A Change of Worlds

Book 5 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries

By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026

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Chapter 3

Asher.

I hadn't seen my ex since last summer, before he'd left for college.

He'd matured in the intervening year, losing much of his baby-faced softness. He looked like a man.

He was wearing his hair in a natural style, longer than I remembered ever seeing it. While always athletic, he'd beefed up since he left, and the tight, white T-shirt he was wearing really showed off his physique and created a striking contrast against his dark skin.

His eyes hadn't changed at all, though. They were still the same amazing silver that always reminded me of the ocean's surface in the moonlight.

"You look great," he said, echoing my thoughts about him.

"Thanks," I mumbled, blushing. "So do you."

He smiled, giving me that familiar tingling in the pit of my stomach. I looked away, suddenly becoming fascinated with the pots in the gallery window.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"Good."

"How's work?"

"Busy."

"College?"

I shrugged. "Okay."

"Are you capable of answering a question with more than one word?" His teasing smile took the bite out of his voice.

I grinned sheepishly. "My first year went really well. Classes ended last week. I finished with a 3.56 GPA, which would have been higher if work hadn't gotten in the way a few times."

"I'd imagine the Fenton Black case really got in the way. I saw you on TV. You're pretty famous now."

My face grew even warmer than it had been. "I'm not famous. It was just a high-profile case."

"You're seeing someone, right?"

For a moment, I wondered how he knew that, but then I realized we were from a small town and people talk.

"Yeah. His name is Micah."

"How's that going?"

"We're...good."

I glanced at his face and found he was studying me closely. Had he caught the hesitation in my response? If so, what was he making of it?

He smiled again. "That's great. Classes are out for me too, so I'm home for the summer. I'm...single." He paused and tipped his head slightly to one side as if gauging my reaction. When I kept my face carefully neutral, he went on, "I'm going to get a job, but I'm taking a few days to just catch up with everyone. I'm over here seeing Will and Nikki right now."

We fell into an awkward silence. At least, I thought it was awkward. I didn't know what Asher thought. He was just watching me shift uneasily from foot to foot.

"I should get to work," I finally muttered. "I have tons of paperwork to catch up on."

"Okay. It was good to see you again, Killian. I've...missed you. I'd like to get together sometime so we can really catch up."

"Uh, yeah, sure. That would be great," I said, once again not meeting his eyes.

Hadn't we just caught up? What more was there to say? In an effort to get away from this uncomfortable conversation, I started backing away.

"I'll, uh, talk to you later," I said, hoping I didn't sound as dumb as I felt.

"I'll call you," he said with a little wave.

I waved back then turned and jogged away down the street. It didn't matter that I was going the wrong direction. I would walk over a block and head back. I wasn't about to pass the gallery again.

As I made my way to my car, I brooded about my brief meeting with Asher. I didn't like the feelings it had awakened in me. To be fair, I'd known I wasn't completely over him. He was my first boyfriend, the guy I'd dated for almost two years, and I couldn't just walk away from that. Seeing him again after so long had simply stirred up old memories — at least, that's what I tried telling myself.

You're dating Micah now. That thought only made me remember Micah's offer. I had these huge decisions to make about our relationship, and now Asher was back in the picture. Talk about bad timing! His presence could only complicate matters.

Then again, why should I let it? He hadn't been a part of my life in an intimate way for a long time. Even before we broke up, things were tense between us. We'd grown apart...or maybe just grown up. I couldn't deny that there was still a strong attraction between us, though. Was it wrong for me to still be attracted to Asher while I was dating Micah?

I pushed it all out of my mind to concentrate on the drive to the office. The heavy downtown traffic provided a welcome distraction.

I arrived at the building housing Novak Investigations, a 1930s-era two-story brick structure. The first floor was home to a florist and a clock-repair shop. We shared the second floor with a dentist and, until recently, a lawyer. The lawyer had moved to a larger place on the plaza a few months before to be closer to the courthouse. So far, no one had occupied the vacant space.

One of my favorite things about our office was the door. It was like something straight out of an old film-noir movie: frosted glass with gold-stenciled letters reading "Novak Investigations."

I unlocked the door and stepped directly into my office, which doubled as the reception area/waiting room. It was barely larger than a walk-in closet. There was just enough room for my L-shaped desk and two hideous orange Naugahyde chairs.

I took a look at my desk and sighed. Was it my imagination or had the paperwork multiplied during the night? I needed to speak to my boss about this.

"Novak?" I called out.

"In here," he answered.

I stuck my head into his office to find my boss in his familiar thinking position: feet up on the desk and leaning back in his chair.

Shane Novak looked every inch the retired cop he was. Physically, he was still a match for many of the much younger officers. His almost-six-foot frame was remarkably fit, and his blue eyes were as sharp as ever. He'd taken early retirement when his wife was diagnosed with cancer but then, after her death, found himself bored and lonely. So he'd moved to the Shore and opened his own private-investigations agency.

The agency was a solo effort for a while, until he hired me to be his secretary one day after I literally ran into him...with my car. Although I was now his assistant investigator, I still handled all the secretarial work — which was becoming increasingly difficult as my caseload grew.

Novak's office was a huge contrast to mine. Where my space was downright spartan, Novak's was welcoming and full. The wall opposite the door was completely taken up by bookcases of many different heights and materials. They were all overflowing with law books, phone books, atlases, maps, and a set of encyclopedias that still listed the USSR as a world superpower. One case was reserved for his collection of detective novels, many of which were autographed first editions.

The focal point of the room was Novak's desk, a golden-oak monstrosity that was so huge I often thought the office must have been built around it. It certainly wouldn't fit through the door. Behind the oak behemoth was a bank of battleship-gray filing cabinets, each meticulously labeled and locked. Two large leather armchairs faced his desk, and a shockingly ugly humpbacked sofa sat under the room's sole window.

I'd had issues with that sofa when I first started working there, but we'd since worked out our differences. I ignored it, and it left me alone.

"Morning," I greeted him. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

He swung his feet off his desk and indicated that I should sit down. I plopped into the chair feeling a little worried. How would he react to what I was about to say? Novak had always treated me with a great deal of respect and tended to be very easygoing, but I'd never seriously suggested we hire someone else before.

"We've been really busy lately," I began.

He raised an eyebrow. "I noticed."

I laughed. "Then I'm sure you've also noticed the pile of work on my desk that seems to just keep growing."

He nodded.

"So I was thinking that maybe it's time we hire a secretary."

He leaned back and started rubbing his chin.

"Now, before you say no, just think about it. We're busier than we've ever been before — so busy we're even starting to turn down cases. I think we can afford to bring in another person. It's getting harder and harder for me to keep up with the office work. My caseload is taking me outside the office more, which means I have even less time to catch up. It's especially frustrating during the school year when I'm trying to balance schoolwork, my cases, and the office work."

He looked slightly amused. Not the reaction I was hoping for. I rushed on.

"I'm not complaining. I love my job, and I love working here with you, learning from you. It's just that I could use a little help. And now's the perfect time to start looking, since we have all summer to find someone before my classes start up again."

I paused to take a breath.

Novak leaned forward and rested his arms on his desk. "Are you finished?"

I nodded sheepishly.

"You're right."

"You don't have to answer— Wait. Did you just say I'm right?"

"Yes. In fact, I've been thinking the very same thing. It's time we brought in someone else so you can focus on investigating. You're generating as much work as I am, which means you're busy with cases. We need someone who can focus solely on paperwork and keep the office running."

"Wow. I was expecting an argument, at least."

He threw back his head and laughed. "Usually I would have obliged, just for form's sake, but there's no point arguing about this. Like I said, I've been playing with ideas of expanding the agency for a while now."

I frowned. "Speaking of expanding, how are we going to fit both me and a secretary in that broom closet you call my office?"

"I was getting to that. I bought the building last month."

I blinked. "What building?"

"This one."

My mouth dropped open. "The whole building?"

"Yep."

"Are you kidding?"

"Not even a little."

A million questions were flying through my head.

"But...why? What are you going to do with it? You could afford that?"

Novak laughed. "I'm going to ignore that last one, because it's none of your business. As for the rest, Frank, the lawyer who just vacated the premises, owned the building and leased us this space. When he told me he was moving his office and was thinking about selling, I had a brainstorm. I approached him with an offer before he even put the place on the market."

"How much does a building like this cost?"

"Let's just say I got a good deal in exchange for a little pro bono work for him now and then."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"Not much will change. I assumed the current leases with the flower shop, Tick Tock Clock Shop, and Dr. Schuster. I was debating whether I would rent out Frank's old office, but now that we've decided to enlarge the agency, I think we'll just knock a door through the wall and increase our own space."

"Wow. That sounds awesome!"

"Glad you approve." His tone was as dry as unbuttered toast. "Now let me run another idea by you. I've been thinking that it's time you applied for your own license instead of just working as my assistant."

"Whoa. Slow down. I can only take so much."

"I'm serious, Killian. If we're going to expand, you need to be fully licensed."

I could barely believe what I was hearing.

"You really think I'm ready?"

"I think you're more than ready. You already have more experience with actual investigations than your average beat cop. You're a natural, and, like I said, you're pulling in work on your own reputation. I'll write you a recommendation, and I'm sure Hank Kaplan will too."

Hank Kaplan, or Sergeant Kaplan as I usually referred to him, was on the local police force. He was an old friend of Novak's from their shared days with the Metropolitan PD. Some time after Novak retired, Kaplan decided to move his family away from the city to the more rural Eastern Shore of Maryland. He'd turned out to be a good source for us in the past. It's always handy to have an "in" with the local police.

"What exactly is involved in applying for a license?" I asked, basking in Novak's approval.

"A lot of paperwork," Novak responded with a grin.

"Oh great! Just what I need — more paperwork."

Novak's grin widened. "Now that we've decided to hire a secretary, you'll have plenty of time. I'll take care of getting the forms. You can handle placing the ad in the paper."

"What should it say?"

"You're a smart kid, and you've been doing the work. You figure it out. Just make sure you include that the applicants should have some experience doing research. It would be nice to hand off some of that to someone else. Now, didn't you just say you have a lot of things you should be taking care of?"

I knew a dismissal when I heard one, so I made my exit and returned to my desk. I shoved the piles of paper aside with a promise to get to them later and started drafting the help-wanted ad.

Once I had it worded to my satisfaction, I emailed it to Novak for his approval. He emailed me back so quickly I wasn't even sure he'd read it, but I uploaded it to the usual job sites anyway.

That finished, I turned to the stacks of work and started trying to get some of it off my desk. I was making pretty good progress when the office phone rang.

"Novak Investigations, Killian speaking," I answered.

"Killian! Just the guy I was looking for," said a vaguely familiar female voice.

I searched quickly through my mental files trying to put a name to the voice.

"Nikki?" I ventured.

"Hey, good guess!"

What could she be calling me about? I wondered. Did it have anything to do with Asher?

"I was just thinking about you earlier. I was at the Plaza. I had to drop some things off for one of Adam's clients."

"Asher mentioned that he saw you. Actually, that's why I'm calling. You should have stopped in."

"I was rushing to get to work," I fibbed. "How are you?"

I'd always liked Nikki, but it had been quite a while since I'd seen her last.

"I'm doing well, thanks...except for one thing. That's actually why I'm calling you."

"Oh?"

"It would be better if we could talk about this in person. Would that be possible?"

"When were you thinking?"

"As soon as you can manage it. Could I treat you to lunch?"

I glanced at the clock. It was after lunchtime, and I was still full from my late breakfast, but what the heck? Nikki had roused my curiosity.

"That works, but you don't have to treat me. Did you have somewhere in mind?"

"Why don't you meet me at the gallery? We can walk to one of the restaurants on the plaza."

"That sounds good."

"See you soon."

I hung up and stared at the phone, wondering why Nikki would want to talk to me. I shook my head and started straightening up my desk. There was no point speculating. I'd find out for myself soon enough.

I grabbed my keys, told Novak where I was going, and headed to the plaza for the second time that day.

I stepped into Avant Garde and looked around. The art on display was in a constant state of flux, pieces that didn't sell quickly being removed to make room for fresh items. Nikki co-owned the gallery with her brother, Derrick, whom I'd never particularly cared for. Last I'd heard, he was on an extended buying trip to Europe, and his absence was most noticeable in the type of work being offered. He'd favored abstract and modern pieces. While Nikki appreciated all styles, she tried to be a little more eclectic. Realistic watercolor landscapes hung next to found-object sculptures, something you would never have seen when Derrick was in charge.

"Killian!" Will exclaimed as he came out of the office. He quickly crossed the room to give me a hug.

"Hey!" I greeted him with a warm smile. "How are you?"

"I'm good." He studied me for a minute. "I guess Asher caught up to you this morning."

I nodded and looked away.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah!" I said with a little too much force to be completely convincing. "I'm fine. It was just weird seeing him again."

"Yeah, sorry about that. When I saw you outside, I said something before I thought about it. He was out the door so fast, he didn't even say goodbye. I think he still has feelings for you."

Time to change the subject. "Is Nikki here?"

Will gave me a look that clearly said he knew I was full of shit, but he was willing to let it slide this time.

"She's on the phone. She'll be out in a minute."

I glanced around at the walls again, desperately casting for a topic of conversation that wouldn't involve my ex.

"Is that one of yours?" I asked, pointing at one of the paintings.

He followed my gesture and nodded. "Yeah, one of my newer pieces actually. What do you think?"

I walked over to examine it. It was a deceptively simple marsh scene, but the layers of color and detail were exquisite up close. Off in the distance was a small hut, maybe a hunting blind or a crab shanty.

"I really like it," I told him.

"You do?"

I couldn't help laughing. "Of course! You're incredibly talented, Will. You should know that by now."

He gave me a pleased smile and an awkward shrug as Nikki appeared behind him. I tried to keep my face from registering the shock I felt at her appearance.

Nikki was known for changing her look often. In fact, I didn't know if I'd ever seen her twice with the same hair color or style. She'd outdone herself this time, however. She'd completely shaved her head and was wearing a vintage 1950s red-and-white polka-dot coat dress, complete with crinolines, pearls, and matching pumps.

"Killian, thanks so much for coming." She waited for my reaction, peering at me over her trademark horn-rimmed glasses. She had a pair in every color. Today's were red to match the outfit.

I had a theory that Nikki used her fashion as a type of performance art. Watching people react was part of the fun for her.

"No problem, Nikki," I replied coolly. "It's good to see you."

She looked a little disappointed at my non-reaction, but rebounded quickly. "Will, you'll be okay here alone while we run to lunch, right?"

"Sure. Go ahead."

Nikki turned to me and raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"I'm ready when you are," I told her.

"Great. Let's go."

I followed her down the plaza, watching with amusement when people turned to stare. In a fairly conservative city like Salisbury, Nikki really stood out. She led me to a trendy little café and settled at one of the small, round tables. "Is this okay?"

"It's fine." I sat down across from her.

"You know, you're just no fun anymore, Killian," she groused with a big grin. "Ever since you became a famous detective, you're just too good at hiding your thoughts."

I laughed. "I'm hardly famous. And it's funny you should say that. I was told just the other day that I'm completely transparent when it comes to my emotions."

"Maybe it depends on how well the other person knows you," she suggested with a knowing smile. "How is your boyfriend?"

"Micah's good."

"It was nice to see Asher this morning." She was fishing.

I refused to rise to the bait. "It was. I didn't even know he was back in town."

I hoped this wasn't all she'd invited me down here for.

As if in answer to my thoughts, she suddenly became all business. "Well, I didn't ask you to meet with me so we could gossip about your private life — or not gossip, as the case may be." I grinned in acknowledgment of my evasion. "I want you to consider taking a case."

That caught me off guard, but once again I kept my face as neutral as possible. "Oh really?"

We were interrupted at that moment by the arrival of our waiter. He was young, quite cute — and obviously gay. He gave me a dazzling smile as he introduced himself, practically ignoring Nikki, who simply rolled her eyes.

Once we'd placed our orders, Nikki got back to business. "If I remember correctly, one of the last times I saw you, I told you I was dating a Native American artist named Lily Snyder."

"I think I remember that."

"We're still seeing each other. In fact, it's become quite serious — a fact that has come as a surprise to no one more than me."

"Congratulations," I said before realizing it wasn't quite what I wanted to say.

"For what?" Nikki asked with a giggle. "Managing to stay monogamous for this long? Staying with one person for longer than two months? I guess that is a cause for celebration."

"I didn't mean..."

Nikki waved off my apology. "I'm teasing, Killian. It's nice to see that you're still human. I was getting worried there for a while. Back to what I was saying, I'm still in a relationship with Lily, who's very active with her tribal association. In fact, she was elected to the tribal council last year. Her big thing is teaching the younger generation about their history and culture. As a part of that, she and her father, Fletcher, have been lobbying the tribe to join Pemberton University in co-financing an archaeological dig on her father's property. The university was very interested but didn't have enough funding to pull it off on its own. The council finally agreed last fall, and the excavation started two weeks ago. It's supposed to be a one-month project, with all the artifacts recovered being returned to the tribe after they've been studied."

"Okay, so where do I come in?"

"I'm getting to that." She ran a hand over her bald head. "Lily's dad is something of a...I guess you'd call him a shaman." She watched me closely for a reaction. "Okay, I need some feedback here. If you find that hard to swallow, then we'll just have a nice lunch and say ciao. There's no point going on if you have trouble believing in the supernatural."

I laughed. "Nikki, if you only knew. Let's just say I have no problem whatsoever believing anything you could possibly throw at me that falls within the paranormal realm."

I knew I'd said too much when her eyes lit up. She leaned forward eagerly. "There's a story here. Spill."

I shook my head. "Don't get distracted, Nikki."

She grinned. "I won't, but we're not moving on until you dish the dirt. What did you mean?"

I sighed and tried to decide how much to tell her. It had to be enough to satisfy her curiosity. Then again, what did it really matter? It wasn't as if I could possibly say anything to surprise Nikki.

"Well, you know Steve bought that B&B out in the country?"

"Right. The haunted one. I read the story your boyfriend wrote."

I nodded. "Yeah. I'm the one who found out it was haunted."

Nikki frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I saw the ghost."

Her eyes widened. "You saw... So you're...psychic?"

"My friend Judy says I have gifts. I tend to think of it more as a curse."

I laughed good-naturedly, but my statement wasn't far from the truth. If I could have exchanged my gifts, I definitely would have.

"So...you see dead people."

"Well, that's oversimplifying it. I seem to have the ability to see and interact with the past, especially if something really tragic has occurred. Sometimes, I see ghosts, which...is not as fun as you might think. Other times, I experience what happened at a particular place as if it were happening to me. That's even less fun than seeing dead people."

She shook her head in amazement. "I'm impressed. That must come in handy in your line of work, though."

"Not as much as you'd think. Unfortunately, at this point I don't actually have any control over my gifts. I don't get to choose when things will happen or what I'll see when they do. I don't even have veto power, although Judy says I might if I understood my gifts better."

"Hmm. In that case, you really might enjoy meeting Fletcher."

"Why? You think he could help me?"

"I have no idea. You'd have to ask him."

"Maybe I will, but I'd rather you not mention it, please. I'd prefer to bring it up myself, if I decide to."

"Of course!"

"So anyway, back to the case...?"

She laughed. "Yes. Do keep me on track. Where was I?"

"You were telling me about the archaeology project, and then you stopped to explain that Lily's dad is a shaman."

"Oh, yes. So the project started two weeks ago. This past Sunday night, Fletcher had a feeling that something was wrong down at the dig site. Instead of waking up his grandson, he walked down there alone. When he got there, he was jumped by someone who struck him on the head. The blow alone wouldn't have been that serious, but he has a bad ticker and the shock caused him to have a heart attack."

"Oh my God! Is he okay?"

"Well, he probably would have died except his grandson is a shaman too...or I guess maybe a shaman-in-training, if that's a thing. Anyway, Jacy — the grandson — woke up and realized something was wrong, so he called 911 and took the paramedics to the site. They were able to resuscitate Fletcher."

"Do they know why he was attacked?"

"They think maybe someone was looting the dig. Some of the pits were disturbed, the tarps were removed, and there were signs of digging. It's hard to know exactly what was taken, if anything, but the tribe is understandably upset. What makes it worse is that the council feels the archaeological team is keeping them out of the loop about what's going on. Apparently, this isn't the first time the team has noticed signs of tampering, but nothing was ever said to the council."

"What kind of security is there at the site?"

Nikki shrugged. "I have no idea. You'd have to talk to Lily for the rest of the details. That's pretty much all I know."

"What about the police?"

"They're supposedly investigating the assault on Fletcher but not the thefts. They have no real proof that there have even been any, and even if there have been, they can't do much besides taking the description of the stolen items and letting the tribe know if they turn up somewhere. I had some art stolen a couple of years ago, and the case was never solved. No one was caught, and the pieces were never recovered. I have security cameras and alarms now, but even they can be circumvented if the thieves know what they're doing."

Our food arrived, and we stopped talking for a few minutes. As we began to eat, I thought about what Nikki had outlined for me. Since it was pretty clear where this was going, I decided to get right to the point.

"So, the tribal council isn't satisfied with the police investigation, they don't trust the archaeological team, and I'm guessing they want to hire a private investigator — which is where I come in."

Nikki smiled and swallowed. "Exactly. Except, at this point, it's just Lily. When Asher said he saw you this morning, it put the idea in my head. I called Lily and she thought it was a great idea. I don't know if she's had enough time to run it by the entire council, though."

"I'm not a licensed investigator yet, so all my cases have to go through my boss. I'll have to get his approval before I can take on anything officially. I'd also like to talk to Lily in person before I make any decisions."

"That's reasonable."

"Then there's the matter of my fees. A private investigator is not cheap."

"That's where the council will come in. Lily's an artist, so I know she can't afford you on her own. She's going to have to convince the council to hire you."

I shrugged. "I can email you my fee schedule when I get back to the office. That way she'll have something more firm to take to them."

"Sounds like a plan. You talk to your boss and get back to me. In the meantime, I'll let Lily know what we've discussed so far."

We finished our meal over chit-chat. When the sultry-eyed waiter dropped off the check, I made sure I snatched it up before Nikki could.

"Killian, if you don't let me pay, the deal is off," she threatened.

"If you don't let me pay, I won't take the case," I countered.

We glared at each other over the table for a few seconds before we both burst out laughing.

"Split it?" she asked.

I agreed, and we took care of the bill, leaving a hefty tip.

I followed Nikki back to the gallery and stayed to chat with Will for a while. Eventually, though, I had to tear myself away and return to the office. I still had a stack of paperwork waiting for me — and a potential new case to discuss with Novak.

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