A Change of Worlds

Book 5 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries

By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026

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Chapter 30

I heard someone crashing through the underbrush and ducked down. Was there another conspirator? I was incredibly relieved to see Jacy explode into the clearing, his face a mask of dread.

"Killian?" he shouted.

"Over here," I called.

I looked around, but White Deer was gone.

Jacy rushed to my side. "Holy shit! Are you okay? I heard a gunshot."

"Yeah, I think so. I might have twisted my ankle. Can you help me up?"

Jacy slid his hands under my arms and helped me up. I was surprised but pleased to find my ankle didn't hurt at all.

"Who fired that shot?"

"Him," I said, approaching Alexander.

I pulled out my phone, turned the flashlight on, found the gun and kicked it away.

"What the hell happened?" Jacy stared wide-eyed at the still form on the ground. "Is he dead?"

"I'm not sure."

I knelt down and felt for a pulse.

"He's alive. I'm not sure about Ricky though."

"Ricky?"

I scanned around with my flashlight until I spotted him on the far side of the clearing.

"Call nine-one-one," I told Jacy as I started toward the very still boy. "Tell them there was a shooting."

Thankfully, Jacy did what I'd asked without arguing.

I feared the worst as I approached Ricky. He hadn't moved since Alexander shot him. I squatted down and shined my light on him. There was so much blood. It looked like he'd been hit in the center of his back.

"They want to know if the shooting victim is alive," Jacy called.

I carefully pressed my fingers into Ricky's neck. "He has a pulse, but it's pretty weak," I reported. "He was shot in the back. He's bleeding pretty badly."

Jacy passed on the information, then said, "They're saying don't move him, just in case the bullet hit his spine."

I hadn't planned on it anyway. I stood up and moved a few feet away, where I turned off my flashlight and dialed Sgt. Kaplan's cell number.

"Kendall," he barked when he answered. "Let me guess. You were involved in the shooting at the Snyder excavation that was just called in."

"That depends on how you define involved."

"Are you bleeding?"

"No."

"Did you pull the trigger?"

"No, I—"

"Are you there now?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then you can fill me in when I get there. Don't go anywhere." He hung up.

I sighed and turned to find Jacy watching me carefully. He was off the phone too.

"Are the paramedics on the way?" I asked.

"Yeah, now tell me what the hell happened out here."

"I will, but first, what made you come out here, anyway? Did you hear the gunshots?"

"No. I had a dream."

"A dream?"

"Yeah. It's a recurring dream I've had for years now. It's always the same. Someone is chasing me through the woods. I'm running for my life because I know this person wants to kill me. Then I fall in a hole and he's standing over me. This time, though, I realized I wasn't actually the one being chased. It was you, and I was seeing it all through your eyes. When I woke up, I just knew I had to get to you as quickly as possible. I ran all the way here."

For a second, I was so surprised I couldn't speak.

"I had that same exact dream last week, and it came true tonight. That's exactly what happened. It was Alexander chasing me after he shot Ricky."

I could hear approaching sirens in the distance.

Jacy shook his head. "I don't understand. Why'd he shoot Ricky? Was he the thief? And how did he know you were even here? You were supposed to stay hidden."

The sirens were growing louder. "I was hiding, but I just reacted when Alexander shot Ricky."

"What do you mean? You reacted?"

"I...may have confronted him."

"You confronted the guy with a gun who'd just shot somebody? With a gun..."

"I didn't think."

"You could have been killed!"

"I know."

"Killian!"

"I know!"

The sirens were close now. Then the first few died out.

"One of us should probably go meet them and guide them back."

"They've been here so many times at this point, they probably don't need a guide. But before they get here, tell me what happened after the end of the dream!" Jacy insisted. "What happened after you fell in the pit? How did Alexander get knocked out?"

"White Deer."

Jacy shook his head in frustration. "White Deer? But how—"

"I'll explain later," I said firmly. "Just don't mention your dead ancestor to the cops."

"Oh for fucks sake—"

He was interrupted by the sounds of people approaching through the trees. "No one move," a man's voice called. "This is the police."

A powerful beam of light struck me in the face. I raised my hands in the universal sign for "don't shoot."

Within seconds, the site was swarming with police officers. Jacy and I were immediately handcuffed and moved to one side, while the two unconscious men were checked out and deemed to be nonthreatening. Floodlights were set so the EMTs could go to work.

A few minutes later, Sergeant Kaplan strode into the clearing, a deep scowl distorting his features. His hair was mussed, and his clothes were rumpled as if he'd been sleeping in them before rolling out of bed and rushing right to the crime scene.

After speaking to several officers, he finally made his way over to us. He glared at me for a few seconds, then shook his head.

"How are you always in the middle of every bad thing that happens around here, Kendall?" he snarled.

I gave him my most winsome smile. "No, really, you don't have to thank me."

"Cut the crap." He was not in a joking mood. Our usual sparring would have to wait until later, maybe after he'd downed several cups of strong coffee. He didn't look entirely awake yet. "What the fuck happened here?"

"I was doing a stakeout—" I started.

"A what?" he interrupted.

I bit back a smartass reply and took a deep breath. "I was staking out the site, hoping to catch the looter in the act. I wasn't planning on confronting him. I was only trying to ID him."

"Go on."

"Ricky and Alexander showed up and started talking."

"Who are Ricky and Alexander?"

"Ricky Wong and Alexander James. They were on Professor Healy's archaeological crew."

"They had something to do with the looting?"

"From what I understand, yes. Ricky recruited Alexander to do the actual stealing."

"And the murders?"

"Alexander killed Bridget Foxwell, possibly accidentally. I don't know about Professor Healy. Alexander claimed he didn't do it, and he didn't seem to know who did."

"And you overheard all this?"

"Well, not exactly," I admitted slowly. "I overheard some of it when Alexander and Ricky started arguing. Alexander wanted out, but Ricky was blackmailing him."

He held up a hand. "Blackmailing him with what?"

"Videos, photos, and recordings. A confession to shooting Bridget, among other things."

The detective shook his head. "Continue."

"Ricky told Alexander that he had to kill me, but Alexander refused. Ricky threatened him, then Alexander pulled a gun and shot Ricky. I, uh, acted without thinking and, well, I sort of confronted Alexander."

Kaplan stared at me as if I were a complete idiot. "You did what?"

"I confronted Alexander."

"You, an unarmed kid, confronted a man with a gun."

"Yes."

He stared at me for a few seconds. "Do you have any idea how stupid and irresponsible that was?"

I clenched my jaw and counted silently to ten. "I'm standing here, and you've got your killer and the looters. What more do you want?"

He steamed for a few seconds. "Take them to the station," he finally barked at a nearby officer. "Hold them until I get back to talk to them."

"Do you want someone to take their full statements?" she asked.

"No. I'll do it when I get there." Kaplan turned and started walking away.

"Are these handcuffs really necessary?" I called after him.

"Yes," the sergeant growled without even looking back.

The young officer shrugged apologetically. "Follow me."

The trip back to the police station was quiet for the most part. It wasn't my first ride in the backseat of a patrol car, though it didn't get any easier with repetition.

Once there, Jacy and I were placed in separate interrogation rooms to wait. After my adrenaline rush wore off, I was completely drained. I napped on and off, my head resting on the table. Several hours passed before I was finally led into Kaplan's office.

He was sitting behind his desk with a weary expression on his face and a huge mug of coffee cradled in his hand.

"Sit," he ordered.

I didn't need to be told twice. I slumped into one of the chairs facing him and stared down at my shoes.

"First off, I want to apologize for my attitude earlier."

My head snapped up. I hadn't been expecting that.

"You may have taken some unnecessary risks," he continued, "but you got the job done with no real harm to yourself, so I can't argue with the results. I've already taken Mr. Elliott's statement. Now I need to hear the entire story from you. Don't leave anything out. And I mean anything."

He turned on a digital recorder. After stating my name, his name, the time, and some other case information, he told me to start talking. I recounted the entire night, leaving nothing out until I came to White Deer's first appearance. I skipped his warning, but when I got to the part where Alexander caught up to me and had me at gunpoint, I had no clue how to explain White Deer's rescue without sounding like a crazy person.

I paused while I tried to figure something out, and Kaplan gave me a questioning look. "I, uh...hit my head when I fell," I lied, "so the next part is a little hazy. I'm not sure what happened exactly. The next thing I knew, Alexander was unconscious and Jacy arrived. He called 911 and I called you. That's pretty much it."

"And you didn't see what knocked the James kid out?"

"Uh, no."

"And you're sure about that?"

"Is Alexander awake?"

"He sure is."

"Does he remember what happened?"

"I'm asking the questions here and, right now, I'm more concerned with what you remember."

I took a deep breath and eyed the recorder. "I don't remember anything besides what I already told you."

Kaplan switched off the recorder and regarded me for several seconds. "Okay, spill. What aren't you telling me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Something happened that knocked that boy out, and whatever it was, you saw it. I don't buy for a second that you hit your head and don't remember."

I rubbed my face. "You're not going to believe me."

"Try me."

"There was a deer."

"Describe the deer."

"Are you going to have a lineup?" Kaplan didn't crack a smile, so I quickly continued. "It was male, huge antlers, albino."

"And it just attacked him?"

"It just kind of...head butted him. Really hard."

"You know that makes no sense."

"I knew you wouldn't believe me."

"I didn't say I don't believe you. I just said it doesn't make sense. Deer are usually only aggressive during rutting season and that's in the fall."

I shrugged. "Maybe the gunshots spooked him."

"You know something."

"I've told you everything I know that's relevant."

"Kendall..."

"Fine, the deer was the spirit of the ancient shaman who's protecting the dig site."

Kaplan glared at me. "Now you're just being insulting."

"What's Alexander saying?"

He sighed, and, for a moment, I didn't think he was going to answer me. Finally, he said, "Pretty much what you just told me. He claims a huge white buck came out of nowhere, slammed into him, and then next thing he knew he was waking up in an ambulance."

"So, if he corroborates my story, why are you giving me such a hard time?"

"Because it's a stupid fucking story."

"Strange things happen."

"Strange things happen to you, Kendall. What am I supposed to put in my report? What are we supposed to tell reporters?"

"Can't you just say local P.I. Killian Kendall saved the day again?"

Kaplan snorted and rolled his eyes.

"So what happens now? With the case, I mean."

"We get warrants and search Ricky Wong's and Alexander James' houses. We're also looking for Joyner. At the moment, we only want to question him. If it turns out he was more than just an unknowing fence — and from what you've told me, it sounds like he might be — we'll charge him."

"Speaking of Ricky..."

"What about him?"

"Is he alive?"

"So far. He's still in surgery. He lost a lot of blood and suffered some internal damage, but they expect him to pull through."

"We still don't know who killed Healy."

"Not yet, but we'll find out. Leave that to us. You've done your part. Why don't you let us take you to the hospital to get checked out?"

I shook my head. "I'm okay. I just want to go home and fall into bed."

"You're a mess. You should probably get those scratches looked at."

"They're only scratches. I'll shower when I get home and put something on them."

"There's no arguing with you, Kendall. Promise me you'll see a doctor if any of them start looking infected."

"Sure, you bet. I promise. May I go now?"

He frowned, then nodded. "I'll have someone take you home."

"Thanks," I mumbled.

A minute later, the same young officer who'd driven us to the station knocked and stuck her head in the door, a friendly smile on her face. "Your chauffeur service is here."

I said goodbye to Kaplan and followed her out. As we were passing through the main room, I noticed a familiar figure disappearing through the backdoor.

"Hold on a second," I said to the officer and took off.

I caught up to him in the parking lot. "Micah," I called.

He stopped, shoulders tightening before he turned. His expression was carefully neutral — his customer service face — but when I got close enough for him to see the scrapes and bruises covering me, his eyes widened.

"Holy shit! What happened to you?"

"I was chased through the forest at night by a gun wielding killer," I said, trying for humor but the frayed edges in my voice were obvious even to me. “How was your night?”

Micah stared at me a moment, then shook his head. "What do you want, Killian?"

The coldness in his voice hit me like a physical blow, but I tried not to flinch.

"I just... I saw you and...I don't want to leave things the way they are."

A long, awkward silence stretched between us.

I broke first. "Say something."

He let out a breath and looked away. "There's not much to say, really."

"Micah, I'm sorry."

He lifted his gaze to mine, and for a second, I saw the hurt there — raw and unguarded. "I'm sorry, too. That doesn't really change anything, though, does it?"

I blinked rapidly, fighting off tears I absolutely did not have the emotional bandwidth for after the night I’d had.

"When are you leaving?" I asked.

“In a couple of weeks.” His shoulders sagged slightly. “I’m still trying to find somewhere to live.”

A tiny thread of hope tugged inside me. “Maybe we can talk before you go.”

Micah shook his head almost immediately. "I don't think so, Killian. I'm just not...ready." He pressed his lips together, then added, more softly, “I need space. Real space. I'm still processing. My heart is broken. You don't get over that overnight.”

That one hurt. Mostly because it was fair.

I looked down at the cracked asphalt and chewed the inside of my cheek.

“Maybe...” Micah said after a moment, voice unsteady, “maybe after some more time... I don’t know. Maybe I’ll give you a call once I’m settled somewhere.”

I nodded, still staring at the ground. "I'd like that," I whispered.

Micah shifted his weight, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket like he wasn’t sure what else to do with them. “I guess I should go.” He took a steadying breath. “Bye, Killian.”

I forced myself to look at him one last time. His eyes flicked to mine, then away, like it hurt him to hold the contact.

“Yeah. Bye,” I managed.

He turned and walked toward his car. I watched him go until he pulled out of the lot, taillights shrinking into the darkness. Even after he was gone, I stayed fixed in place, feeling the cold seep into my bones.

A few minutes later, my police chauffeur approached, keeping her voice gentle. “Ready to go?”

I nodded and followed her to the patrol car. This time, she let me sit in the front.

I buckled my seatbelt, leaned my head back against the headrest, and shut my eyes.

The bruises throbbed. The exhaustion crashed over me. But worst of all was the hollow ache Micah left behind — an ache with no easy fix.

The officer kept up a steady stream of chatter all the way to Amalie's House. She didn't seem to need any response from me, which was good since I wasn't in any condition to contribute to the conversation.

When she pulled into the drive of the B&B, I thanked her and stumbled inside.

Somehow, I managed to drag myself up the stairs to my room. I pulled off my clothes, collapsed into bed, and promptly passed out.

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