The Truth of Yesterday
Book 4 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries
By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026
Chapter 24
Micah blinked at me, astonishment flickering across his face. He glanced at the man I knew as Neal, then back at me, clearly deciding he must have misheard.
“What did you say?”
“That’s Neal,” I hissed, tugging at his arm. The last thing I wanted was to be spotted by either Neal or Jake.
But Micah went stubborn on me, planting his feet like a mule. “Neal as in…?”
“As in your old boss. As in the guy in the photo in Jake’s room. As in the man I had lunch with in D.C. on Monday. Now move before they see us.”
Only when I yanked hard did he let me pull him behind a wide marble column. He shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t understand. That’s Fenton Black. I know it is. I’ve never been introduced, but I’ve seen him up close more than once. I recognize him when I see him.”
“Who the hell is Fenton Black?”
“You’ve never heard of him?”
“If I had, would I be asking?”
Micah exhaled through his nose. “He’s probably the richest man on the Eastern Shore. Maybe one of the richest in Maryland — hell, maybe the whole country. Nobody knows exactly how much money he’s sitting on, or where it came from. Just that it’s...obscene. Originally from Argentina. Eccentric as hell. And if I said there were a lot of rumors about him, that’d be underselling it.”
My pulse thudded in my ears. “What kind of rumors?”
“Well...” Micah hesitated, lowering his voice. “Let’s just say it’s whispered that half the state’s politicians are in his pocket. The other half owe him favors. Officially he’s in ‘import/export,’ which is vague enough to mean anything. Unofficially? People say drugs, weapons, maybe worse. Some call him a kingpin.”
“Like a mafia boss?”
“Something along those lines.”
“But no one can prove it?”
“Not so far. And anyone who’s ever hinted they had hard evidence tends to wind up dead in an ‘accident.’ Truth is, I’m not sure law enforcement’s all that eager to catch him. The guy’s sharp. Charitable, too — donates millions, keeps half the local nonprofits afloat. People convince themselves his money pays for his sins. It’s amazing what you can buy when you’re rich.”
I risked a peek around the column. “Well, add ‘running an escort agency’ to that list of sins, because that’s definitely the man who called himself Neal when I met him Monday.”
Micah leaned over my shoulder for a better look, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. At least I finally know what Neal looks like.”
My eyes locked on my friend. “What’s Jake doing with him?”
“Looks like they’re on a date.”
The words gave me a tiny flicker of hope. If Jake was with Neal socially, maybe he wasn’t one of the escorts after all. Unless Neal had broken his rule about never seeing his own employees. Either way, the puzzle pieces weren’t fitting together. Too many jagged edges, too many gaps.
"You have to give him one thing, he's got balls," Micah said almost admiringly.
I ducked back behind the column and glared at Micah. "Jake?"
"No, Fenton Black. I mean, meeting you and then showing up here."
"He had no reason to think I'd be here." I weighed the situation aloud. "Still, his picture could have ended up in the paper again."
"Actually, he's notoriously freakish about having his picture taken," Micah said. "Usually, he won’t allow it for any reason. And if someone tries without permission, he makes them delete it while he watches."
"Well, someone slipped past him at least once. Jake has a photo."
"Maybe Jake took it with his phone."
"It looked like a download — printed out on plain paper, not a snapshot."
Micah leaned closer, lowering his voice even though no one was near. "Earlier this year at a children’s hospital fundraiser, some tiny local paper snapped his picture without him realizing. They ran it online and in print. Within weeks the paper folded. I remember one of the guys at The Times joking it was because they dared to print Fenton Black’s photo. Everyone laughed nervously. Like maybe it wasn’t really a joke."
"But there’s still a chance I could spot him anywhere, just like tonight. That makes it a risk. And he doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who takes risks. Why would he meet with me?"
"Probably because he didn’t take you seriously," Micah said. "Thought he could brush you off and be done with it. He never expected to run into you again."
"You’re right. He definitely underestimated me at first. But I doubt he’s making that mistake anymore. By now, I could be on his hit list."
Micah paled. "So what do we do? Because I have a bad feeling it’d be...unhealthy for him to see you here."
"I can’t leave, if that’s what you’re suggesting."
"Why not?"
"I don’t know why Jake is here with him. That’s why I came tonight. Novak pulled strings to get me in. He’d kick my ass if I wasted the chance."
"Not if you didn’t have an ass to kick," Micah muttered. "Killian, this guy is dangerous. Deadly dangerous. You’re playing with fire."
"Micah." I kept my tone steady. "Didn’t we just have this exact conversation a few days ago — except I was the one worried about you? Do you remember what you told me?"
He grimaced. "Yeah."
"And?"
"I said it was my job and I had to do it."
"Right. And then you said you’d never ask me to give up on an investigation."
"I’m not asking you to give it up."
"You might as well be. You’re asking me to compromise it. What’s the difference? If he already sees me as a threat, then it can’t get much worse. If he still underestimates me, I might even use that to my advantage. Either way, I don’t plan on him seeing me."
"And how exactly are you going to avoid that?"
I slipped my mask into place. Plenty of people still weren’t wearing theirs, but enough were that I wouldn’t stick out. "I’ve only met him once, he doesn’t expect me here, and I’m masked."
Micah sighed. "Just be careful. Guys like him can’t afford to be unobservant."
"I’m always careful. But we shouldn’t stay together. Even if you never met him, he knows what you look like. Besides, he also knows you're a reporter, so it makes sense for you to be here. If he sees me with you, he might connect dots we don’t want him connecting."
He looked ready to argue, then thought better of it. "Fine. We split up. But stay where I can see you."
"Ignore me. Otherwise, you’ll just draw attention. I’ll text when I’m ready to leave."
He gave a reluctant nod, turned as if to walk away, then stopped and doubled back. "I just remembered another rumor about Black that might be important."
"What rumor?"
"They say he likes young boys."
I felt my stomach drop. "He’s a pedophile?"
"Maybe not that young. But Jake... Jake would be about the right age."
I risked a glance around the column. If this was a date, Jake wasn’t enjoying it. His tux was sharp, expensive, perfectly tailored, but his expression was unmistakable — utter boredom. And no mask, so his feelings were plain. Beside him, Black — Neal — was immaculate in white, speaking earnestly with a man I half-recognized but couldn’t place.
"Who’s he talking to?"
"Black? Humphrey," Micah said. "Ronald Humphrey. County commissioner. One of the few not tied up in the scandal."
"Where would I have seen him?"
"On the news, probably. He’s been railing against my article nonstop. Calls it reckless journalism. The louder he shouts, the guiltier he looks."
"Do you think it means anything he’s cozying up to Black?"
"Could. Doesn’t have to. Everyone wants a word with Black. Local celebrity, bottomless bank account."
"I want to get closer."
"How do you plan to manage that without drawing his attention?"
"Um...maybe you could create some kind of distraction — fall down, fake a choking fit—"
"Killian, my reputation. I might have to interview these people later. I don’t need them remembering me as the klutz at the gala."
"Yeah, okay. Good point. What if you just stroll over and talk to Humphrey? Pretend you’re chasing a quote."
Micah arched an eyebrow. "One, I wouldn’t have to pretend. I am a reporter. Two, there are rules at these shindigs. You don’t just ambush someone unless you want to be shown the door — and Humphrey would happily throw me out. He hates me that much."
"Fair. We don’t want that." I exhaled. "Forget the distraction. I’ll circle the edge of the room, work my way behind them."
"Sounds like a plan. I’ll mingle. Good luck."
I began threading my way through the crowd as inconspicuously as possible, keeping my shoulders relaxed and my pace unhurried. Once I reached the wall, I edged sideways, careful to appear as if I were simply drifting, a guest in search of a drink or a familiar face. My actual destination, of course, was the spot where Black and Jake had planted themselves.
Black wasn’t mingling in the traditional sense. He didn’t need to. Instead, people orbited toward him like satellites pulled by gravity, eager to pay their respects, murmur pleasantries, or curry favor. He received them all with a faint smile, then dismissed them with a flicker of impatience, like a king indulging petitioners at court. By the time I drew near, Humphrey had already vanished, replaced by two different supplicants who came and went quickly, practically bowing on their way out. A third was speaking now, while another hovered in line for the privilege.
At last, I positioned myself directly behind them. My eyes stayed on Jake. He looked restless, paying little to no attention to Black's steady stream of admirers, not even bothering to hide his boredom.
I inched closer, angling my head to catch their voices. I should have been able to hear them clearly — except for the raucous knot of revelers who’d taken up residence nearby. They had clearly found the open bar early and often. Their laughter rang out sharp and brittle, a little too loud, a little too forced, the kind of mirth that teetered on hysteria: I’m having fun, damn it, even if it kills me.
Just as I was about to give up and move farther down, their volume dropped, and one of them — a squat, red-faced man with a gut straining against his cumberbund — launched into a joke. Something about a pilot leaving the intercom on by mistake. The group leaned in with drunken anticipation.
The sudden hush opened a pocket of quiet, and at last I caught Black’s voice.
“Again, thank you so much for your generous donation,” a woman was saying, her words wrapping up some bit of formal gratitude. She was hard to miss — towering, upholstered in satin, and so amply endowed she looked as if she might actually serve tea from her bosom.
“You’re very welcome,” Black replied smoothly. Then, with that same regal economy of motion, he inclined his head. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
The buxom lady accepted her dismissal with a gracious nod and lumbered off.
“Tiresome woman,” Black muttered the instant she was gone, his tone sharp enough to slice silk.
“They’re all tiresome,” Jake said flatly. He didn’t bother lowering his voice. “I hate these things.”
“Jakie,” Black chided, calm but firm. “We’ve been through this before.”
“Yeah, I know.” Jake’s shoulders slumped, resignation sharpening his boyish profile. “It’s part of the bargain.”
I couldn't hear what was said next because the rowdy group burst into raucous laughter as Dumpy delivered the punch line.
When I could make out what Black was saying again, he was placing a drink order. It only took me a second to remember that the closest bar was directly behind me.
Before I could react, Jake turned around and started in my direction.
For just a moment, I panicked. Then, remembering I was wearing a mask, I turned casually — I hoped — to the side, as if I was with the band of merry jokesters.
Stupid! That was way too close.
I had to be more careful.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Jake approach the bar and place Black's drink order. He returned to Black's side without so much as glancing in my direction, and a moment later a waiter brought the drink over.
I was just about to break cover when he leaned in and whispered something in Black's ear. Black nodded, and then, to my stunned horror, Jake walked right up to me.
"Can I have a word with you in the hall, please?" He spoke in a civil-enough tone, but his eyes were flashing with anger.
"Of course," I said quickly. What else could I do without causing a scene?
Jake spun on his heel and marched stiffly toward an inconspicuous door behind the bar that I had completely failed to notice earlier. I followed him out into a deserted but brightly lit, if sterile, hallway. Jake kindly waited for the door to close before ripping into me.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he said as soon as the door snicked shut.
I pulled the mask off. "What do you mean?"
No one can ever say I don't think quickly on my feet.
"Damn it, Killian. Don't play dumb. I know you've been snooping around, talking to my old friends. Danielle called me in a panic and wanted to know what was going on, that you'd told her she was in danger because she knew me, or some shit like that."
I'd expected that would come back to bite me in the ass.
"What kind of fucked-up shit is this?" he continued. "I thought you were my friend."
"Calm down, Jake," I said, which is, of course, always the worst thing to say to someone who's upset.
"Calm down? You want me to calm down? After I find out you're sneaking around talking to people about me behind my back? And then I catch you following me around here, eavesdropping on my conversation? And you want me to calm down?"
His voice had been steadily climbing throughout that whole tirade, but it reached a crescendo on the last question that I feared would bring security running. I decided a judicious fib was in order.
"I'm not following you," I said in what I hoped was a completely believable voice. I tried to arrange an expression of righteous indignation on my face, but I was feeling so guilty that I'm not sure I pulled it off. "I'm here with Micah."
"Bullshit." I opened my mouth to argue but he cut me off. "Oh, I know you're here with Micah. I saw you both hiding behind that damn column, peeking out at us every few minutes. And then you come creeping up behind us. And I know you've been following me for a while now. I've seen you behind me in traffic and at the mall once. At the time, I just thought it was a coincidence, and I wondered why you didn't say anything. Now I know it's because you're...you're...investigating me!"
He spat out the last two words as if they tasted bitter in his mouth, which they probably did. He stomped back and forth a few paces while I tried to decide what to say.
"Jake, listen—" I tried, but he wheeled around and silenced me with an angry slash of his hand.
"So far, Fenton doesn't know you're here. He's too busy playing benevolent king to the greedy peasants."
So I wasn't the only one who'd made that comparison.
"But all I have to do is make a scene and he'll have your ass in jail so fast you won't know what hit you. I'll say you're harassing me or that you tried to force yourself on me here in the hall."
My mouth fell open in shock. "You wouldn't do that to me."
"Really? Well, I didn't think you'd stoop to sneaking around behind my back, either."
There was genuine hurt in his eyes, and it killed me to see it.
"It's only because we care about you," I said softly.
"Oh please. Spare me."
"Really. Everyone is worried about you. You stop talking to your friends, you don't come home at night, and then you suddenly start throwing around a huge amount of cash that you won't explain where it came from."
"Judy's behind this, isn't she? God. I should have known. I knew someone had been through my stuff. That settles it. I'm moving out."
"You're still in high school."
"I'm already eighteen."
"What are you doing with this Fenton Black guy? He's bad news, Jake."
"What do you mean? You don't even know him."
"We've met."
That stopped him. "You've met?" There was a hint of jealousy in his voice. "Where? How?"
"Through another case."
He waved it away. "Well, you don't know him. I'm old enough to make my own decisions."
"And what decisions are you making? To throw away your family and friends? For what?"
"For what? I'll tell you for what. For a life I could never have with my so-called family and friends. Fenton gives me anything I need or want. He takes care of me."
"Does he love you? And what's your end of the bargain?"
"What good is love? What has love ever gotten me? My whole family is dead, and my own brother killed them. And tried to kill me. Then, before I even had time for that to sink in, I was yanked away from the only people alive that I still knew and cared about. I go off to live with complete strangers on the other side of the country, and everyone expects me to be just fine.
"And then, once I finally start to make friends and enjoy life again, Auntie Judy decides it will be good for me to move back here. Good for her is more like it. My old friends? Where to start? No one gave a damn about me. No one ever once asked me how I was doing or if I was okay. No one ever cared about me until I started throwing a little money around, and then suddenly everyone is so concerned for me. Give me a fucking break.
"And you" He paused to wipe angry tears from his eyes. "The person I thought was my closest friend. You were too busy following me around and asking people about me to actually talk to me. If you were so damn concerned for my wellbeing, why didn't you just fucking walk up to me and ask what was going on?"
I was reeling from his revelations and his accusations. I had no idea he felt like that. After everything he'd been through, why hadn't it ever occurred to me that he'd be having a hard time dealing with it all? Because I'd been too caught up in my own life to think about anyone else's. I'd talked — really talked — to Jake only once since he'd been back. He was right. I'd done a piss-poor job of being a friend.
"Jake, I'm—"
"Sorry? Well guess what, Killian? It's too late for that now. Do you know how many nights I've lain awake in bed for hours wishing you'd just let Todd fucking kill me? At least that way I wouldn't have been feeling all this shit. But you know what? I finally found a way to make the pain go away. So I don't need you, and I don't need Judy, and I don't need my supposed friends who never really cared about me, either. The only reason they ever hung out with me was because they wanted something from me. They wanted me but not for me. They didn't even know me. They just thought I was hot."
I didn't even try to argue with him. I couldn't. He was right.
"So save your apologies for someone else. I don't need them. I'm fine. I have everything I need. You can quit following me around, and you can stop asking questions, and you can tell Judy to fuck off, because I don't need her anymore, either."
"Jake, please, just listen to me. Judy loves you. She really does. She's tried to do what she thought was best for you."
"Then why didn't she ever ask me what I wanted? She got stuck with me, and that's all it is. Let's not pretend there's anything more to it than that. I barely knew her before. She's not my mom. She can't expect me to do whatever she wants just because she thinks it's right for me. It's my goddamned life, and I'll do whatever I want."
"It's not like that."
"How would you know? If she really cared so much about me, wouldn't you think she'd at least have asked me if I wanted to move back to Maryland, instead of just springing it on me one day when I come home?"
"Did you ever try to talk to her about it?"
"Why bother? She does what she wants when she wants. She can't even handle this like a normal person. She has to hire a private detective. I don't know why she didn't just get her boyfriend to do her dirty work for her. Why'd she have to drag you into it? Or maybe you volunteered for the job of snooping on me. You always did seem to like watching me when you thought I wasn't looking." I flinched. "I was good enough to stare at but not good enough to love. Even then, you chose Asher over me. I guess you got tired of him too, huh? Maybe Micah had better watch out."
He was baiting me, trying to get me to lash out in some way, and I could feel my temper rising. I wanted to defend myself. I wanted to tell him that wasn't how it happened, and he knew it. I would have been playing into his hands, though. He wanted a real screaming match. It's hard to fight when only one person is angry.
Stay calm, I told myself. If you lose it, you'll just give him more ammunition.
I took a deep breath. "Jake, I'm sorry I hurt you. I don't know what else to say. I'm sorry I've been such a shitty friend since you've been back. You're right. I haven't been there for you. But this isn't the answer. Can't we try to start over?"
All the fight suddenly seemed to drain out of him. He almost seemed to collapse in on himself.
"No." His voice was suddenly soft. "No, we can't. It's far too late now. Too much has happened. I'm in too deep. I can't start over."
"Too deep into what? It's never too late. I can help."
He laughed, but it was a hollow, joyless sound. This new, withered Jake was much scarier than the angry, overblown one from just a few seconds ago.
"No one can help. I'm beyond help. Can't you see? Just give up. Go back to your happy little life. It's too late."
"Jake—"
"It's too late," he screamed. "It's too fucking late!"
He slumped back against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. I rushed over and knelt at his side, but he shoved me away with surprising strength. I landed hard on my tailbone with an "oof" of surprise and pain. That was going to hurt in the morning.
"Just go," he said, beginning to sob. "Get out before I call security."
"Jake, please let me help."
"I told you, you can't help. Get out. Now."
"But—"
"Get out! Get out! Get out!"
The door we'd come through earlier swung open and Fenton Black stepped into the hall. It only took a moment for his gaze to fall on the two of us. His eyes swept over Jake with a look of annoyance.
His expression when he took me in was harder to read. There was clearly surprise there — and recognition. The other emotion was less definitive, but I didn't need to know what it was to recognize that it was dangerous.
"Go!" Jake said in a voice so low only I could hear him.
I didn't need to be told again. I was on my feet and racing down the hall before the word was off his lips. I heard Black yelling angrily behind me, but he wasn't pursuing. It only took a few more seconds for his words to sink in. He wouldn't need to chase me. He had the entire security staff at his beck and call.
I risked a glance back to see him screaming into a small walkie-talkie.
I started looking frantically for an exit. I spotted one up ahead just as a door to my left burst open and a burly security guard blinked at me in surprise. For a guy his size, his reflexes were quick. He made a lunge for me, but I was quicker. For once, size was on my side. I slipped under his arm and bolted down the hall.
Another guard, shorter and thinner than the first one, came around a corner in front of me. Fortunately, the exit was between him and me. I slammed into the door with my full weight and was gratified to feel it fly open. Some small part of my brain had been worried it might be locked. I didn't take the time to breathe a sigh of relief, however. The chase was still on.
I sprinted across the parking lot and ducked behind a car. I tried to control my breathing as the door exploded open again and the guards raced through it. They had been joined by one more. All three stopped just outside and looked around. I stayed very still, trying not to make any sounds.
"Should we look for him?" the shorter one asked.
"He's gone by now," the tall one said. "Why'd we want him anyway? Was he a gate-crasher?"
"You got me. All I know is that Mr. Black told us to catch him," the burly guy said.
Shorty snorted. "Well, we can guess why Black wanted him, a pretty kid like that."
"Yeah, we shoulda just let him go even if we had caught him," Stretch said with a snicker. "Poor kid. He probably just didn't want to play with Mr. Black."
Burly elbowed him in the side. "Why don't you both shut up?"
He lifted his radio to his mouth and reported that they'd lost me. A burst of static mixed with curses was their response. Mr. Black was not happy.
Neither was I. I might have just escaped from an immediate danger, but I knew Black had recognized me. I was still very much at risk. Probably even more so now. And what if I'd put Jake in danger? My heart was racing.
I waited until the guards retreated into the building, tails between their legs, before quickly digging out my cell phone and dialing Micah's number.
"Where are you?" he asked. "I looked all around, and you and Jake were both gone. Now I can't find Black either."
"I'm in the parking lot behind the hotel."
"What are you doing there?"
"It's a long story. Go get the car as quickly as you can and come pick me up."
"Killian, what happened?"
"I'll tell you when you get here. For now, let's just say I'm in big trouble."
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