pushed me off the elevator.

"Does she belong to you?" the officer asked warily to an open-mouth Jesse.

He closed his mouth. "Yes," he said. "I'm afraid she's my wife."

The cop let me go - only when Jesse had wrapped a hand around my other arm and pulled me to him.

"See that she stays away from the fourteenth floor, please. And out of the Hills case," he spat before walking to the front of the lobby and outside to the police car.

"I hope he chokes on a doughnut," I mumbled as I was pushed onto the elevator for the second time.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" Jesse hissed after he had pushed the button for our floor. "Trying to get arrested?"

"Jesse, did you read that article? About that girl that's missing?"

"Yes," he said, a dark look crossing his face. "And it is very sad, but you are not going to get involved, do you understand? This is our honeymoon, Susannah. Please."

"You can't tell me what to do," I said when the elevator dinged on our floor. The doors opened.

"Yes, I can," he said, and grabbed my arm again and lead me down the hall. I crossed my arms and let him pull me. He swiped the card angrily and made me walk in before him. It shut back loudly. "I thought you had to go to the bathroom," he snapped.

"I do!" I yelled back, and stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door. I sat down on the floor and shook my head back and forth. I was never going to get past that stupid cop, not to mention my own husband. Living together - and vacationing together - sure had its downfalls.

I peed, eventually, and yanked the door open and flopped down on the bed. Jesse went into the bathroom next. I pulled the covers over my head.

I heard the door open, then he got on the bed next to me. He pulled the blankets back. "Susannah, please don't do this on our honeymoon. You can find plenty of ghosts to help at home."

"But that's just it," I said, sitting up. "She hasn't come to me yet - which makes me wonder she's still alive, which if she is I couldn't give a crap."

Jesse smiled at me.

"But then," I went on, making him frown again, "what about the TV last night? Who was turning it on? And the paper this afternoon - her story just conveniently flew in my face? And that piece of paper . . . "

"What piece of paper?"

I got up and opened the desk draw. There was the note with the words EAST COVE still on it. I walked back to the bed and gave it to him.

His eyebrows came together as he studied it, then he sighed and gave it back. "So you think she's dead?"

I had to think before I answered. "Yeah. I think she is. I think she is, and she's trying to be ominous about it - scare us into it. Because we don't have to help her, you know."

"Oh, I know," he said bitterly. "And I still don't know if we are going to."

I played with the piece of paper.

"Well," Jesse said, breaking my concentration, "dead or not dead we have a dinner reservation at six. And frankly, querida, I think you need another shower."

I raised an eyebrow and put the paper aside. "Only if I get to pick the water temperature. And I like my showers hot."

L7L7L7L7

Our reservations were at the restaurant adjacent to our hotel. The prices were decent, and the food was excellent. I had a feeling we would be back.

After dinner Jesse suggested a walk on the beach, and I quickly agreed. We walked down the boardwalk and to the cool, blue-tinted sand.

"You know," I said once we had stepped off the boardwalk, "I think that you have changed me."

He smiled over at me, and moonlight playing tricks on his face. "Is that so?"

I nodded. "I mean, I'm still me, just a little more mature, I think. I little more considering."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, my old self occasionally breaks through, like today. But I think you've made me a better . . . me."

He wrapped his arm around me. "You have changed me, too," he admitted. "But for the better, I think. You have defiantly taught me more than anyone ever has."

I remembered those first few months - Jesse was like a deer in the headlights. He didn't know how to do anything - wash his clothes, run a vacuum, even shop for groceries. But I had been patient with him, and he had learned very fast. By the time he was accepted into collage in the spring he was doing most things on his own - except for shopping, of course. He could never match my skills at finding a good bargain.

"I love you," I said as we walked closer to the water. I had taken off my Prada heels and the cool ocean went around my ankles.

Jesse smiled and out his arms around my waist. I threw mine around his neck. "I love you, too, Susannah. More than anyone or anything else."

"More than you loved your family?" I asked, and wished I hadn't. He was obviously keeping the pain from his face.

He kissed my hand, the one with the ring. "Of course," he finally answered. "I never regret you bringing me back to life."

"Really? Are you just saying that so you won't hurt my feelings?"

He kissed my forehead and pushed my hair back. His eyes were so dark that I couldn't make out where the irises ended and the pupils started. They were darker than the ocean. "I have never, ever regretted it. Even when things were hard, even when I was in school, or I had no money, I still had you. And you, querida, are much better than money."

"But you miss your family," I whispered, not letting his gaze waver.

"I do," he whispered back. "But I have a new family that I love more."

"Me?"

He nodded. "You always have been. Now you really, legally, my family. And, hopefully in a few years, we can add on to our family."

I raised my eyebrow. "Well . . . in a few years meaning four or five."

"I know," he chuckled, and took my face between his hands and kissed me.

I kissed him back, hard. His mouth was so soft and warm on mine that I started thing about other soft and warm places that would feel good on me, too. I wondered, if I kept kissing him, if I could get him on his back. I could wrestle his shirt off easily, and my dress was short and easy to pull up. Maybe if I kissed his a little harder . . .

Oh yeah. This would be easy. He grunted happily. Now if I could just get him on to the grown without braking the -

I screamed and jumped back.

"What?" Jesse yelled as I ran onto the beach, hitting my leg.

"Something . . . gross just wrapped around me ankle!"

He back out of the water and I came to stand beside him. I pulled out my cell phone and flipped it open, so the light was shining onto the water.

"That?" Jesse asked, pointing to a dark slimy looking thing. I nodded.

He found a thin piece of drift wood - more of a drift stick, really - and fished it out. He plopped it onto the sand next to us. He pulled out his phone to investigate as well.

I took the stick from him and undid the wad of black in the sand. I could now see it was cotton . . . a t shirt that said DAVE MATTHEWS BAND TOUR 2000.

My hands shook, but more with anger than anything else. "I'm going to get that stupid cop and drag him down here," I said, and stood up.

Jesse grabbed my arm. "Not by yourself, you aren't."

I sighed. "You think it will be alright?" I pointed to the shirt. I didn't want to touch it - what if they found some kind of DNA evidence to prove me right?

Jesse nodded. He threw the stick onto the sand and we hurried up the boardwalk and into the hotel.

The fourteenth floor was empty again - even the cop was gone. But there was still tape up around the door at the end, and I walked determinedly in front of Jesse to the open door.

I peered inside over the tape. There was a few people talking, and a man - a detective, since he wasn't in a uniform - came into the foyer of the room and stopped to stare at me. His eyes lingered a little to long on my dress as he asked, "Can I help you?"

"We found something that might be of interest to you, detective." I pulled Jesse closer to me so he could see.

"And what would that be, ma'am?" he asked, walking through the door and under the tape. If I hadn't been married - happily married, I might add - then I might had been interested in this tall dark headed hottie. But Jesse was much hotter.

"A shirt washed up on the beach while we were walking," Jesse said, crossing his arms. "And we're pretty sure we know who it belongs to."

The detective narrowed his eyes. "Where is it?"

"We left it on the beach," I said. "We didn't touch it - in case there's, you know, something on it."

He nodded. We all started walking for the elevators. The detective pulled out an impressive looking phone and tapped around on its screen with his fingers.

"Where you kids from?" he asked.

"Carmel, California," Jesse said, and I could tell by his expression he didn't like being called kid by someone close to his own age.

Well, really, Jesse was a lot older. But the detective could have never known that.

"Is it nice there?" he asked as we walked to the beach. I wished he would cut the small talk. It was annoying.

"It's alright," I said. Just too many ghosts, sadly.

"Are you two on your honeymoon?"

"Yes," we both said.

The detective just nodded.

We had arrived at the shirt - it was a little less slimy now. The detective pulled out a pair of gloves and put them on. He crouched down in front of it, then he picked up the shirt and studied it.

"Is it hers?" I asked with excitement. He didn't answer - only pulled out a big plastic bag out of his pocket and draped the shirt into it. "Is it?" I asked again.

He stood up and looked at us. "Enjoy your honeymoon," he said, and walked off.

I started to go after him, but Jesse caught me. "Don't worry, querida," he said, wrapping and restraining arm around my waist. "If she needs us she'll come. You know that."