All Lost Things

Book 3 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries

By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026

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Chapter 14

As I sat in the cold, sterile visitor room at the juvenile detention center, waiting for Caleb, I couldn't help but think I was spending far too much time in this place. If everything went according to plan, however, this could very well be my last visit.

I waited several more minutes before the door opened and Caleb appeared. He took one look in my direction and turned away.

"I don't want to see him," he snapped at the guard.

"Caleb, wait. It's important."

He paused but didn't face me. "What's so important?"

"I found some new information that could get you out of here."

He slowly turned and gave me a measuring look. His bruises had faded, but a sullen, angry expression still darkened his face. He seemed to consider my words for a few seconds before grudgingly walking to the table and sitting down across from me.

I waited until the guard shut the door before I began. "You know, you've really made it hard to help you. If you had just told me certain things up front—"

"Are you going to tell me what you found out, or are you just going to lecture me?" he interrupted.

Reminding myself of my resolution to be nicer to my client, I took a deep breath and tried not to grit my teeth. "I talked to Marco."

Caleb's eyes flicked to mine but he showed no other reaction. "Who?" His voice was carefully neutral.

"Your former boyfriend."

He shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Marco told me everything, Caleb. He said you guys were boyfriends, but you were afraid of your dad finding out, so you asked him to keep it a secret. He also said he was the one who talked you into attending the Rainbow Alliance meetings."

"Maybe he's lying. Did you ever think of that?"

"Why would he lie? What does he have to gain? While we're on the subject, what do you have to gain by lying at this point? Why can't you just stop all the bullshit and be honest for once? How am I supposed to believe anything you say if you can't even come clean when I already know the truth?"

"Fine. I was sort of seeing Marco. It wasn't serious, so I didn't see why it was any of your business."

"Or maybe you're just afraid I'll tell Asher."

His eyes narrowed. "There's no reason to tell Asher."

I shrugged. "Maybe not. I think it's strange that you've gone to such lengths to keep it a secret. Why didn't you want anyone to know?"

"Marco told you. It was because of my dad."

"That didn't stop you from being pretty open with Asher."

"I was more comfortable with being gay when I started dating Asher. Plus, I was living in the group home by then. I didn't really care if my dad found out."

"Did he?"

"What?"

"Did your dad find out?"

He seemed annoyed by the question. "I don't know. How is any of this going to help me get out of here?"

"It's not. Marco told me something else that will, though. He said he saw someone at your house one night after you broke up with him."

Caleb frowned. "Was he stalking me?"

"He said he went over to talk to you, but no one answered his knock. As he turned to leave, he saw Finn Byrnes walk across the field and crawl through the barn window."

He started shaking his head before I was even finished speaking. "That's stupid. I don't even know Finn Byrnes. You know, Marco is a little crazy. He has this bad habit of making shit up—"

"I talked to Finn."

Caleb fell silent. His eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but at me.

"He told me you two had been meeting in the barn for months. He admitted that he was the one you were hooking up with in the loft."

I watched with a certain amount of satisfaction as Caleb's face slowly turned an interesting shade of deep red. He seemed to be struggling to form a sentence, but incoherent sputtering was all he managed.

"He also told me that you stayed at his house the night you ran away from the group home."

Caleb finally found his voice, though it came out strangled with fury. "You had no right!"

I blinked in surprise. That wasn't quite the response I'd expected. "What?"

"How dare you?"

"How dare I what? Try to help you? Isn't that what I'm supposed to be doing?"

"I told you I didn't want to involve him, and you went and dragged him into it anyway. I can't believe you'd go behind my back and dig all this up."

"Hey, I have a newsflash for you. That's what private investigators do. They dig stuff up. You asked me to help you get out of here, and the only way to do that is either to find out who killed your father or to prove you didn't. We're still working on figuring out who committed the murder, but now we have an alibi for you. You have a 'get out of jail free' card. Use it."

"No."

"Oh my God! Are you crazy?"

"I don't want to involve Finn."

"Is this because of his parents?"

"It's none of your goddamned business! I said I don't want to involve him, and that's final!"

I shook my head in amazement. "Are you in love with him?"

Caleb blinked. "Who?"

"Finn."

He gave a sharp laugh. "Why do you want to know, so you can report to Asher? I talked to him, you know. On the phone. He told me how you ran right to his house after you left here last time. You couldn't wait to tell him that I was meeting someone in the barn, could you?"

"You're avoiding my question."

"I know."

"So what now? Am I just supposed to pretend I don't know that you were at Finn's the night you ran away?"

"Exactly."

I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. "I really don't get you."

He shrugged. "I didn't ask you to get me, just get me out."

"You know, if you'd stayed at the group home, you wouldn't be here right now."

"No, I'd still be getting the crap beat out of me there."

"Is that really why you left?"

"That's not enough of a reason?"

"I meant..." I sighed. "I guess so."

"Are we finished?"

I thought about Rachel and once more debated whether to tell him I had talked to his mother. I came to the same conclusion as I had every other time I'd thought about it for the last two days: it would only make the situation worse.

I nodded sadly. "I guess we are."

I was halfway back to the office when I had one of my brainstorms. I quickly called Novak on my cell phone.

"Do you know what group home Caleb ran away from?" I asked as soon as he answered.

"I have the name and address somewhere in my notes. Why?"

"It just occurred to me that we've not talked to anyone there. Caleb said he ran away because he was getting beat up, but he also seemed a little evasive when I questioned him on the subject. I'm wondering if there isn't more to the story."

I could hear the sound of paper shuffling in the background. "While I'm looking, how did your talk with Caleb go?"

I sighed. "About as well as any of our talks go, by which I mean not as well as I would have liked. He tried to deny even knowing Marco or Finn, but he finally admitted everything — more or less. He's still insisting that he doesn't want to involve Finn."

"So, he has an alibi but doesn't want to use it?"

"Right."

"There's something fishy going on there."

"I agree. I think maybe he has stronger feelings for Finn than he wants to let on."

"That would be unfortunate for your friend Asher. Ah, here we go — the Phoenix House for Youth."

"Phoenix? As in Arizona?"

"More like phoenix as in the mythical beast that rose from its own ashes, I would imagine."

I was glad he couldn't see me at that moment. I was pretty sure I was blushing. "Oh. Right. What are the chances of me getting to talk to someone there today?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"Whether Hank has any pull there. From my admittedly limited experience, those places don't exactly welcome visitors, and they probably wouldn't tell you anything even if you managed to see somebody."

"Do you think you could find out if Sergeant Kaplan can get me in?"

"I'll see what I can do."

I went back to the office and did some paperwork while we waited to hear back from the sergeant.

Around mid-afternoon, he phoned with good news. He'd gotten me an appointment by calling in a few favors from a fellow officer who had worked closely with the head of staff at the Phoenix House. He gave me directions to the group home and agreed to meet me there in half an hour, suggesting that they might be more willing to talk to me if someone official was along.

The group home was based in a large, two-story farmhouse on the far side of town and out in the country, with a small, inconspicuous sign in the front yard, almost concealed by overgrown evergreen bushes. The side yard had been converted into a gravel parking area, and even though it already held several vehicles, including a marked squad car, I had no trouble finding a spot.

Kaplan climbed out of the cruiser as I shut my door. "Hi, Killian." He extended his hand in greeting. "Once I get you inside, I'm going to let you ask all the questions. I'm not here in any official capacity. Okay?"

"Sure." I pretty much knew what I wanted to ask.

We approached the door, and Kaplan knocked firmly. We waited for what felt like an unusually long time before it finally opened, revealing a tall, slender man in his late thirties. He was attractive in a sort of generic sense, with neatly styled light brown hair and a sharp outfit—jeans paired with a button-up shirt. A strained smile rested on his lips, not quite reaching his icy blue eyes.

"Hello," he greeted us politely. "You must be Sergeant Kaplan. I'm Rob Samson, head of staff here at the Phoenix House."

"Mr. Samson." Kaplan shook his hand. "This is Killian Kendall. As I mentioned on the phone, he's working with the police department in our investigation of Ira Cohen's murder. I was hoping we could talk to you about Caleb Cohen."

Mr. Samson frowned in my direction. "I've already been questioned about Caleb. I don't know what else I can add to what I said then."

"We've discovered some additional information since that initial interview. In light of these new facts, we have a few more questions."

"Very well, then. We can talk in my office." He stepped back and motioned us inside.

I stepped in first and took a moment to look around. I guessed I was standing in what had been the living room in the house's former life, but now it was laid out as a lounge. Several mismatched, beat up sofas faced a television, and a dusty, disused foosball table sat in a corner. Two teenaged girls looked up from the TV with lazy interest. The heavier of the two, with dyed black hair and too much makeup, went back to whatever show they were watching. The other girl, a waif-thin, freckle-faced redhead, checked me out with a predatory glint in her eye.

"Right this way." Mr. Samson ushered us to a room at the back of the house that had probably once been the den or family room. A door had been added for privacy, and a desk, several filing cabinets, and three chairs filled the smallish space. He sat behind the desk and indicated that Kaplan and I should take the other chairs.

A picture on his desk caught my eye. It showed an attractive blond woman with a young child on her lap.

"My wife and son," he said proudly.

"You're married?" I wasn't sure why I was so surprised. Maybe because my first impression upon meeting him was that he was possibly gay, or maybe because I'd somehow assumed he lived on the premises.

He gave me an annoyed look. "Yes."

"I'm sorry. I figured you lived here."

His expression cleared. "Oh, no. There is live-in staff, but I'm not one of them. I'm lucky enough to go home at the end of the day."

"Can you tell me a bit about Phoenix House? I'm not really familiar with how a group home functions."

"Technically, we offer a residential treatment program for troubled youth. That means that most of our residents are sentenced here by the court. However, sometimes we do have children placed here because there's nowhere else for them to go. Often they're victims of abuse or neglect and too old to easily place in a foster home."

"Like Caleb."

"Yes."

"What was he like while he was here?"

"From what I remember, very quiet and reserved. He wasn't a problem resident."

"He told me he was abused while he was staying here."

Mr. Samson's face grew alarmed. "What? I never heard anything about this. Abused how?"

"He claims some of the other residents beat him up."

Mr. Samson frowned, but also seemed oddly relieved. "I'm pretty sure I would have known about something like that."

"Is it possible he just kept it quiet?"

"I suppose, although I don't know why on earth he would have. All our residents are encouraged to come to me or any of our staff with any problems that come up. We have an open door policy."

"Did he have any close friends while he was here, anyone he might have confided in?"

"Not that I'm aware of, but then I'm not in a position to necessarily notice if he did."

I was growing frustrated with his vague non-answers. "Is there someone else who would know more, one of the live-in staff maybe?"

He frowned but nodded. "Perhaps Charlie can answer your questions. He's our head counselor and lives here in the house. I'll see if he's available. Excuse me." He left us alone in the office, although I noticed he was careful not to shut the door.

I looked around and realized that everything in the room was on the shabby side. The chairs were frayed and stained, the filing cabinets scratched and dinged, and the desk looked suspiciously like a government hand-me-down. I guessed the home operated on a shoestring budget.

I found myself suddenly grateful that I'd had Adam to take me in when my father kicked me out. Of course, if Adam hadn't, I'm sure my mom would have made other arrangements. She wouldn't have let me end up here, but the possibility had existed. If things had been just a little different, this might have been my home.

"So, what do you think?" Kaplan asked, dispelling my thoughts.

"He's not very helpful."

"No, but if it makes you feel better, he wasn't any more forthcoming with our officer who interviewed him the first time. These guys tend to be pretty tight-lipped when it comes to their charges. Not that they give too much of a damn about the kids. They're just protecting their own asses."

Our conversation was cut short by the reappearance of Mr. Samson and a younger black man with piercings in both ears and a neatly trimmed goatee.

"Killian, this is Charlie. I told him you have some questions about Caleb."

I stood and shook Charlie's hand. He pulled a folding wooden chair from a closet I hadn't even noticed, opened it up, and we both sat down.

Mr. Samson remained standing behind Charlie, as if he was monitoring our conversation. I was getting the impression that Mr. Samson cared more about the Phoenix House's reputation than about the kids who lived there.

I turned my attention to Charlie. "Thanks for taking the time to talk to me."

He smiled. "No problem. I hope I can help."

I decided I already liked him better than Mr. Samson. "I understand Caleb was quiet, pretty much kept to himself while he was here."

Charlie nodded. "That's about right, yeah. I think he was having a hard time getting used to this place. Most kids have an adjustment period when they arrive, but he seemed to have more trouble than usual."

"He told me some of the other residents beat him up."

Charlie shook his head. "No way."

"You seem pretty sure."

"That's because I am. We have a strict 'no violence, zero tolerance' policy here. They know better than to fight, and if they did, we'd see it or hear about it. There's always an adult staff member somewhere nearby."

"So you think he's lying?"

He shrugged. "I don't want to call the kid a liar, but let's just say he wasn't always truthful."

"What do you mean?"

"I caught him in a few lies while he was here. I facilitate group therapy sessions. It's not as impressive as it sounds. For the most part, the kids just sit around and talk about whatever is on their minds. We try to encourage them to work out ways to solve their own problems. A couple of times, Caleb...exaggerated the truth, shall we say, when it was his turn."

"How so?"

"Well, once he claimed both his parents were dead when I knew full well his father was alive and was accused of abusing him. Of course, I couldn't just say that in the middle of the session, so I talked to him about it later. He told me that in his mind his father was dead." He shook his head. "You know, later, after everything happened, that answer came back to haunt me. I wondered if I should have placed more importance on what he said. At the time, I figured he was a hurt kid mouthing off."

Mr. Samson rested a comforting hand on Charlie's shoulder. "That's what any of us would have done."

I frowned. All this was very interesting, but I wondered where it left me with Caleb. I was beginning to think I couldn't believe a word he said.

"Did Caleb befriend anyone while he was here?"

"Not really. There were a couple of kids he talked to because they were in similar circumstances." He brightened up a bit. "There was a boy named Sven who actually got placed in a foster home."

"Caleb said that one of the residents here told him kids their age are seldom placed in a home."

Charlie nodded sadly. "Unfortunately, he was right. Sven is a rare case. And the guy who told him that was probably Deon. He's been here for four years, since his mom died of a drug overdose. He'll be eighteen in a few months, and, trust me, he's counting the days."

"Do you think I could talk to Deon?"

Charlie deferred to Mr. Samson, who seemed to be considering my request. "I suppose that would be all right, as long as I can be present."

I frowned. I doubted I could get much out of one of the kids with Mr. Samson hovering over their shoulder.

Kaplan caught my expression. "Actually, Mr. Samson, I wonder if I could have a few words with you alone while Killian talks to Deon."

Mr. Samson obviously wasn't happy with this arrangement, but reluctantly agreed.

"I'll go get Deon for you," Charlie offered, standing up.

"Before you go, do either of you have any idea why Caleb ran away? Was he just that unhappy?"

Charlie glanced at Mr. Samson again, and I sensed an unspoken question between them. Mr. Samson gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, and Charlie nodded. I fought to keep another frown off my face.

"I think Caleb would be the best person to answer that question for you," Mr. Samson said simply.

I was dying to know what they were hiding.

"I'll just go." Charlie slipped from the room.

"Wait a minute," Mr. Samson called, following him out.

Kaplan and I exchanged a knowing look.

I could hear the low rumble of Mr. Samson's voice from outside the room, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. He quickly rejoined us.

"Is there somewhere we can speak privately?" Kaplan asked him.

I could have sworn I saw the man grind his teeth, but he forced a smile. "Follow me." They left the office, and I found myself alone. I was tempted to snoop but didn't want to risk getting in trouble if someone caught me, so I waited patiently in my seat.

Charlie returned a few minutes later with Deon, a muscular black teen wearing a tight fitting, white A-shirt and red basketball shorts. The kid nodded in my direction as he dropped into the chair Kaplan had vacated.

"I'll just, ah, leave the two of you alone." Charlie sounded uncomfortable about something, but I nodded in his direction and he backed out. Once again, I noticed the door was left open. I couldn't shake the feeling that Charlie was just around the corner, listening.

Deon rolled his eyes and grinned. "Don't mind him. We got some bad press a few months ago when one of the girls claimed a counselor had sex with her. Turned out it was all a crock of shit, but it put everybody on edge, you know?"

I nodded. That explained a lot. "So, you were Caleb's friend?"

"Depends on what you mean by 'friend'." He shrugged. "We lived in the same house, even shared the same room, but we weren't exactly tight."

"Did he talk to anyone?"

"This kid named Sven, and me, more than just about anybody else, but that ain't sayin' much. Oh, and there was Birdie."

"Sven is in a foster home now, right?" Deon nodded. "What about Birdie?"

"She's still here. She's got a while yet. In fact, you probably saw her when you came in. She's always in front of the TV. A skinny little redhead?"

I remembered the look in her eyes and nodded. "She and Caleb talked a lot?"

"No, not at all. But not for a lack of effort on her part." He grinned.

"What do you mean?"

"Birdie's more like a hawk. That girl is always looking for prey. She goes after every new boy that comes in here. Caleb wasn't much interested, if you get my drift, but she cornered him a few times."

"You knew Caleb was gay?"

"Everybody knew, or at least we all guessed. He was way more interested in Sven than Birdie. It was pretty obvious."

"Did it bother you?"

"Not much bothers me."

"Did it bother anybody else?"

He shrugged. "There were the usual stupid comments and name-calling, but that comes with the territory."

"Caleb told me he got beat up because he was gay."

"What? In here?"

"Yeah."

"Psh. Nah. Nobody got beat up."

"So he lied?"

"Guess so. Look, he came in here looking for trouble. He was always trying to start something with somebody. A few people got sick of it and told him off, but nobody ever laid a hand on him. We got too much at risk to just hit somebody, no matter how good it might feel at the time."

"I take it you didn't like him much."

"Didn't like him, didn't dislike him. He was just here, passing through like everybody else. I gave him his space and listened to him the few times he needed to talk. I try to do that, since, you know, I've been here the longest and all. I know how the system works — or doesn't work, at least for us. He seemed to be settling down and then, boom, he ran." He shrugged again. "Can't say I miss him."

"Do you have any idea why he ran away?"

He glanced towards the door, then leaned in close and lowered his voice. I leaned forward to hear him. "The night he took off, Samson called him in for a meeting. When he came back to the room, he was really upset — like, irritated or something. I asked him what his deal was, and he said they were sending him back to his dad."

I sat back in my chair and stared at Deon in surprise. "No one mentioned that."

He gave me a crooked smile. "Yeah. I figured. They were probably trying to be nice and give him a heads-up, but technically, they weren't supposed to tell him until the social workers got here."

"So you think he panicked and ran?"

"I'm not saying he panicked. He didn't seem scared, just pissed off. Next thing I knew, he was gone."

It looked like yet another meeting with Caleb was in order, although I couldn't help wondering if it was even worth my time. It seemed I couldn't believe a thing Caleb told me.

I forced my attention back to Deon. "Thanks. You were really helpful. You can send Charlie back in now."

He chuckled. "No problem. Glad I could help."

"You did."

Charlie was back in the room so fast I had no doubt he'd been eavesdropping. The sheepish look on his face confirmed my suspicion. I decided to ignore the spying and get to the point. "I think I need to speak to Mr. Samson again."

Charlie nodded, still not looking me in the eye. "I'll go get him."

Mr. Samson, along with Kaplan and Charlie, soon rejoined me. Mr. Samson looked quite grim. I wondered if Charlie had managed to fill him in on my conversation with Deon or if that was just his usual expression. Either way, I expected it to get even grimmer in the next few seconds.

"Anything you'd like to add?" I asked carefully.

"No." Mr. Samson gazed back at me placidly. "I think I've said everything I have to say."

"Then is there anything you'd like to amend?"

The director's face grew cold. "Meaning?"

"I know you haven't been exactly truthful with me...or the police."

Kaplan gave me a curious look. Mr. Samson's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"I believe you know why Caleb ran away."

"I never said I didn't." He chose his words carefully. "I said that Caleb would be the best person to tell you why he left. For the record, I don't know for sure why Caleb left. I may suspect, but I don't know."

"You told Caleb that he was being returned to his father."

Kaplan's head snapped around to look at Mr. Samson, who was turning an alarming shade of red. "That's confidential information to which you should not be privy," the director growled through gritted teeth.

"Well, I know now, and you should have told the police in the first place."

"Actually, I don't have to tell anyone anything. That's why we have strict confidentiality laws. Now, if you'll excuse me, this conversation is over."

"No, it's not." Kaplan spoke up, his voice strong with authority. "Mr. Samson, as I'm sure you well know, those confidentiality laws go right out the window in cases of murder. You should have been up front with my officer from day one. I could charge you with obstructing justice, but I'll consider overlooking that if you answer Mr. Kendall's questions. It will be easier on all of us. I hate paperwork and I'm sure you'd hate to lose your job. Or, if you prefer, we can always come back with a warrant."

Mr. Sampson looked like he was about to blow a gasket. Since Kaplan had clearly taken on the role of bad cop, I decided it was my turn to play the good cop.

I took a deep breath. "Look, I'm not trying to discredit you. I think this place is doing a lot of good, and I don't want to cause any trouble for you. I'm just trying to find out if Caleb Cohen chopped up his father with an ax. To do that, I need to know the truth."

Mr. Samson sat down behind his desk, his lips pressed firmly together. "Charlie, if you'll excuse us? And please shut the door on your way out." Charlie did as he was asked. As soon as we were alone, Mr. Samson sighed. "I'd like to point out I'm only doing this to avoid further official involvement."

I shrugged. "As long as you're doing it. I do appreciate your cooperation."

"What do you need to know?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Did you tell Caleb he was being returned to his father?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why did I tell him?"

"Well, that too, but why was he being returned to an abusive parent?"

"You should check with Social Services, but from what I understand, there was simply no proof that anyone had abused him, other than a few bruises that, quite frankly, could have come from anywhere. All we had were his accusations. After our experiences here, and an evaluation with a psychiatrist, it was determined that Caleb had fabricated the claims."

I sat in stunned silence as his words sank in. The case had just taken an unexpected turn.

My mind was churning as I drove away from the Phoenix House. The more I learned about this case, the more confused I became. Caleb claimed his father abused him and had done so for years. A psychiatrist believed Caleb was making it up. Rachel Cohen had confirmed that Ira beat her, but she insisted that he'd never laid a finger on Caleb before she left. Yet, I'd seen the bruises on him myself. I didn't know who to believe.

I did know, however, that I needed to warn Asher. At the very least, Caleb had been lying to him about Marco and Finn. I knew Asher wasn't going to want to hear what I had to say, but I had to tell him.

Instead of heading back to the office, I called Novak and filled him in on what I'd found out at the group home. He sounded as baffled as I felt. I asked if I could take the rest of the afternoon off, and he agreed. I was relieved, seeing that I was already on my way to Asher's house.

When I knocked, Asher's mom answered the door. She seemed surprised to see me.

"Hi, is Asher here?"

"Yes, he is," she said slowly. "Hang on. I'll let him know you're here."

It felt strange for her to not invite me in. The Davises' house had practically been my second home for years. I waited on the doorstep until she returned a couple of minutes later looking uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, Killian. He said he doesn't want to see you."

I blinked in surprise. I'd known he was upset when I left the time before, but not that upset. "Can you tell him it's important?"

"He, uh, seemed pretty adamant. I really am sorry. Can I give him a message?"

"Yeah. Please ask him to call me. Tell him it's urgent."

She frowned. "Is something wrong?"

I debated what to say. "I don't know. Maybe. I...I just need to talk to Asher."

I drove home feeling extremely dejected. Nothing seemed to be going right. I was more confused than ever about the case, my talk with Jake had been a disaster, and Asher wasn't speaking to me.

When I arrived home, I headed straight to my room. I wrote up my notes for the day, then sulked until Adam called me down for dinner. I was quieter than usual while we ate, so Adam and Steve insisted we watch a funny movie to cheer me up. Despite my protests that I didn't want to be cheered up, they dragged me into the den and put on some dumb comedy.

Somehow, I managed to sit through the whole thing, although more often than not my mind wasn't on the screen. Still, it seemed to make Adam and Steve feel better, and afterwards they allowed me to escape to my room.

I wasn't in the mood to get online, and I couldn't concentrate on the book I was reading, so eventually I just turned off the light and tried to go to sleep.

Unfortunately, my mind refused to stop working. My day's discoveries and disappointments just kept cycling through my head. I was still awake when Kane got home from his date and prepared for bed. It wasn't long before his breathing let me know he'd drifted off. For some reason, I found that even more frustrating.

I sat up in bed, a low growl coming from the back of my throat.

"Calm down," a voice said softly in my ear.

I started and turned to find myself face to face with Seth. "Wha—?"

The familiar crooked grin flashed across his face. "You're never going to fall asleep if you're so tense."

I shook my head. "Obviously, I'm already asleep."

"How do you figure?"

"I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

He shrugged. "Is that what you decided after the last time we talked?"

I nodded, but his question shook my conviction. "I...guess. It seemed like the best explanation. Better than thinking I'm losing my mind, anyway."

"You're not losing your mind."

"I'm sure that's exactly what hallucinations tell people who are losing their minds."

Seth laughed. "So now I'm a hallucination. You sure know how to make a guy feel special." I reached toward him and his smile quickly vanished. "Don't." His voice was sharp.

"Why not?"

"I'm not... You won't be able to touch me. It'll just freak you out."

I shook my head. "Like I'm not already freaked out? This is so weird."

"My being here?"

"Well, yeah. You're dead!"

"Would you rather I leave you alone?"

I had to think about that for a moment. Seeing Seth again made my heart ache, although I tried to cover it up with banter. Besides, it was nothing new. I'd been dreaming about Seth on and off since he died.

At least, that's what I tried to tell myself. The truth was these dreams — if they were in fact dreams — were very different from the ones I used to have on an almost nightly basis. In most of those, I'd just relive Seth's murder, or his killer would be taunting me.

"No," I finally decided. "I like seeing you again, even if it does mean I'm going nuts."

He gave me a serious look. "You're not—"

"Crazy," I finished for him. "Right. If you say so. Why are you here?"

"To talk to you."

"Did you just want to chat, or do you have another vague warning for me?"

"Does it have to be one or the other?"

I stuck out my tongue and made a face. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Asher."

"Of course." I sighed. "I must be the only person in the world with a ghost for a relationship counselor."

Seth chuckled. "You know, you could just find someone alive to talk to about all this, then I wouldn't be needed."

"So what specifically about Asher did you want to discuss?"

"Why are you still so hung up on him?"

I frowned. "What do you mean? I'm not hung up on him."

"Oh yeah? Then why do you keep running to tell him about every little negative thing you find out about Caleb?"

"He asked me to investigate! And I hardly think lying and cheating are 'little things'."

"He asked you to help prove Caleb innocent or guilty. He didn't ask you to find out if Caleb was seeing other guys."

"It came up during the investigation. What? I'm supposed to just keep all that to myself? I don't want to see Asher get hurt."

"Is that the only reason you want to tell him, or are you maybe taking some small measure of satisfaction in showing Asher that the guy he left you for wasn't all he made him out to be?"

My breath caught in my throat. Was there some truth in what Seth was saying? If I really thought about it, I had to admit that he wasn't completely wrong. I suddenly felt very ashamed.

"It...it wasn't the only reason. Especially not today. I found out that Caleb's possibly been lying about everything. Asher needs to know that."

"Asher's a big boy. He can take care of himself."

"So you think I shouldn't tell him?"

"I don't know, Killian. I'm just saying you need to evaluate your motives. You've been so focused on Asher for so long, I'm not sure you know how to move on."

"I don't understand."

"First, you guys were dating, then, after you broke up, you were angry and hurt, and now you're forced to work with him on this case. You can't get away from him long enough to get over him. Meanwhile, you're ignoring a perfectly nice guy who'd really like the chance to know you better."

"I am? Who?"

"Micah!"

"But—"

"But what? He's cute, charming, has a great job, and he likes you. Why haven't you called him?"

"I just...I haven't had time."

"Oh bull. Call him."

"Fine. I'll call him tomorrow."

Seth narrowed his eyes and gave me a stern look. "Promise?"

"Yes, I promise! Sheesh!"

He broke into another grin. "Thank you."

"You know, what if we get married and have kids? What am I supposed to tell them when they ask how their daddy and I got together? 'Your dead Uncle Seth talked me into it?'"

He laughed. "Jeez, Killian, slow down. You've not even gone on a date with him yet and you're already talking about kids."

I had to laugh too. "Are we done talking about Asher now?"

Seth rolled his eyes. "I suppose."

"Good. Do you have a warning for me now?"

He seemed to think about that for a few seconds, then shook his head. "No. Not this time."

"So, I'll see you again?"

He nodded. "Probably. Is that okay?"

I smiled. "Yeah."

"So you don't think you're crazy anymore?"

"Oh no, I still think I'm nuttier than a fruitcake. I've just decided to go with it."

Seth laughed again. "Go to sleep. And don't forget to call Micah tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't you need to poof off into the ether or something?"

He smiled, but started to fade out. It was almost as if my eyes had slipped out of focus. I found it just as unnerving as I had the last time.

Before he disappeared, he spoke once more. "You're not crazy...but you do have a gift. Talk to Judy."

"Wait. What?" But he was gone.

How was I supposed to fall asleep after that parting gift?

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