The grainy Black and white picture behind the check in desk drew young JC Chasez’s eyes. The girl was hauntingly beautiful.

The old proprietor noticed the young American’s gaze. “She is very beautiful, no?”

“Yes, she is. Who is she?”

“She and her family vacationed here every year.” The old man took the poster down and handed it to JC. “One night she left for a date and never returned. There was always suspicion of foul play, but no body was ever found and the boy is from wealthy parents. I promised her parents I would keep that bulletin up until she returned. She never has.”

JC read out loud. “Mia Sheppard. 22 years old. American. Black hair. Amber eyes. 5 foot 2 inches.”

“Look, JC,” Justin pointed out. “The day of her disappearance.”

“August 8, 1976. The day I was born!”

“Too freaky man.”

“She looks so sad.”

The old man shook his head. “Mia was never sad. She was like champagne – sparkling, bubbly. Two days after she went missing, the picture changed. She no longer smiled. Every year, she grows more pale, more haunted.

JC handed the poster back. The image of Mia Sheppard was seared in his memory. He knew he would see her one day.