"I was so happy." Diana frowned. "Why did it have to end?"

Her heart sinking in her chest, Diana paused for a moment and then continued out into the water.

This whole night had been one disappointment after another—not finding the picture, missing out on meeting the man staying in room number nine, her imagination tricking her into thinking she was seeing the man she loved on the beach . . .

Maybe it was the talk of the guy in room number nine and the tragic loss he had suffered. Maybe it was that picture she could have sworn she had seen.

Whatever it was, she couldn't stop thinking about the man she loved—hadn't been able to stop herself from feeling a stronger and stronger connection with him as the evening wore on.

Those moments on the beach. While she was dancing the tango. Those few minutes on the balcony.

It had felt like he had been right there with her, breathing the same air.

But that had just been her heart yearning for his—hadn't it?

If she was clear about anything, it was about the fact that he was dead.

And even if she hadn't remembered cradling his lifeless body in her arms, there was no denying that no one had come looking for her.

If the man she loved were still alive, wouldn't he have done everything he could to find her? Wouldn't he have done everything in his power to make sure they had ended up back in each other's arms?

No matter how close she had felt to him tonight, at this point, the only way she was going to be able to move forward with her life would be if she could remember her own past.

Hopefully, this swim would be exactly what she needed to help her unwind, to let her mind wander, to start remembering what her life had been like before she had lost her memory . . .

The smell of the sea air, the feel of the water flowing over her limbs—it was already relaxing her.

A spasm seized Diana's body.

Doubling over, she cried out in pain—struggling to stay afloat as the waves washed over her.


Luis's head whipped around.

There it was again.

A woman—seemingly a little farther out in the water than he was—crying out for help.

He wasn't imagining it.

He had to find her.

He couldn't let anyone else die alone out at sea.

"Where are you?" His heartbeat accelerating, Luis searched the waves. "Please—answer me!"

The sound of the waves lapping around him greeted him in return.

Had he been imagining it?

Had his mind been playing tricks on him?

He had to have been imagining things.

The sound of that woman's voice—she had sounded just like Sheridan.

But that wasn't possible. Sheridan was dead.

No matter how much he wished for it—no matter how many times he begged the universe for a miracle—he would never hear her voice again.

So why was this voice inside of him insisting he had heard her—or someone who sounded exactly like her—struggling out there in the waves?

That he shouldn't ignore this feeling in his gut—that he should keep on searching?


- If Luis decides he was imagining things, go to Chapter 7.

- If Luis decides to keep searching, go to Chapter 5.