A Change of Worlds

Book 5 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries

By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026

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Chapter 14

Except for the trampled undergrowth, there was little sign that the area surrounding the clearing had been crawling with cops the night before. The spirits had been uncharacteristically quiet as I walked through the eerily still woods. Believing I was alone at the site, I nearly jumped out of my skin when a figure rose suddenly from the excavation.

Elyse Pike and I stared at one another with identical spooked expressions.

"I didn't hear you coming," she said, her voice a little shaky. "I guess I was lost in thought. Anyone could have crept up on me."

I gave her a reassuring smile. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just didn't expect anyone to be here."

"I'm the only one. I couldn't leave the place the way it was last night, so I got permission from the police to come down and straighten things up as long as I didn't touch the tent. I guess they're mostly finished." She sighed and looked around the clearing. "God only knows when we'll get back out here — if ever. With Quinn — I mean, with Dr. Healy dead, we'll probably be closed down."

She seemed more upset by the prospect of the dig being cancelled than by Healy's death.

"If you do get shut down, what will happen to the artifacts you've already found?"

"They'll still be studied. I can oversee the project. Now that Quinn is gone, I'm the most experienced archaeologist on staff, so I'll probably be offered his—" She broke off with a sheepish expression.

"His position?" I finished for her.

She nodded slowly. "I must sound horrible, thinking about my career when Dr. Healy was murdered only last night."

"We all handle grief in our own ways," I said judiciously. "I'm sure it hasn't even sunk in yet."

Walking slowly toward the burial pit, I glanced down into it and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Staring back at me was a partly uncovered skull, its surface stained brown from centuries in the ground. I felt almost as if a conscious spirit was regarding me from the dirt-filled eye sockets.

Shaking that thought from my head, I turned back to Elyse. "Was the site disturbed before you arrived last night?"

"I didn't even check the pit when I got here. I was looking for Quinn. I know the tarp had been pulled back, though, and it was definitely disturbed this morning. Since the police stayed around pretty much all night, it must have happened before I found...him." She grimaced.

"Can you tell if anything is missing?"

"Not for sure. We hadn't disturbed the grave, so I don't know exactly what was there. I really don't think the looter did much digging. Maybe that means I interrupted him."

"So you think the looter killed Dr. Healy?"

She nodded wearily and sat down on the ground. "It makes sense, don't you think? Why would anyone else pull back the tarp and disturb the grave?"

"Maybe Dr. Healy was working on the excavation after you left."

"Absolutely not." She shook her head emphatically. "That would be extremely unprofessional. He knew the situation with the tribe. He would never disturb the burial until everything was sorted out."

My gaze kept returning to the skull, which seemed to draw me with magnetic force. Somehow, the uncovered bones felt obscene, as if I was staring at someone's nakedness. I had a strong urge to pull the tarp over them.

Finally tearing my attention away once more, I refocused on Elyse. "What would have happened if Jacy Elliott hadn't seen the bones yesterday? Would the excavation have continued?"

"No! The excavation stopped once the bones were found. They were uncovered only shortly before you arrived, and everyone was still marveling over them. That's why we were all huddled around the pit. This was a pretty significant find, considering the other artifacts we've discovered so far. Adena burials are usually loaded with spectacular grave goods."

"That would be a very strong draw for the looter."

"Definitely."

"But you don't know what, if anything, was taken?"

"Right."

"I know you said Dr. Healy didn't talk to you about his thoughts on the looting, but what about you? Do you have any theories about who the thief could be?"

"First off, we still don't have any way to know if anything was stolen. And honestly, I have no idea besides what we talked about the other day. I just can't imagine it could be anyone on the crew."

I had a feeling she wasn't being completely honest. Unfortunately, I couldn't very well accuse her of lying, especially since I wanted her continued cooperation. If she was going to be the new director of the excavation, her goodwill would make my investigation a whole lot easier.

I carefully sat down next to her, trying not to think about the skull still glowering at me from its resting place.

"I know you've probably been over this with the police so many times it's the last thing you want to talk about, but can you tell me what happened last night?"

"Are you looking into the murder as well as the thefts now?"

"As you said earlier, the thefts are most likely connected to the murder."

"Right," she agreed with a nod. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well, after you left, Quinn was quite agitated. He told everybody to pack up, that the excavation was officially on hold until things were sorted out with the burial and the tribe."

"How did the crew react?"

"There was a lot of grumbling." She gestured toward the pit again. "You have to realize this find is a once-in-a-lifetime sort of thing. It was extremely exciting for all of us. Everyone was very disappointed by the delay."

"Were you disappointed as well?"

"On some level, of course, but I'm not a novice. I've been doing this for a while, so I understood the difficulties Quinn was facing. I knew we had to proceed with caution, especially since relations with the tribe were already strained. You wouldn't believe the legal red tape involved in something like this."

"How did the professor respond to the grumbling?"

"He didn't. He was pretty distracted with his own thoughts. He went into the tent while the rest of us started taking the final measurements for the day and cleaning up the site. When we were almost finished, he came back out and pulled me aside. He told me he'd decided to spend the night out here just to avoid any more problems with the tribe."

I picked up a handful of dirt and let it run through my fingers. "And that's common?"

"Spending the night at the site? It's not uncommon, especially if there's been a valuable find or if you're dealing with a particularly delicate situation. In this case, it was a little from column A, a little from column B. The last thing we needed at that point was for the burial to be looted."

"Where were you when he told you this?"

"Right over there." She pointed to the area by the sifters.

"Was there anyone near you?"

"Why?"

"I was wondering how likely it was that Dr. Healy's plan to spend the night was overheard by the others."

"Do you suspect someone from our crew?" she asked sharply.

"I don't suspect anyone at this point. I'm just trying to cover all the bases."

She shrugged uneasily. "He wasn't trying to be especially quiet, and there wasn't a lot of chatter. I suppose anyone who was listening could have heard him."

"I know you said you didn't think any of them could do this, but what are your feelings about the crew?"

"They're a good bunch of kids. Most of them have a genuine interest in archaeology — or at least history. I mean, they're dedicating a good chunk of their summer to work on this project."

"What happened after you and the professor talked?"

"We finished up around the site, then everyone took off except for Quinn. I was the last to leave, and everything was fine at that point. Later that evening, I decided to check on him to see if he needed anything. Having spent some time camping out at excavations, I know what a drag it can be, especially if you're alone. I didn't get an answer when I called. At first, I wasn't all that concerned. After I called several more times and he still didn't answer, however, I started to get worried. I decided to drive out."

"Where did you park?"

She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder in the opposite direction from Fletcher's house. "By the access road, where we usually park."

"Were any other vehicles there?"

"Just Quinn's SUV."

"And you didn't see anyone as you came in?"

"Not a soul. Although, as I approached the clearing, I heard a thrashing sound — like someone or something running through the leaves."

I perked up. "Could you tell what direction it was going?"

"No. The noise startled me, but I didn't really focus on it because I was looking for Quinn. At the time, it didn't occur to me that it might be important. For all I knew, it could have been a deer — or even a squirrel. Everything sounds so amplified when you're alone in the forest."

"Did you see anything out of place when you came into the clearing?"

She ran her hand through her hair. "Right away I noticed the tarp was pulled back. I remember thinking that was odd, because the pit had been covered when I left. I called out to Quinn, but he didn't answer. Since I'd seen his truck out at the road, I knew he had to be around somewhere."

She stopped and took a deep breath as her face lost some of its color. "Of course, the first place I thought to look was in the tent." I followed her gaze to where police tape still marked the tent off limits. "It was horrible. I...I've never seen anyone dead before. I mean besides like at a funeral, where it's all sterile and peaceful. This was different...anything but peaceful."

A shudder rippled through her body.

"Can you describe what you saw?" I asked softly.

She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together so firmly they turned white. After a few seconds, she started speaking again. "There was blood...all over the floor, splattered on the wall — everywhere. Oh God, so much blood." Her eyes flew open. She was deathly pale, making me worry she might pass out, but she kept talking. "He was lying on his side. It wasn't like in the movies, where the body always has a horrified expression on its face. He just looked blank, maybe a little surprised, as if he couldn't figure out what had happened."

"Did you check to see if he was still breathing?"

"No. I didn't go near him. He was clearly dead. I got out of the tent as quickly as possible and called the police. They told me to meet them at the road so I could lead them here. I can tell you right now, it seemed like an eternity before they arrived."

"How could you be sure he was dead?"

"He'd been dead for a while. The blood was already sticky. I know because I...stepped in it. I...I threw the shoes away when I got home." She closed her eyes again.

"I'm sorry to make you relive all this again."

She shook her head. "I understand. That's your job. It's just not easy. I may not have liked him all that much, but I respected him."

"You didn't like him?" I jumped on her statement.

Her eyes opened slowly as she turned to look at me. "I suppose I just made myself a suspect."

I gave her a small smile and paraphrased Novak from earlier that morning. "I dislike a lot of people without killing them. Not liking someone isn't necessarily a motive for murder."

She nodded, seemingly mollified.

"No, I didn't particularly like Quinn. He was a bit...old-fashioned, I guess you could say. He had certain ideas about the place of women on his projects. I think he would have much preferred to have a male assistant, though he certainly never said that in so many words. And as you saw, he could be extremely arrogant and pig-headed. Don't get me wrong. Once I learned how to avoid pushing his buttons, we got along as well as could be expected. After you'd known him for a while, you could work around his ego. I had nothing but the highest respect for him as an archaeologist and professor."

"What about the other crew members?"

"You'd have to ask them yourself."

"Can I get a list of their names and contact info?"

"I have all that in my office. I can print out a copy for you. When do you need it?"

"The sooner the better."

"Well, I'm pretty much done here. If you want, you can follow me back to my office and I can get the list for you right away."

"That would be great."

"Okay. Will you give me a hand with this tarp?"

Taking a final look at the bones, I helped her cover the pit. Even after we'd secured the tarp all around, I still felt the skull's empty-eyed stare.

I shrugged the sensation off as a figment of my imagination and turned to Elyse. "I left my car back at the Snyder's, so I'll have to meet you at the university."

"Just park by Hawkins Hall then. My office is in there."

She started into the trees, then stopped and cast one last look at the tent before hurrying off.

I watched her go until she faded from view before taking a quick look around the site myself. I pulled out my phone and took dozens of photos from every angle. I was itching to get into the tent, but I knew better than to try while the tape was still up. Sgt. Kaplan had been very helpful so far. I needed to stay on his good side.

The entire time I felt as if someone — or something — was watching me. After I had convinced myself there was nothing to be found, I hurried back to my car, grateful to get away from the site. I drove to Pemberton University, which was a familiar trip since I went to school there. We'd been out for a few weeks, though, and it was strange to see the campus so deserted. There were only a few other cars in the lot near Hawkins Hall.

As I parked, I saw Elyse getting out of her car. "Thanks for waiting," I told her. "I had one class in here last semester, but I don't really know the building that well."

She looked surprised. "You're a student here?"

"Yeah, I just finished my first year."

"Wow, I knew you were young, but not that young. Most of our crew is older than you. What are you studying?"

"I haven't declared a major yet, so I'm taking general studies for the time being. Next year, I'll have a couple of psychology and criminal justice classes that will be helpful in my profession."

She nodded and let us into the building. "I'm on the fourth floor, so we'll take the elevator. It's slow, but preferable to the stairs right now. I'm feeling very drained."

She pushed the call button, and we stood awkwardly while we waited.

I tried to think of a safe topic of conversation. "Is Professor Healy's office in this building too?"

"He has…er, had an office here, but he didn't really use it except for meetings or when he wanted to impress someone. His main office was in the same building as the lab."

"Which is where?"

The elevator arrived, and the doors slid open arthritically.

Pushing the button for the fourth floor, she answered, "In the old science building. They've been threatening to tear it down for years, ever since they built the new one. Until they do, it's home to our laboratory and state-of-the-art storage facility — a set of metal shelves in an old janitor's closet. We don't have much of a budget for the archaeology department."

The doors wheezed shut — well, almost shut — and we started our ascent with a disturbing lurch.

I grabbed the safety-rail tightly, making an effort not to watch through the gap in the doors as the floors passed by.

Elyse tried to smother a smile but didn't quite succeed. "Don't worry, it always does this. I haven't crashed to my death yet."

Somehow, I didn't find her reassurance all that reassuring.

"I'd like to see the lab," I said, attempting to sound relaxed, as if I rode in decrepit elevators all the time. What I really wanted, of course, was to get into Healy's office, but I couldn't very well say that.

"If you'd like, we can run by there after I print out the list for you."

"That would be great." The elevator finally jolted to a halt, and I exited as quickly as I could while still maintaining my dignity.

"My office is this way," Elyse said with another ill-concealed smile. She unlocked the door and swung it open for me to enter first. "Have a seat."

Her desk was cluttered but not messy. The walls were lined with several inexpensive bookshelves filled with textbooks and scholarly tomes on archaeology. A few artifacts were scattered here and there, along with framed photographs of Elyse on what appeared to be various digs.

While I was looking around, she quickly sorted through a pile of messages, which she set aside with a sigh. "Everyone wants to know what's going on with the excavation — as if I knew."

"What do you think will happen?"

She shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine at this point. I'm assuming the police will shut us down because of the murder."

"Once they've finished their investigation and gathered all their evidence, I doubt they'll hold you up any longer."

She looked pleased. "In that case, if the Pomocatan tribe decides they want to continue with things, I guess I'll take over. Of course, the university will have to approve." Her face fell again. "I can't imagine the tribe will want to go on at this point, though, especially once they learn the grave may have been looted."

"I haven't discussed the subject with them yet so I can't really speak for the tribe, but you never know. They were certainly having personality conflicts with Dr. Healy. If the looting matter is cleared up, however, they may be willing to continue working with you."

"Do you think?"

"As I said, I haven't spoken to them about it, so I'm just postulating."

She smiled. "It's nice to know your Pemberton education is paying off with a good vocabulary, at least. However, you didn't come here to sit and discuss my academic future. Let me give you a copy of the list, then we can run over to the lab."

After she clicked away at her computer for a few minutes, her printer spat out a couple of sheets of paper, which she handed to me. "That's the name, address, and contact number for everyone on the crew. I think you met them all when you were there Monday."

I nodded as I glanced over the first page. "This is very helpful. Thank you. I appreciate your cooperation."

"I want the killer caught as much as anyone. As long as that monster is still out there, the site just isn't safe. That's why I was so startled when you showed up earlier. It had been in the back of my mind all morning." Her eyes grew wide, and she leaned toward me as if she were about to divulge a secret. "They say that, once you kill someone, the second time is easier."

I wanted to ask who they were, but let it go. Instead, I suggested, "It might be a good idea if you didn't visit the dig alone anymore."

She nodded. "You're right. I don't know what I was thinking. I'll definitely be more careful after this. Now, would you like to go see the lab?"

"Sure."

"It's on the other side of campus. We could drive, but since it's such a beautiful day, why don't we walk?"

"Works for me."

Facing another elevator ride from hell, I thought the stairs sounded pretty good right about then. Unfortunately, she'd already pushed the call button, and the doors were creaking open. I couldn't refuse to get on without looking like a weenie, so I sucked it up and stepped in.

Elyse watched me with obvious humor. "Do elevators always make you nervous?"

"Only this one."

She laughed heartily. "The old gal is really sounder than she looks. The safety inspectors check her every year, and she's never failed a test yet."

"A lot can happen in a year," I responded direly, but despite my pessimism we reached the first floor in one piece. Even so, I was quite glad I didn't have more classes in that building. On the other hand, if I did, I'd probably have a rock-hard ass from all the stair climbing I'd do.

As we walked across the campus, Elyse kept up a steady stream of tour-guide chatter. She knew a lot about the history of Pemberton, which apparently had started out as a nursing school in the late 1800s. The campus had grown and changed a lot over the years, yet many of the original buildings were still in use.

Finally, we arrived at the old science building. It wasn't one of the original structures dating from the nineteenth century, having been constructed in the early twentieth century, but it was still outdated.

Elyse let us in, then led me up to the second floor. "There's no elevator in this building," she informed me with a grin. "Technically, it should have been made handicapped-accessible years ago. Since they're always talking about tearing it down, however, and they don't use it for classes anymore, the school has somehow managed to avoid doing so. If we had any physically challenged professors with offices in here, it would be a different story, I'm sure."

She slipped a key into a door and swung it open with a flourish. "Behold our impressive lab."

Whatever I had been anticipating, the reality fell far short. Although the room wasn't especially large, it was so sparsely furnished that it provided more space than you'd expect. A couple of large metal tables sat in the center of the floor, each with several high stools set around it. Down one side of the room stretched a long counter with a sink at one end. Several wooden racks stood on the counter, and cabinets hung on the wall above. A wooden table against another wall was stacked with several boxes. A corkboard hung on the wall to my right, its surface almost completely covered with notes and newspaper clippings. A slightly dusty computer sat on a battered desk under the row of windows.

"It's not what I was expecting," I admitted.

She snorted. "That's what everyone says, but hey, we were just thrilled to get a room with a sink. It makes cleaning the artifacts a lot easier."

"You clean them in the sink?"

"Anything that can be: stone tools, ceramics, glass, and so on." She pointed to a jar holding a handful of toothbrushes sitting next to the sink. "That's what we scrub them with. High tech, huh?"

"Wow!" was all I could muster.

"After we wash the items, we place them in the drying racks." She pointed to the wooden frames on the counter, which I noticed had screen bottoms. Going to the wooden table, she grabbed one of the boxes and carried it over to the closest metal table. "Once they are completely dry, they are labeled and placed in plastic bags." She lifted the lid and pulled out a Ziploc bag like the ones I'd seen in the tent at the site. "We try to keep like things together." She glanced at the lid. "This is all pottery shards."

I walked over to the table to get a closer look. The bag in her hand held a small, flat piece of brownish, rough-surfaced clay, barely bigger than a quarter.

"That's pottery?"

"That's what native pottery from around this area looks like. Not all that pretty, huh? I think we have some larger pieces in here." She rooted carefully through the box and pulled out another bag. "Here, this will give you a better idea." She opened the bag and shook the shard into her hand. It was slightly smaller than her palm, but a rough design could be seen on its surface, a sort of diamond pattern.

"There's a design."

"The potters pressed things into the clay while it was still wet. This is a net pattern. The vessel was probably much larger, but the pottery was very fragile, so we mostly just find little pieces."

She placed the fragment back in its bag, which she returned to the box.

Exchanging it for another box, she commented, "You'll probably find this one a little more interesting." She held up a flat, polished piece of stone, rectangular in shape, with several holes drilled through it.

"What is it?"

"A gorget. It was worn on a thong fastened around the neck."

"It's beautiful."

She handed it to me. While I took a closer look, she pulled out another bag that held several small, greenish, round objects, roughly the size of peas. "Copper beads. These are what we found the first day you were at the site. We brought them back for cleaning right away, since they're a pretty exciting find. We think there might be more. That's what we were looking for when we ran across the bones."

"These are what suggested the site might be Adena culture?"

"There were a lot of clues. These were just the biggest."

She returned the beads and the gorget to the box, which she put back on the table. "Well, that's the whole tour." She grinned at me. "Now we can get to the real reason you wanted to visit the lab."

"Which is?"

"You want to see Quinn's office."

"I was interested in the lab." I may have sounded a bit defensive, but I was annoyed that she'd seen through me so easily.

"Yes, but you were really hoping to get into Quinn's office. So let's go." She started for the door.

"Wait, you're just going to let me in?"

"As I told you earlier, I want this bastard caught. Besides, I actually do need to get some files from there. You can just tag along, as long as you don't do anything to get either one of us in trouble."

"I'll try to restrain myself," I replied dryly, following her out the door.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to tell you how to do your job. I'd just rather not lose mine."

"I understand, and I really do appreciate the chance to check out his office. I probably won't find anything, but you never know. If it would make you feel any better, I won't even touch anything."

Elyse unlocked the next door down the hall. Healy's office, like hers, was small and stuffy, its walls lined with shelf after shelf overflowing with books. Against the wall under the sole window sat a desk whose surface was clear except for a telephone, a file holder, an old-fashioned Rolodex, and a large, flat blotter-style calendar.

Elyse walked over and picked up two files from the holder. "I'm done. It's all yours."

"This shouldn't take long." I glanced over the shelves, which held only books. "He doesn't have any knickknacks like yours," I observed.

"He kept all his cool stuff in his other office. This was used solely for work. Not many people ever saw it except those of us who were actually in the trenches with him, so to speak."

I moved to the desk and studied the calendar. Quinn Healy, it seemed, had been a doodler. He'd scribbled geometric designs all around the border, interspersed with the occasional note or tiny little drawing. I recognized a rough sketch of a gorget, maybe even the same one Elyse had shown me in the lab. In the upper-right-hand corner he'd drawn an arrowhead. Most of the notes had to do with meetings or appointments, but one caught my attention.

Who is the looter? he'd written in bold letters. And under that: Talk to Charlie. The name "Charlie" was underlined several times.

"Who is Charlie?" I asked Elyse.

"I don't know. Why?"

"He's written himself a note to talk to Charlie about the looter. Do you think he suspected this Charlie person?"

"I have no idea. I can't even think of any— Oh! Wait. He may have meant Charlene Howard!"

"Who is she?"

"She was his anthropology professor. I guess you could say she was his mentor. I think they were quite close."

"Did he call her Charlie?"

"I wouldn't know. He rarely spoke about his personal life, but it seems like a possibility."

"It's a place to start. Do you know how I could get in touch with her?"

She leaned over my shoulder and flipped through the Rolodex to the H's.

I chuckled. "Now why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you've probably never seen one of these before. And you promised not to touch anything."

I copied Professor Howard's phone number and address into my notebook. "I guess I'm done here. Thank you."

"No problem. I hope it helps."

I walked her back to her building. After we said goodbye, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Professor Howard's number. It rang several times before her voicemail picked up. I left a message asking her to return my call.

My next step would be to contact the crew members, but first I needed to run back to the office and write up my notes while things were still fresh in my mind. I'd learned a lot from Elyse. The investigation finally seemed to be getting off the ground.

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