As he hustled Melissa out of the courtroom, Devon caught a glimpse of the bailiff – Jay Slade – escorting Judge Prescott out of the court room by the judge's door. He could hear the two men still fighting as he and Melissa made it to the hallway, along with the handful of people who had been watching the proceedings.
Like Michael, Devon was shielding Melissa with his body. He owed it to Wilton to protect his best friend's daughter. Garthe had few resources left. The courts had taken both Elizabeth's and Garthe's personal fortunes to compensate their victims. When Elizabeth died and Garthe was presumed dead, the remainder had gone to Melissa, as the sole surviving member of the Knight family. Yet another reason for Garthe to hate Melissa. That didn't mean Garthe didn't have money or other assets hidden away. Or people willing to help him escape. However, no one seemed to be coming to Garthe's aid at the moment.
Once they were out of the courtroom, Devon headed for the nearest bench. But Melissa pulled away, walking over to a security guard with a walkie-talkie.
"Sir –"
The security guard cut her off curtly. "Miss, we've got a serious problem to deal with in –"
"Courtroom 4. I know. Garthe Knight is trying to escape. He'll need street clothes and money, and he'll find them both in Judge Prescott's chambers. And since he and Michael Knight look identical, he can use Michael's wallet and photo ID. Which are also in the judge's chambers. Plus, if your men are taking the judge to her chambers, Garthe may be able to take her hostage." To Devon's surprise, Melissa was talking slowly and calmly, as if the chaos around them didn't exist. And as if she weren't ashen and trembling like a leaf.
The security guard looked at Melissa for a moment, and then he spoke into his walkie-talkie. "Jay, where are you? And where are the two Knights?"
"I'm taking Judge Prescott to her chambers. The last I saw of the Knights, they went running out the back of the courtroom. But I've no idea who was pursuing who or where either man is right now." The bailiff sounded frustrated.
"Bring the judge to the security station instead of her chambers." He changed the channel. "Al, take three men with you to Judge Prescott's chambers. Arrest anyone you find there or on the way. And if they're in prison jumpsuits, handcuff 'em, too."
Devon steered Melissa to the bench. "You're safe, dear child," murmured Devon. "Please, take a seat."
Instead of sitting, she lay down, eyes closed and still trembling. Devon sat down next her and then gently pillowed her head on his lap. He briefly considered singing to her, but there was too much commotion for her to hear him. So instead, he said nothing; he simply stroked her hair until she calmed down.
Soon, the bailiff arrived with Judge Prescott. They both went over to the security guard and had a lengthy conversation. Eventually, things calmed down. The bailiff went away and came back after a short while. He talked with the judge and security guard, and then he and the judge came over to the bench where Devon and Melissa were.
"Miss Knight?" asked the bailiff. "We've got both Garthe Knight and Michael Knight in custody."
"But you're not sure who is who."
"Well, we're reasonably sure, but . . ."
"But better safe than sorry. If you don't mind," said the judge. "Since you are the only person who can consistently tell them apart."
"No, I don't mind, ma'am."
Melissa sat up, finally opening her eyes. She had an odd look, one that reminded Devon of Wilton. She stood up – with Devon's assistance – and squared off her shoulders. They both went back into Courtroom 4, followed by Judge Prescott and the bailiff. Garthe and Michael were both there, along with several court guards. Both men looked pretty beat up: bruises, torn jumpsuits, disheveled hair. One man had a black eye . . . and handcuffs. Devon assumed that was Garthe. Though he really couldn't be sure. Devon remained close to Melissa, to reassure her . . . and himself.
Melissa remained on the public gallery side of the railing, looking at the man in handcuffs. The other man tensed, which is when Devon was able to definitively tell it was Michael. He was ready in case Garthe tried something again. For his part, the man in handcuffs just looked at Melissa with sheer contempt. And Devon knew for certain he was Garthe.
"When we got the letter about today, I immediately knew what you were planning. To escape. Which would be easier for you here at the courthouse than it was in prison. I just wasn't sure how you were going to do it. Not until I got here this morning and heard the plan. You and Michael were going to be dressed alike . . . and in street clothes." Melissa spoke in a low, level voice, talking directly to Garthe and ignoring everyone else in the courtroom.
Michael and Devon exchanged startled glances. They had also figured out Garthe was planning some kind of escape. But Melissa had apparently been one step ahead of everyone . . . including Garthe.
Melissa continued, "And getting this test scheduled on my 17th birthday. To ruin my birthday, like you always have. And to make everything all about you."
Now it was Judge Prescott's turn to be startled. She hadn't realized the significance of the date proposed by Sanford. Or rather, by Garthe via his lawyer.
"Of course, you also wanted me to remember every detail of that awful night. To relive it over and over and over again. To suffer over and over and over again. But do you know what I most clearly remember?"
Devon suddenly recognized Melissa's tone of voice. It was the same calm, unhurried tone Wilton used when disciplining an employee. Or chastising one of his children.
Without waiting for a response from Garthe, Melissa continued, "Not how panicked I felt when I realized I couldn't stop you from kidnapping me. Not how terrified I felt when you left me in that ruined house to die. Not even how heartbroken I felt when you told me you had shot Uncle Devon in the back of the head."
This time, Michael and Devon exchanged horrified looks. They knew Garthe had told Melissa he had killed Devon. They hadn't realized, however, just how vividly detailed he had been.
"No, what I most clearly remember about that night is how safe I felt when Michael rescued me. How safe Michael always makes me feel. I do want to thank you, though, for the birthday present you've given me."
Garthe finally spoke. "I have never given you a birthday present. Or any other present," he sneered.
"You have given me the opportunity to say goodbye. This is the last time I will ever acknowledge your existence. If anyone asks me about my family, I won't even mention you. If anyone asks me about a Garthe Knight, I will pretend not to know you. I won't even look your direction if I have to attend your trial as a witness. Not unless the judge forces me to. So, goodbye, Garthe." Melissa turned to Michael. "Michael, I'll be waiting for you and Uncle Devon in the car, with Kitt."
Melissa turned and left the courtroom without another word or a backward glance. Garthe's look of contempt faded. He watched his sister leave with something akin to respect. And for the first time in his life, Garthe felt a tinge of remorse for what he had done to his sister. For everything he had done to her.