The Truth of Yesterday
Book 4 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries
By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026
Chapter 10
"W-what?" I must have heard him wrong. "What did you say?"
"I said," he spoke slowly, over-enunciating each word, "I want to hire you."
"To do what?"
He sent a meaningful look in the direction of the room's other occupant, who was staring at the purse in her lap as if it was the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen.
Just then, the door to the inner office swung open and the insurance company representative came out, followed closely by my boss. "We appreciate your work, Mr. Novak," the agent said. "As always, you completed the assignment ahead of schedule and to your usual standards of excellence. We'll be in touch when we find ourselves in need of your services again."
"Let's hope for your sake that isn't too soon," Novak said genially.
The plain little man let himself out while Novak cast a curious glance in the direction of Micah and the Bird Lady.
"Someone would like to speak with you privately," I said, with a slight incline of my head toward the woman.
Novak smiled. "Of course. Why don't you come on back?"
The woman smiled gratefully at me as she followed him into his office.
As soon as the door closed I turned back to Micah. "Well?"
He took a deep breath. "I want you to look into Paul's murder."
I sat for a second staring dumbly back at him. "You want me to investigate the murder of your ex-boyfriend?" I asked slowly, making sure I had this right.
"Yes."
"You don't think that's asking a lot?"
"I know it's asking a lot, but if Asher was murdered, wouldn't you want to know the truth? Speaking of Asher, didn't he ask you to help his new boyfriend when he was accused of killing someone? I just...I need to find out what really happened to Paul so I can move on."
"I thought you'd already moved on."
"Romantically, yes. This is different. Now it feels like there's unfinished business. I cared about him once, and he deserves justice."
"What about the police?"
He grimaced. "Apparently they aren't trying very hard."
I frowned. "What gives you that idea?"
"I know people back in the city, people in positions of authority. I called them to verify what Razi had told me. It seems the murder of a known gay sex worker isn't very high on the police's list of priorities. There's no family demanding justice, and the public couldn't care less. There's enough crime in the city that something like this tends to get pushed to the back burner, especially if it isn't an open-and-shut case. They just don't have the manpower on the police force."
"So you want me to find out who killed him?"
He nodded. "I don't know who else to turn to. I know things aren't perfect between us right now, but I'll hire you as if I were any other client."
"I don't know if I'm the right person for this, Micah."
"I think you are. You've done this before. More than once, even. Everyone says you're already one of the best."
"That was on my home turf, so to speak. They were all local. I'm familiar with the area. I don't know anything about Washington D.C. Novak didn't even trust me to tail Knox there without your help."
"And I'll help you again."
"What if you don't like what I find?"
"Then I'll deal with it. At least I'll know the truth."
I shook my head. "I wouldn't have any idea where to start."
"I do. I know names, friends, people at the agency, places he hung out. I even have a key to his apartment — assuming he didn't change the locks after I left."
"You...still have a key to his apartment?"
Micah reached into his pocket and pulled out his keychain. He searched through them, selected one and worked it off the ring before sliding the silver key across my desk. "I don't know why I kept it. It just felt wrong to throw it away. Now I'm glad I hung onto it."
I stared down at the key. Micah was wearing me down and he knew it. I was running out of arguments and, despite myself, I was becoming interested. This case was tailor-made to be catnip for me: a murdered queer person the cops didn't care about? How was I supposed to just ignore that?
Besides, up until the Knox case, everything I'd done had been local. If I was any good as an investigator, I should be able to solve a case anywhere. This would be the perfect test of my skills.
Then there was the part about Micah's being able to move on. If I wanted to try and make things work with him — which I had to admit I did — helping him find closure might be necessary. I still wasn't certain we could work things out, but I was pretty sure we wouldn't have a chance if he was haunted by the unsolved murder of his ex-boyfriend.
I sighed and picked up the key. "Tell me what you know."
Relief flooded Micah's eyes. "Thank you, Killian." His voice was filled with sincerity. He grabbed one of the chairs and pulled it closer to the desk.
"Don't thank me yet," I muttered.
Micah took a slow, steadying breath. “Let’s see... I don’t know as much as I wish I did, honestly. Last I heard, Paul was still working for the same agency we both used to work with back when I was in the business. It's actually pretty respected, at least as far as escort agencies go — known for being reliable, discreet, professional. The owner’s name is Neal. I talked to him once or twice over the phone, but we never met in person. He’s a behind-the-scenes kind of guy. Keeps his profile low, which is probably smart in that line of work.”
As he spoke, I scribbled notes in the small, dog-eared notebook I always kept on me. One of Novak’s first and most repeated lessons: never trust your memory — and never trust the cloud. Ink and paper were eternal, he claimed, unless you were dumb enough to leave them out in the rain.
Micah went on. “Far as I know, Paul hadn’t dated anyone seriously since I left. There was that guy we saw at the club — Razi — they were friends. There was history there, but I never got the full story and I didn't pry. Then there's Sabrina, our neighbor. Assuming she still lives in the building. She was sweet. They were close. He had a few other casual friends, but honestly? He was kind of a loner when he wasn’t working.”
He gave a small, sad smile. “It used to crack me up — Paul was so shy in real life, but he could turn on this whole other persona when he was working. You know the type: sweet, soft-spoken, a little mysterious. The kind of guy who made you feel like you were the only person in the world. Very boy next door. Clients ate it up.”
There was a pause. Something shifted in his expression — like a ripple over the surface of still water.
“Razi was the one who found him,” he said finally, voice quiet. “No one had heard from Paul in a few days, which wasn’t like him. Razi went to check on him. I guess he had a key. When Paul didn’t answer, he let himself in. He found him. Called the cops.”
Micah’s jaw tensed, and his eyes unfocused, staring somewhere past the wall.
“He was strangled,” he added, almost too softly to hear. “They said the apartment was wrecked — like someone had torn it apart looking for something. Stuff was broken, drawers dumped. But apparently, nothing was taken.”
“You think it was a robbery gone wrong?”
He gave a small, joyless laugh. “That’s what the cops thought — at first. But Razi said they dropped that theory pretty quickly once they realized nothing was missing. Just destroyed.”
I nodded slowly. “If it turns out to be some random break-in with no connection to Paul, it’s going to be damn near impossible to figure out who did it.”
“I know.” His voice was tight. “But...please. Try.”
I looked down at my notes, scanty as they were. “Tell me more about Paul.”
Micah blinked. “What do you mean?”
“What was he like? Not just the sweet, quiet persona — the real Paul. Was he secretive? Who did he confide in?”
Micah considered that, brows drawn. “He wasn’t secretive, exactly. Not in the obvious way. It’s not like he lied or covered stuff up. But he didn’t volunteer much either. He listened more than he talked. You’d pour your soul out to him and feel better afterward — and it wouldn’t hit you until later that he never shared a damn thing about himself in return.”
“So he wouldn’t confide in anyone?”
“If he did, it wasn’t me.” He looked down at his hands. “There were parts of him I never really got to know. And we lived together.”
I hesitated, then said, “I know I’ve already asked, but I need you to really think before you answer this time. What if I dig into this and find something you won’t like? What if Paul was involved in something...more than escorting? What if he wasn’t the person you thought he was?”
Micah’s face tightened, but he didn’t look away. “If that’s the truth,” he said quietly, “then I’d rather know it than keep holding on to a lie.”
He looked at me — and this time, there was no hesitation in his eyes. Just pain. And determination.
“I need to know what happened to him, Killian. Even if I end up hating the answers."
I nodded. "Then I'll talk to Novak about it."
"Novak?" he asked with a confused expression.
"I work for him. I can't just take a job. Since I don't have a license, technically, you'll have to hire Novak and then he'll 'assign' me to investigate."
"Oh. Right. So...should I hang around to meet with him?"
"Let me talk to him first."
"Okay, sure. Will you call me as soon as you find out?"
"Yeah, of course."
"Thank you, Killian." He stood up and pushed the chair back to its place before turning to me again. "You can't imagine how much this means to me."
As soon as Micah left, the second thoughts started flooding in.
Maybe this was a terrible idea. Could I truly be objective? I might not have any personal connection to Paul, but Micah sure as hell did. Paul was his ex, the guy he'd lived with, loved, slept next to. If I was going to take the case, Micah would have to help me. I didn't have any other contacts in D.C. But dragging him through the wreckage of a dead relationship while chasing a killer? That was a recipe for emotional fallout — and I’d be the one left to deal with it. Could our already shaky relationship even withstand this case?
And yet, not taking the case came with its own risks. Micah would be crushed if I refused the case. He might say he understood, but he’d never forget it. It would drive a wedge between us.
Maybe we were doomed either way?
I was beginning to feel like a fox cornered by the hounds.
Then it occurred to me that Novak might not approve of my going off to D.C. on my own to chase a murderer. In fact, he might even flat out forbid me to go.
Which, of course, only made me want to take the case even more. Nothing made me want to do something more than being told I wasn't allowed to do it.
Still, this wasn’t just about stubborn pride or Micah’s pleading eyes. Paul had been killed. Brutally. And if there was even a chance I could find out who did it — well, maybe that was reason enough.
Novak was in the office with the mysterious woman for what seemed to be an unusually long time, leaving me far too much time to overthink the situation. When the door opened at last and she followed Novak out of the office, I thought she looked just as uneasy as she had when they'd gone in. Whatever had taken so long didn't seem to have helped with her nerves.
They crossed the room without speaking, and Novak held the door open for her.
"Thank you," she said in a small voice.
"You're welcome, and try not to worry," Novak said.
She cast him a look that clearly spoke her feelings about the chances of not worrying. Then she turned and scurried off, seeming to draw in on herself as she went.
Novak closed the door and turned to me. "Busy morning."
"That's an understatement. Do you have a minute to talk?"
"Sure, I always have time for you. Come on in."
I followed him into his office and took one of the leather chairs. He closed a case file that was open on his desk and slid it into a drawer. That struck me as a little odd, since I usually typed the files for him from his handwritten notes.
"Is that woman a new client?" I knew from experience there was no point asking about the file straight out.
"Yes, I'll be handling her case."
"Let me know if you need any help. I don't have any cases right now," I said — at least none he knew of.
"Thank you, but this is a rather delicate situation."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm afraid I promised her complete confidentiality."
"Even from me?" I was a little offended.
"Yes, even from you." He stopped and grinned. "And don't go acting like you're the injured party here." He paused dramatically. "How's your investigation of Jake going?"
My mouth fell open. "How do you know about that?"
Novak laughed. "You think I'm not aware of what's going on under my own nose? I wouldn't be much of an investigator if I couldn't keep track of what my own employees were up to."
"You followed me?"
"No, don't be dramatic. I knew something was bothering Judy, and I knew you were up to something besides the Knox case. I asked Judy point blank what was going on and, when she confessed her concern about Jake, it was clear she was holding something back. I put two and two together and came up with you. I didn't know for sure until just now, though."
"So you tricked me into admitting it. Damn, you're good. But...aren't you mad that I took the case without talking to you?"
"I wish you'd talked to me first, but I, of all people, know how persuasive Judy can be."
"You don't think she should have just asked you?"
"I can certainly understand why she didn't. Things are dicey enough between Jake and me as it is. If Jake found out I was following him, the whole situation would just go all to hell."
I frowned. "Not that it'll be much better if he finds out I'm following him."
"Better you than me. As long as it doesn't interfere with your other work, I'm okay with it, especially if it'll help put Judy's mind at ease. This whole situation has really been weighing on her. To be honest, I've thought about looking into things myself anyway, but didn't want to overstep my bounds. But while we're talking about overstepping bounds, you're not entirely off the hook. We should probably address the fact that you technically can't accept a case without going through me."
I shifted guiltily. "I mean...it's sort of just a favor, right? Not a real case. It's not like I'm going to charge her..."
Novak raised an eyebrow. "Another pro bono case? It's only been a few months since your last one."
"So you think I should charge your girlfriend?"
He threw his head back and guffawed. "Girlfriend? I'm too old to have a girlfriend. And I'm just giving you a hard time for not telling me about this sooner. Why don't you fill me in on what you've found out so far?"
"I guess it can't hurt now. I've actually been dying to talk to you about it." I told him about my search of Jake's room and my discoveries.
When I was finished, he thought for a minute. "Well, what you found could have several different explanations, but I don't like any of them. What are your thoughts?"
"The two things that bother me the most are the photo and the Equality Ball ticket. I just can't figure out how they fit in. I can't do much about the picture, but I could do something about the Ball."
"And what would that be?"
"I could attend."
Novak cocked an eyebrow. "And just how do you propose to get a ticket at this point?"
"That's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about," I said with a grin. "I was hoping you could use your contacts to score me one."
He pushed back in his chair. For a minute, I thought he was going to tell me there was no way, but then his expression grew thoughtful.
"I might be able to do something," he said. "I'll look into it and let you know."
"Great!"
"Don't get your hopes up. That thing is not easy to get into."
"I know."
"You have no idea. Anyway, what else did you want to talk about? You said that was just one of the things?"
"Well, actually, the other thing doesn't have anything to do with Jake..."
Something in my tone must have set off Novak's internal alarms. "Then what does it have to do with?"
"It has to do with Micah."
"Get to the point, kid."
"Well, Micah's...um, old roommate..."
"Meaning former lover."
I tried not to blush. "Right. Ahem. Well, Micah's ex...boyfriend was murdered last week. He lived in D.C."
"That's horrible. I'm sorry to hear that, but what does it have to do with you?"
"Micah wants me to look into the murder."
"No."
"What?" I was surprised at the firmness in his curt answer, even though I'd been half-hoping that would be his response.
"A murder is a matter for the police. You don't need to stick your nose into it."
"What about when we were looking into the Ira Cohen murder?"
"That was a different set of circumstances. The police were at a standstill in their investigation and we were working in cooperation with them. They welcomed our assistance."
"Micah has heard that the D.C. police aren't really trying to solve this case, so maybe they would welcome the assistance too. They're really overworked, after all."
"How do you know so much about the police in D.C.?"
"Micah has contacts. They told him the murder of a known escort wasn't high on the police department's list of priorities."
Novak nodded as if that made sense. "An escort, huh? That does change things. And he's Micah's ex?"
I blushed again, but thankfully, he didn't seem to expect an answer.
"Why you? Wouldn't an investigator who knows the city be a better choice?"
"That's what I said, but Micah really seems to want me to do this. He said he'd help."
"Of course he will."
"It was your idea for him to help me with the Knox case, so it'd be just like that except he'll be even more helpful since he knew the victim and his friends. He's a built-in source."
"Yes, yes, I only have myself to blame. And I suppose he's familiar with the escort business too?"
Novak's tone was sarcastic, but I answered anyway, trying not to blush again. "Uh, very."
Novak sighed. "I see. Well, I have to admit familiarity with the victim and the area would give you a distinct advantage." He seemed to be thinking for a minute. "On the other hand, if he used to date the victim, he might be too close, too emotional. People might be less likely to talk in front of him, to say things about his ex-boyfriend that are less than flattering."
"Oh. Right. I see what you mean. But I still need a guide, so what should I do? Leave him in the car? Make him wait outside while I talk to people alone?"
"Either would be viable options, but let me think about it. There's just one more major problem."
"What's that?"
"As we just discussed, you don't have a license yet. Micah can't hire you."
"I know, but Micah can hire you and then you can just assign me the investigation. Like we did with the Knox case."
"That case will never stop haunting me, will it?"
"So you'll consider it then?"
"I'll consider it, but if I agree, it will be on three conditions. First, you'll report everything back to me — and I mean daily reports."
"Of course. I'll need someone to hash things out with anyway."
"Second, if you get in over your head, I'll step in and help. No arguing."
"I think it's pretty much a given that I'm already in over my head," I said dryly.
"You're the one jumping in the deep end. But don't sell yourself short, kid. You're a good investigator. A little more time and you'll be a great one."
I flushed with pleasure at his praise. "What's the third?"
"You have to promise me you won't take any unnecessary risks."
"I never take—"
"Promise."
"I promise. So I should tell Micah it's a go?"
"I said I'd consider it."
"Oh. Okay. Sure. So...how long will it take you to consider it?"
"As long as it takes me. Now get back to work."
"But—"
"Now!"
I jumped up and hurried back to my desk. I tried to catch up on office work, but I was very distracted waiting for Novak's answer. He made me wait until almost lunchtime before he appeared at his office door.
"I just got off the phone with Louis Silver, an old buddy of mine on the Metropolitan P.D. He confirmed what you said about the case not being a top priority. Officially, it's because they don't have any solid leads. Unofficially..." He shrugged. "He didn’t say it outright, but I got the sense you’re right — the victim’s line of work probably isn’t doing the case any favors."
"So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying go ahead and write up the contract and send it over for Micah to sign. But you’ll need to include Lou in your regular reports. He’s agreed to meet with you and share what he knows...for a price."
My eyes narrowed. "What kind of price are we talking about?"
Novak chuckled. "A few tins of Fisher’s caramel popcorn and our combined body weight in Dolle’s salt water taffy." He grinned at my expression. "What can I say? The man’s got a sweet tooth and zero access to decent boardwalk treats in D.C. Don’t worry — I’ll cover it. Call it a bribe for an old friend."
"Thanks, Novak."
"Don’t thank me yet. There's more. Lou has a daughter around your age who’s been hounding him about becoming a cop. He thinks tagging along with you on this case might cure her of the idea. She’d act as your guide in the city, assuming she agrees."
I blinked. "Wait. How is working with me supposed to discourage her?"
Novak leaned back in his chair, amused. "He’s hoping once she sees how tedious a real investigation is — stakeouts, interviews, paper trails — she’ll lose interest. Plus, he’s banking on the fact that this case is a little...unsavory. He says she’s been pretty sheltered. Exposure to the seedier side of things might scare her straight. So to speak."
I frowned. "Unsavory? Paul was a high-end escort, not some streetwalker."
Novak waved that off. "The only difference is the zip code and the paycheck."
I shook my head. "Okay. So what’s this mystery guide’s name, and when do I get to meet her?"
"Her name’s Christina. Lou still has to run the idea by her. He’s supposed to call back this afternoon. If she’s in, she’ll meet you when you get to the city."
"Fair enough. I’ll start on the paperwork in the meantime."
"One last thing," Novak said, suddenly more serious. "I know I said I’d back you up if you got in over your head — and I will — but I just took on a new case that could eat up a lot of my time. So don’t count on me for regular hand-holding. You’re mostly on your own here."
I gulped, but nodded. "Understood."
He gave me a half-smile. "If I didn’t think you could handle it, I wouldn’t have said yes. Just don’t make me regret it."
As I turned to draft the contract, a creeping suspicion began to take root. It had been remarkably easy to get Novak's blessing for what was shaping up to be a complicated — and potentially dangerous — case in a city I barely knew. Too easy.
Was he trying to get me out of his hair?
And if so, did it have anything to do with his newest client, the fragile, birdlike woman? Was her case the one that would be taking up so much of his time?
I shook off the thought. Probably just my overactive imagination running wild.
Setting it aside, I called Micah to share the good news. As expected, he sounded more relieved than I'd heard him in days.
"So when do we start?"
"Right away. You can help by typing up everything you told me earlier. I took notes, but it'll be better to come from you. Be sure to include everything you can think of no matter how small or insignificant you think it might be: full names of everyone involved, addresses if you have them, phone numbers, any details you didn't include before."
"Okay, I can do that. Then what? Do we start interviewing people?"
"Well, actually, I'm not sure you should really go on those with me."
"What? Why not?"
"Novak suggested that old friends and...coworkers...might not speak as freely in front of you."
"Okay, I guess I can see that, but won't you still need a guide?"
"Novak has already taken care of that. An old cop buddy of his is going to be my contact up there and his daughter, who's my age, is going to be my guide."
"Wow. That all happened quickly. So when do you get started?"
"We're just waiting to get confirmation on everything, and then I should know more."
"Right away. First thing you can do is type up everything you told me earlier. I’ve got notes, but it’ll be better in your own words. Include every detail you can think of, even stuff that seems small or irrelevant — full names, addresses if you’ve got them, phone numbers, anything you left out the first time."
"Okay, I can do that. Then what? Do we start interviewing people?"
I hesitated. "Actually...Novak suggested that make you shouldn't come with me on those."
"What? Why not?" His frustration was clear in his voice. "I can be objective."
"It's not that. He thinks your old friends — and former coworkers — might not be so open with you standing there. You being there could change what they say...or if they talk at all."
He sighed. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But won’t you still need someone to help you get around?"
"Already covered. Novak pulled a few strings. An old buddy of his from the MPD is going to be my contact. And his daughter — who just so happens to be my age — is going to be my guide."
"Wow. That was fast."
"Novak doesn’t waste time." I laughed. "We’re just waiting for confirmation. Once it’s a go, I’ll head down and start digging."
Micah promised to get me his write-up that evening, and after hanging up, I cleared my calendar and wrapped up my backlog of paperwork to keep the rest of the week wide open. It was mid-afternoon before Novak called me into his office, his expression unreadable.
"Just got off the phone with Lou. His daughter’s in. Gave me her cell — she’s expecting your call."
I took the number as, despite myself, butterflies flapped around in my stomach like they were late for a meeting. Why did this feel like I was being set up on a blind date?
I dialed before I could overthink it.
"Hello?"
Her voice was deeper than I expected — rich, calm, and clear.
"Hi, Christina? This is Killian Kendall. My boss, Shane Novak, said your dad talked to you about helping me out with an investigation?"
"I prefer Chris, and yeah, he mentioned you might call. You sure didn't waste any time. So how does this work? Do you want to go over the case? And how soon are you looking to start?"
"As soon as humanly possible. When are you free?"
"I’ve got classes during the week. Unless you want to schedule everything around my school hours, weekends are better."
"Same here. What about this Saturday?"
"Saturday works. Are you good driving in the city?"
I laughed. "Not even a little. I live in Ocean City, grew up on the Shore. I've never even driven over the Bay Bridge by myself."
"No problem. Here’s what you do: drive to New Carrollton Station and take the Metro in. Orange Line. Get off at the Smithsonian stop. Meet me at the Washington Monument. Can’t miss it."
"Got it. How will I find you?"
"I’ll be the goth chick in all black. You?"
"Uh...short and blond?" I winced. "Kind of like a lost hobbit with a notebook."
She laughed. "Okay, Frodo. See you Saturday."
When I hung up, I stared at the phone for a long moment.
So my new partner was apparently Wednesday Addams. And we were investigating a murder in an unfamiliar city. And the victim was my boyfriend’s ex. Simple, right?
And yet...I couldn’t help the weird spark of excitement bubbling up inside me. This was what I’d always wanted, right? A real investigation. A real mystery. Even if it was tied to a part of Micah’s life I hadn’t exactly been thrilled to learn about.
Still, if I happened to learn a little more about Micah in the process — well, that would just be a bonus.
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