Nope.

The were could have been lying. How could Kylie ever know? Then ... duh, the obvious hit. Della, like the rest of her kind, was a walking, talking lie detector. She could hear heartbeats and pulse rates and knew when someone was telling a lie.

Kylie looked at Della. "Was Fredericka telling the truth about Lucas calling her?"

Della made a face. "Is lying wrong if you know it's what the person wants to hear?"

"Just tell me!"

Della mouthed the word sorry. "She was telling the truth."

* * *

After Kylie arrived back at the cabin, Holiday came over with Burnett's laptop and they sent an e-mail to Catherine O'Connell's family. They'd concocted a story about being an old friend of Catherine's and thought her family should know that she had wanted to tell them something right before she'd passed away. It sounded good. Convincing, even. And then they did a cut and paste of all the family tree information that came with photos.

Hopefully, it would do the trick. Not that Kylie suspected she'd ever know for sure. But she felt good about keeping her part of the bargain. Never mind that the information Kylie got from her about Berta Littlemon had yet to give her any answers. And Kylie hoped it didn't. The last thing she wanted to discover was that she was wrong about Jane Doe.

While Holiday and Della chatted at the table, Kylie sent her stepfather an e-mail and told him the shift schedule if he wanted to come on Sunday to Parents Day. She hoped he'd e-mail back and say he couldn't make it so she wouldn't have to deal with Sara and her stepdad on the same day. His e-mail came back superfast. He said he looked forward to seeing her on Sunday.

"Crap," Kylie muttered.

Holiday glanced over at her. "Bad news?"

"No, everything is just friggin' fabulous," Kylie said, and dropped her head on the desk. She didn't know if she would survive.

"Are you okay?" Holiday asked when Kylie walked her outside a few minutes later.

"As good as can be expected, I guess," Kylie lied. Holiday nodded and they said their good-nights.

When Kylie got back inside the cabin, Della was answering e-mails and Kylie sat at the kitchen table. She longed to call it a night, but she wanted to be here when Miranda got back from her date with Todd.

Kylie looked at the clock on the wall. That could be several more hours from now, though. Hours that Kylie had to fret over her own problems.

Della swung around. "That's not good. Or maybe it is."

"What?" Kylie asked.

Della pointed to the door and Miranda walked in. Her face was unreadable. She moved over to the table and dropped into a chair with as much drama as she could muster.

"And?" Kylie asked, and spotted hope in Della's eyes. Kylie knew that Della hoped the same thing Kylie did.

Hoped that the date was a complete bust and Perry still had a shot.

Miranda merely shrugged.

"Don't do this!" Della snapped. "Spill it or I'll reach down your throat for the answer myself."

Miranda spoke up. "He was ... nice. Dinner was nice. Holding his hand was nice."

"Did he kiss you?" Kylie asked, unsure how Miranda defined "nice." If Kylie worked hard enough, she could believe "nice" meant it wasn't anything special.

Miranda nodded. "The kiss was..."

"Let me guess," Della said. "It was nice."

"Right," Miranda said.

Della slapped her hand on the table. "'Nice' is just another way of saying 'friggin' boring'!"

Miranda frowned. "That's exactly what I thought."

Kylie and Della both squealed with excitement.

"What?" Miranda asked. "You're happy my date wasn't exciting?"

"No," Kylie said. "Let's just say we're more excited about tomorrow night's date."

A bright smile lit up Miranda's face. "Me too. Can you believe Perry did that? I mean, he was so..."

"Romantic," Kylie said.

"Hot," Della added.

"Sweet," Miranda whispered. "I couldn't stop thinking about him all night."

And that was the best news Kylie had gotten all day.

* * *

That night, Kylie stared at the ceiling forever, craving sleep that didn't come. One hour passed. Then two.

Her mind started naming off her problems. She still didn't know what she was. She couldn't stop Fate from taking someone she cared about. She had someone wanting her dead, probably the rogue underground paranormal gang headed by Mario, who still hadn't forgiven her for not wanting to marry his murdering grandson. Lucas was calling and chatting with Fredericka. Sara was coming to visit on Sunday with Kylie's mom. And her stepdad was going to drop by, too. Kylie still hadn't solved her amnesia spirit's issues, and she wasn't even a hundred percent sure the woman wasn't a killer.

Kylie's sleep-deprived brain chewed on each and every issue and didn't spit out any answers. She'd just fallen asleep when she heard a light tap-tap on her bedroom window.

At first, she thought she'd imagined it. Then she thought it was the blue jay again. "I'm not your mama," Kylie muttered.

The tapping stopped.

Kylie lay there, listening. The silence suddenly seemed ominous. She took in a shallow breath, and the sound seemed abnormally loud. The window was locked, right?

She recalled opening it the day before, hoping to invite in a breeze. And no, she couldn't recall locking it afterward.