Melissa awoke. She was laying on a hospital bed, at the Foundation. Someone was sitting in a chair next to her, holding her hand. And Zephyr, her favorite stuffed animal, was in her arms. It took her a minute to focus on the person in the chair. It was, of course, not Uncle Devon; it was Michael.

"Michael?"

Michael had been dozing, but he woke immediately on hearing his name. He smiled. And leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

"Hey, Melissa. Your fever broke." She looked at Michael oddly, as it was the first time he had every done anything like that before. He added, "My mom used to do that when I was little. Said it was more accurate than any thermometer."

"Dad used to do that, too. So did Uncle Devon. Garthe . . ." She teared up, unable to continue.

"Shh, I know. And he's going to prison, where he belongs."

Melissa tried to speak, to ask what Garthe had done and whether Uncle Devon had suffered. But she couldn't stop crying long enough for Michael to understand what she was saying. Her crying became full body-wracking sobbing until Michael just scooped her up – with Zephyr – and held her against his chest.

Melissa awoke to Michael kneeling next to her, his hand on her shoulder. Something seemed off, but she couldn't figure it out. Instead, she looked at him sadly.

Michael smiled and said, "Look up."

She did as she was told. "Unc . . . Uncle Devon?" She finally figured what was off: she had felt Uncle Devon's arms around her and assumed they were Michael's, but Michael was kneeling next to her.

"Yes, my dear," he said, smiling down at her. "I'm here."

She buried her head in his chest. "Garthe said he'd . . . he'd . . ."

"Yes, we – Kitt – figured that out. Though I am somewhat surprised you believed him."

"Yeah," Michael chimed in, "you can tell when Garthe's lying: His lips move."

Melissa shook her head. "Garthe tells the truth, if it's hurtful. He said he had killed Uncle Devon and that he was going to kill Michael and that . . ."

"That what?" asked Michael.

But Melissa just shook her head, unable to say anything more. She shrank in on herself and began trembling like a leaf. Michael gently pressed her. But she couldn't make herself speak the words out loud.

"If I may, Michael. Miss Knight, humans often find things less scary when said out loud."

"Please, Kitt, I . . . I can't."

"I have excellent hearing, Miss Knight. Perhaps if you were to whisper it very softly?"

Kitt paused, clearly waiting for a response. Melissa whispered, "Garthe said by the time anyone thought to look for me at the house, they'd only find what the mountain lions had left behind."

"I see. Thank you for sharing. And in return, I will share something with you. Michael and I wrapped up our most recent mission quite late. In fact, Michael was discussing the details with the local police until well after 10 pm and didn't get to bed until after 11 pm, only to be woken at midnight when Devon called. He had been up early, too. Despite having almost no sleep, he deduced where Garthe had mostly likely taken you within a few minutes. And that's precisely where we found you."

Melissa was amazed to hear how fast Michael was able to figure out where to find her. "Thank you, Michael. And you, too, Kitt. I know you helped."

"And now, my dear, it is time for you to go back to sleep."

She snuggled against Devon and said sleepily, "Sing to me, please. I like your singing."

In response, Devon started singing "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" until she fell asleep.