A Change of Worlds

Book 5 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries

By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026

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Chapter 15

Life is full of irritating little coincidences. For instance, I caught up on the paperwork just in time to start interviewing for our new receptionist/secretary.

I'd arrived at the office to find the construction was finally complete. Things had moved along pretty quickly after a certain point. All the equipment was gone, leaving a new door in the center of the wall and an overpowering odor of fresh paint. I was tempted to peek in but figured it was only fair that Novak see his new office first.

Instead, I sat down at my old desk and wrote up the notes from my meeting with Elyse. After that, I started working on the pile of paperwork, and in no time I'd actually cleared it away. I stared at the clean desk in contentment. This was the first time I'd seen its surface in weeks. I'd almost forgotten what it looked like.

I was still basking in the glow of my accomplishment when the office phone started ringing. I scooped it up and practically purred, "Novak Investigations. Killian speaking. How may I help you?"

Silence met my warm greeting.

"Hello?" I could tell someone was on the line. I could hear faint background noises, and sensed that a live person was there but not speaking. "Hello?"

I checked the Caller ID, but the number was blocked. I gave my anonymous caller a few more seconds, then said good-bye and hung up. I told myself it was a wrong number, but I had an uneasy feeling about it.

Glancing at my watch, I saw it was later than I'd thought. I stood up and stuck my head into Novak's office, the only room with a window, to discover that it was indeed getting dark out. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been home for dinner. Of course, it wasn't like the old days when we all sat down at the table together. Ever since Steve opened the B&B, the family was rarely in one place at the same time long enough to have a conversation, let alone eat a meal. At that hour, I figured everyone had already finished, so it seemed I'd be dining alone.

The phone started ringing again. Since I was still in Novak's shadowy office, I just answered at his desk. "Novak Investigations."

Again, no answer. "Look, I know someone is there. Is there something I can help you with?" Silence. "Why are you calling?" I waited a few more seconds for a response, and when none came, I hung up again. By then I was getting thoroughly creeped out. It was time to go.

As I walked back out to my desk to grab my notebook, the phone started ringing yet again. I started to just leave and not answer it, but my curiosity got the better of me. What if it was someone who needed help? We got calls like that sometimes, prospective clients who were either too scared or too embarrassed to talk right away, as if they had to work themselves up to actually speaking.

I answered and, just as I'd suspected, no one spoke. I was about to hang up when I heard what sounded like a muffled sob.

"I know you're there. I can hear you crying. Do you need help? I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

Another ragged sob filled with raw pain ripped through the wire, causing the hairs to stand up on my arms. Then the line cut off abruptly.

I shakily sat down at my desk and stared at the phone. The calls had unnerved me. I waited a few minutes, but when the phone didn't ring again, I decided the time had come to go find something to eat.

I was in the parking lot when my cell rang. My first thought was that it must be the anonymous caller trying a different number. When I saw it was Micah, I breathed a sigh of relief and answered.

"Hi, Killian." He started speaking quickly, as if afraid I might cut him off. "I know you probably don't want to talk to me right now, and with good reason, but I'm calling to apologize about my behavior last night. I had no right to get mad at you. You were just doing your job."

"Micah—"

"I'm really sorry I was such a jerk. I wouldn't blame you if you were mad at me."

"Micah—"

"I overreacted when you wouldn't tell me what you'd learned from Kaplan. I've felt as if we've been drifting apart lately, and that just seemed like one more thing between us, but I honestly understand."

"Micah! I'm not mad at you."

"You're not?"

"No. I was a little hurt last night, but to be honest, I've barely thought about it since."

"Oh. Well..."

I realized how bad that sounded and rushed to explain. "I mean, I've been really busy with the case and all, so I didn't have much time to worry about anything else."

"Right." He didn't quite sound convinced. "I heard they questioned your friend down at the station."

"Yeah. They released him, though."

"Are you investigating the murder now?"

"More or less." I leaned against the car and ran my finger through the dust on the paint. It badly needed washing. "The tribal council asked me to clear Jacy."

"How's it going?"

"Today was good. I'm finally starting to move forward instead of simply spinning my wheels."

"That's cool. So what are you up to now?"

"I was just on my way to get some dinner."

"You haven't eaten?"

"Nope."

"Let me guess, you're still at the office."

I laughed. "Actually, I'm in the parking lot."

"Why don't you come over here? I'll cook something for you."

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to. Besides, when was the last time you had a home-cooked meal? Come on."

I smiled. "Okay. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Great. If I'm not here, just let yourself in."

"What do you mean, 'if you're not there'?"

"I have to run to the market real quick. I won't be long."

"Micah, don't go to any trouble. If you need something, I can easily stop and pick it up on my way."

"No, I have something special in mind. Just go with the flow, okay?"

"Fine," I gave in with a good-natured sigh. "See you soon."

Wondering what he was up to, I drove to his apartment as quickly as possible, hoping to catch him before he left. Unfortunately, I didn't see his car in the lot when I arrived, and he didn't answer my knock.

I fished out my keychain and unlocked the door. Micah had insisted I have a key in case of emergencies, although he hadn't specified what constituted an emergency. It was the first time I'd actually used the key, since I didn't usually go to his apartment unless he was there.

I found candles flickering all around the room. Micah must have run around frantically lighting them after we hung up. A bottle of wine sat on the counter that separated the kitchen area from the living room. I walked over to find a note tucked under it.

Killian, help yourself to the wine. I think you'll like this one. You know where the glasses are. Make yourself at home. I'll be back soon. Love you, Micah.

I smiled to myself and picked up the bottle. The label read Montepulciano d'Abruzzo. I'd never heard of it, but then, I wasn't exactly a connoisseur. In fact, I wasn't a big fan of wine, much to Micah's horror. He'd been attempting for some time to cultivate my taste for it and was constantly making me try new ones. I was slowly starting to come around but still hadn't found one that really stood out.

I carried the bottle into the kitchen and got a goblet from the cabinet. I had to hunt for the corkscrew, then figure out how to use it. Having only seen other people do it, I had to wrestle with the cork for a few minutes before it finally popped out, which seemed like a lot of work for something I probably wasn't even going to like.

I sniffed the bottle and shrugged. It smelled like wine. I poured some, took a tentative sip. It wasn't bad. I took another taste and decided I might actually like this one.

I walked around the apartment sipping the wine while I waited for Micah. I finished my first glass and poured myself another. When he still hadn't returned by the time I'd drained the second glass, I helped myself to a third and turned on the TV. I was working on my fourth and watching HGTV when Micah finally got home.

"Hey, sweetie," I called from my spot on the sofa. He had paper bags in each arm, so I jumped up to help him...which was when I realized the wine had gotten to me. I steadied myself with the help of a chair, then proceeded to give Micah a hand with the groceries.

He grinned when he saw the open bottle. "I see you got into the wine." His expression changed to surprise when he picked it up and realized how much I'd had. "You drank all that on an empty stomach?"

I nodded sheepishly. "It's good."

"Are you feeling it?"

I nodded again, a little more emphatically, and lost my balance, catching at the countertop to keep from toppling over.

Micah chuckled. "Well, at least we finally found a wine you like. From the look of things, we'd better get some food in your stomach before you move from tipsy to drunk."

"You'll get no arguments from me. I'm starving! What are we making?"

"We're not making anything. I'm making chicken Milano."

I pouted. "I want to help."

"In your state, I doubt you'd be of much use. I'm definitely not letting you near sharp objects."

I giggled. He had a point. "So what's this you're making again?"

"Chicken Milano."

"What's that?"

"Sautéed chicken breast in a fresh basil and sundried tomato cream sauce over pasta."

"Mmm! That sounds delicious."

"It is. Now why don't you go sit down and watch your show? This won't take long, I promise."

I did as directed, and sure enough, about half an hour later Micah called me to eat. He'd set the table with a dark blue cloth and candles, creating a very romantic effect. When he refilled my glass, I commented dryly, "As if I haven't had enough."

He just smiled and went back into the kitchen to fetch a wooden bowl of salad, which he tossed and served. Another trip to the kitchen produced two plates, each bearing a layer of fettuccini topped with sliced chicken breast and cream sauce.

"Bon appétit!" he said, presenting the plates with a flourish.

"It looks amazing!"

"Let's just hope it tastes as good as it looks."

"Have you ever made this before?"

"Nope. I found the recipe online and thought it sounded like the perfect dinner for a special occasion."

"And what's the occasion? Getting Killian drunk on wine for the first time?"

Micah laughed. "That was just a happy bonus. There is no occasion, except it's nice to have you over for dinner."

I cut off a bite and popped it into my mouth. "Oh my gawd! This is incredible!"

Micah looked pleased. We made small talk while we ate, avoiding any touchy subjects. The conversation was pleasant, and the meal was every bit as delicious as it looked. After we finished, Micah took away the dirty plates and returned bearing a chocolate tart.

"Dear God, you're trying to spoil me," I said with a grin. "Either that or you're trying to seduce me."

Micah gave me an enigmatic smile and served the dessert. It was heavenly. I was quite full by the time I finished my slice.

We moved to the living room, Micah put on a movie, and we cuddled up together on the couch. I don't even remember what the movie was — although I'm pretty sure it had Kate Winslet in it. I don't know whether it was the meal, the wine, the comfort of Micah's arms wrapped around me, or a combination of all three, but I was asleep before the opening credits finished rolling.

I awoke disoriented the next morning, alone in Micah's big bed. Even once I'd placed where I was, I wasn't sure how I'd gotten there. The last thing I remembered was falling asleep on the couch. I slowly sat up and caught the smell of coffee in the air. I glanced over at the clock and gasped. I was late, and the interviews for the assistant's position started that morning.

I leaped out of bed and immediately regretted it. My head was pounding. I let out a low groan and lowered myself gingerly back onto the mattress.

As if summoned, a boxer-clad Micah appeared in the door bearing a steaming coffee mug. "I thought you might need this."

I gratefully accepted his offering with a mumbled thank you. "How much wine did I drink?"

"Pretty much the whole bottle. I only had one glass. How's your head?"

I grimaced. "It feels like there's an entire high school marching band tramping through my brain...and what they lack in skill is more than made up for with enthusiasm."

He laughed. "Just go easy on it next time. It's all about moderation. And you should probably drink lots of water today."

I nodded, then instantly regretted it.

Micah smirked as he left the room. "I'll get you some ibuprofen."

I tried to stand again, with better results, and looked down at my naked body. "How'd I get in here anyway?"

"You don't remember?" he called from the other room.

"No. Should I?"

I was a little worried. What exactly had happened?

He appeared carrying three pills, which he handed to me and I promptly swallowed with a swish of coffee. "After the movie, I woke you up, and we walked back here. You got undressed, collapsed into bed, and promptly fell right back to sleep."

"I don't remember any of that." I rubbed my face. "I'm sorry. I guess I ruined your romantic night."

"Don't be silly. It was great just having you here, falling asleep listening to you breathing, waking up next to you..."

I knew where this was leading. I glanced at the clock again. "I need to go."

He frowned. "Already?"

"I have to run out to the B&B to shower and change. We're interviewing for the new office position today, and I need to look my best." I glanced in the mirror. "And this definitely isn't it."

"See, if you moved in, this wouldn't be an issue."

"Not now, Micah. Please. I can't deal with it this early in the morning, especially with my head feeling the way it does."

"When can you deal with it, Killian? It seems to me you're just avoiding the issue altogether. Last night was incredible, right?"

"Last night was incredible," I reluctantly agreed.

"It could be like that all the time. Just say yes."

"I...I need more time."

Micah's face fell. "Time's running out."

I bit my lip. "Soon." I pulled on my clothes from the day before and turned to face him. "I promise. I'll let you know soon."

He nodded, making no attempt to hide the hurt in his eyes. I gave him a quick kiss and let myself out.

I drove to the B&B at speeds that would have resulted in a hefty fine had there been any police on my route. I flew through the door and almost bumped into Steve.

"I thought you were upstairs," he said with a startled expression. "Did you sleep at home last night?"

"Er, no. I fell asleep at Micah's."

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Oh really?"

"I don't have time to explain right now. I'm already late."

I ran up the stairs without looking back, although I could feel his eyes on me as I went.

I took what had to be the world's quickest shower and threw on fresh clothes, then raced back out after another hasty exchange with Steve. I pulled into the parking lot of the office with only ten minutes to spare before the first interview. I opened the door to find several applicants already sitting expectantly on the hard plastic chairs in what passed for our waiting room, also known as my office.

Novak popped his head out of his office door like a prairie dog checking for danger. He wore a tight-lipped expression that did not bode well for my bodily integrity. He motioned me into his office without a word and shut the door behind me.

"Nice of you to join me this morning."

"I know. I'm sorry. I overslept, which isn't an excuse, but hey, I'm here now."

He sighed. "Are you at least ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"I don't think you know what you're in for."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's just say it's going to be a long day."

I groaned. My head was still killing me. The ibuprofen Micah had given me hadn't even quieted the brass section, let alone the percussion.

"Uh, maybe I should take something else for my headache before we get started."

He walked over, opened a drawer in his desk, and started pulling out bottles. "Name your poison," he said, lining them up. "I've got Tylenol, ibuprofen, aspirin, Tylenol with codeine—"

"Wait. Why do you have Tylenol with codeine?"

"Dentist."

"Will that make me sleepy?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not giving you prescription drugs for a hangover."

"How did you know it was a hangover?"

"I'm a PI." He tossed me the Tylenol and swept the rest back into the drawer.

I took a couple of caplets without water as Novak went over the game plan. I would join him behind his desk, while the applicant would take the remaining chair facing the two of us. Novak had a list of questions prepared, and he suggested we take turns asking.

"Should we play good cop/bad cop?"

He gave me a look. "I'm always the bad cop. But this is an interview, not an interrogation. Call in the first person."

I checked my schedule, then opened the door. "Denise?"

A big-boned, freckled, red-haired woman in her late thirties stood up and walked in.

"Have a seat," Novak told her.

She sat and stared at us expectantly.

"As our ad said, we're private investigators looking for someone who can handle receptionist duties as well as occasionally assist in our investigations."

"Would that be dangerous?" she asked, somewhat eagerly I thought.

"Not at all," Novak said. She definitely looked disappointed. "Assisting us would mostly involve computer work here in the office. Are you proficient with a computer?"

"Oh yes, quite proficient. You might even say I'm a hacker. Would I get a gun?"

Novak was starting to look a little alarmed. "No, no gun. Do you have any experience with receptionist duties?"

"No, but I've always wanted to be a PI. I love true crime. Are you sure I couldn't have a gun?"

The interview went downhill from there. We said goodbye a short time later with a promise to call her if she got the job — as if there were any chance of that happening.

The next candidate became shifty when we asked for references. After a little questioning, we learned he'd been fired from his last four jobs because of poor performance.

"It's not my fault," he insisted. "I have a sleep disorder, and sometimes I just don't feel like getting out of bed."

Novak looked my way. "We're familiar with that disorder. Thanks for coming in. We'll be in touch."

The third person wanted to know if she could bring her dogs to the office with her — all six of them. The next several interviews were equally dismal. Either the applicants were woefully unqualified or they were borderline psychotic.

"I didn't believe you when you tried to warn me about how bad this would be," I whined after the sixth bad interview.

"You should always listen to me, kiddo. I know a lot more than you do."

"I don't know if I'd say a lot more."

"I would. We'd better hope this afternoon is an improvement over this morning. How's your head?"

I paused to consider. "Getting there. There's just a distant echo of 'Seventy-six Trombones' now."

Novak stared at me as if questioning my sanity but chose to let it go. "Good, then why don't you run down to the deli and pick us up a couple of corned-beef sandwiches? I have some phone calls to make."

"Yes, sir." I gave him a mock salute and ran off on my errand, all the while wondering if I would be stuck playing the dual role of investigator/receptionist forever. I found it hard to believe there were no qualified applicants in our city.

When I arrived back at the office, Novak was smiling like the cat that ate the canary. The look made me more nervous than the one he'd given me when I came in late.

"What?" I asked him warily.

"Let's just say I have an ace up my sleeve," he said with a smug expression.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"Nope. Let's eat."

The afternoon's interviews were as unfruitful as the morning's. By the end of the day, we didn't have a single person I would consider hiring. Somehow, though, Novak had maintained his cheery mood throughout the entire process.

"I wish I knew what you knew," I muttered sourly after the last applicant had left.

"What do you mean?" he asked innocently.

"That was a complete waste of an entire day. I could have been out working on my case, but instead we sat in here interviewing people I wouldn't hire to clean up after my dog."

"You don't have a dog."

"The point is we still don't have an assistant."

"Ah, but maybe we do."

"What? You can't seriously be considering hiring anyone we spoke to today."

He chuckled. "Good God, no. I'd sooner take down my shingle and retire."

"Then what?"

"You'll just have to wait and see."

"Ugh. You know I hate that."

He just grinned. "So, I noticed you were in here last night clearing off your desk. Did you take a peek at the new office?"

"No, I figured I'd let you get the first look. After all, it is yours."

He gave me a look and that mysterious smile again. "Come on." He led the way through my office and opened the door to our new addition. It was a little larger than Novak's current office, with windows on two walls and another door opening to the front.

"That door leads to the old receptionist space." Novak explained. "For now, it'll remain empty, but it does mean this office has its own entrance."

"That should come in handy."

"So what do you think?"

"I think it's great, but I'd hate to be the one who has to move that huge desk of yours."

"Are you kidding? No one is moving that thing."

"You're not? You mean I get it?" I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Honored, I supposed, although it wasn't really the desk I would have chosen.

"Not on your life. That's my desk."

I blinked at him in confusion. "Huh?"

"This will be your office."

"My office?"

"Yes, your office."

"But...but...this is the bigger room."

"So? It's not all about size, kid." He chuckled at my expression. "You deserve it. You've worked your ass off since I hired you. Besides, it took me forever to get my space arranged just the way I like it. The idea of moving all my crap in here is too daunting to even consider. More importantly, if you stick around long enough, this will all be yours someday anyway."

My mouth dropped open. This was way too much to take in. I blinked away tears. "Novak—"

"Don't go getting all mushy on me. You're going to have to keep up your end of the bargain. Once you're a partner, you'll have a lot more responsibility. Which reminds me, have you finished that paperwork for your license yet?"

I shook my head. I wasn't about to tell Novak, but it was one more thing I'd deliberately placed on the back-burner, along with figuring out my future with Micah and other things I'd have rather avoided indefinitely.

"Then how about if you get busy on that now? I'd like to be able to turn it in soon."

"Okay." I took one last look around my new office, already mentally decorating it, then reluctantly sat down at my desk to finish the application for the license. I could hardly believe that soon I would be a licensed investigator with my own office. Everything seemed to be happening so fast I could barely keep up. If only my case would go so as smoothly.

"Hey, do you have plans for tomorrow morning?" Novak asked suddenly from behind me, startling me out of my thoughts.

"No, why?"

"I just talked to a buddy of mine, who said he can qualify you for your gun permit if you meet him at the range around ten. Would that work for you?"

"I guess so." I was not enthused.

"Great. I'll call him back and let him know." He gave me a thumbs-up and disappeared back into his office.

I turned back to the forms with a sudden feeling of dread in my stomach. I was not looking forward to firing a gun again, even if it was just at a paper target.

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