The Truth of Yesterday

Book 4 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries

By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026

email

Chapter 8

The drive home felt every bit as long as I'd feared it would. Micah and I didn't arrive until late morning, and we barely spoke the entire time. When Micah dropped me off, I just mumbled, "I'll call you soon."

I went inside, dropped my bag in my room and went in search of someone.

"Where's Adam and Steve?" I asked after looking around and only finding Kane at home.

He paused his video game. "At the B&B."

"Both of them?"

"Yeah, something happened last night."

I could tell he wanted me to ask what happened, but I was in no mood to deal with anyone else's problems. I was also in no mood to sit around the house doing nothing, so I drove to the office only to find it empty. Since it was Sunday that wasn't such a surprise.

I typed up my report, relying heavily on my notes because my mind wasn't exactly at peak performance. Afterward, I was left with nothing to do except fret. I dropped the report on Novak's desk and went home.

Neither Adam nor Steve had returned yet, so I shut myself in our bedroom. Kane could tell I was in a bad mood and gave me a wide berth — for once without asking a bunch of nosy questions. I spent the rest of the night feeling sorry for myself and trying to figure out what to do about Micah.

The next day, I forced myself to go to class, although later I couldn't recall a single thing we'd discussed.

After school, I stopped by the office. As far as I could tell, Novak hadn't been in yet. My report still sat where I'd left it the night before. I watched videos online until it was almost time for Jake to get out of school for the day. I wasn't sure following him would do any good, but it sure beat sitting around the office doing nothing.

Once at the high school, I parked in almost the exact same spot I'd chosen the time before. As I sat and waited for the final bell to ring, my mind began to wander. Of course, the first place it went was directly to Micah.

I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that Micah had been an escort. He'd told me about his troubled childhood, about the much older neighbor who had seduced him and kept him quiet with mental abuse. He'd explained how it had affected his self-esteem and his view of sex, and as a result, how he'd slept his way through practically the entire male population of his school. He'd also assured me his views of sex had changed as he'd gotten older, and he never wanted his relationships to be based solely on sex again.

None of that information had prepared me for the big news, however. And despite his assurances otherwise, I still couldn't help wondering if Micah really would have told me if Tad hadn't spilled the beans first.

The dismissal bell rang, registering vaguely at the back of my mind.

I was much more consumed with the question of how knowing about Micah's past would affect me. Being an escort had shaped his character. As he'd said, he wouldn't be the same person I knew if that hadn't happened. I'd fallen in love with him, so obviously I liked who he was. Still, the idea of him having sex with someone for money unsettled me. I couldn't deny that, even though some part of me knew I was being puritanical.

I was so caught up in my thoughts I completely missed Jake leaving the school. In fact, I didn't notice anything until his Jeep drove past. I cursed as I quickly started my car and pulled into the line of vehicles waiting their turn to get out of the lot.

I was furious with myself for being so careless. I should have been paying more attention instead of getting lost in my own head. Novak always warned me never to allow my personal life to interfere with my investigation, yet that was exactly what I had done.

My frustration grew as the kid in front of me took forever to merge into traffic. I couldn't figure out if he was busy texting or just being overly cautious, but either way I almost popped a blood vessel waiting for him to go.

I finally managed to get out of the parking lot, and the chase was on. Jake had a considerable lead, but I quickly made up for the lost time — while simultaneously venting my frustration — by driving like a maniac until he was once more in sight. It was just plain luck that he hadn't turned off the main road. If he had, I'd have lost him for sure.

I fell a few cars back from him as Novak's training took over, leaving my mind free to go back to worrying. Why did the fact that Micah had been an escort in college bother me so much? Was it just because I’d grown up sheltered? I had to admit, I could be a little prudish — maybe more than I liked to think.

Everyone has a past, and most people's pasts include a variety of sexual partners. Did it really matter if some of Micah’s had paid him? If I truly loved him, his past shouldn’t matter — or at least, that’s what people always say. So if it did matter to me…did that mean I didn’t love him after all?

How could I even be sure if what I felt was truly love? I knew I enjoyed being with him — that part was easy. I missed him when we weren’t together. I thought about him constantly. And I was undeniably, overwhelmingly attracted to him. But was that enough? Was that what love was? Or just infatuation, lust, comfort?

What even is love, really? People talk about it like it’s this self-evident truth — you’ll “just know,” they say. But I didn’t just know. I was confused. How do you define love when you're in the middle of it? How do you tell the difference between love and wanting to be loved? Between needing someone and truly knowing them — and choosing them anyway?

I’d loved Asher in my own way, and probably always would. But even that love was hard to define. What I felt for Micah was different. It had a different texture, a different rhythm. Did that mean I loved Micah less? Or was love simply a different experience each time, shaped by the people involved, the timing, the baggage we brought with us?

If I truly loved Micah, shouldn't that mean accepting him completely — past, present, flaws and all? Then why was I struggling so much with this one part of him? It wasn’t like he’d committed some unforgivable crime. He hadn’t hurt anyone. He hadn’t betrayed me. He’d done what he needed to do to survive. And while the morality of sex work could be debated, that debate mostly depended on who was holding the measuring stick. In many countries — even in parts of the U.S. — it was legal, regulated, even normalized. More importantly, he wasn’t doing it anymore. That chapter was closed.

And honestly? I wasn't sure I could handle it if it weren’t. I could admit that. I was too insecure for that kind of open-ended comparison.

Maybe that was the heart of it. Insecurity. Was that what this was really about?

Had Micah been comparing me, even subconsciously, to all those other people he’d been with — people who probably knew what they were doing in bed, people who were confident and worldly and practiced? I could hardly compete with that. I barely knew what I was doing, let alone how to be someone’s fantasy.

Why was he even with me?

I was just some awkward, inexperienced kid from a nowhere town, still figuring myself out. Meanwhile, he was this brilliant, beautiful, self-assured man who’d lived more lives in a few short years than I had even imagined. What if one day he realized I wasn’t enough? What if he woke up and saw how much better he could do?

What was keeping him from leaving?

I was so caught up in that train of thought I didn't even notice when Jake turned off. I just suddenly realized he was no longer in front of me. I had no clue when I'd passed him or where. I let loose with a string of curses as I pounded the steering wheel in anger. Jake was definitely gone, and I had no idea where.

I fumed for several minutes before I could even begin to calm down. I took a deep breath and tried to relax. I was having a very rough day. Clearly, I wasn't focused enough to do any surveillance. Maybe I wasn't focused enough to do anything. I thought about just driving home and locking myself in my room again.

I pulled into a gas station to turn around when a sudden thought occurred to me. I might not know where Jake was going, but I was pretty sure where he wasn't going. We had been driving in the opposite direction of his house when I lost him. That made it the perfect time to search his room, assuming I could manage to stay focused on the job at hand and not allow my thoughts to distract me again.

When I arrived at Judy and Jake's house, I was pleased to see that my hunch had paid off. Jake's car was nowhere in sight. Better yet, Judy's van was parked in the driveway, so that meant she was home.

As I got out of my car, Judy opened the front door.

“Hi, Killian. I thought I heard someone pull in. Everything okay?”

“Hey, Judy. I was hoping I could take a look around Jake’s room while he’s out.”

She hesitated, the flicker of conflict clear on her face, then stepped aside and nodded.

“I suppose that’s fine. Technically, we have an agreement. I don’t go into his room when he’s not home without his permission. But...I guess you’re the one going in, not me.”

She tried for a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I hate going behind his back, but I can’t just keep standing by and doing nothing. Something’s wrong, I know it is. I just don’t know what, and it’s killing me.”

The pain in her voice stopped me cold. Without thinking, I stepped forward and pulled her into a quick hug.

“I get it," I said. "I feel awful doing this, but I’ll do everything I can to figure out what’s going on. I promise.”

She gave a small, grateful nod as we pulled apart.

“I know you will. I have complete faith in you. And I’m sorry for putting you in this position.”

“You're just doing what you have to do.”

She followed me to the door of Jake's room, but didn't follow me in when I opened the door and stepped inside. She gave me one last sad smile, then pulled the door closed.

I looked around with a twinge of guilt, both for feeling like I was half-assing this investigation for Judy and because of what I was about to do. While it was one thing to snoop through a complete stranger's personal belongings, it was quite another to be doing it to a friend. I felt as if I was violating a trust between us.

Jake's room looked like a typical teenage boy's room. A few posters were plastered on the walls, a Star Wars movie poster and a couple of others for various bands. Clothes were scattered wherever they'd landed when Jake had removed them. A dirty plate sat on the floor and, nearby, a toppled-over glass with a dried skim of milk inside. A musty, male scent pervaded the space, reminding me of an empty locker room.

The room itself was on the small side, with most of it taken up by a full bed, a dresser, a desk, a bookcase, and an entertainment center that held a very large, state-of-the-art TV and all the latest game systems.

I whistled softly at the electronics. Judy was right. That stuff had definitely cost a bundle. Where had Jake gotten the money to buy it all?

I realized that was exactly what Judy hired me to find out.

Where to start? I surveyed the room and chose the desk. I began opening drawers and sifting through the contents, trying to leave as little sign that I'd been there as possible. I hadn't done many room searches, but I'd assisted Novak a few times.

I couldn't help smiling as I remembered my first search the previous summer. I'd found a stash of illegally filmed videos showing some local officials in compromising positions at a sleazy motel. The manager had been taping them with hidden cameras for his own pleasure. The fact that it also netted him a lucrative income blackmailing the folks on the tapes was just icing on the cake. We'd called in the cops, and he was promptly arrested. Last I'd heard, he was in jail — where he belonged.

My search of Jake's desk, however, turned up nothing more than a few bad test grades and a single marijuana roach all the way at the back of the bottom left-hand drawer. God only knew how long it had been there, and it was hardly the kind of problem I suspected Judy was worried about. Hell, for all I knew, it was Judy's. She struck me as the type to indulge in a bit of the herb on occasion.

With the desk out of the way, I moved on to the dresser, which contained nothing except clothes. I'd never realized Jake was such a label whore. Almost everything bore the name of an expensive brand, and it all looked new, some items with the tags still attached. I almost fell over when I saw the prices. How could he afford to shop at these places? I was beginning to understand why Judy was so worried. The deeper I dug the more questions I had.

In the closet, I discovered more new clothes and a few boxes of outgrown toys and games. Dust bunnies large enough to pose a threat to small pets had set up camp under the bed, but they were unchallenged for the space. When I peeked beneath the mattress I found nothing. Next, I carefully searched the bookcase, checking behind the books and feeling along under the shelves. The only thing I learned was Jake favored science fiction and seldom dusted his room. The dust was so thick it made me sneeze.

Unless I had missed something, which was entirely possible, nothing was left but the entertainment center. It had only a few places where something could be hidden, mainly a small cabinet with doors at the bottom and a carved wooden box on one of the shelves.

When I opened the cabinet doors, I was greeted by a minor avalanche of sex toys. And by minor, I mean full-on, adult-themed Mount Vesuvius. Dildos of varying shapes and sizes launched themselves at me, a couple of Fleshlights and an assortment of various other masturbation aids rolled out after them, trailing behind a string of silicone beads, and a small army of half-empty lube bottles.

I yelped — not quite a scream, but definitely not manly — and instinctively tried to catch what I could. Mistake. Big mistake.

Everything was sticky.

I fought the overwhelming urge to gag. I might have blacked out for a second. There are things your brain can’t unsee...or untouch.

I stood there, frozen, hands held out like I’d just handled radioactive jellyfish. I was utterly, viscerally grossed out.

And to top it all off? I could tell — even in my horror — that this was the good stuff. Top-shelf, limited edition toys. I wasn’t an expert, but I’d been on the internet. I’d seen some things. And I knew this gear didn’t come from the bargain bin at Spencer’s. This was an investment.

In what, I didn’t want to know.

After making sure I hadn't missed anything in the cabinet, I shoved everything back in and slammed the doors closed. Considering the way it all had just fallen out, I wasn't too worried that he'd notice if anything was in the wrong place.

That left only the carved wooden box. It was the size of a shoe box and looked high quality, possibly antique — ornate, slightly worn. It stood out in the room, and I wondered where it could have come from. It didn't seem like Jake's taste. Maybe a family heirloom he couldn't bear to part with?

I lifted the lid, half-expecting something dramatic, maybe even damning.

Instead, I found…condoms with a travel-sized bottle of lube nestled beside them. Practical, if not exactly scandalous. A pair of fingernail clippers. Okay. A lighter and a pack of rolling papers — not surprising, considering the faint smell that sometimes clung to Jake’s hoodie. A couple of movie ticket stubs, curling at the edges, and finally, a cheap silver ring, the kind you buy on a whim from a boardwalk vendor, maybe with your last ten bucks and a little buzz of summer romance.

I stared at the collection, then sighed. It was about as exciting and incriminating as a bowl of cereal. No hidden clues. No secret diaries. Just the standard-issue detritus of a teenage boy’s private life.

I started to put the box back on the shelf but paused. It felt surprisingly heavy for the handful of random items I’d found inside. A prickle of suspicion crept up my spine. I dumped everything out and gave the now-empty box a shake. Something shifted with a soft shuffle, like paper sliding against wood.

A closer look confirmed my hunch — the outside of the box was a lot deeper than the inside. I turned it over and examined the base, spotting a faint seam around the bottom panel. It was rigged to slide out.

Using my thumbs, I nudged the panel until it shifted just enough for me to wedge in my fingers and pry it open. What I found inside nearly made me drop the whole thing.

A thick wad of cash — all hundred-dollar bills — stuffed into the hidden compartment. My heart skipped a beat. Where the hell had Jake gotten that kind of money?

But that wasn’t all. Nestled alongside the cash was what I first assumed was another movie ticket. On closer inspection, I realized it was for the Equality Ball — a black-tie event I’d read about in the paper, known for drawing politicians, celebrities, and high-profile donors. Tickets started at $300 a pop, and it was still weeks away.

Beneath the ticket was a photo printed on plain white paper — clearly from a home printer. It showed a distinguished man in a tailored suit shaking hands with an older gentleman. Half of the older man's face was cropped out, but I recognized him immediately: a state senator. The other man, though...I'd never seen him before, but something about the composition made it clear he was the focus. Who was he? And why was Jake hiding a picture of him?

I snapped photos of the money, the ticket, and the photo with my phone, then carefully slid the hidden panel back into place. I returned the original items to the top of the box and set it back on the shelf, aligning it perfectly with the faint dust outline.

By the time I stepped away, everything looked untouched. But my mind was anything but calm.

I moved to the doorway and paused to scan the room as critically as possible, finally deciding that if there were any more secret hiding places, they would have to stay hidden. So far, I'd managed not to leave any signs I'd been there, and I didn't want Jake to suspect his room had been searched.

While I couldn't imagine what it could be, some sort of innocent explanation could exist for everything. If so, I didn't want to alienate my friend or cause problems between him and Judy for no reason.

I found Judy sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of hot tea steaming in her hand. She pushed another mug in my direction.

"Sugar?" she asked.

I took the chair next to her. The tea was so strong I had to add several spoonfuls of sugar before I could drink it. We sat and sipped in companionable silence for a few minutes.

"Did you find anything?" she asked finally.

"I found a joint in one of the desk drawers." I decided to start small and work my way up to the big stuff. She waved that aside. As I'd suspected, it wasn't high on her list of concerns. "I also saw that he'd bought an awful lot of rather expensive clothing over the last few months."

"In the last month, actually."

"Do you have any idea where he got the money?"

"No. None. He doesn't have a job, at least not that I'm aware of. It would be great if that's all this turns out to be."

"Did you ask him where the money came from?"

"Yes. He told me he was 18 and it was none of my business and stormed off."

I frowned. "Same thing with the electronic equipment?"

"You mean the TV and all? Yes. He just showed up with it one day. He wouldn't say where that came from either, only that it was a gift."

"From who?"

"Like I said, he wouldn't tell me anything. That's why I came to you."

I took a deep breath. "Do you know anything about the carved wooden box?"

She gave me a confused look. "I've seen it. Where it came from I have no idea. It's one more thing that just showed up one day. It was the least of my worries, so I didn't pay much attention to it. Why?"

"It has a false bottom. He had some things hidden in the secret compartment."

Her eyes narrowed. "What kinds of things?"

"A wad of money that probably equals about six months of my salary, if not more, a ticket to the Equality Ball, and a photo of a man I don't recognize."

Judy frowned. Obviously, it wasn't what she'd been expecting. "What in God's name is he doing with a ticket to the Equality Ball? Those things are harder to come by than plutonium."

I shrugged. "No clue."

“Who was the man in the picture?”

“Don't know that either, but he was with a state senator.”

“Well, what did he look like?”

“Distinguished.” I realized that wasn't the most vivid description. I pulled out my phone and brought up the photo, zooming in on the man's face, then slid it across the table toward her. “Here, take a look. Recognize him?”

She stared at it for a long moment, then shook her head. “Never seen him before in my life. But…”

“But what?”

“As soon as I saw him, I got a bad feeling.”

I studied her face. Her eyes had gone distant, troubled. “What kind of bad feeling?”

She hesitated, then shook her head slowly. “I don’t know exactly. Just... death.”

I blinked. “You think he’s dead?”

“Possibly. But probably not. Unlike your gifts, mine are more about what’s coming than what’s already happened.”

“So what are you saying? That he’s going to die?”

“Maybe. Or someone close to him. I can’t say for sure. And I could be wrong.”

“Possibly? Maybe? You aren’t sure?” My voice was sharper than I intended. “What good are these gifts if they aren't actually helpful?”

Judy’s shoulders slumped, and she rubbed her forehead like she was trying to ease out the pressure behind her eyes. “I’m doing my best,” she said quietly.

I sighed. “I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

She nodded. “I get it. This is all so vague. It’s just...that’s not how gifts work. They don’t hand you neat answers tied up with a bow. They’re more like...flashes of insight. Or like tools. They don’t do the job for you. You have to figure out how to use them.”

She glanced back at the photo, still open on my phone. “All I can say is that when I looked at that man, I felt death. I don’t know what it means yet. But tuck it away. It might make more sense later.”

I nodded and slipped my phone back into my pocket. Judy sighed and dropped her head in her hands. I hated to see her look so dispirited.

"It could all be something completely innocent."

She looked up, and a single raised eyebrow spoke eloquently. "I hope you're right. But where is all that money coming from? How can he afford those clothes? Who gave him those expensive electronics, assuming they were even a gift? Even if he had a job, what legal job could an 18-year-old high school student have that would be making that much money?” She shook her head, frustration edging into her voice. “And now I have even more questions. How did he get a ticket for the Ball, and why would he even want one? And who the hell is that man in the picture?"

I couldn't stand to see her so upset. "I don't know but I'm going to find out."

She gave me a faint, tired smile. “That’s why I came to you. Finish your tea.”

Typical Judy, I thought, as I obediently took a sip. But as I drained the cup, I sputtered and plucked something off my tongue.

Judy, completely unfazed, reached over and took my mug. She swirled the dregs a few times with practiced ease, then poured the remaining liquid into the sink and peered into the bottom of the cup like it was a crystal ball.

“Wait a minute,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “You actually read tea leaves?”

She gave a small shrug and a bemused smile. “Not often. But I picked it up from a woman who lived in my neighborhood back in California. She claimed she was of Romani descent.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Did she now?”

“She also read tarot and palms,” Judy continued, unbothered by my skepticism. “Fascinating woman. Lovely, but wild as hell. I’m not nearly as good as she was, but she said I had a knack. My real gifts lie elsewhere, though.”

I watched her swirl the cup again. “Okay, Madame Judy, what exactly are you looking for in there?”

“Shapes. Patterns. Their positions. The way they relate to each other.”

“And what do mine say?”

She studied the leaves intently, her brow knitting slowly as the seconds ticked by. Finally, she said, “A vulture. A dagger. And flags.”

“That’s not ominous at all. What’s it supposed to mean?”

Her mouth tightened as she stared at the cup a beat longer before answering.

“Battles. The flags usually represent war — not literal, more symbolic. The dagger’s placement indicates danger ahead, possibly to you, possibly to someone close. And the vulture...” She hesitated. “The vulture is never a good sign. It can mean a powerful enemy. Evil. Sometimes…death.”

I let out a low gasp. “Death?”

Judy stood abruptly and rinsed the mug out under the tap, as if scrubbing away the unsettling imagery might cancel it out. When she turned back around, her eyes were even more troubled.

Trying to inject some levity, I offered a shaky smile. “All that from a few soggy leaves? Maybe next time I’ll just go with coffee.”

“Divination tools are just a focus,” she said quietly. “They help channel intuition. The interpretation — that’s where the gifts come in. Killian, I’m genuinely worried about you.”

“Because some damp leaves are throwing shade my way?” I scoffed, trying to play it off — but my voice came out a little too high-pitched, even to my own ears.

The truth was, I didn’t like it. Not the vague predictions, not the sense of dread creeping up my spine. And I definitely didn’t like words like battle, danger, and death being tossed around like party favors.

“It’s not just this reading,” she said, voice low. “I’ve been having dreams...bad ones. Foreboding feelings about Jake. And lately, those feelings are extending to you.”

“So what, now I’m cursed by association?”

“I’m serious,” she said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have pulled you into this.”

“It’s a little late for second thoughts,” I said, softening my tone. “I care about Jake too, you know. If he’s in trouble, I want to help.”

“I know you do,” she said, then hesitated.

“But…?” I prompted.

"These battles…" Judy said quietly. "I think one of them is learning to face your gifts."

I let out a long sigh. "I mean, I’m open to it now — finally. I know it took me a while, but what can I do without a teacher?"

"Honestly? Not much," she admitted. "I reached out to an old friend in California who could communicate with the dead, but only in trance states. And even then, they must initiate the contact. Their gift isn’t like yours. I haven’t given up, but with everything going on with Jake…"

"I understand," I assured her quickly. "It’s not like I’m in a huge rush to deal with all of this anyway. I know it’s something I need to do, but it feels like going to the dentist, you know?"

She chuckled, though it carried a rueful edge. "Unfortunately, that’s a very apt comparison. Skip the dentist long enough, and your health suffers. Ignore your gifts long enough, and...well, it could be dangerous."

A chill ran down my spine. "What do you mean? How could it be dangerous?"

"Right now, your gift burns like a beacon," she said, her tone soft but serious. "You don’t have any control over it. Some things are drawn to it — like moths to a flame."

"Some...things?"

"Like Amalie," Judy said. Her eyes held mine, steady and unblinking. "But not everything drawn to you will be as benign as she was. Right now, you can’t stop them from finding you, and some may not want to be ignored."

I swallowed hard. "But if I learned more...if I understood my gifts...could I stop them?"

"Possibly. At the very least, you might learn to shield yourself so you’re not constantly broadcasting to whatever’s out there." She paused, then added in a lower voice, "And there’s more."

I froze. "More?"

"Some entities won’t just want your attention. Some may actively want to harm you. And right now, you’re not equipped to protect yourself."

The blood drained from my face.

Judy must have seen it, because she pulled me into a sudden hug. "Oh, sweetie, I’m not trying to frighten you. I just want you safe."

I pressed my face against her shoulder for a moment, letting her words sink in, then pulled away. "I was already convinced after Amalie. But now...now I know. I’m ready. More than ever."

She nodded. "I believe you. The ball’s in my court now. I’ll do my best to focus on finding someone who can help you."

"Thanks," I murmured.

"Of course, sweetheart." She checked her watch and sighed. "You’d better head out before Jake comes home."

"But you never read your own leaves," I said, glancing toward her still-full mug.

Her eyes flicked that way, and something unreadable crossed her face. "I think I’ve done enough reading for today."

She grabbed it and dumped it in the sink, then rinsed it out without looking inside. Maybe I wasn't the only one who sometimes regretted having gifts.

Next Chapter Previous Chapter