She can't seem to stop smiling, and I take that as a good sign. If there's truly a mystery to solve, I doubt it's one involving murder and/or mayhem.

I'm steering us toward the bed, because that's where I want to go. She's back home and I haven't held her in my arms for days and days. I don't feel the cold, so I could care less about my bare feet, but I want to make sure she's nice and warm and comfortable. She traveled a long way by herself...

"I might have something to tempt you," I say, shedding my tattered, tartan robe - story later - and continuing to back her toward the bed in my silk pajamas. Then I pounce, scoop her gently into my arms, and roll us across the bed.