All Lost Things
Book 3 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries
By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026
Epilogue
“I’ll get it,” I announced when the doorbell chimed.
“No, you stay there,” Adam ordered, jumping to his feet. “I’ll go.”
“Adam! For God’s sake, I’m not an invalid. I’ve been home for six days and I feel fine. I think I can open the front door.”
“The doctor said seven days,” he insisted stubbornly, although he did sit down.
I threw him a grateful smile as I escaped from the room to answer the door. I was beginning to feel like a prisoner.
After a night of observation, the doctors had released me with instructions to take it easy for one week. I wasn’t to do anything too strenuous or turn my head too quickly. If I hadn’t developed dizziness, poor coordination, memory lapses, or vision difficulties by that time, I’d be fine and could resume my normal activity. Otherwise, I might have suffered more serious damage, in which case, I was to get my tail back to the hospital pronto.
Adam had enforced compulsory rest until I was ready to scream. I needed a vacation from relaxation. A guy can only spend so much time online and watching television — and let me tell you, daytime TV really leaves something to be desired. My life was way more interesting than any soap opera.
Adam allowed me to feed and bathe myself, but that was about it. He waited on me hand and foot, and Steve was almost as bad. The only person who acted normal around me was Kane.
The ringing doorbell was a welcome change of pace. It meant I’d get to see someone new. Except for Micah, no one else had come by all week.
I swung open the door, and my smile froze on my face. A beautiful young black woman stood on the porch holding a microphone and a rolled-up newspaper. Behind her, a beefy guy held a camera aimed at my face.
“Are you Killian Kendall?” the woman asked.
I guess the news had broken. I thought about just gently shutting the door, but decided that would be rude. “Um...yes?” I said hesitantly.
“I’m Vanessa Van Hope with WDMV TV News. Would you like to respond to this story running in tomorrow’s paper?” She unfurled the newspaper in her hand and held it up. I saw it was The Delmarva Times, Micah’s paper.
Why hadn’t he given me a head’s up on this?
The cameraman moved so we were both in the frame and the headline could be read. “BOY WONDER DOES IT AGAIN,” it screamed in giant bold print across the top of the page.
“I, uh, haven’t read it actually, so I can’t really respond to it.”
“It alleges you solved the Cohen murder.”
“I... May I see the paper?”
She hesitated a moment, then handed me the paper. I noticed the date was tomorrow’s, as the reporter had indicated, and the byline was William Walters. I scanned the first few sentences.
“Local teen wunderkind Killian Kendall first made headlines two years ago after solving a series of murders in his hometown that had police stumped. Now it appears that Kendall has done it again. An anonymous source inside the police department has told The Times that Kendall actually cracked the recent sensational ax murder of Ira Cohen by his son, a local high school student.”
I stopped reading and looked up at the reporter, who was watching me expectantly. I gave her a wide smile, my best “No comment,” and shut the door.
I slumped against the door for a second. I could hear Ms. Van Hope outside yelling for me to just answer a few questions. I glanced down at the paper still in my hand and realized the circus was just starting. “Ohhhh, Adam...”
The next few days were a madhouse of reporters calling and ringing our doorbell. It turned out that the reason Micah hadn’t warned me about Walters’ article was because he hadn’t known about it. He was super apologetic, but it wasn’t his fault, and we all understood that. In fact, Adam loved the headline so much, he’d promised to get it framed.
In the end, just to get the truth out there — and maybe get back at Walters a little — I agreed to give an exclusive interview, but only to Micah.
The interview itself was actually kind of fun. I met Micah at a small cafe, and we holed up in a corner booth. He set out a recorder, and we just talked. He already knew most of the story leading up to the confrontation in the barn, so, while we did rehash the investigation, he really focused on what happened after I left the hospital. Luckily, Novak had kept me informed.
"So what happened with your phone?" he asked. "Did they ever find it?"
"Yes, and actually, the recording was surprisingly clear — well, except for one weird part."
"Weird how?"
"There was this section that was mysteriously blank." What I didn't mention was that it just so happened to cut out right when I started pressing Caleb for details about my dream. "Then, just as suddenly, the audio kicked back in — right when Caleb began confessing everything."
"That’s...convenient. Do you remember what's missing?"
"Uh, no," I fibbed. "It was all sort of a blur."
"That makes sense. So was the recording enough to cinch the case against Caleb?"
"Yes, that would have been enough, but just as Kaplan predicted, once Finn came to, he couldn't talk fast enough. He filled in a lot of the blanks and even confessed to killing Marco."
It was common knowledge that Finn had been charged with Marco's murder, as well as accessory to murder for Ira's death, but none of the details had been released yet.
"Why did he kill Marco?"
"For several reasons, really. And I feel at least partly responsible."
"What do you mean?"
"Finn worked out that Marco had told me about seeing him entering the barn and he grew worried that Marco might know more than he did. He also thought that a second mysterious death would distract the police and possibly provide them with a plausible scapegoat."
"Right, didn’t they suggest Marco might have been stalking Caleb? And that he killed Ira out of some twisted sense of protectiveness and then took his own life because he felt guilty?"
"Exactly."
"Okay, but how did he kill him? Even the police thought it was a suicide at first, right?"
"I don't know how seriously they ever considered suicide, actually. I think they were suspicious from the start. But Finn has quite a few...esoteric talents, one of which apparently includes roping."
"As in like cattle roping?"
"Yes. He said he lured Marco to the barn, roped him like a calf, and hoisted him up. Then left him to die."
He shook his head. "Jesus. That's really messed up. Not to sound insensitive, but why do you feel responsible for that?"
"Because it was my big mouth that made Finn think Marco knew more than he did."
"But you're not—"
"Responsible for other people's actions? I know that intellectually, but I also can't deny that Marco would probably still be alive if I'd been more careful. I've lost sleep over it."
"Okay, off the record, as someone who cares about you, that's crazy. No normal person would ever do something like that. You can't blame yourself."
I shrugged. "I'm working on it."
"I just can't fathom why Finn would do all that for Caleb?"
"Caleb..." I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. We were technically on record. "Caleb is...a very damaged person. He's incredibly manipulative. And he lies—easily and convincingly. One of the hardest parts of this case was trying to separate truth from fiction."
I leaned back, gathering my thoughts. "I’m pretty sure he was involved with Marco, Finn, and Asher all at the same time at one point. He had each of them wrapped around his finger in different ways. He convinced Asher he was just this poor, defenseless kid who needed protection — someone to save him from his awful life."
"And with Finn?" Micah prompted.
I sighed. "With Finn, it was different. I think Finn was genuinely in love with him, no matter what he said about it being just friends with benefits. Caleb had him believing that freeing him from his father was worth doing whatever it took, no matter the cost."
"So do you think anything Caleb said was true?"
"I... I think he was abused. We know Ira hit his wife, and there were plenty of witnesses who saw him beating Caleb too. Besides, that kind of rage doesn’t just appear out of nowhere. In a lot of ways, Caleb was a victim. Every adult who should have protected him — his mother, his grandparents, the social workers, even the staff at the group home — they all let him down. But that abuse seemed to break something inside him, turning him into a remorseless monster in his own right."
"So, where does that leave Caleb and Finn?"
"Between my statement and Finn's confession, the State’s Attorney officially charged Caleb with his father’s murder, three counts of attempted murder, and a laundry list of other serious charges. Finn’s cooperation might get him a lighter sentence, but he’s still being charged with Marco’s murder and as an accessory to Ira’s."
"So why do this interview? Why now?"
"Well, even though it's been all over the news, the police managed to keep my name out of it, for a while anyway."
"I'm actually impressed they managed that for as long as they did, actually, considering you're one of the people Caleb is accused of attempting to murder. A teenage boy hacking up his father with an ax and covering it up with his boyfriend? That’s practically made for headlines. Especially the local news — they’ve been all over it."
"Yeah, I was hoping to stay out of the limelight this time around, but that hope ended with Walter's article. How'd he dig all that up anyway?"
"I'm pretty sure he recognized your name in the police reports and started sniffing around. Someone in the department must have been feeding him information."
"If I had to guess, I’d put money on that incompetent cop I inadvertently got in trouble twice," I said, shaking my head.
Micah chuckled. "Yeah, that tracks. So, what are you hoping to get out of all this?"
"Honestly? I’m just hoping that now the truth is out, people will move on to the next big headline."
If I’d hoped that sharing my side of the story would calm the storm, I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything, Micah's interview only stirred up more interest. A national newsmagazine show even reached out, wanting to feature the story. Novak was firmly against it, insisting that a PI’s greatest asset is anonymity — which was perfectly fine by me. I didn’t want to do it anyway.
It took a couple of weeks for things to finally settle down. By then, between doctor-mandated bedrest and a self-imposed lockdown to avoid the press, I was going stir-crazy. So when Micah invited me over for dinner, I jumped at the chance. He’d come by a few times for movie nights, but a parentally supervised visit wasn’t quite the same — and I was desperate to get out of the house.
When I arrived at Micah’s apartment, it was obvious that he’d gone all out. There were fresh flowers on the table, jazz playing in the background and a delicious scent filled the air.
“What did you make?” I asked after I greeted him with a kiss.
“A mess,” he said with a smirk.
“Well, it smells amazing.”
“It’s nothing fancy. I’m not much of a chef. It’s just chicken in a mushroom sauce.”
“I can’t wait to try it.”
"You say that now..."
"Oh hush.
"I thought we'd eat on the balcony, if that's okay with you?"
"That sounds great, but is there room?"
He laughed. "It might be tight, but we'll make it work."
"Are we still talking about dinner?" I asked with a grin.
He pulled me close with an arm around my waist, and gave me a kiss. "Behave. If you distract me, I'll ruin the sauce. I just have to finish a few things then I can plate it up."
He let me go and headed toward the kitchen with me trailing behind him.
"There's a bottle of wine in the ice bucket there. Help yourself. Just don't tell Adam."
I threw my head back and laughed, then grabbed one of the glasses he'd set out and poured a small amount of the Pinot Grigio he had chilling on the counter.
"I promise I won't go overboard again."
"Oh, trust me. You weren't really overboard last time. I've seen much worse. You were just a little tipsy."
"Jeez. If I'm that slutty when I'm just tipsy, imagine if I were to get messy drunk."
Micah glanced up from the pan he was stirring with a horrified expression. "I don't think I'd be able to withstand the temptation."
I threw back the wine in my glass like it was a shot and reached for the bottle. "Then I'd better get drinking..."
He swatted at me with a dish towel, then threw it over his shoulder. "Okay, dinner is ready."
He started plating the food, which looked as good as it smelled. We carried our plates out to the balcony, where the table proved just barely big enough for both of us.
Despite his attempts to downplay his cooking, dinner tasted as good as it smelled and looked. Once we started eating, though, Micah fell uncharacteristically quiet, as if something was on his mind.
Immediately, my mind jumped to all the worst-case scenarios. Was something wrong? Was he going to end things between us? Maybe he’d decided I was too young and inexperienced. Or maybe he’d met somebody else.
I'd pretty much decided that this was a break-up dinner, when I finally decided I couldn't take it anymore.
“Okay, what’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?” He tried to give me an innocent look, but he wasn’t fooling anybody.
“Something is going on. You’re acting weird.”
“No I’m not.”
“Micah, I know you. You've barely said a word since we sat down.”
He sighed. “Nothing is wrong.”
“Then what's bugging you.”
“I’m just a little nervous.”
“Nervous? About what?”
“Just something I was going to talk to you about.”
Now I was nervous.
“Just tell me!”
“Fine. I was planning to do this over dessert, but I guess there’s no getting anything past a private eye.” He took a deep breath and his cheeks flushed ever so slightly, maybe the first time I’d ever seen him blush. “I like you.”
I blinked. “Well, yeah. I know. I like you too.”
“No, I mean, I really like you.”
“Micah, what are you trying to say?”
“I was going to ask you this in the hospital, but I chickened out.”
“Ask me what? If you don’t spit it out, I’m leaving.”
“What do you say we make this official?”
“I... What?”
That wasn’t at all what I’d been expecting.
“Will you be my boyfriend?”
I broke into a huge grin. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Micah’s smile matched mine as he sighed with relief. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“You didn’t actually think I’d say no, did you?”
He shrugged sheepishly. “You never know.”
I stood and walked around the table to Micah’s side. He started to get up, but I pushed him back into his chair, then swung my leg over his and settled onto his lap, facing him. Cupping his face in my hands, I kissed him — deep, hard and long. When I finally pulled back, his eyes were heavy-lidded and glazed.
"Now you know," I said, my voice husky. "I’m thrilled to be your boyfriend. And I think we should celebrate...in the bedroom."
He blinked, still processing. "But what about dessert?"
I traced a finger along his jaw. "I haven’t been alone with you in weeks. I have a different kind of dessert in mind."
A slow grin spread across his face. "I have a feeling I’m going to love being your boyfriend."
I leaned in and whispered into his ear. "Oh, I know you will."
Continued in Book 4
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