I have always found the beach soothing. Especially now, after what happened last summer, I need to quiet down the storm in my heart.

I can feel the waves gently caressing my feet, and I try to focus only on that sensation. Thinking about the past won't do me any good since I can't do anything to change it.

To my surprise, as I look at my toes slowly sinking into the wet sand, I see a message in a bottle.

Curious, I pick it up, and I am shocked by my discovery.

"I am sorry I have to do this," the message says.

However, that isn't the most shocking part for me. It is the fact that it is written in my friend's handwriting. It is the same friend who went missing a year ago on this very day.

As I look up, I suddenly realize that I am no longer on the beach but that I am sitting in Benny's Grill with Missy, my best friend.

"What's going on?" I sign.

"What do you mean? I was just telling you about that gorgeous dress I was planning to buy for the party." Missy signs excitedly.

Her hands are flying so quickly that even I have problems keeping up, and that is saying a lot.

"But I was just at the beach and you..." I retort.

"Oh, daydreaming again. I wish I could have such an active imagination as you do, Imogen. It's awesome," she signs.

I am utterly confused, but I soon realize that there are two options. Either I am going crazy, or I have somehow traveled back in time.

If my memory serves me correctly, this is an hour before she leaves the diner, and I never see her again.

One hour to find a way to stop what happened to my friend. However, I am not sure how I am supposed to do that.

If I tell her the truth, she will think I've gone crazy. Besides, whatever happened to her, she doesn't know it. It hasn't been set in motion yet.

As I contemplate the best course of action, the waiter passes us by, ignoring us once again.

I can see that Missy's boiling with anger, and I don't blame her.

Though this is our favorite diner, recently, it has been awkward coming here. The new waiter seems to have a problem with me and keeps looking at our table as if sign language scares him.

What's worse, I've read his lips when he was talking with his coworker.

"Could you serve that poor girl over there?" he says, his face changing into one of pity.

It made me furious. However, unlike my hearing friend, I've learned not to react. Luckily, Missy can't lip-read, so at least she won't get in another argument with him.

"Oy, will we ever get service here?" I read Missy's lips as she addressed him.

"Of course, what will you have?" he asks, focusing all his attention on Missy.

"I'll have the waffle special," Missy says.

"And for your friend?" he asks, not even looking at me.

"Why don't you ask her?" Missy says.

"What...will...you...have?" he says as if he was addressing a small child, making it barely possible for me to read his lips.

"Missy, please, just tell him I want pancakes, don't make a big fuss out of it." I sign.

"Fine," she signs grudgingly.

"She'll have pancakes. It wouldn't hurt you to learn some sign language, you know." Missy says loudly enough for the whole diner to hear.

"Yes, of course," the waiter stumbles away, followed by grumbles of disapproval from the customers present.

"That wasn't necessary." I sign with emphasis.

"I know, but the boy has to learn to show that he is at least trying to accommodate his most regular customers," she signs.

"Missy, what are your plans after you leave here?" I ask, trying to figure out how to prevent her disappearance.

"Nothing much, just working on my thesis. Why?" she signs.

"I thought we could hang out, go to the movies," I sign, thinking that the movie theater is the safest place for her.

"You hate going to the movie theater since they rarely have subtitles. What's going on?" she signs.

"I have a bad feeling," I admit.

"Oh, Imogen. You worry too much." Missy signs.

Then the waiter interrupts our conversation by bringing our orders. He stares daggers at Missy, but she doesn't seem to notice.

I wonder if he had something to do with her disappearance. After all, he did quit his job two days after she went missing.

On the other hand, he was...is a lousy waiter. Maybe that's the real reason he quit.

Worst of all is that I have no clues about what happened to Missy, nothing to go on. Police had...will have... no evidence.

The diner was...is... the last place she was, and after she walks out, it's as if she disappears from the face of the earth.

I can barely eat my food, thinking of a way to stop her. However, I know Missy. When she makes up her mind, there is no stopping her. Thus, I choose to follow her.

After we finish our meal, we go our separate ways, or at least that's what thinks.

I follow her as she swerves up and down the dangerous alley shortcuts that she promised not to use.

Suddenly, a big swirling hole appears in front of her, and a set of male hands pulls her in before I have the chance to do anything.

Seconds later, I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I almost jump out of my skin how startled I am by the unexpected touch in a dark alley.

As I swirl around, my mouth gapes open as the person standing in front of me is Missy, ten years older, but still recognizably her.

"I see you got my message," she signs, smiling brightly.

Soon she engulfs me in a bone-crushing hug, and I return it just as fiercely.

"I've missed you so much," she signs, breaking the hug.

"But..." I try to sign, but I am not sure what to say.

"As I told you in the message, I am sorry I have to do this, but I need your help," she says.

"But I just saw you get kidnapped!" I sign.

"No, not kidnapped. Saved," she signs.

"Let's go to your house, and I'll explain as much as I can," Missy says.

As we walk towards my house, I try to gather my thoughts and figure out what exactly is going on. However, I can't make heads or tails of it.

When we enter my house, I slump into my sofa, waiting for answers.

"Okay, the gist of it is that I was supposed to be murdered tomorrow. A man coming from the future saved me. However, I couldn't come back sooner because of some strange timeline thing that I still don't fully understand." Missy says.

"But how are you here now?" I ask, confused.

"There was just the right gap in the time-space continuum for me to slip through," she signs.

"Huh?" I sign, confused.

"I don't fully get it either, but I did manage to send you the time displacer, the message in the bottle. They told me it would work for you since you exist in both the past and the present and not for me since, in your present, I was supposed to be dead," Missy signs.

I can feel the start of a terrible headache, and I am not sure I want to know more, but I still have to know what exactly is going on.

"Why?" I ask.

"I need your help. We need to stop Gabe," she signs.

"Gabe? Do you mean Gabe, the waiter? I know that he can be a bit rude, but I don't understand what you mean," I sign.

"He is the Night Killer. He killed me. Or he would have killed me, I guess. He was planning on murdering me, but when he couldn't find me, he moved on, or he will move on to another girl. He needs to be stopped. As soon as possible," she signs.

To say that I was shocked would be like saying that the sun is a bit warm. I was stunned.

I might not have liked the guy, but I didn't think of him as evil, at least not serial killer bad.

"I remember that just around the time you disappeared, the killings stopped," I sign.

"No, not stopped. Night Killer moved on. He went to another country. Now we have a window to catch him, while he is still looking for me," she says.

Catching dangerous serial killers is not what I saw myself doing this summer or that summer. Yet, how could I turn my back to it all when it would mean more innocents dying.

"Do you have a plan?" I sign.

"Of course, I do. I had ten years to think about it. It involves your special set of skills," she says.

I am hoping she doesn't refer to my uncanny martial arts skills because I've never used them in real life before, but I know it's wishful thinking.

My instructor does say I am his best student. I guess losing one sense does improve other ones, after all.

"Are you in?" she asks.

"I am in," I sign.

And off we go, the time-traveling duo going to fetch us a serial killer.