The Truth of Yesterday

Book 4 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries

By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026

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Chapter 25

I stayed hidden, crouched behind a bright red sports car, waiting for the limousine to come around the corner. It was a tense wait. I fully expected the security guards to return with reinforcements at any moment. I tried to remember if they carried guns.

As soon as the limo appeared, I ran to the passenger side, yanked open the door, and leaped in.

"Go!" I shouted.

"Go where? What's happening?" Micah asked.

"Just drive," I instructed the driver. Then to Micah, "I'll explain when we get away from here."

I slumped down in the seat as the driver pulled off. Micah was silent until we were a distance from the hotel, then, "Killian, what the hell is this all about?"

I sighed and chose my words carefully. "I may have messed things up a bit."

"Messed them up how? You said you were in trouble. What did you mean?"

"Okay, well, Jake saw us at the Ball, and he's noticed me following him a few times. Apparently, I'm not as good at this whole detective thing as I thought."

"So he saw you. How'd you get into trouble? Did he confront you?"

"Yeah, you could say that. We had a huge argument in the hall behind the ballroom. He ripped me a new one, told me I'd been a shitty friend, and had no right to care about him now when I didn't before."

"Ouch."

"Yeah...and the worst part is..." I stopped and swallowed a few times. "He's right."

"Killian..."

"No, he is. I wasn't there for him as much as I should have been. I knew he'd had a hard time in California — we talked a couple of times right after he got back — and I still wasn't there for him. I was too caught up in my own life. I was a shitty friend."

"Okay, so maybe you could have been a better friend. What's done is done. How did that get you in trouble?"

"Well, it seems Jake is dating Fenton Black...or at least Black is his sugar daddy."

"Oh. Oh! So that's where all his money is coming from. And the gifts and clothes. How did he get tangled up with Fenton Black?"

"I don't know. But while we were arguing, Black came looking for Jake."

"Shit."

"My thoughts exactly. He definitely recognized me. Jake told me to go so I did. Black called security, and three guards showed up and chased me. Not that they tried very hard to catch me once they were out of Black's sight. I managed to get away from them and hid in the parking lot."

"So Black now knows that you've identified him and you were talking to Jake, but maybe not that you two are acquainted. Let's hope, for both your sakes, that Jake is quick on his feet. You're still a target either way, though. Black will probably assume you're investigating him instead of Jake, which makes you a very real threat."

"As I said, I'm in trouble."

"Trouble? Killian, that doesn't begin to cover it. You're in danger, serious danger."

"Yes, I know. I just need to figure out what to do next. Should I go to the police?"

"Are you listening to me? You're in big-time, serious danger!"

"Yeah, I got that, Micah. I don't really need you to keep telling me."

"Then act like you understand what that means."

"And how am I supposed to act? Scared? Well, I am, but what do you expect me to do? Cry on your shoulder? I don't have time for that right now. I can't let my fear get in the way of the investigation. I'm sure I'm right on the edge of figuring this whole thing out."

"I don't want you to cry on my shoulder, but Fenton Black is a very deadly man. He's killed before, and I seriously doubt he'll hesitate to have you taken out."

"Then we have to stop him before he gets a chance."

"How are we supposed to do that? You're not a superhero, Killian."

"I never said I was. Do you think I should go to the police?"

"And tell them what? That Fenton Black is a bad, bad man? I'm sure they'll jump right on it."

"I can tell them he runs a prostitution ring."

"Why should they believe you? Just because you say so?"

"I have contacts in the police department."

At least I hoped I did. Sergeant Hank Kaplan had helped out a lot in the Caleb Cohen case.

"Even if you could pull strings and get them to not only believe you but actually do something about it, they'd still have to investigate on their own. You'd be dead long before they found anything concrete. This guy is smart. He knows how to hide his tracks. He's gotten away with worse than prostitution in the past."

"So I'll have to think of something else. Just stop yelling at me. You're not helping."

We fell into a heavy, tension-filled silence. I understood Micah was overreacting because he was terrified for me — I could feel the fear rolling off of him in almost physical waves — but it definitely wasn't helping my own rising panic. I tried to force my mind to go over everything I'd learned that night from Micah and Jake. I knew I was missing something...and it was important.

"Sir, sorry to interrupt, but where should I take you?" the driver asked after a few minutes had passed.

"Oh! I'm so sorry. Um..." I thought about it for a second. "The bed and breakfast." I gave him directions, then turned to Micah. "I'll be safest there, I think. I don't want to go home. It would take him less than five minutes to find out where I live. I can't go back with you. Jake knows we're dating, and he might tell Black. It would take him longer to find out that Steve is Adam's boyfriend and that he owns a B&B. Even if he found out, he wouldn't know which room I was in, and he couldn't very well just start breaking into one after another."

"I don't know if I'd put anything past him, but you're probably right: the bed and breakfast seems like the safest place for tonight."

"You should stay there too. You might not be safe at your apartment."

"I think I'll sleep at the office — if I sleep at all. I want to get back to work on this story. It occurred to me earlier that Black, quite possibly, could be involved with the whole county-council scandal. It would be right up his alley and, as I said, he already has most of the officials in his pocket. At the very least, he would've known about it, even if he wasn't directly involved."

"Well, one thing is clear. It's more important than ever that I talk to Paul's family. And I think it's past time for me to meet with the detective in charge of his murder investigation."

I dug my cell phone out of my pocket.

"Who are you calling?" Micah asked.

"Chris." Her brother answered. "Kevin, this is Killian Kendall. Is Chris there?"

"Yeah, hang on."

He set the phone down with a clunk, and I heard him yell, "Chris, it's your boyfriend."

A few seconds later Chris was on the line. "Hello?"

"Chris, it's Killian."

"Hey, what's up?"

"A lot, but I'll have to fill you in later. Do you think you can get me an appointment with the detective in charge of Paul's murder investigation?"

"I can try."

"Tell him it's urgent that I speak to him immediately. It could be a matter of life and death."

"Well, I doubt he'll be able to resist that. What's going on? What did you find out?"

"I can't go into it now. I'd rather tell you in person."

"Okay, but you're killing me here."

"Poor choice of words. Look, try your best to get me in with him tomorrow afternoon or evening. I'll call you in the morning."

"Okay, then maybe I'll see you tomorrow. I'll be expecting a full briefing."

"I promise."

We hung up, and Micah looked over at me. "I wish I could go with you to D.C., but I know you'll be safer there than here."

"It's okay. You have your job to do, and I have mine."

"I just..." He drew a shaky breath. "I don't want to lose you."

I reached over and grasped his hand. "I'll be okay, Micah. I'm not going anywhere."

"I wish I knew that for sure." He frowned and stared straight ahead.

A few minutes later we pulled into the circular drive in front of Amalie's House. Micah walked me in and waited while I called Adam and Kane at home to tell them I thought it would be better if they came and stayed at the B&B.

Of course, Adam demanded to know why. I told him I couldn't go into details, but it was possible they could be in danger at the house because of one of my cases. That sent Steve and Adam into almost identical panic attacks.

By the time Adam and Kane arrived and I got everyone calmed down enough to go to bed — Steve, armed with a small pistol I didn't even know he owned — it was almost one in the morning.

I tossed and turned fitfully under the covers, my mind refusing to shut off. I was still full of energy even though I was dead tired. I ran the case over and over in my mind, looking at it from every angle I could imagine.

Once that bone had been thoroughly gnawed, I moved on to what Jake had said. I was riddled with guilt for the way I'd neglected him. The worst part was that he wasn't the only friend I'd been neglecting. I couldn't remember the last time I'd talked to Will, my cousin Aidan's widower.

After what seemed like an eternity — but what the clock said was only about an hour — I finally fell into an uneasy sleep filled with strange, foreboding dreams I couldn't recall when I woke up a short while later. They just left me feeling very unsettled.

I was lying in the dark with my eyes open when I suddenly felt another presence in the room.

I sat up with a jolt to find Seth standing at the foot of my bed.

"My God, you scared the hell out of me," I said.

"You're in danger." His words were filled with an intensity I'd never heard before in his voice.

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Why do you always put yourself at risk?"

"It's the middle of the night. I don't really need a lecture right now."

"Stop being a smartass and listen to me. You have to be careful."

"I'm always careful."

"No, you're not. In fact, you're almost never careful. You run head first into every situation without ever thinking about your own safety. You need to be smarter and you need to take this seriously. Fenton Black is deadly."

"So everybody keeps telling me."

"Just promise me you'll be very careful."

"I will. I promise."

"Good. I...I don't want to lose you."

A shiver went down my spine at his words that so eerily echoed Micah's from earlier. "How can you lose me? Won't I be with you no matter what?"

"Oh, Killian. You can't understand, and I can't explain. I gave up so much to be able to come back...and all for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't explain it..."

"Fuck the rules. What do you mean?"

"I can't, Killian. I can't."

"I don't understand."

"I love you." With that, he vanished, leaving his final words hanging in the air like the scent of someone's perfume after they pass by.

"Great. Just what I needed," I said to the empty room. "One more thing to worry over."

I flopped down onto the bed and tried to will myself back to sleep. That never works.

Finally, I gave my mind full rein and allowed it to wander where it wished. I thought about Seth and our brief friendship while he was still alive. I'd known him longer as a ghost then I had as a living, breathing person. I'd never really thought about what it meant that he could come speak to me whenever he wanted. He'd mentioned rules before, but always in vague terms, never anything concrete. I knew so little about what made it possible to see and talk to him. I'm sure it must have been made easier by my gifts.

Thinking about my gifts made me remember Judy's promise to find me a teacher. While I wasn't necessarily eager to deal with all that, in some ways I was looking forward to finally understanding things a little better. I wondered who my teacher would be.

Eventually, I managed to drift into a restless slumber. It seemed I'd barely closed my eyes before I found myself wide awake again and inexplicably alert. It was still dark, so I knew I hadn't been asleep for long. A quick glance at my phone told me I'd received a grand total of two hours of rest.

I tried to fall back asleep, but it was useless. I finally gave up and climbed wearily out of bed. Although my mind might have been bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, my body was anything but.

I took a shower, hoping it would revive me. It didn't.

I dragged myself downstairs, ate a light breakfast, then took a walk by the creek in the brisk fall air. It was a morning designed to make you feel energized and alive, yet I was still drained and weary.

If Chris was able to get me a meeting with the detective, then I'd be heading to D.C. If not, I'd have to see what I could dig up without him. Either way, I'd be skipping classes again today.

I decided to go into the office and try to be productive, at least. I had barely started my computer when someone knocked on the door. I could make out a woman's silhouette through the frosted glass. Who on earth could be there that early? We weren't even open yet. I considered ignoring the knock and pretending I wasn't there.

"Killian?" she called.

I recognized Judy's voice. Was something wrong? I jumped up and opened the door.

"We need to talk," Judy said, as she breezed by me.

I closed the door with a small sigh. "Let me guess. I'm in danger?"

She raised one eyebrow. "Yes."

"You're only the third person to tell me that in the last eight hours, and I knew it already on my own."

Her lips pulled down sharply into a frown. "Don't be flippant about this, Killian."

"I'm not, really. Trust me, I have a healthy amount of fear about the situation. I'm just trying not to let it paralyze me."

"Jake is in danger too. I can feel it. It terrifies me because there's nothing I can do about it. He...he didn't come home last night. I was up all night worrying."

At least that explained why she was here so early, but not how she knew to find me here. Then again, considering her gifts, maybe that didn't need an explanation.

I held a silent debate in my head about whether to tell her what I'd discovered, finally deciding to just give her a capsulated version.

"I saw Jake at the Ball. He was with Fenton Black. Do you know who that is?"

"I've heard of him."

From her monotone voice and the look on her face, I thought it safe to assume that what she'd heard wasn't good.

"Apparently, Jake's been...dating Black." Judy cringed. I took a deep breath. "It gets worse. Jake saw me at the Ball and dragged me into a hallway, where he proceeded to tear me limb from limb for investigating him behind his back. It seems I left a trail wide enough to drive an eighteen-wheeler through. He guessed it was you who hired me. He's furious."

She sighed heavily. "I was afraid it was something like that."

"I'm sorry I messed things up so badly."

She patted my cheek. "You didn't mess anything up. I'm the one who talked you into doing this. And who knows, maybe something good will come out of this yet." She didn't sound very convinced.

"I'm not giving up. I think Fenton Black is connected to the other case I'm working on as well. I just have to figure out how all the pieces fit."

"I have every faith in you. I guess I should let you get to work." She gave me a hug and started to leave, then stopped with her back to me. "You know," she said slowly, in a tired, worn voice, "there are times when I wish I wasn't gifted, when I think it would be better not to know certain things. It would be nice to just live my life as ignorantly as everyone else for a change."

She turned and looked me in the eye. "Death is coming. I can feel it. I don't know who it's coming for, but it's too late to stop it...and it's coming soon."

A shiver ran down my spine as she let herself out. I locked the door and tried to push her dire prediction from my mind.

I checked the time, but it was still too early to call Chris. As I sat down at my desk, I spotted Paul's client files and it occurred to me that it might be a good time to try and catch Paul's clients at home before they left for work. I set aside the guy who had hung up on me and Manuel, which left five to go.

I called the first one. After a brief conversation, it became obvious he wouldn't have much to add. His visits with Paul had been out-calls, meaning Paul went to him, and he was amazingly unobservant.

The second person still wasn't home, or at least wasn't answering. The guy after that said Paul never mentioned personal matters and always kept everything focused on giving as much pleasure as possible. "We never really talked all that much, if you know what I mean."

I was beginning to think the clients were going to be a complete waste of time. It seemed Paul didn't talk very much about himself. He obviously didn't let anyone inside the emotional walls he'd built around himself. Maybe it was self-preservation. In a business like escorting, you'd have to keep some sort of distance between yourself and the clients; you couldn't very well get emotionally involved with all of them. And that's what it was — a business.

I decided to keep calling, though. Another one of Novak's little mottos: "Perseverance pays off." He always insisted you never knew when you might strike gold.

I thought I'd hit a nugget with my fourth call, but it turned out to be pyrite, better known as fool's gold. The guy started out as if he knew Paul well, but I quickly realized he was only interested in keeping me on the line so he could talk dirty to me. I finally hung up on the pervert.

I almost didn't call the last number back, but figured I might as well be thorough. The phone rang for so long I was about to hang up when a young-sounding male voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Oh, hi..." I was caught off guard. "Is this, um..." I scanned the page in front of me for his name. "...Howard Rich?"

"Are you trying to sell me something?" he asked politely.

"No, I just have a few questions to ask you. I won't take much of your time."

"So this is like a survey?"

"No, I—"

"Do you want money from me?"

"No."

"Well, in that case, it's Howie, please. I hate the name Howard."

"Um, okay, Howie. My name is Killian Kendall. I'm a private investigator."

"Really? How interesting. And you want to talk to me?"

"Yes." I wondered if he would ever allow me to get more than one sentence out at a time.

"About what?"

An opening. I didn't waste any time taking it. "Paul Flynn. He was an escort. I think you were acquainted? He was—"

"Murdered," he said sadly.

"You knew?"

"I saw it on the news. Actually, I'm at my office right now. Could you hang on a second while I step outside? I'll be able to talk to you more freely there."

"Yes, of course. I'll wait."

I heard him tell someone that he'd be right back.

While I waited, I glanced down at the page of notes on Howie and raised an eyebrow in surprise. It appeared he'd been a client of Paul's for much longer than any of the others.

"Okay, I'm back. Sorry about that. As I was saying, I knew Paul. I was shocked to hear about his death. To be honest, I've been having a hard time dealing with it. He was a good person."

"You'd been seeing Paul for quite a while. In fact, considerably longer than any of his other clients." Howie refused to rise to the bait. When the silence had stretched out a little longer than was comfortable, I asked, "How well did you know Paul?"

"How well do you ever know anyone?"

I wasn't about to get drawn into an existential conversation. "It would be very helpful if you could answer my questions."

"Why? What are you looking for? Who are you working for? Why are you concerned with Paul's death?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you who I'm working for — that's confidential — but I can say I've been retained to look into Paul's death by someone who cared about him. They hired me because the police don't seem to be putting much effort into finding his killer."

"So you're trying to find Paul's killer?"

"Yes."

"Sounds dangerous."

"Possibly."

"What's in it for you?"

"What?"

"What do you get out of it?"

"It's my job."

"Okay, if that's what blows your skirt up, but what does any of that have to do with how well I knew Paul?"

I felt like pounding my head against the desk. I was too tired to deal with this. I took a deep breath and tried again. "I'm trying to get a grasp on what was going on in Paul's life the last few months. If you knew him well, I was hoping you could help. If you didn't know him well, just let me know now and save us both some time."

He was quiet for so long that I began to wonder if he'd hung up.

"Howie?"

"Yeah, I'm here. I guess you could say I knew Paul pretty well. You're right, he did see me longer than his other clients because he was doing me a favor. You see, I'm married to a wonderful woman. I was in denial for much of my life, and I had a family before I finally realized I was gay. I've never told my wife. She's an incredible person and the best friend I could ever ask for. I would never leave her or my children. She deserves better than that, but I still had a need to be with men...so I hired Paul. Paul's the only man I've ever had sex with. He took care of my needs very well. He knew all of this when he agreed to allow me to keep seeing him."

I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything.

After a brief pause, Howie went on. "Paul was perhaps the sweetest, most gentle man I've ever met. He gave of himself completely, and I don't just mean that sexually. I like to think we became friends. I know I cared for him very deeply. Maybe I even fell in love with him."

"Did you...did you ever talk about Paul's personal life?"

"To some degree, yes."

"Did you notice any change in him over the last few months before his death?"

"Yes."

My heart caught in my throat.

"What changed?"

"He was a lot quieter, more distant, as if something was weighing heavily on him."

"Did you ever ask him about it?"

"I did."

"And did he tell you what was bothering him?"

"Yes."

Could this be the answer to all my questions?

"Let me clarify that," Howie said quickly. "He told me some of what was going on but by no means everything. Paul was too much the professional to name names or give too many details, but I know vaguely what was troubling him."

"Can you tell me what you know?"

"Paul and I did a lot more than just have sex. I'd take him to dinner at nice restaurants we knew to be discreet. We'd take walks along the river; we'd talk for hours after sex. It was while we were talking that I learned he suspected someone he knew of being involved in something illegal, something serious. He didn't specify what, and I didn't press him. Those were the unspoken rules of our conversations. He asked me what I thought he should do. I told him it would depend on what this person meant to him. If it was just a casual acquaintance, then maybe he should go straight to the authorities. If it was someone he respected or cared about, I suggested he go to the person and speak to him or her directly."

"Did he indicate what he was planning to do?"

"No. As I said, that wasn't how it worked. But you know, ever since I heard he was murdered, I've worried it might have been my advice that got him killed."

It was a very real possibility, but I wasn't about to tell him that. He already sounded upset as it was.

"You have no way of knowing," I said truthfully enough. "You don't know if Paul took your advice or not. Even if he did, it might not have had anything to do with his murder. That's what I'm trying to figure out. He didn't give you any indication as to who this person was?"

"No. None."

"And you never saw him again after that conversation?"

"No."

"This was about a month ago?"

"About a week before he was killed."

"Can you think of anything else that might be helpful or important to the case?"

He was quiet for a second. "I believe Paul might have met someone."

"What do you mean by 'met someone'?"

"I suspect he'd met someone he really liked. The last couple of times I saw him, he was different somehow — happier and more relaxed. That was before he wanted my advice. I asked him what was going on to put a smile on his face, but he just smiled all the more and shook his head. When I asked him if he'd met someone special, his smile grew even wider, if possible. I said the new person must be someone very special indeed to bring about such a big smile. Then I said, whoever he was, he was a very lucky guy. Paul changed the subject after that. He never really liked talking about personal things, at least not when it was his own life being discussed. He was perfectly content to limit his role to being my confessor, counselor, and lover."

I fought a sigh. Paul's reticence certainly didn't make investigating him any easier. It would have been so much simpler if he'd just been a little gabbier.

"Well, thank you, Howie. You've really helped a lot."

"I'm glad. I hope you catch the bastard who did this. Paul was a... He was a good person."

I hung up and sat back in my chair, propping my feet up on the desk. I had so many questions about the cases swimming around in my head that I was having trouble making sense of it all. I was rubbing my chin when I realized I was unconsciously imitating Novak. With a snap of chair springs, I yanked my feet off the desk and sat up straight, chuckling at myself. I guess there are worse things than discovering you're becoming like your teacher.

I grabbed my phone and called Chris. She picked up on the first ring.

"I was just about to call you," she said before I could even say hello.

"Were you able to set up a meeting with the detective?"

"I talked to him. His name is Owen Evans. My dad says he's a good cop. But, well, he's...a tough nut to crack."

"What does that mean? Is he going to talk to me or not?"

"Ye-e-e-s." Chris managed to drag the word out to impossible lengths.

"That doesn't sound good."

"He's willing to meet with you later this afternoon."

"I sense a 'but' coming..."

"Well, I may have had to stretch the facts a little to get him to agree."

"Stretch the facts how?"

"I...uh...I may have told him you know who the murderer is and have proof."

I gasped. "You what?"

"It was the only way I could get him to agree to meet you."

"But, Chris, I don't have any proof. I don't even have a real suspect. What am I supposed to do when I get in there and he expects me to have solid proof? When he finds out I probably know less than he does, he'll be so pissed he won't help me at all."

"Then hold off on telling him that for as long as possible."

"Oh great. Then he'll lock me up for...for...something."

"For what?"

"Obstructing justice. I don't know. He'll make something up."

"Calm down. You're awful high-strung today."

I sighed. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Long night?"

"You could say that."

"Are you sure you should be driving then?"

"I'll be fine. I'll just get a coffee before I head out. But I should probably head out soon. What's your address? I'll just come directly to your house this time. I suspect I'm going to need my car."

I got her address, then locked up the office and headed for the nearest coffee shop. I got the largest size they sold and set out for Washington. My car could just about make the trip on autopilot at that point, which was a good thing with the way I was feeling. I would be glad when the case was over so I wouldn't have to make the drive so often.

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