Paul pulled out the chair, and Diane sat down with a grateful nod. He pulled out the chair next to her, and she set the baby carrier on it, with the baby facing her. Paul sat down across from her. The baby was fussing, so Diane hummed and rocked him gently. Paul tried to pay attention to the menu, but he couldn�t keep himself from staring at Diane and Michael. His family. Who would have thought he, of all people, would have a family? He got chills.

�Diane, I�ll be right back,� he stammered, clearing his throat. �I�ll just go and order for us, is that okay with you?�

�Sure,� she said, flashing him a contented smile.

�Okay, good. I�ll just ... ahem ... be right over there.�

Paul stood and walked across the restaurant, turning to look back at his family. The palapa, the tall thatched roof of the restaurant, looked like a big, woven umbrella supported on toothpicks around the perimeter. He marveled that such a structure could remain standing through tropical hurricanes, or even the daily breezes. But it was safe and dry, and the restaurant had stood here for years. There were scattered couples around the room, eating and talking. It was a typical Saturday morning. Paul looked around, then called out the waiter�s name a few times. No one seemed to be in the restaurant. Finally, the cook, Bob, came out of the kitchen, and Paul started debating the finer points of preparing jerk chicken machaca and eggs.

Paul returned to the table in just a couple of minutes, but Diane and the baby were gone. Diane�s handbag was hanging on the back of her chair. Paul thought it was highly unusual for a cop from New York City to leave her handbag on the chair, even if the baby were suddenly sick. He checked the ladies� room. No sign of her. He returned to the restaurant and approached the table next to his.

�Excuse me, did you happen to see where the woman and baby at the next table went?� The couple shook their heads dumbly.

�Sir? I saw her leave,� a tourist from another table said.

�Where did she go?� he said calmly, but he was wringing his hands.

�Those two men took her to a car and they drove off. They left really fast.�

�Two men? What did they look like?�

�Oh, I don�t know. Tall. Dark. Spanish, I guess.�

�Okay, thanks. Thanks a lot.� Paul grabbed Diane�s handbag and left the restaurant. Bob came out running and called after him, �You still want that jerk chicken machaca?�

�Later, Bob. I need to rescue my family from the clutches of death.�

Bob chuckled to himself. �That Matisse. Always so dramatic and mysterious.�