All Dressed in White

67

Jeff was pushing the elevator button as fast as he could. He never should have let Meghan run off like that. He should have chased her from the room and blocked the hallway if necessary.

The car seemed to descend impossibly slowly as he replayed their argument in his head. How could he have screamed at her that way? He had even accused her of not feeling anything about Amanda’s death. He had been cruel. He knew Meghan didn’t show her emotions the way most people did.

When the elevator doors parted, he rushed through the lobby, searching for any sign of her. I never should have doubted her, even for a second, was the drumbeat in his head. He, of all people, knew how hurtful it was to be suspected of harming Amanda. But how could Meghan possibly have run off this way? He had texted and called her repeatedly, and she wasn’t responding. She has to know how terrified I’d be, he thought.

Jeff felt as though he was reliving a nightmare as he retraced all the same steps he’d taken when they first realized Amanda was missing. The pools. The shops. The promenade. No, he vowed silently, I won’t let this happen again.

As he searched for his wife in all the same places he’d looked for Amanda, he realized how much the two women had in common, but only superficially. They were both smart and perfectionists, but their personalities were so different.

Jeff and Amanda had been together at just the right point in their lives for their relationship to make sense. When she was ill, she needed someone loyal and kind. And Jeff, who was struggling to figure out where a nice, easygoing guy like himself fit into the legal profession, sometimes needed a push from Amanda to be more assertive. Unlike Amanda, though, Meghan always accepted him just the way he was. She had never asked him to change, not even once. He was truly in love with her. They were meant to be together, not just at one phase of life, but forever.

How in the world could she leave me worrying this way? he wondered. He tried her cell again. No answer. Knowing Meghan, she had her phone on vibrate and might not even hear it.

As he was about to disconnect the call, an alert popped up on his screen inviting him to connect to one of the available wireless connections. He got an idea. Meghan always ran a “hotspot” from her cell phone because she didn’t trust the security of hotel servers for her confidential client information. He was fairly certain that the range of a hotspot was about one hundred and fifty feet. If he kept searching for the name of her signal-“MeghanInBrooklyn”-he might be able to find her.

The network name popped up on the beach, just as Jeff was about to head back to the hotel. He scanned as far as his eyes permitted, searching for anyone who might possibly be Meghan. He felt a pang in his stomach as he spotted an elderly couple holding hands. They seemed very much in love. He wanted to be walking hand-in-hand with Meghan well into their eighties.

He kept walking, the light from the hotel growing dimmer. He stumbled across the uneven sand in the dark.

He continued to walk north, counting his steps until Meghan’s wireless signal dropped. Forty-one steps, about a hundred and twenty-three feet. He returned to the spot where he had originally noticed the signal and walked south. Only eleven steps, or about thirty-three feet. He began again from that starting point and walked inland thirty steps before the signal dropped. No sign of Meghan anywhere.

There was only one direction left-the ocean. He felt a moment of panic until he realized that her phone wouldn’t emit a signal from the bottom of the ocean. There was a pier, but he didn’t see anyone on it. Still, he had to check. It was the only place left.

He walked the full length of the pier but saw nothing. Alone in the dark, he became so desperate he called out her name: “Meghan!” His phone was still getting her signal. Where was she?

He was about to turn back to the hotel when he saw the moonlight reflect off something between two wooden boards of the pier. He reached down and felt something metallic in the gap. It was the edge of a cell phone. It was Meghan’s.

He’d found the signal, but his wife was gone.