The car ride to the airport was mostly silent, except for the radio playing softly in the background. They left three days after Kimbra had called her father. It gave Bud time to sort things out in St. Canard. He still couldn't believe he was going to Alaska, of all places.

Alaska. Bitter. Cold. Alaska.

A radio commercial ended, and the disk jockey announced, "Here's Fallen Empire and their new hit single, Euphoria."

Bud noticed that Arctic Records had been promoting the boy band more as of late.

The hottest new thing, apparently. They were beginning to pop up more and more. Their songs were played regularly. They opened for a few festivals, taking the place of Brice Cawson, Arctic Records's current poster boy. That's just how Harrison was. As long as you were worth something to him, he'd give you his time. He'd toss you aside once you stopped benefiting him.

Bud's grip on the steering wheel tightened at the thought of his estranged father.

He really wished he hadn't left his younger brother, Colin, behind. Not with Harrison of all people.

You shouldn't have left him behind, you selfish bastard.

A hand on his shoulder pulled him from the thought. "Are you okay?"

His dark eyes glanced at Kimbra for only a moment. "Yeah, I'm okay, why?"

"You look stressed."

"I'm fine." He exhaled, loud, through his mouth. The man didn't look happy at all.

Kimbra leaned over, turning the radio down. Her gaze slid to his face, noting the grimness of his mouth. "You can talk about it, if you want."

There was a weighty pause.

"The band." His voice was barely there.

"Fallen Empire?"

"They're signed onto Arctic Records."

Kimbra vaguely could recall the name. "Oh yeah, they tried to sponsor C.O.R.E."

His eyes snapped to her for only a second before focusing back on the road ahead. "They did?"

"Yeah? Cassie Fletcher was at the presentation."

His jaw tensed. "She must be a new manager."

"Bud, what does this have to do with anything?"

A deep sigh. "My father, Harrison Flud. He owns Arctic Records." Bud didn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Oh," was all Kimbra could say. Not that she hadn't tried. A million words ran through her mind, but none of them felt like the right thing to say.

She didn't pressure him to talk about the topic further.

"Sorry that you had to reschedule the flight to a later time," Bud said, walking at Kimbra's side through the busy airport. "I'm sure you didn't want to be flying this late."

She had to pace to keep up with the man's much bigger steps. She cursed her legs for being short and her feet for being so small.

"I don't mind," Kimbra took the hound's hand in hers. "Just means we'll get there a little later than planned. No biggie."

She wanted this to work out so badly. She wanted her family to accept the man and love him as much as she did. Their opinion meant the world to her. If they didn't like Bud, it'd devastate her. The thought of them disapproving of the business man made her even more anxious.

The announcer's voice rang out loud and clear, "Good evening, passengers. This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight 23A to Alaska. We are now inviting those passengers with small children, and any passengers requiring special assistance, to begin boarding at this time. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready. Regular boarding will begin in approximately ten minutes time. Thank you."

Once they had finally boarded the plane when it was their time, and took their seats, Kimbra's nervousness only seemed to rise. She kept fidgeting with her fingers, looked out the window often, and pulled at a strand of her hair. She wasn't afraid of flying. Not at all. Her mind simply wouldn't stop reminding her of the possibility that her family wouldn't like Bud.

And Bud noticed her uneasiness. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just worried what they'll think of you, is all."

"Awe, is Dr. Wulfe ashamed of me?"

If you asked me about seven months ago, I would have said yes.

"No! It's just…" She threw her head back and stared at the roof of the plane. "I just want them to like you."

"I'm incredibly charming, I'm sure I can weasel my way into their hearts."

Kimbra covered her face with her hands. "You're so lame."

"But you love me," it was said in a sing-song manner. He kissed her cheek and pulled a book out of his carry on bag.

The overhead speaker went off, announcing to the passengers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome onboard Flight 23A with service from St. Canard to Alaska. We are currently second in line for take-off and are expected to be in the air in approximately five minutes time. We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and secure all baggage underneath your seat or in the overhead compartments. We also ask that your seats and table trays are in the upright position for take-off. Please turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cell phones. Smoking is prohibited for the duration of the flight. Thank you for choosing Canary Airlines. Enjoy your flight."

Bud leaned over to Kimbra, who was staring out the window. Watching workers on the runway. "How long is this flight?"

"Five hours." She didn't look at him. "Can you stay still for five hours?"

"No."

"I should have bought you a coloring book back at the gift shop."

"I'm not a child, besides I brought a book to read."

She smiled. "If you say so."

From a distance, the city seemed like one big array of glittering lights. St. Canard was so much prettier from afar. Away from all the traffic and noise. From the hustle of the city and its citizens. For once, she found it to be…pleasant.

Kimbra tugged on Bud's shirt sleeve, trying to get his attention. "Bud, you have got to get a look at this view."

Bud's grip on his seat's armrests tightened. His eyes were shut. "I don't want to look."

"Why not? It's gorgeous at night."

"I've seen it all before."

A smirk. "Didn't know you were afraid of flying."

She knew from the way he stiffened that he did not take it as anything less than an insult.

"I am not afraid." He ran a hand over his face and shook his head. "I just don't like turbulence."

"Turbulence isn't what we have to worry about. What we really should worry about is equipment failure that accounts for twenty percent of all aviation accidents."

"Kimbra stop, I don't want to hear this."

She didn't stop. "Engine failure or poor repairs are more likely to cause an accident than turbulence, so I just think—"

Bud covered his ears with his hands. "I'm not listening."

Kimbra held out a hand, palm up. "Hold my hand, and take a deep breath."

The hound reluctantly took her hand, and let out a deep breath. Then he breathed in another, repeating the process several times.

"Feel better?"

"No."

"You will after we're in the air for a while."

Bud trusted that she was right. He held her hand until she eventually fell asleep, or least he assumed she had. With his nerves at ease, Bud flipped through the black hardcover book in his hands. Nightingale: Whispers in the Dark, adorned the cover in silver lettering.

Ask her about the series.

He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. It would be weird to ask such a question. Right?

Ask her.

"Kimbra." Bud whispered in his girlfriend's ear. He knew she was trying to get some sleep while she could. He shouldn't have bothered her, but he wanted to ask her something. It'd bug him until he asked.

A grumble left her mouth. "I'm asleep."

"I know you're awake because you're not snoring."

She quickly began her best fake snore.

"That's the worst fake snore I have ever heard." He laughed.

Her eyes opened with a mischievous glint. "You mean 'Kimbra darling, that was an Oscar worthy performance', don't deny it."

Bud leaned over and kissed her jaw, just below her ear. "Yeah, I guess I meant that."

"And I don't snore."

"You do, loudly."

"I don't!"

"We shared a bed, you snore."

"I don't snore."

"How would you even know? You're asleep."

"Because I'd know if I snored," she rested her head against his shoulder. "What are you reading?"

"The first chapter of Nightingale, Whispers in the Dark."

"Stop trying to suck up to my dad," she teased. "You haven't even met him yet."

"I happen to like your father's work. I just haven't reread the series in some time."

"Mhmm, he'll probably autograph your book if you'd like."

"Go to sleep." He'd ask her the question later. It wasn't that important.

And Kimbra did. She snuggled into his side and let herself drift in and out of sleep.

You definitely do snore, love.

Bud returned to his book as his girlfriend slept.

"You're working late, again?" A soft sigh over the phone filled detective Markus Nightingale's ear.

He knew that tone. The tone of his wife, who was disappointed. Exhausted. Frustrated. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but he knew she hated his job.

"Sorry hon, I know you wanted to spend some time with each other tonight," the German shepherd struggled, holding the phone to his ear as he filled out reports. "But ya know, we're booked, and the chief needs all the hands he can get."

Another sigh.

"Is it always going to be like this, Markus?" She asked after a long silence dragged over the line.

"Like what?"

"You. Working late. Forgetting things. My birthday. Anniversaries…"

Markus cut her off gruffly. "Lorelei, you of all people should understand how important my job is."

"I know just," she went silent a moment before speaking. "We hardly see each other anymore."

"It won't always be like this. We're just a little more busy than usual."

"Markus, it's been like this for the last three years."

He couldn't argue with that, knowing she was right. The overtime put a strain on their marriage. He could tell she was frustrated. Angry. Hurt. Upset. But she never held it against him, ever.

"Hey," Markus smiled. "I love you."

"I love you too. Try to be home on time tomorrow, please? I hardly see you anymore."

Did she really have so little faith in him?

"I promise."

Oh right , Bud remembered this part. Markus ended up working for another hour and eventually went home. The pages of the detective getting into his car and driving home weren't all that exciting. Yet, the scene where he pulls into the driveway always brought chills to the reader.

The door was slightly open. Why was it open? Lorelei was never this careless. She always made sure the door was closed and locked.

Why was it open?

A sudden surge of fear cut through Markus.

Without thinking, he called out her name. "Lorelei!" He practically ran inside.

Silence only answered him here. His stomach grew sick the further he walked into the house. He hadn't even bothered to close the door behind him.

The place was in disarray. A blue lamp lay on the hallway rug, shattered into fragments. Pictures of their friends and family that once hung on the walls, were now cracked on the floor.

That sick feeling in his stomach intensified. Years from now, this memory would haunt his every waking moment. It'd flash in his mind every time he closed his eyes. Every time he slept.

Every time he remembered how he let her down.

That was the night Detective Nightingale felt his entire world crash around him.

He was used to seeing a gruesome crime scene. A victim lying in a pool of blood. He had become numb to it over the years. Numb to telling their family or loved one that they were gone. Murdered. It never phased him, just another part of the job, as he'd like to say.

But it's different when that victim is your own wife.

Detective Markus Nightingale never thought it would happen to him.

Bud shut the book, and looked over at his still sleeping girlfriend. He's read the series several times over the years. He knew how it went. Markus would devote his life to finding out who killed his wife, while also solving other cases.

"Kimbra?" He felt bad for waking her again, but he had to ask this time.

"What?" She mumbled, furrowing her eyebrows at being disturbed.

"Who killed Detective Nightingale's wife?"

"Lorelei? The lawyer?" Kimbra opened her eyes, stretched, and yawned. "Everyone knows Ghost did it. He's just some serial killer."

"But who's Ghost?"

"Daybreak is the last book of the series, everyone knows it ended on a cliffhanger."

"I've read it, I know. But you said before that your father had written the last book."

Kimbra hated talking about this. "Yeah he did, it's called Everafter."

"So…you know who Ghost is?"

She went silent for a moment. "I do." Answering appeared to physically pain her.

"Who is it?"

"Only dad and I know. I'm not breaking his trust and telling the whole world the ending of his book series."

Bud snorted, looking over the back of the book. "It's just silly to end it on a cliffhanger and not release the final book."

Silence, and then Kimbra spoke, her voice small. "He made the series for mom."

The CEO kept quiet, letting Kimbra continue.

"It meant a lot to her. It gave her something to think about apart from the fact she was dying. Losing who she was to some neurodegenerative disease." She swallowed and continued. "It's why he couldn't publish Everafter. She died before she could hear the final draft. He didn't think there was any point in it then."

Bud partially understood Loren's perspective. "But so many people love his work."

"But only one of them ever mattered."

"Why do you know who the killer is, then?"

"I was with mom a lot in her final years. I watched her pass. It was…hard on me. Especially because they had to tell me there's a fifty-fifty chance I might have inherited the gene and will succumb to the same fate." She let out a shaky breath, trying to compose herself. "Mom used to read me the series out loud while she was still able. After she passed, dad let me read the final draft of Everafter to help me cope."

Once she realized Bud wouldn't say anything, Kimbra went on. "It helped a lot in a weird way. The story gave me and mom something else to talk about and just forget what she was going through."

"Your dad must have loved her a lot to create an entire fictional world to write about."

"Yeah, he did."

"Can I have at least a hint?"

You're literally impossible.

She pondered for a moment before replying. "It's someone you already met in the book. Someone Markus Nightingale knows."

"Is it someone at the WPD?"

"I'm not telling you anything else."

He didn't take that as an answer. "Kimbra."

"No."

"Is it Julia Wilson? The detective who has feelings for Markus?"

She let out a small breath of disbelief. "Are you one of those that think she killed Lorelei, so Markus could be with her?"

Bud shrugged. "It's just one of the many theories I've heard."

"Or are you one of the people who think that Lorelei had an affair with the district attorney, Kelvin Rigsby? And he killed her because she threatened to blackmail him?"

His eyes grew wide in realization that there were more routes to the story than he had considered. "Ohmygod I didn't even think of that."

"There's a wide range of possibilities. Dad spent hours on that. Made sure it was nearly impossible to figure out, but also left hints here and there."

"It can't be Dr. John McCray, I don't think he'd do such a thing."

"Because he's just the lovable dorky medical examiner?"

"Yeah."

Kimbra smiled. "Don't paint anyone in Nightingale as an innocent soul. They're all capable of being Lorelei's murderer."

"So you're saying that Dr. McCray is Ghost?"

"No, I'm saying, don't write anyone off."

"Kimbra, just tell me."

"Again, it's a character who's already been introduced. It could be anyone."

It could be anyone.

As Kimbra drifted back off to sleep, Bud reopened the book and picked up where he left off.

But it's different when that victim is your own wife.

Detective Markus Nightingale never thought it would happen to him.

His house, their house, had become filled with police fairly quickly; well, after he finally pulled himself together enough to call it in. He couldn't stand being in the room, in the house, anymore. So, the detective sat on the front steps, watching as cops and the like bustled in and out with their equipment.

"Markus," a tall and sturdy lion towered over him. His red mane had faded into strands of gray over the years, overthrowing the once colorful hue. The tired bags under his eyes told Markus that he had been awake for hours.

Markus couldn't even look at him. He kept his hands together, staring at the pavement. "Chief."

"Son, I am so sorry about Lorelei. I—"

The canine held his hand up, palm forward. "I'm sorry, but I don't want to hear it right now. I just want to find the son of a bitch that did this to her."

"I can't let you on the case. You're too involved."

"Like hell I am!" He stood up, staring the older man straight in the eye. "She was my wife, Roy! I let this happen! If I hadn't had my head so far up my ass and got off work on time, she'd still be here!"

"Markus, it wasn't your fault." Roy sighed. "You can't go on blaming yourself." He tried to place a hand on his shoulder, but Markus quickly pulled away.

"I let her down."

"She loved you."

"I let her down." Markus repeated, but softer.

"Stay off the case. We need you elsewhere…but I…I promise we'll get the bastard who did this."

Markus Nightingale said nothing, but gave a slight nod in agreement. It would have to be enough to get the police chief off his back. Keep eyes away from him. Give him some time to look into the case on his own. No way he'd stand aside while Lorelei's killer ran free.

He owed her that much. After brushing her and their marriage aside for so long for work, he owed her that much.

Bud shut the book once again, and wondered about the man who wrote it.