A Change of Worlds

Book 5 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries

By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026

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Chapter 27

My mostly sleepless night was beginning to catch up with me. The only thing I wanted to do was go home and curl up in bed with a good book. Unfortunately, I knew I needed to return to the office and write up my notes. By the time I got there, Novak had already left for the day, so I had the place to myself. Ignoring the blinking message light on the phone, I sat down at my desk and started recording my conversation with Ricky.

I was just about to leave when my phone buzzed. It was a text from Asher. "Hey, haven't heard from you in a few days. Hope everything is okay. Let's hang out soon. Call me?"

I sighed. I was tired, hungry, and had no desire to deal with my ex. After my talks with Mom and Jacy, I'd pretty much come to the conclusion that I needed some time alone.

Still, it wasn't fair to leave him hanging, so dialed his number.

"Hey." He answered, somehow managing to fill that single word with so much warmth my resolve almost wavered for a second. "That was quick."

"Yeah, I got your text and I wasn't busy so..."

"Yeah, sorry about that. We haven't talked since our date. I've been trying to give you space to think about what I said, but I just really want to see you again."

"It's okay. We do need to talk. Listen, I was up pretty much all night on a stakeout, and I'm starving because I haven't eaten all day. I'm going to pick up some dinner and run out to the B&B for a nap. Why don't you come over later?"

"Sure. What time?"

I checked my watch. It was a little after five. "How about eightish?"

"Sounds great. See you later."

"Later."

I hung up and dropped my head to the desk. I felt like falling asleep right there, until a rumble from my stomach reminded me once again of more pressing needs. I locked up the office and drove to the nearest burger joint.

Once I had refueled my body, I got my second wind. My mind kicked into gear, and I started fretting about breaking the bad news to Asher. I knew he'd take it hard.

By the time I pulled into the B&B's driveway, I was wide awake and feeling a little queasy — whether from worrying or the fast food, I didn't know. Maybe a bit of both.

I went to my room and tried to nap, but it wasn't happening. I tossed and turned for a while, getting more and more upset, until I finally gave up. I decided a walk in the fresh air might help settle my nerves and my stomach.

Steve was in the foyer when I got downstairs. "Hey. I didn't know you'd come in."

I gave him a half-hearted smile. "I was hoping to take a nap, but I couldn't sleep."

"You okay?"

"I'm not feeling very good, so I thought I'd take a walk."

"Are you sick, or is something wrong?"

I shrugged. "Does it have to be one or the other? Actually, nothing is wrong...exactly. I'm just a little nervous because Asher is coming over to talk."

"Talk about what? Why would that make you nervous?"

"I've decided I need some time alone right now."

"Ah. And he doesn't know that yet?"

"No. That's why he's coming over. I figured it was an in-person kind of conversation."

"I see."

"If he gets here before I come back, just send him out to look for me. I'll be somewhere in the backyard."

"Okay. It'll be getting dark soon. Do you want a flashlight?"

"I'll be fine, but thanks."

I strolled along the edge of the creek that ran through the property. When I reached the small dock, I walked out and sat on the end of it, swinging my feet over the edge. The fresh air seemed to help. I watched the sun go down, casting its brilliant hues across the surface of the water and setting the trees on fire. The show was breathtakingly beautiful, but I was so distracted it barely registered.

As the sun finally sank beneath the horizon, I decided to continue my walk. My stomach might have settled, but my mind was still in knots. I remembered the angel statue and thought I'd go visit her. I often found myself drawn to her when I needed to think.

I made my way along the path through the trees to the parklike area Steve and Adam had created around the statue and the graves she watched over. The white gravestones and statue glowed eerily in the moonlight, lending a certain Gothic creepiness to the scene.

I was still sitting on the stone bench when I heard Asher calling my name. "I'm with the angel," I answered him.

"Where?"

I'd forgotten he'd never been in the backyard before and wouldn't know where the angel was located.

"In the trees. Follow the path."

The beam from his phone flashlight bobbed into view before he did. He took in the setting, then threw the light in my face.

"Dude, this is way strange. Why are we in a graveyard?"

"I come here when I want to think." I shrugged. "It calms me."

"You're so weird," he said with warm affection.

"Thanks. You wanna get that light out of my face?"

"Sorry." With a laugh he turned off the flashlight, then walked over and sank down next to me on the bench.

I didn't know where to start, so we sat for a few minutes in silence.

"So..." he said finally.

"So..."

"You said we needed to talk. Since you already know how I feel, I guess I'm waiting for you."

"Yeah. Ash, it's been great seeing you again. Really great. I had so much fun on our date. And you're right. I do still have feelings for you."

"Why do I feel a 'but' coming?"

"I just think that right now we'd be better off as friends."

He stood up and took a few steps towards the statue, then stopped and turned back to me. I couldn't make out his expression in the dark.

"Does that mean you're staying with Micah?"

"No. We broke up."

"Over me?"

"That was part of it. He saw us kiss the other night. But there were a lot of other issues as well. We just weren't at the same place. He wanted more than I was ready to give."

"I don't understand. If you're not with Micah, why don't you want to get back together with me?"

"I think I just need some time alone right now. I've never really had that, you know? We started dating when we were sixteen, and then I pretty much went from our relationship into one with Micah."

"You just want to be friends?"

"Yeah. I think it would be good for us."

He rubbed his face, making me wonder if he was crying. I wished I could see him clearly. "I don't know if I can do the whole 'just friends' thing."

"Ash, come on. We probably shouldn't jump right into dating again."

"I was thinking about moving back here, transferring to Pemberton. I'm not happy up there, but I don't know if I could stand living near you all the time and not being with you."

"If you're unhappy then you should move back, but don't make that decision based solely on me. What would you do if I weren't part of the equation?"

He was quiet for a minute. "I guess I'd stay at George Mason."

"Then that's what you should do."

"What about us? There's still something between us. You can't deny that."

"I'm not trying to deny it. I'm just saying that, for right now, I need some time to myself. I don't know what might happen in the future. I'm not ruling anything out. Please try to understand."

He sighed heavily. "I do understand. It's just not what I wanted to hear."

"Yeah. I know. I'm sorry."

He shrugged again. "Don't be sorry. You can't help how you feel. Just...when — if — you change your mind...you know where to find me. I doubt my feelings for you will change anytime soon."

I stood up, walked over to him, and opened my arms for a hug. He leaped into them, squeezing me tightly. I pressed a kiss against his neck, and his grasp tightened.

"I love you, Killian," he whispered against my shoulder.

"I know. I love you too."

He pulled away and wiped at his eyes. "I'm gonna go."

"Okay. Maybe I'll see you again before the summer's over."

"Yeah. Maybe."

He turned and walked away, not using the flashlight this time.

I sat back down on the bench. My alone time had officially started.

Although I overslept the next morning, I still managed to wake up tired and cranky. It had taken me a long time to drift off, and then my sleep was restless. It was the second bad night in a row, and I was definitely feeling it.

I wondered if I was coming down with something. If I was getting sick, the timing couldn't be worse. I considered just staying in bed, but things were happening with the case and I couldn't afford a personal day.

I dragged myself through my morning routine and drove to the office, where I found Novak sitting at my desk. He gave me a look and raised one eyebrow, as if to ask where I'd been.

"Sorry. I know I'm late. I overslept."

He glanced at his watch. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming in."

"I almost didn't. I feel like shit."

"You look it too. I have something that might cheer you up, though."

"A lifetime supply of chocolate? A coffee IV drip? An all-expense-paid vacation to Aruba?"

He laughed. "Not quite. Take a look in your new office."

I walked over, pushed open the door, and gasped. The room was fully furnished. The desk I had picked out was centered on a Persian rug. Matching bookshelves lined the facing wall, and two upholstered armchairs sat in front of the desk. The shelves were empty, and the desktop was clear except for one thing: a brass nameplate inscribed "Killian Kendall, PI."

I spun around. "I didn't order all this!"

Novak was smiling indulgently. "I know you didn't. I did...well, with Judy's help."

"But you've already done so much."

"I look at this as a business expense. I figure if you're going to be a full-fledged partner, you need a fully furnished office. We can't have clients coming to consult you in an empty room with only a desk in the middle. That's just not a professional image."

I shook my head, knowing there was no point arguing with him. "When did it all arrive?"

"Yesterday afternoon while you were out of the office. I had the delivery guys help me set everything up, but you'll have to do your own interior decorating. As you know from my office, that's not my strong point."

I looked around the room, already envisioning what I wanted. Curtains at the windows, some plants, books and knickknacks on the shelves, maybe one of Will's paintings on the wall...

"One more thing," Novak said, interrupting my decorating fantasies. He held out a long, narrow box — the kind in which business cards often come.

I took the box with a quizzical look. "I already have cards."

"Just open it."

I removed the lid and pulled out a card. My name was printed at the top, followed by "Private Investigator," and under that, "Kendall & Novak Investigations" and my contact information.

"Of course, you can't use them until you're officially licensed," he reminded me, "but there you go."

I blinked away the tears that suddenly threatened to spill over.

"Oh for God's sake, don't start," he snarked.

"I don't know what to say—"

"Thank you will be just fine."

"Thank you, Novak. I mean, really—"

"You're welcome," he cut me off. "Now get to work. You need to transfer all your crap to your new desk so Chris can settle into your old one on Monday."

"She's starting that soon?"

"That's the plan."

"Where will she be staying?"

"With me, at least for now. She's hoping to get housing on campus in the fall, but until then, I have extra bedrooms and I'm rarely home, so it won't be an imposition at all."

"Wow. I had no idea things were this far along."

"Everything just fell into place. I think Chris was ready for a change. She seems very eager to get started. I'm looking forward to having her aboard."

"She'll be great. She's really sharp. I enjoyed working with her."

Just then the phone rang. "I'll get it," Novak said. "You start moving in."

As he disappeared into his office, I grabbed the box of files and miscellaneous desk paraphernalia I'd packed. I was sorting the box's contents into my new desk when my cell phone rang.

Glancing at the caller ID, I answered, "Hey, Jacy."

"Hey, I have good news."

"What's that?"

"I heard from Joyner."

"Already?"

"Yep. He said he had a few new pieces coming in this afternoon that I might be interested in. He told me to drop by after work — even said he'd stay open late."

Alarm bells went off in my head. "Doesn't that seem a little fishy to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"We were just there yesterday afternoon. He didn't say anything about new pieces coming in then."

"No, but he did say he never knows when he might receive some."

"Right. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. We're still not sure if he saw me playing with the camera."

"So what are you thinking? That he's going to lure me in there after hours and kill me? Wouldn't that be a little suspicious?"

"I don't know what I'm thinking. I just don't feel good about this. Come pick me up. I'm going with you."

Jacy laughed. "He'll start thinking you're my boyfriend. You're with me every time I see him."

"So? I don't want you going alone."

"Fine. I'll pick you up a little after five. Okay?"

"That's great. So how did last night go? I thought you were calling to report on your stakeout."

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot about that. It was quiet — same as the last few nights."

"I feel like we're wasting our time out there."

"What else would we be doing? Sleeping? Who needs sleep?"

I laughed. "I do."

"Hey, you got to sleep in a nice warm bed last night."

"No, I got to lie in a nice warm bed. I didn't sleep. Too much on my mind."

"Are you going to be okay staying out there tonight? I can do it again if you want."

"No, I'll be fine. You have to work all day. Besides, you've been out there three nights in a row as it is. You really shouldn't make it four."

"Very true. A good night's rest sounds fantastic right about now."

"You can even go to bed early if you want — just not until after we find out what Joyner has up his sleeve."

"It's a deal. I'll see you later."

"Later."

I unpacked a few more things before the office phone rang again. I stood up to get it since I didn't have a phone in my new office yet, but the ringing stopped before I even took a step. I sat back down, assuming Novak had answered it. A few seconds later, my assumption was confirmed when he yelled to tell me the call was for me.

I picked it up at my old desk. "Hello, Killian Kendall speaking."

"Yeah, uh, this is Israel Meeks. I found your card. Sorry I didn't call last night. I didn't get in until late."

"That's okay. I just had a few questions for you dealing with the investigation."

"That's what I figured. Ask away. I got nothing to hide."

"Actually, I'd prefer to talk to you in person. Are you free now?"

"Yeah, that's cool. You want me to meet you at your office?"

I glanced through the door at my unfinished office with a box sitting on my desk still half unpacked. "No, that's all right. I'll come to your apartment, if that's okay."

"Whatever works for you."

"Great, then I'm on my way."

After I hung up, I stuck my head through Novak's door. "I'm heading out for an interview. I shouldn't be long."

"Don't hurry back on my account," he retorted dryly.

Traffic was light, and it didn't take me long to reach Israel's apartment complex. He was obviously waiting since he answered my knock almost before my knuckles hit the door. "Come on in."

I followed him into the living area, where he dropped into the same recliner as last time and threw a leg carelessly over the arm. Dressed in a pair of low-slung jeans and nothing else, he looked like a Calvin Klein model. I had to force myself not to stare.

"Have a seat." He gestured towards the couch, then started talking as I sat down. "Man, I thought it was crazy when Healy got himself killed, but Bridget—" He shook his head. "That's some fucked-up shit right there."

"Last time I was here, you said you looked the other way and didn't pay attention to things that were going on at the dig. What about now?"

"What about now? Nothing's changed. I was straight with you last time. I don't know nothing about any of that shit, and I don't wanna know. I just can't believe Bridget got shot. My girlfriend's been all messed up over it. They were friends, you know? I mean, it even tore me up a little. You don't expect shit like that to happen to someone like her. She was harmless, never hurt anybody."

"Has anything occurred to you? Any ideas about who could be doing this?"

"No, and trust me, I've been thinking about it. What if somebody is picking off members of the crew one by one? I could be next."

"I really don't think that's what's happening."

"Yeah. Me either, but it crosses your mind, you know?"

I nodded. "I'm talking to everyone on the crew about their finances."

He frowned. "Why?"

"We need to know everything about everyone who was involved with Healy and the excavation."

He shook his head again. "I do all right."

"So I see," I said as I deliberately looked around the room.

He swung his leg down and sat up.

"What are you trying to say? I got it all honestly."

"I'm not trying to say anything. I've heard you're on a scholarship and your family doesn't have a lot of money. This stuff is nice and obviously costs a lot. I can't help wondering where the money came from."

"Yeah, I got a scholarship, but it was an athletic scholarship. I was starting power-forward in high school, and I was salutatorian. I earned that scholarship. My family never had a lot of money, but we weren't dirt poor either. My aunt raised me. She has her own business, and I worked there from the time I was old enough to help and not just get in the way. I bought all this with my own money."

"Do you still work for your aunt?"

"Yeah. I work some nights and most weekends during the school year and full time in the summer. You want to talk to her?"

"That shouldn't be necessary. Why doesn't anyone seem to know about your job?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't talk about it much."

"Why not?"

"Look, I got dragged all through high school 'cuz of my job. When I got to college, I decided I wasn't gonna talk about it anymore. My girl knows and she's cool, which is all that matters. Nobody else needs to know where my money comes from."

"I need to know."

He shrugged with obvious annoyance. "Fine. My aunt has a flower shop. I'm a florist."

I stared at him in confusion. "You got picked on for being a florist?"

"Man, you gotta understand how it is. Where I come from, guys don't mess with flowers — not straight guys anyway."

"People teased you about being gay?"

"All the time."

"So why'd you keep working there?"

"My aunt needed the help — and it was decent money. More than I'd be making at some dumbass Mickey D's job. Plus, I'm good at it." A note of pride crept into his voice.

"So...I guess I don't see what the big deal is now. Would you still get teased? I mean, that's so stereotypical. I'd think people our age would be over that stupid kid stuff."

"Ha. You don't know the guys on the basketball team then. I'd never hear the end of it. That's just how it is. It's a gay job, man."

I was way off topic, but his attitude bothered me, and I couldn't let it go. "A gay job? That's so lame. You're not gay, and you do it."

He shrugged. "It's just like hairdressers. I knew some dudes who did hair. Everybody always assumed they were gay."

"There's no such thing as a 'gay' job. Gay people work in all jobs."

He gave me a funny look and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Yes, I'm gay," I said in answer to his unspoken question.

"For real?"

"Why would I lie?"

"Man, I would have never guessed."

"See? And I've met gay cops and gay architects and gay reporters—"

"I get it. Hey, if I said anything offensive, I apologize. I got nothing against gay dudes. I just don't want anybody to think I'm gay."

I sighed. "Right. So you're a closet florist."

He smiled weakly. "Guess so."

I decided to wrap up the interview as quickly as possible. "Can you tell me anything about Alexander or Ricky?"

"Like what?"

I shrugged. "General impressions, anything you know about their finances, anything you think I should be aware of, even if it doesn’t seem relevant to the case."

He thought a minute, his arms crossed over his chest. "Alexander is quiet. I don't know much about him except he always seems broke. Seems like a nice enough guy, though. Ricky, he's not so quiet. In fact, he never shuts up. Still don't know much about him 'cuz he doesn't talk about himself, only other people. He's always going on about somebody. I bet he's the one that told you I didn't have a job but did have cash flow."

I shrugged noncommittally. "What about Ricky's financial status?"

"Like I said, I don't know. He always seems to have money when we go out with the crew. That's all I can tell you."

"I've heard he has a gambling habit."

"More like a gambling addiction. He does talk about that a lot, always trying to get people to wager with him about stupid shit — like what plot coordinate the next artifact will be found in or who'll find it."

"I get the impression you don't like him much."

He shrugged, sending a ripple across his chest. "He's not my favorite person, but I don't hate him or anything. I can get along with just about anybody."

"Is there anything else you can think of?"

"Nope."

"Well, you have my card. If something else occurs to you, call me."

"Sure. No problem." He stood up and started towards the door.

"Thanks for taking the time to talk to me."

"It's cool. Hope it helped. Just, you know, don't mention my job to anyone on the crew, okay?"

I fought back a sigh. "As long as it doesn't turn out to be relevant to the case, I have no reason to bring it up."

He nodded. "Cool."

As soon as the door shut, I released the sigh I'd been holding in. For some reason, that exchange had left me drained and slightly depressed. I hadn't learned anything particularly new or helpful, except that Israel worked as a florist — and that homophobia was alive and well, even at college.

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