A Change of Worlds

Book 5 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries

By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026

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Chapter 18

I stood in the hallway outside Micah's apartment for several minutes while my mind absorbed what had just happened. I wasn't sure how I felt. I was numb all over.

As if on autopilot, I walked slowly down the stairs and climbed into my car. I don't remember driving, but the next thing I knew, I was sitting in the driveway of the beach house. Subconsciously, I'd headed straight for the comfort and security of Adam.

I was fumbling with my key when the door swung open.

"I thought I heard someone pull in," Adam said. "I figured it was Kane, but then I saw your car—" He took a closer look at me. "Killian, what's wrong?"

"Micah..."

The words just wouldn't come out. I realized I was shivering, even though it really wasn't especially cool.

Adam took me gently by the arm and drew me into the house. "What about Micah? Is he okay?"

"He..." I took a shaky breath and forced the words from my mouth. "He broke up with me."

"Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry." He wrapped his arms around me.

Suddenly, whatever self-preserving force had been holding back my emotions broke as the realization flooded over me.

"I messed up." Grief choked my voice and tears began to stream down my face. "It's all my fault."

I sobbed into Adam's shoulder while he rubbed my back and made soothing noises. He didn't try to deny my guilt. That wasn't his style. He was simply there for me.

Eventually, I cried myself out, and Adam led me into the kitchen. He parked me at the table and began making hot chocolate while I sniffled quietly to myself. A few minutes later, he slid a steaming mug in front of me and sat down.

"So what happened?"

I stared into my mug for a few minutes, watching the miniature marshmallows slowly melt into the cocoa. "I went out with Asher again. He took me to Casa d'Italia and had the guy sing our song. We danced. Then he took me home." I stopped.

"And?"

"We kissed."

Adam closed his eyes and shook his head as if he knew what was coming.

"Micah saw it. He saw the kiss."

"Oh, Killian."

"He ran off so I went after him. I found him at home, but he insisted I'd made my decision and wasn't ready to move in with him, so he was leaving."

Adam sat there quietly for a few minutes, then said, "He's right."

"What?" That wasn't what I'd been expecting.

"About your decision."

"But I hadn't made any decision yet!"

"By not doing it, you were forcing Micah to do it for you. That way you didn't have to be the bad guy."

"That's stupid."

I realized I was gripping the mug so tightly I was afraid it would break. I loosened my grip, although I kept my hands wrapped around the ceramic. The heat was almost too much, but I welcomed the physical discomfort as a distraction from the emotional pain.

"Is it? Think about it. If you'd actually wanted to move in with Micah, this wouldn't have been such a big deal. Instead, you put off making a decision for weeks, leaving Micah hanging in limbo the whole time."

I frowned. "Micah said the same thing."

"Maybe you even went out with Asher with the subconscious hope of forcing Micah into a decision."

"Micah is the one who told me to go out with Asher."

"Did he tell you to kiss him?"

I sighed and pushed the mug away, its contents still untouched. "No. I don't know why I did that. It just...felt right in the moment."

"Does Asher want to get back together?"

"Yes."

"How do you feel about that?"

I threw my hands up. "I have no idea! I don't know how I feel about anything right now. It's like someone punched me in the gut. I can't believe Micah dumped me."

Adam studied me while he sipped his cocoa. "You know, you don't seem particularly heartbroken — indignant, perhaps even regretful, but not heartbroken."

I shrugged dismissively, not wanting to think about it right then. "Maybe I'm still in shock."

"Or maybe you were ready to move on." He pushed my mug back towards me. "I have an idea. Why don't we plan something fun? Give you something to look forward to."

"Like what?"

"How about a cookout here? We'll get the whole family together, grill on the deck, maybe play some beach volleyball or something."

"You had me up until the volleyball."

"I said or something. Maybe board games. How about Sunday night? Do you have plans?"

I shook my head no. "Sunday should be fine."

"Great, I'll start planning it then. Just don't get too caught up in your investigation and forget about us."

I frowned. "I haven't forgotten about you."

Adam stood up and ruffled my hair. "Relax. I'm just kidding. I'm going to go make up the couch for you to sleep here tonight. I'll be in the den if you need me."

Left alone, I could no longer avoid my own thoughts. Adam's observations about my breakup kept echoing through my head. I searched inside myself for some indication of heartbreak, but he was right: I couldn't find it. There was certainly loss, an emptiness Micah had filled, sadness that was more like a dull ache. Equal to those feelings, if not stronger, however, was relief.

What kind of a person was I to be relieved instead of devastated after my boyfriend broke up with me? More importantly, what did that say about our relationship?

I absent-mindedly picked up the mug and sipped at the cooling cocoa while I examined my emotions. My mind went blissfully blank for a while, until the next thing I knew, I looked down at my cup and was surprised to see I'd drained it. A sticky residue of chocolate and marshmallow had left a design on the bottom of the mug that resembled a relief map. I wondered if Judy would be able to read it like tea leaves, and if so, what answers might it reveal?

I sighed, rinsed out the mug, then wandered into the den where Adam was just finishing making up the makeshift bed.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked.

I felt drained and tired. "Just some sleep."

"Let's hope Kane doesn't wake you when he comes in."

After giving me a hug, he went upstairs to bed.

As exhausted as I was, I doubted anyone could wake me up. I wearily peeled off my clothes and dropped onto the couch. My eyes slammed shut, and I was well on my way to oblivion when I became aware of someone standing over me. I sat up with a startled gasp to find Kane illuminated softly in the bluish-white glow from the streetlights outside. He looked more ghostly than his brother ever did.

Kane grinned. "Did I frighten you?"

"You know you did, and you meant to," I barked, a little more forcefully than I intended. I was certain he'd positioned himself in that lighting on purpose.

He looked startled. "Jeez, sorry."

I rubbed my face. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I've had a tough night."

"Are you okay?" He moved out of the light to sit next to me on the couch. "What happened?"

"Micah and I broke up."

Kane's eyes grew wide. "What? Because you wouldn't move in with him?"

"No...um, at least not entirely. I...he, uh, saw me kissing Asher."

"You did what?"

I sighed and sank back into the couch. "I mean, it was a bunch of things, but that was the final straw."

"Hold up. You kissed Asher?"

"Kane, just let it go. I'm not in the mood. It was dumb. I know I shouldn't have done it, but it just happened."

"And Micah saw?"

"Yeah. And flipped out."

"Well, duh. So...are you getting back together with Asher?"

"No. I mean, I don't think so."

"Do you think you'll be able to work things out with Micah?"

"That doesn't seem likely either. I wish...I wish I was better at talking about relationship stuff. I think I let things go on too long with Micah."

"You think?"

"Okay, I know I did."

"So why did you let it go that far?"

I shrugged guiltily. "I'm not sure. I mean, I know I love him."

"Then why don't you want to live with him?"

"He said something tonight when we were breaking up, and I think he was right. We are at different places in our lives. He wants things I'm ready for and can't give him. I think I've realized that for a while. I just couldn't admit it...even to myself."

"You say you love him, but were you in love with him?"

The question caught me off guard. I'd never thought about the difference before. I certainly cared deeply for Micah, but was I in love with him? If so, why didn't I hurt more, now that our relationship was over?

I slowly shook my head. "I... I don't think I was..."

Kane gave me a small smile. "Too bad you couldn't have figured all that out before he got hurt."

"I didn't mean to—"

"I know, Kill."

"And I wasn't unhappy."

"I know that, too. You were content to just coast along until Micah tried to take your relationship to the next level. Then you shut down. You weren't able to admit to yourself how you really felt. You didn't want to hurt Micah, so you did what you always do: you tried to avoid making a decision."

"That's what Adam said, too. He said I was subconsciously trying to force Micah to be the bad guy and break up with me."

"What do you think?"

"I don't think that's true. I mean...maybe I was avoiding a decision, but I wasn't trying to get Micah to do it for me."

"Well, by avoiding making the decision yourself, you definitely forced Micah's hand."

I nodded sadly. "Yeah. Now I feel like shit."

"Don't make this all about you, Killian. You say you feel like shit? How do you think Micah feels? So what now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you going to do anything about the situation you've created?"

I sat forward and frowned. "Micah broke up with me. We're done. He's going to take the job in New York and move away. There's nothing to do."

"You're just going to leave things the way they are, after all you two have been through?"

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, but I didn't really have anything to say to that. He was right again, of course.

"And what about Asher?"

"What about him?" I asked defensively.

"You kissed him tonight."

"Yeah, thanks. I remember."

"Killian, you can't be this dense. You're a smart guy. Figure it out. What do you want?"

What did I want? Did I want to get back together with Asher? There had been valid reasons for our breakup. He'd said he was willing to transfer back here, but did I even want that? I had so many questions and so few answers.

I flopped back with another sigh. "I don't know. Really! Don't yell at me again. I have to make up my mind about him, too. I just don't know what I want yet. I need to think about it some more."

"Well, think quickly. He deserves for you to tell him what you want. You can't keep stringing him along. It wasn't fair to Micah, and it's not fair to Asher."

I covered my face with my hands. "Oh God. I'm such a bad person."

Kane sighed. "For fucks sake, stop making it about you. You're not a bad person. You're just a kid. But sooner or later, you need to start acting like an adult and take responsibility for your actions."

I blinked at him, feeling as shocked as if he'd slapped me. "Whoa. Where'd that come from?"

He gave a shrug. "I think we all let you get away with stuff we shouldn't — Micah, Dad, Steve, me...even Tad. You're so wrapped up in school and your job sometimes that you kind of forget about the rest of us."

"I...I don't mean to."

"I know. And that's probably why we let you get away with it."

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"I'll try to do better."

He smiled. "You'd better."

"When did you get so smart? You're the little brother. I'm supposed to be giving you sage life advice."

Kane laughed. "Oh, Killian. I've always been the smarter brother."

I hit him with a pillow. "You wish. Hey, how's your mom doing? Adam mentioned that you went up to see her over the weekend?"

His expression was hidden by the shadows, but his shoulders dropped. "Honestly, not great."

"What's going on? Adam mentioned a cancer scare?"

"It's more than a scare. I haven't told Dad yet, but she has pancreatic cancer."

"Is that bad? I mean, I know all cancer is bad, but some are more treatable, right?"

"It's...pretty bad. I looked it up online. It's like one of the most aggressive forms of cancer with one of the highest fatality rates."

"Are they going to operate?"

He shrugged. "They don't know yet. They need to run more tests. But from what I read, only like ten percent, twenty tops, are even eligible for surgery. I guess radiation is an option. I don't know. The article I read said this type of cancer kills quickly."

I suddenly felt awful for wallowing in my own pity party while Kane was dealing with something like that.

"Kane, I'm so sorry—"

He held up a hand. "Don't get me started. I've held it together so far."

"You have to tell Adam."

"I know," he said with a soft sigh. "I just...I know how much he hates her, and I can't really blame him. She was awful to him and Seth."

"And not much better to you. But she's your mom, and Adam is your dad. He'll want to be there for you."

He nodded. "I'll tell him. Tomorrow."

"Good. You can't go through this alone. And I'll be here too."

"See? You still get to play big brother sometimes."

I grabbed him and pulled him into a hug. He returned it, but quickly pulled away and stood up, the light catching him again. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and, for just a moment, I saw the little boy who ran away and showed up on the doorstep all those years ago. Then he shifted, drawing himself up to his full height and squaring his shoulders, and I realized how much he'd grown — physically and emotionally.

"I'm gonna get to bed. And let you get back to sleep. I was just surprised to see your car here when I got home."

"Good night. I love you, little bro," I said.

The corner of his mouth twitched before he broke in a grin. "Love you too, smaller bro."

I rolled my eyes as he backed out of the room, laughing softly.

The rough bark of the tree bit into my back as terror forced my heart to beat in a frantic, staccato rhythm. The wan light from the crescent moon filtered through the bare branches above me, giving me just enough light to see shapes and forms, but nothing in detail. I tried to control my gasping breath, knowing that the slightest sound could give me away and lead to my death.

Someone was hunting me.

I heard something approaching, thrashing noisily through the dry leaves behind me. Only my hunter would be careless enough to make so much noise. Stealth was no longer to his advantage. He was coming for me, and we both knew he wouldn't stop until I was dead.

I could stay still and hope he passed me by, or I could make a run for it and hope to escape. Fear won out over reason, and I launched myself away from the dubious security of the tree. Maybe the noise the hunter was making would drown out the sounds of my own flight.

The very forest conspired against me as I blundered blindly through the darkness. Branches clawed at my face. Brambles grabbed greedily at my clothes. I tripped and stumbled over roots seemingly thrust between my feet. Each time I fell, I doggedly bounced back to my feet and continued running. I could feel the warmth of blood running down my face, mixing with the cold sweat of panic, yet I felt no pain. I had no room for anything but fear and the will to survive.

I burst into a clearing, barely having time to register the rectangular hole gaping obscenely in my path like a grave waiting eagerly for its grisly occupant. I veered to the left in an attempt to avoid it, but I was too close. My foot hit the very edge of the opening, causing the soft earth to crumble and send me crashing into the black void.

It wasn't as deep as I'd thought, only a couple of feet at the most. I struggled to get up again, only to feel agonizing pain shoot down my leg. I collapsed, rolling over just as a dark shadow fell on me. I looked up to find a figure looming above me, silhouetted against the sky, his features cloaked in darkness.

The hunter had caught his prey.

I woke drenched in sweat, the sheets wound tightly around my legs and torso. My chest heaved with my still-frightened gasps. Outside the windows, muted sunlight fought its way through an overcast sky to softly light the room. It was morning.

I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, remembering the nightmare. Someone had been pursuing me through a forest, someone who meant me harm.

No, someone who wanted to kill me.

I shivered even though it was quite warm in the room. I'd had similar nightmares twice before, although they were a little different. After Seth had been killed — and I'd been stabbed in the process — I'd often dreamed that the killer was coming back to finish me off. Those dreams always had a certain fantasy-like quality to them, however, and the killer had never chased me that way. The latest one felt so real.

Then, a few months before, I'd started having a recurring dream where I was the killer. They'd been terrifying, growing more and more vivid until the murder I'd committed in my sleep actually happened. Fortunately, I hadn't actually committed the crime, only seeing it through the real killer's eyes.

So what did the new one mean? Or was it truly just a nightmare? Not every dream I had meant something, I reminded myself. Nevertheless, the images refused to fade.

I found my phone and checked the time. Regardless of how early it was, I knew I wouldn't be falling back asleep. I decided to shower and go to work, even though it was a Saturday. I needed the distraction.

I was ready before anyone else was awake, so I left a note for Adam on the table and took off. Once at the office, however, I found myself at loose ends. I'd caught up on the paperwork. I didn't have my new desk yet, so I couldn't start moving into my office. It was too early to start working on the case. Novak — being sane — was not in the office at the ass-crack of dawn on a weekend morning.

I sat at my desk trying to avoid the thoughts that had been lingering on the edge of my consciousness since I'd awakened. With nothing to do, though, they were inescapable.

Micah had dumped me, and as much as the truth hurt, I knew I deserved it. After he moved to New York, I might never see him again. In all honesty, that thought hurt more than the breakup. While I'd come to accept the fact that our relationship was essentially over, I still cared deeply about him and would miss having him in my life.

I laid my head down on my crossed arms. While I hadn't gotten the best night's sleep, I only intended to rest my eyes for a few minutes. The next thing I knew, it was midmorning and my cell phone was ringing. I groggily snatched it up and mumbled a sleep-garbled greeting.

"Killian?" It was Jacy.

"Um, yeah," I managed.

"Were you asleep?"

"No." I tried to wake myself up, but my brain refused.

"You were, weren't you. Must have been some party last night!"

"Jacy, did you need something?" My tone of voice made it clear that he had touched an unwelcome topic.

Thankfully, he picked up on that and got to the point of his call. "Yeah, I was wondering if you were going to be working on the case today. I'm off work, and I could tag along if you want."

I rubbed my eyes and tried to think. Jacy's company would be a welcome distraction. Maybe it would keep my mind off the other men in my life, but what could we do that would be constructive? I had intended to interview the tribal council next, which didn't seem like the best idea with Jacy present.

"We could check out the other artifact collector, the one Mr. Thompson told me wasn't completely honest."

"Works for me. Shall I meet you at your office? I can be there in a few minutes."

"Yeah, I'm there already anyway."

"You were asleep at your office?"

"I wasn't asleep! Just resting my eyes. And please drop it, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Consider it dropped. But...is everything alright?"

"It's fine."

He didn't sound convinced, but he let it go and said goodbye.

As soon as we hung up, I knew I'd better get some caffeine in my system quickly. I ran to a nearby coffee shop, where I purchased the largest cup of coffee they sold.

While waiting for Jacy, I flipped through my notebook and reread my notes from my conversation with Mr. Thompson about the other collector. His name was Virgil McClain. Mr. Thompson's directions were clear and concise, so I didn't think we'd have any trouble finding the address.

Jacy arrived, and we set out. The McClain residence was a small, tidy, two-story house with an attached garage. In response to our knock, a pleasant-looking woman in her early forties wearing a lime-green sleeveless dress answered the door. She smiled politely at us and waited for the sales pitch.

"Hello, my name is Killian Kendall," I introduced myself. "And this is Jacy Elliott. We're looking for Mr. Virgil McClain."

"Virgil? He's in the garage tinkering with the lawnmower. If you just walk around the corner there, you'll find him."

I thanked her and followed her instructions. She watched us with open curiosity, then quickly ducked back into the house as we reached the corner. I suspected she was making a beeline to the garage door to eavesdrop.

Just as she'd said, we found Mr. McClain busy at work on the engine of a riding mower. He had pieces of machinery scattered around him in a semicircle and was staring with consternation into the motor's innards. I had a feeling we'd caught him at a bad time. He was a huge man, well over six feet tall, with broad shoulders, fading red hair, and a wide, florid face that was dripping sweat at the moment.

"Mr. McClain?" I ventured.

He looked up, obviously annoyed at the interruption. "Yeah?"

"My name is Killian Kendall, and this is—"

"Look, I don't believe in God, so if you're here to try and get me to go to church, you can just leave me alone."

"We're not from any church, sir. We were told that you collect Native American artifacts."

He scrunched up his face suspiciously and stared at me. "Maybe. What's that got to do with anything?"

"I'm an investigator, and my case deals with artifacts. Your name came up as someone with an impressive collection. I was wondering if you'd be willing to show it to us."

I could see his vanity warring with his caution. Although he wanted to show off his collection, he was also shrewd. I was rooting for pride, but caution won out.

"What exactly are you investigating?"

I suppressed a sigh. "I've been asked to look into a series of thefts from a local archaeological dig."

His face clouded over. "And you think I had something to do with it?"

"No, sir. I didn't mean to imply that. I'm talking to everyone in the area who knows anything about artifacts. I spoke to Mr. Donald Thompson a few days ago."

That was the wrong thing to say. If his face was cloudy before, it was positively stormy now.

"That bastard? He probably sent you to me, probably told you I was some sort of thief. What? Am I your chief suspect now?"

"Mr. McClain, we don't suspect anyone at this time. I was simply hoping you'd talk to us about your collection."

"Forget it. We're finished. Unless you know how to fix this damn thing, you can just go." He kicked the lawnmower's tire and glared at us.

"Well, thanks anyway. Sorry to have bothered you." I extracted a card and held it out to him. "If you change your mind and decide you can help us, here's my number."

He stared pointedly at the card without making a move to take it. After a few awkward moments, I slipped it back into my pocket and gave him a nod.

Before Jacy and I reached the car, the front door of the house opened again and Mrs. McClain beckoned to us. We approached cautiously, and she motioned us in. I hesitated for a second, unsure of what exactly was going on, then stepped inside.

Shutting the door, Mrs. McClain wheeled around with an excited expression. "Are you really a private investigator?" she asked, confirming my suspicion that she'd been listening at the garage door.

"Yes, I am," I told her.

Where was she going with this, and would it work to our advantage?

"Oh wow, just like on TV." Her eyes glazed over for a moment, during which I assumed she'd lost herself in visions of her favorite fictional PIs. Then she refocused on us. "I'm sorry about my husband. He gets a little testy when he's working on his toys. I should have warned you."

"It's okay."

"No, he was rude, but thank you for being polite. Do you carry a gun?"

I blinked at her sudden shift in topic. "Uh, not at the moment."

"Have you ever shot anyone?"

"Mrs. McClain, we really should be getting back to work."

"Oh." She looked terribly disappointed, then suddenly brightened. "Could I show you Virgil's collection?"

"Uh..." She'd caught me off guard. I was beginning to think she was either very lonely or a little unbalanced. Maybe both. "Are you sure that would be a good idea?"

Part of me wanted to see the collection, while the other part just wanted to get out of there.

"Oh, it's okay. Virgil will be busy in the garage for hours. Come on." With a wave, she started into the back of the house.

I looked at Jacy, who shrugged, a little smile tugging at the corners of his lips. I shrugged back, and we followed.

She led us into a small room that looked as if it had once been the spare bedroom, but which Virgil had obviously taken over to house his collection. Large stones were lined up in rows on top of the bedspread. Some of them were recognizable as axes or other tools, while some simply looked like rocks to me. Inexpensive black frames filled with arrowheads pressed into white cotton hung on the walls. It was an impressive collection, although I didn't see anything as spectacular as some of Mr. Thompson's finds.

Jacy's eyes widened as he took in the room. He bent over the bed and looked closely at the artifacts, being careful not to touch them.

I turned to Mrs. McClain. "Your husband has quite a collection here. Where did he get them all?"

"He finds most of them in the fields right around here. Just walks out there and picks them up."

"You said he finds most of them. What about the rest?"

"Well, I know he's bought a few here and there. He likes to go to antique shows and flea markets and stuff looking for them. He says it's not as much fun as finding them yourself, but he still enjoys it."

Jacy moved to the wall to examine the arrowheads, while I kept questioning Mrs. McClain. "Have you ever heard your husband mention the Pomocatan tribe?"

She shook her head no as a worried little frown creased her forehead. "Aren't they the ones on the news, the ones who own the land where that college professor was just killed?"

"Yes, although my investigation doesn't really have anything to do with Professor Healy's murder."

"Right," she said slowly. "You told Virgil somebody's been stealing stuff from them."

"Yes."

"But you don't think it was Virgil, right?"

"We don't have any suspects at the moment. We're just trying to get as much information as possible."

Her expression was growing increasingly concerned. "You know, perhaps I shouldn't have let you in here. Virgil would be really mad if he found out. Maybe you should go now."

I nodded as Jacy joined us once again. I didn't particularly want Virgil to catch us there either. I pulled out the card I'd tried to give her husband and handed it to her. "If you think of anything that might be helpful, please give me a call."

Her face lit up again as she looked at the card. "Oh I will!"

The three of us started into the hall when we heard a door open somewhere in the house. Mrs. McClain stopped with a gasp, spinning around with a panicked expression. "He can't find you here!" she whispered frantically. "Hide!"

"Where?" I mouthed.

She yanked open a door and shoved us in hurriedly.

Jacy looked at me with huge eyes as if to ask, "What now?"

My heart racing, I glanced around.

We were in a bathroom whose only window was too small to squeeze through. We were trapped.

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