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be some sign of an opening," Joe said as he stared intently at the wallpaper for any clue that might indicate a hidden doorway.
    "I sure don't see anything," agreed Callie. "A man can't just disappear. We heard your scuffle. So he'd have to go by us, but he didn't."
    "Well, a man has disappeared, and more than once," said Frank. "I've got a bad feeling that we better find some answers soon."
    Carefully they searched every inch of the hallway and all three of their rooms. They turned up nothing.
    "This is getting us nowhere," said Joe, eager to do something else. "I'm no good at going over the same ground twice. This is your territory, Frank. I've got to move or I'll go nuts."
    "Okay," said Frank. "You check outside and we'll keep searching in here."
    ***
    The vastness of the ocean and the steady pounding of the late-morning waves helped Joe calm down, and in a. few minutes the frustration he had felt inside eased. He'd left the hotel with no real plan but was formulating the bare bones of one as he walked. He had scouted the beach to the south for perhaps a mile the day he encountered Heather Reed. Now he would concentrate his attention on the beach to the north.
    The beach north of the hotel was markedly different from that to the south. The south beach was basically one long stretch of white sand, but the north beach was a series of curves that formed numerous small inlets and coves.
    Joe first passed the dilapidated boathouse that looked as if it hadn't been used in years. The only entrance faced the ocean, and a dock jutted out from it into the water. The rear wall was built right into a hill. It looked as if the hill was the building's only means of support.
    What was that? There, inside the old boathouse, Joe saw the shadow of a man.
    Joe approached quietly. Peering through a dusty window, he could just make out that the man inside appeared to be searching for something. Joe ducked beneath the window and scooted around to the dock and the only entrance to the boathouse.
    "What are you doing in here?" demanded Joe fiercely.
    "I - I was looking for my sunglasses," said a terrified Paul Wilkerson.
    "Wilkerson?" said Joe, relaxing a little.
    "There," said Wilkerson, nodding to a shelf near the entrance. "There they are." He walked to the table and picked up the sunglasses that were lying there and put them in his jacket pocket. "See you," he said, and quickly left without another word.
    After Wilkerson had gone, Joe searched for clues, but there was nothing. He had all but given up and was ready to return to the hotel when a voice behind him said, "Hello."
    He turned to find Heather Reed standing in the doorway.
    "Hi," said Joe. "How're you?"
    "Good. And you?" she asked.
    "Can't complain," Joe said.
    Heather asked, "What brings you to the boathouse?"
    "I could ask you the same question," said Joe.
    "I keep my sailboat tied up near here,' Heather said with a nod toward a trim fourteen-foot sailboat that bobbed in the gentle waves nearby. "I was getting ready to sail when I saw you in here. Like to come along?"
    ***
    Joe spent the rest of that day sailing with Heather. She had packed a picnic lunch, which she shared with him.
    The ocean was calm and the breeze was steady, making it a perfect day for sailing.
    Joe and Heather sat side by side at the rear of the boat and took turns manning the tiller. He knew enough about sailing to recognize that Heather was an expert. He told her so.
    "Thanks," she said. "I love it."
    They said very little but were happy just to sail in silence.
    Late in the afternoon, as the sun was approaching the horizon, Heather said, "Ready to head back in yet?"
    "Sure," said Joe.
    With experienced moves Heather turned the sailboat about, and soon they were within sight of shore again.
    "How're you doing?" she called out above the sound of the waves slapping the hull.
    "Great."
    Just then an explosion sounded and the main mast snapped. The huge sail flew into the ocean.
    Heather screamed and lost her grip