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Back The Night Bird
Chapters (60)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication
  4. CONTENTS
  5. Start Reading
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. FROM THE AUTHOR
  59. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  60. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Noah grinned. “What, like seeing a shrink? No, most girls are smart enough to keep the cray-cray hidden when you start dating them. Comes out sooner or later, though.”

Frost slid out a card and handed it to Noah. “I think that’s all for now.”

“I can get out of here?” he asked.

“Yes. If you think of anything else, my number’s on the card.”

Frost headed for the door of the bar, but as he did, he found that he was whistling under his breath. He was on the street and into the third replay of the chorus before he realized that Noah’s earworm had gotten inside his own head. He was whistling the same song that Noah had been humming, and once a song got into your brain like that, it was impossible to get it out.

Then Frost realized something strange.

The earworm stuck in his head wasn’t new. He’d been whistling a fragment of a song wherever he went for the past couple of days. It popped onto his lips and demanded to come out. Noah had been humming the same song that Frost had been whistling for days.

He went back inside the lounge and nearly bumped into Noah, who was on his way out of the bar.

“What are you humming?” Frost asked.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I do that. I know, it can be irritating. Most of the time, I don’t even know I’m doing it. Women have to tell me to stop.”

“What’s the song?”

Noah listened to the tune on his lips. “I think it’s a Carole King song. It was playing when Christie did her freak-out. I guess it kind of stuck with me, you know?”

Noah was right. It was a Carole King song. Frost had heard it before. Recently. Over and over.

“Which one?” he asked, even though he knew the answer.

“It’s called ‘Nightingale,’” Noah replied. “I always liked that one. It’s a song for lonely people, you know? It’s about the night bird winging his way home.”

18

18

In her dream, Frankie hiked along the Point Reyes beach with her father beside her.

He took long, determined steps in the sand, and she had to walk fast to keep pace with him. His back was as straight as a light post. His wiry hair defied the wind. He walked the way old men did, with his hands laced behind him. He fired questions at her like an impatient professor.

“Question,” Marvin said. “Is there a formula for measuring acceptable risk?”

She was practically running. “No.”

“Question. Then how do you assess whether a risk is worth taking?”

“It’s a judgment call,” she said, panting. “You have to look at the circumstances in each case.”

“Question. Is it acceptable to pursue your own selfish satisfaction when it causes risk to someone else?”

Slow down, she wanted to say. Slow down!