“Caitlyn! The bus is almost here!”

“Coming, coming, coming!”

She descends the stairs, shoes on, backpack slung over her shoulder, and hanging from her neck is the medallion with the last line of the poem; The Secrets That I Keep. She wanted to hold on to it. I felt like it was kind of fitting. I had a small hole drilled in the top and put it on a delicate silver chain. She wears it every day, just like how I wear Nicole’s ring.

I step back inside and meet her at the bottom of the stairs.

“Okay,” I say, straightening her clothes. “Have a great day at school. Pay attention. And remember that I love you very much, Caitlyn Nicole Price.”

I kiss her on the cheek.

“I love you too, Dad.”

She kisses me on the cheek.

Then, she completes the second part of our morning ritual by turning to the small table, just inside the front door. There’s a framed picture of Nicole. Caitlyn kisses the tips of her fingers and touches the photo.

“Bye, Mom.”

She then looks at the framed black-and-white photo of a young girl, sitting next to it.

“Bye, Katherine.”

With that, Caitlyn runs out the door as the bus pulls up to the end of the driveway. The doors hiss open. Caitlyn turns and gives me a quick wave. I send one back. She climbs in and I see her silhouette move down the bus and find a seat. The engine rumbles and the bus drives away.

I watch until it’s a small speck in the distance.

I go back inside, close the door, and look at the photos on the table.

Caitlyn knows that they’re gone. We both do. Even though we don’t talk about it that much, we’re both grateful for what they did for us. I kiss my own fingers and touch Nicole’s photo. Then I do the same for Katherine.

I head to the kitchen, grab my cup of coffee, and go to the Writing Room, which is a little glass-enclosed porch that offers a spectacular view of the Pacific Ocean.

The notebook is open on the desk, ready to go.

I look out at the shimmering expanse of water under the blue sky.

I pick up the pen and begin writing.

It’s a perfect day.

If Nightingale House had you tearing through the pages, don’t miss Steve Frech’s Secrets to the Grave, available now!

Click here if you’re in the US

Click here if you’re in the UK

Keep reading for an excerpt from Secrets to the Grave…

1

Patricia Crawford pumped her arms as she rounded the corner onto Willow Lane. The motion caused her nylon windbreaker to send a steady thwick-thwick out into the morning fog.

Ten pounds. That was the goal. Ten pounds gone by the time summer rolled around.