by Van ©2022
		Chapter 5

It took Scotti several eye-blinks to decide what to do next.

Mother Sybil and The Villainous Amy had returned to the main house, supposedly so the former could tuck the later into bed... whatever that meant.  Scotti hoped it meant Sybil finding more coffee-stained conditioned cotton clothesline and lashing her wayward daughter to said bed, preferably naked and inescapably.  That way Amy wouldn't be wiggling free and sneaking back to The Cottage to wreak additional havoc, but that would be up to Sybil.  Scotti knew that Sybil was tall, beautiful, and very nice, but she was also at least a little kinky, to some degree; however, she was also Amy and Iris' maternal unit, so... probably no more rope... probably.  Scotti supposed there was an outside chance, but if it happened, the bondage probably wouldn't be anything elaborate.

In any case, Sybil and Amy were almost certainly out of the game for the rest of the evening... probably.  Scotti still didn't have a firm lock on the rules.

And speaking of Iris, she wasn't... meaning Iris wasn't out of the game.  Iris was still naked and stringently (and artistically) bundled in the "X" or "crossed" hogtie crafted by her big sister.  And Scotti still wasn't a big fan of Amy's hogtie jargon.  Granted, with her ankles crossed, legs frog-tied, and wrists crossed behind her back in a fancy-schmancy enhanced box-tie, Iris' current condition was different from the "straight" or "linear" hogtie Amy had inflicted on Scotti herself; but so what?  Was it enough of a distinction to warrant the creation of an entire hogtie classification system?  Not really, in Scotti's humble opinion.  Her former and Iris' current helplessness had been overwhelmingly the same in the most important aspects, and helplessness was what really mattered with a hogtie, right?

Scotti gazed at Iris... and her ropes... and her pale, rope-dimpled skin... and big brown eyes... and tape-gagged lips... which were standing out in three dimensions...

Oh!

Scotti's hands flew to her own mouth.  She'd forgotten she herself was still tape-gagged!  How embarrassing.  Her fingers fumbled for the upper right corner of the strip of off-white medical tape... then paused.  I just have to see this! she decided, then lifted her legs, rolled to the side, planted her bare feet on the floor, stood, and scampered/padded into the bathroom.  Needless to say, Iris remained behind on the bed.

Naked and covered with rapidly fading rope-marks (and freckles), Scotti stood in front of the washbasin and stared at her reflection in the mirror.  As expected, her lips did, in fact, stand out in three dimensions... just like Iris' lips... like the lips of a marble statue.  Well, not quite like a marble statue, she noted, at least not a classically realistic marble statue.  The shape of her lips rendered in stretched tape was a suggestion, not a fully realistic depiction.  After all, the smooth, wrinkle-free rectangle of off-white medical tape—"Microfoam" Amy had called it—was substantial, as opposed to insubstantial, as would be the case with a neatly applied patch of white clown makeup.  That said, the fully detailed shape of her lips did stand out in bas relief.  It was... intellectually stimulating.

Scotti stared at (meaning admired) her tape-gagged visage for close to a full minute, turning her head to examine it from multiple angles... then heaved a sigh, teased back the upper-right corner of the strip... and slowly, carefully peeled away the tape.  She was taking her time so it wouldn't hurt, but what it did do was stretch her skin and lips as the adhesive reluctantly surrendered its grip.  That was also intellectually stimulating.

And with that, the tape was gone.

Scotti leaned close and examined her lower face, pouting and grimacing to make sure her lips and mouth were still fully functional.  They were.  Also, the rectangular pink blush of that portion of her skin that had been directly under the strip was fading as she watched.  She decided the pinkness was probably an artifact of the tape removal process, and not a reaction to the tape itself.  All medical tapes are safe, right?  Anyway... the blush was gone and her lips and the surrounding skin were back to their natural dusky coral pink and peachy-pink (with freckles), respectively.  No harm no foul... dermatologically speaking.

The same couldn't quite be said for the pink indentations still banding and crisscrossing her limbs and torso.  They were also fading, and there didn't appear to be any residual rope-burns or bruises—a further testimonial to Amy's skill as a Rigger—but the pink rope-fossils were still there.  They'll be gone by morning, Scotti predicted.

Scotti indulged in a drink of water, then performed the rest of her evening routine, which she'd been about to do when she was so rudely (and kinkily) interrupted by the DuPont Sisters.  And at least for now, she'd decided to equally blame both Amy and Iris for everything that had happened.  After all, both Scotti and Iris were still naked, and Iris was still bound and gagged, so the game was still in progress, right?  And since Iris' classification had automatically shifted from Scotti's fellow prisoner to Scotti's prisoner, and since Scotti Hunter was not a kinky kidnapper, if the game was to continue (and for some reason Scotti had decided she did want it to continue), Iris had to be a villainess, and therefore Amy's equally guilty coconspirator.  It was simple logic.

Scotti padded back into the main cottage and towards the bed, and in the process confirmed that Iris was, indeed, still naked, hogtied, tape-gagged, and lying on her thighs, tummy, and boobs on the rumpled bed... and she was watching Scotti's return with her big brown eyes.  She hadn't escaped.

Scotti stood (posed), hands on hips, and smiled (gloated) down at Iris for several seconds.  In response, Iris blinked her big brown eyes and squirmed in her elaborate cross-hogtie bondage and waited for Scotti to start setting her free... which for some reason wasn't already happening.

And then, Scotti finally stepped forward and finally began fiddling with the knots enforcing Amy's cruel handiwork.  Iris heaved a tape-gagged sigh of glorious relief.

Scotti's nimble fingers teased apart the knots enforcing the frog-tie portion of Iris' predicament, then attacked the many hitches, cinches, and knots enforcing the hogtie itself.  Eventually, Iris' ginger rescuer was successful and Iris was able to straighten her legs.  By her reaction (another sigh, and this time accompanied by a tape-gagged smile) it felt wonderful.  Iris rolled onto her side and watched as Scotti selected one of her former hogtie ropes, straightened out the tangled coil and found its center.  Iris' smile faded.  In fact, she frowned.  Why did Scotti need to prepare a length of rope in order to untie her ankles?  Then, Scotti leaned close to Iris' still crossed and ankle-bound feet, looped the doubled rope around Iris' already bound ankles, and pulled the rope through itself, thereby eliminating all slack and creating a tight lark-head or cow-hitch knot.  Next, Scotti looped the free ends of the rope over the bed's foot-rail, back up and between Iris' ankles, then back down to the foot-rail!

"Mrrrf!" Iris complained.  Scotti was tethering her feet (and therefore the rest of her) to the bed!  She was changing her bondage, not untying her!

Scotti smiled as she neatly wrapped the excess rope around itself several times... then tied a terminal knot.  She'd made a neat, photogenic job of it, if she did say so herself.  Still smiling (in a sinister, Amy-like manner), Scotti selected a second length of Iris' ex-X-hogtie ropes and prepared it for use.  Once ready, she rolled Iris onto her rope-framed boobs—"Mrrrk!"—tied the rope through the nexus of box-tie ropes just below the nape of her neck, using another lark-head/cow-hitch, pulled it tight, then looped and cinched the free ends through the headboard.  Finally, Scotti knelt and tied the terminal knots around the lower bed-frame, down near the floor!

The end result was a naked Iris, cross-tied at the ankles, tethered to the lower end of the bed-frame, box-tied from crotch to shoulders, and tethered to the headboard end of the bed as well!  The tethers in question were neatly and tightly compacted, but neither was especially taut.  Iris had something like four inches of wiggle-room at either end, but she was definitely on the bed to stay... until Scotti released her.

"Mrrrpfh!" Iris whined.  Between her big sister's earlier handiwork and Scotti's just-completed tethers, she remained totally helpless!  And tape-gagged!  And naked!  And tied up!  "Mrrrrr!"

It was heartbreaking, but Scotti was unmoved.  "Don't give me that," she huffed.  "You think I'm stupid?  You're in on it.  You're in on all of it.  Don't even try and tell me the naked hogtie demo was all Amy's idea and that she... roped you into it."  She leaned close and gave a portion of Iris' box-tie a firm shake.  This had the unforeseen and unavoidable (but entirely predictable) side effect of causing Iris' rope-framed and slightly pinched boobs to wobble and oscillate.  Scotti stared at the pale, bobbling breasts (and their pointing nipples) for a few seconds, then blushed.  She'd just realized that her own nipples were pointing!  Scotti quickly resumed her erect, gloating posture, crossed her arms over her misbehaving tits, and resumed her disapproving stare.  "I wasn't born yesterday," she huffed.

Iris mustered her best combined argument for release and sincere protestation of innocence: "Mrrrfh!"  She also wiggled and squirmed in her bonds... for added emphasis.

Scotti rolled her green eyes in response, collected all the remaining unused clothesline, sloppily stuffed it into the canvas messenger bag, tossed the bulging bag out of the way, then padded to the floor lamp shining next to the loveseat, turned it off, then padded back to the bed.

The only remaining light in The Cabin was the still-shining reading lamp on the bedside table, but it was more than enough to allow Iris to admire Scotti's freckled form and for Scotti to objectively evaluate (ogle) her prisoner's pale, bound, helpless, tape-silenced body as Iris lay on her side on the bed's rumpled covers.

Scotti pulled back the covers in question, slid between the sheets, made a show of settling in to sleep, and closed her eyes.

"Mrrrk?"

Scotti opened her eyes and smiled at Iris.  "What?"

"Mrrrk!" Iris reiterated, this time in the imperative.

Still smiling, Scotti rolled her eyes.  "Oh... very well."  She sat up and did her best to arrange the covers over both of the bed's occupants.  "There," Scotti purred.  "All better.  Goodnight."  She leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss on the tip of Iris' irate nose.  (Iris' entire tape-gagged expression was irate, so that meant her nose was irate as well).  Still smiling, Scotti lay back down, snuggled against her pillow, and closed her eyes again.

"MRRRF!" Iris reiterated, more forcefully, but was just as imperative.

Scotti opened her eyes again, smiled what she hoped was an infuriating smirk, then stretched out an arm and slowly, carefully peeled the Microfoam tape from Iris' pouting lips.  As had been the case with Scotti's own kisser, the tape stretched and deformed Iris' lips and skin as the adhesive reluctantly surrendered its grip.

Her lips no longer sealed, Iris glowered at Scotti, licked her lips, and repeatedly pouted and unpouted, recovering from her tape-gag ordeal.  While this was happening, Scotti neatly folded the Microfoam strip back onto itself, placed it on the nightstand for proper disposal in the morning, then redirected her smile to her ex-roommate.

"Untie me," Iris requested (in a quiet voice).

"Why?" Scotti inquired (still smiling).

"Why?" Iris demanded, squirming in her bonds.  "Because—"

"Because," Scotti interrupted, "otherwise, after I'm asleep you won't be able to pounce and tie me up again?" Scotti was still smiling pleasantly.

Iris shrugged her rope-yoked shoulders.  "The thought never occurred to me," she stated primly.

"Liar," Scotti drawled.  "And another thing: what gives your sister the right to strip me naked and tie me up in a linear-hogtie.  Just because she wants to?"

Now, Iris' smile was full and genuine.  "In the first place, all she did was tell you to strip.  You could have refused.  And in the second place, you didn't even struggle while she was tying you up.  And in the third place: research."

Scotti's smile faded, then she frowned in Righteous Outrage (or a reasonable facsimile thereof).  "That's still no excuse for her ordering me to get naked."

Iris' smile faded as well.  "That's my fault, actually.  I told her you were ready.  She wanted to wait until after we all went skinny-dipping for the first time, but I told her you were already ready."

"Already ready?"

"Already ready."

Scotti was still frowning, but the expression had morphed from feigned outrage to displeased puzzlement.  It was true.  She'd acquiesced to Amy's demands without any real resistance.  The only explanation that occurred to Scotti was that she was truly dedicated to her research program.  "But why naked?"

Iris' smile returned.  "You're a lot more helpless when you're naked.  Kidnapped and fully clothed is one thing, but kidnapped and naked?"

She has a point, Scotti mused.  Of course, clothes or no clothes, if the rigger is competent, helpless is helpless... but still...  Scotti sighed again.  "Okay, I get it.  It's psychological."

"Also," Iris continued, "Mother's Special Catalog customers take naked as a given, so when we do our product testing prior to delivery, the test subject is always naked."

"That makes sense," Scotti conceded, then reached out and turned off the reading lamp, plunging The Cottage into darkness.

"Uh... Scotti?" Iris said quietly.

"No.  I'm not untying you," Scotti said evenly.  "Shut up and go to sleep, or I'll stuff my dirty panties in your mouth, then use the Mircofoam still in the bag to make sure you stay quiet."

"Geesh!" Iris said after a few seconds of silence.  "You really are ready."

A few more seconds passed before Scotti replied.  "I wouldn't really use my dirty panties," she admitted.  "That would be yucky.  I know it's done all the time on the internet, but... yuck."

"Yuck," Iris solemnly agreed.

"Anyway," Scotti continued.  "Go to sleep... and goodnight."

"Goodnight," Iris purred, then the bed shook as she squirmed for comfort in her tight bonds... and heaved one last sigh.

Scotti closed her eyes to the darkness and resolved to do some serious thinking about all that had just transpired.  Instead, she drifted off to sleep.

"Scotti!  ...  Scotti!"

"Wha?"

"Wake up and untie me.  I have to pee."

Scotti yawned and opened her eyes.  It was morning... early morning.  The drapes were open and there was light... a little light... dim, early morning light.  "Wha'z stoppin' ya?"

"I'm tied to the bed, remember?" Iris answered.

"Oh.  Yeah."  Scotti threw back the covers, climbed off the bed, and began the laborious process of releasing the ankle and box-tie-tethers she'd tied to make sure Iris didn't roll off the bed, untie herself, then return to pounce on Scotti herself while she was asleep.  "There," she huffed when the last tether-rope slithered free, then took a firm grip on Iris' remaining bonds (the elaborate box-tie tied by Amy), dragged Iris to her feet, and they padded to the bathroom.

"You need to untie the crotch-rope," Iris stated.

"Cool your jets," Scotti muttered, but did indeed untie the pussy-and-butt-cheeks-cleaving portion of the crotch-tie portion of Iris' box-tie.  She tucked the free strands out of the way among the other box-tie-strands, then plunked her prisoner down on the commode.  "Make it quick.  I need to pee too."

Iris did, indeed, make it quick... then freed the commode so Scotti could do her business.

And then... it happened!

Scotti turned on the shower... waited for the temperature to become comfortably warm... then dragged Iris with her under the cascading torrent!

"Hey!" Iris objected, but it was too late.  She was wet.  They were wet.

Iris fidgeted and tugged on her bonds as Scotti soaped a washcloth and used it to scrub both their bodies—Iris' box-tied but otherwise naked body—and Scotti's naked but rope-free self!  And that included both sets of boobs and their lady-bits!  Scotti was careful not to get soap in Iris' eyes, and was diligent in her cleansing efforts.  Unfortunately, Amy's ropes prevented Scotti from a comprehensive scrubbing of every square inch of Iris' pale body, but... after a thorough rinse... they were both unarguably squeaky clean.

"You realize wet cotton clothesline is much more difficult to untie than dry cotton clothesline," Iris stated evenly, "and after it dries it's even worse."

"Really?" Scotti said with a bright smile as she used a bath towel to dry both their bodies, including their hair.  "Not my problem."  She then led Iris to the washbasin, which required all of two steps.

Iris watched (grumpily) as Scotti brushed her hair (meaning Scotti's damp, ginger hair)... then brushed her teeth... rinsed and recharged her toothbrush... then brushed Iris' teeth!  Iris endured this ordeal of humiliating, involuntary dental hygiene with naked, slightly damp, and tousle-haired stoicism.  She spat in the sink, accepted a drink of water from her grinning ginger handler, swished it around in her mouth... then spat again.  Then, Scotti led her back to the main room where she watched as Scotti quickly made the bed... then plunked her down on the now smooth bedspread.  Iris continued watching as Scotti dressed for the day.  Scotti's hands (and the soapy washcloth) had been all over Iris when they were in the shower, and once the shower was over, the same went for the towel!  That had been... unexpected.  That had been... initiative on Scotti's part!  She couldn't wait to discuss it with Amy (and carefully suppressed the smile that wanted to curl her lips).

Meanwhile, Scotti had donned underwear, socks, jeans, and blouse, and was lacing up her clean, brand new, and not-yet-fully-broken-in work-boots... then posed for her naked, box-tied audience of one, hands on hips, ginger pageboy hanging straight and perfect, green eyes sparkling, and a huge smile on her freckled face.

Iris heaved a disapproving sigh.  "You're going to make me walk back to the house naked and tied up, aren't you?" she demanded.  "Look at my hair."

"It is a bit of a fright wig," Scotti chuckled, "but to answer your question, yes.  You deserve it for conspiring with your sister to drag me into your sordid games."

"Sordid?" Iris objected.

"Nakedness," Scotti answered primly.

"Sordid is not a synonym of naked," Iris huffed.

"I didn't say it was," Scotti answered, then walked to the Cottage door—Click!  Creee...—and opened it.  "Off to breakfast.  I'm hungry."

Iris favored her smiling friend with one last scathing scowl, then stomped (padded) from The Cottage.

Scotti closed the door behind them.  Creee...  Click!  "Where do you guys keep the WD-40?"

"The workshop, of course," Iris answered, "and I think there's a small spray-can in the main house, in the cleaning closet."

"Excellent," Scotti purred.

Scotti and Iris split up when they reached the main house.  That is, at Iris' insistence, Scotti opened a side door so her naked and box-tied friend with the disheveled hair could scamper off and find assistance, presumably from Amy.  Scotti smiled as she watched Iris disappear into the interior, frowning, pouting (and adorable, in Scotti's opinion).  She then headed for the kitchen and helped Sybil cook breakfast (French toast, tiny sausages, and diced cantaloupe).

Most of the meal was ready by the time Iris and Amy breezed into the kitchen and converged on the coffeemaker.  Sybil and Scotti were already sipping mugs of the hot, dark, delicious ambrosia.  Both sisters were typically dressed for the day in boots, jeans, and work-shirts, although Amy's sleeves were rolled up and Iris' were rolled down, no doubt to hide the humiliating rope-marks that were almost certainly still covering the younger sister's arms and wrists.  Iris' hair was no longer a short, dark-brown fright-wig, but was back to being a stylishly tousled, dark-brown crop, as usual.

There was no discussion of last evening's Epic Events during the meal.  The atmosphere was friendly, just another day at The DuPont Compound, with no after-action examination of the naked bondage gaming session.  However, who planned on accomplishing what during the day was talked about, but that was all, and nobody's plan-of-the-day involved bondage.

The plates were about half empty when (for some reason) Scotti herself suddenly felt compelled to bring up The Game.  "What are the rules?" she blurted abruptly.  The DuPonts smiled and stared at Scotti's suddenly blushing face.  "The game," Scotti clarified, "the one with... with... rope."  Her heart was pounding for some reason, and she was very much afraid she might start blinking.

"Do you know what she's talking about?" Iris asked her big sister, then stabbed one of the tiny sausages still on her plate with her fork, popped it into her mouth, and chewed, all the while smiling at Scotti.

"Haven't a clue," Amy answered, than took a sip of coffee.

"No teasing!" Sybil decreed, then reached out and took hold of Scotti's hand (who was still blushing), and locked eyes with her young house-guest/tenant.  Her lips were curled in a gentle smile.  "There is only one codified rule, Scotti, and here it is: no means no.  Always.  No means no.  Understand?"

"I still don't know what she's talking about," Iris quipped, then—"Ow!—frowned and glared at her big sister.

Scotti suspected that under the table Amy had kicked her little sister in the shin (which she richly deserved).  She focused on Sybil's beautiful, smiling face and nodded.  "No means no."

"Good girl," Sybil purred, released Scotti's hand, and the meal continued.

'No means no,' Scotti thought as she resumed eating.  That can't be the only rule, but it's good to know it's the most important.

Nobody said much of anything while they finished their food.  Scotti assumed the DuPont sisters were taking the time to mentally plot the next horrible research experiment they planned to inflict on poor, innocent Scotti Hunter.

After breakfast Scotti made a side trip to the main house cleaning closet, and just as Iris had promised, there was an eight ounce pressurized can of WD-40 waiting on the shelf among the various cleaning products and polishes.  It had a clever folding nozzle that allowed the lubricant to be sprayed either as a fine mist or through a folding red straw to concentrate it at a precise point.  She retreated to The Cottage and used the can (in unfolded red straw mode and with a tissue to catch the inevitable drip) to thoroughly lubricate the hinges of the front door.  She also lubricated the door-latch and bolt mechanism, but that did nothing to alleviate the loud click! that sounded whenever the latch was engaged or disengaged as the door was opened or closed.  At least the accompanying semi-sinister squeal of the hinges had been eliminated.

Scotti lubricated every other hinge and bolt mechanism she could find in The Cottage, then returned to the main house.  Her intent was to simply return the WD-40 to its closet home, but instead she decided to oil all the hinges and bolt mechanisms of all the exterior doors.  While she was doing this, Sybil appeared, smiled, cooed effusive praise, and planted a kiss on Scotti's blushing right cheek.  Apparently, Scotti's unsolicited lubrication exertions had earned her several Handy-Woman Brownie Points.  Scotti was a "good girl."

The rest of the morning passed in a literary fashion.  That is, Scotti returned to The Cottage, sat at her desk, and continued organizing and expanding her notes for The Novel.  This required the brewing and consumption of more coffee at The Cottage's compact kitchenette.

Lunchtime arrived and Scotti abandoned her desk, wandered over to the main house kitchen, and found Sybil stirring a pot of chicken soup while Iris set the small table by the bay-window with the spectacular view of the back garden with three place settings.

Scotti asked the obvious question:  "Where's Amy?"

"She said she didn't want any lunch," Iris answered.

Scotti focused on Sybil... who was smiling sweetly and concentrating on the soup... which smelled yummy, by the way.  Something was up, but Scotti had no idea what, just... something.

"This is homemade but reconstituted," Sybil explained, using the wooden spoon to point at the simmering pot.

"Mother makes big batches of all kinds of soups," Iris explained, "then divides them into meal-size containers and freezes them."

"I don't like canned soup," Sybil said as she carried the pot to the table.  "Too much sodium and not enough flavor."

Scotti nodded in agreement as she took her place at the table.  The simple meal was delicious, including the store-bought rolls that accompanied the soup.  However, Amy's absence still hadn't been resolved to Scotti's satisfaction.  This was the first time Amy—or anybody, for that matter—had missed a meal since Scotti's arrival at The DuPont Compound.  Something is definitely up, she decided, but said nothing.  If Amy was busy in the shop or there was some other reasonable explanation (other than Iris' statement that Amy simply "didn't want any lunch"), Scotti would look ridiculous if she made it into a "thing."  But how could anybody not want any of this soup? Scotti wondered as she ate.

Anyway, The Mystery of the Missing Amy remained a puzzle through the rest of the meal and the kitchen cleanup that followed.  And then... Scotti's instinct was proved correct.  Amy's absence was indeed, a "thing."  In fact, as it turned out, it was a big thing!

"Need help in the garden?" Scotti asked Iris as they exited the kitchen.

"No," Iris answered, "I need your help in storeroom number four."

"Storeroom number four?" Scotti inquired.

"Storeroom number four," Iris confirmed (with a friendly smile that was only a little sinister).

Her brow knit with mild worry, Scotti strolled at Iris' side towards the Storage Building behind the furniture workshop, the one with the row of about twelve padlocked storerooms, including Storeroom #1, the one with the pillory and stocks.  "Uh... you aren't planning on taking hideous revenge on me for not untying you last night, are you?" Scotti asked.

"You also failed to untie me this morning," Iris pointed out.

"Granted," Scotti nodded.  "So...?"

Iris' smile broadened.  "No, I'm not taking hideous revenge on you.  Not right this instant, anyway."

"Oh.  Good.  That's reassuring."  There was a pause as Iris unlocked the end door of the Storage Building, the one closest to the main house... then they strolled down the corridor and past the higher numbered storerooms... until they reached number four.  Scotti frowned.  "Wait.  By 'not this instant' you mean one long, extended instant during which you're not going to take hideous revenge on me for not untying you, right?"

"Probably," Iris purred.  "Now, pay attention, and you should know that this is all Mother's idea."

"What?"

"What you're about to see," Iris clarified.  (The sinister aspect of her smile had returned.)  "Remember how you asked about the rules?"

"No means no," Scotti solemnly quoted.

"Exactly, Iris nodded, "but Mother thinks you need context, also to understand more of what's involved with the Special Catalog product testing.  So, she asked me to explain.  And, because Amy was such a prize bitch last night, she ordered her to help."

Scotti nodded and watched nervously as Iris unlocked the padlock, opened the Storeroom #4 door, reached inside and switched on the overhead light, then, with a smile, a graceful gesture, and a gentle shove, made sure Scotti preceded her into the space beyond.

Scotti gasped as she crossed the threshold, then froze in place, her green eyes wide and her mouth hanging open in amazement (see also shock and horror).

The Mystery of the Missing Amy was now fully resolved!