A Change of Worlds

Book 5 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries

By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026

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Chapter 31

I slept deeply and dreamlessly, my body sinking so far into the mattress I wasn’t sure I’d ever claw my way back out. It was the kind of sleep that didn’t heal so much as knock you unconscious until your cells finally stopped screaming.

A persistent knocking dragged me upward from the depths. I surfaced slowly, groggy and disoriented, until Steve’s muffled voice reached me through the fog.

"Killian? Are you okay? Killian?"

I groaned and pushed myself upright, blinking against the dim light filtering through my curtains. My alarm clock swam into focus on the nightstand.

7:00 p.m.

I’d slept the entire day away.

"Killian?" Steve called again, sharper this time.

"Hang on!" My voice cracked like a teenager’s.

I swung my legs out of bed, wincing as every muscle protested, and reached for the jeans I’d abandoned on the floor the night before. Pulling them on was an ordeal. I nearly fell over twice, hopping around like a drunk flamingo. As I caught myself on the dresser, I caught a glimpse in the mirror.

Yikes.

My hair was sticking out in a dozen different directions like I'd been electrocuted. Dirt smudged across my cheeks and jaw, but the grime didn't even come close to hiding the dozens of scrapes and thin clawing scratches. Blood crusted my nose and upper lip. My left cheekbone sported a darkening bruise, and my eyes looked bloodshot despite — or perhaps because of — all that sleep.

I looked awful...but alive. And considering the alternative I’d been dodging last night, “awful” was a win.

I desperately needed a nice, hot shower — desperately — or better yet, a long soak in the tub, but Steve sounded two seconds from kicking down my door, so priorities.

He started talking as soon as I cracked the door open. "Sorry to wake you up, but I just thought I'd better check—"

Then he saw me.

His words died. His eyes went wide, his jaw went slack, and he looked like I’d just crawled out of a horror movie swamp.

“My God, Killian. What happened to you?”

I couldn’t help it; a grin tugged at the corner of my mouth. His horror was too dramatic to resist teasing.

“Note to self: don’t go skydiving at night,” I said. “Landing is a bitch.”

He did not appreciate the humor. “Are you okay?” he demanded. “I mean...Adam and I heard about the big break in your case, but we didn’t realize—”

“Steve.” I held up a hand. “I’m fine. Really. It looks worse than it is. Mostly scratches. Nothing a nice, long bath won’t fix.”

He gave me a look that said he absolutely did not believe that, but he let it slide. “Adam’s been calling every half hour, checking if you were up yet. The news hasn’t given many details, so he was worried...” His expression added the rest: with good reason, apparently.

“I’ll call him,” I promised. “Tell him to stop worrying. I’m in one piece. No permanent damage. Just...cosmetically challenged.”

That earned the faintest twitch of a smile.

“Right now, though,” I continued, “there’s a clawfoot tub calling my name.”

Steve nodded, though a crease of concern still lined his forehead. “Yeah, I guess so. But do me a favor and call Adam first, will you? He’s going to have a heart attack if he doesn’t hear your voice soon.”

“Okay, I’ll call him,” I said again, softer this time. “Promise.”

He exhaled slowly. “Alright. I’ll let you get cleaned up. Just...don’t pass out in there, okay?”

I managed another tired grin. “Scout’s honor.”

He left only when he saw me reach for my phone.

Adam answered on the first ring.

"Hey, it's Killian. Steve told me you were worried."

"I wasn't worried. I just wanted to check and see how you were."

"He said you've been calling every half hour." I tried to smother a chuckle.

"Okay, so I was a little worried. The news said someone got shot."

"I'm fine. Just a few scratches. No new holes."

"What happened?"

"What's the news saying besides the shooting bit?"

"Just that a couple of people were taken into custody in relation to the shooting at the archaeological excavation last week."

"That's all?"

"Yeah. I figured you were involved somehow. I knew you were working on that case, and Steve said he thought you arrived home late."

"I was, and I did."

"So what happened?"

"How about if I come over in a little while and fill you in?"

"What's wrong with right now?"

"I haven't bathed since last night. I'm covered in dirt and sweat, I'm sure I smell pretty ripe, and I feel crusty. A nice soak in a hot bubble bath would feel mighty nice right about now."

He laughed."Oh. Okay. I guess that's a reasonable excuse. I'll see you later."

"Later." I hung up and stared at the phone.

Maybe I'd make one more call before bathing. I quickly dialed Kaplan's direct line.

Even though it had been more than twelve hours since I'd left him at the police station, I wasn't especially surprised when he answered. "Sergeant Kaplan speaking."

"Have you gotten any sleep?" I asked right off the bat.

"Kendall? I figured you'd be calling sooner or later. And to answer your question, yeah, I grabbed a few hours sometime this afternoon." He still sounded extremely tired. I didn't envy his position.

"So what's going on? Any developments since I left?"

"No, we've just been sitting around waiting for you to wake up from your beauty nap so you can take over." At least we were back to our usual banter.

"Well, I'm awake, so debrief me."

He chuckled. "There's not much to report really. We brought in Joyner. He struck a deal with the State's Attorney and he's singing like a bird in exchange for a lesser sentence. He claims the whole thing was Ricky Wong's idea. They'd apparently worked together on some previous excavations, but Wong was afraid Professor Healy was getting suspicious, so he brought in James this last time. Joyner said that when James started stealing the artifacts, Healy thought it was Wong and confronted him. He claims Wong killed Healy, but we don't have any solid proof of that so far, only Joyner's statement."

"What's Ricky saying?"

"Nothing. He hasn't regained consciousness yet. The doctors say he's going to survive, although he may wish he hadn't once he wakes up."

"And Alexander?"

"So far, he's been charged with the murder of Bridget Foxwell, the attempted murders of you and Ricky Wong, and the thefts. We're waiting to see if anything else comes up in the investigation. There's still a possibility he killed the professor."

"Did you search their homes?"

"And Joyner's store. At James's we found some artifacts we assume were stolen. Joyner told us where to find the stolen goods at his store. Elyse Pike is coming in to see if she can confirm that they're from the Snyder excavation. We didn't find anything at Wong's."

"Nothing?"

"Not a thing. Why? You sound like you were expecting something."

"I heard Ricky tell Alexander that he had artifacts with Alexander's fingerprints on them, a recording of Alexander confessing to Bridget's death, and a surveillance video of Alexander selling the artifacts to Joyner."

"Well now, that would be mighty handy to have. At the very least, it would be solid proof connecting Ricky as an accessory."

"But you didn't find them?"

"No, and my guys know how to do a search. They weren't in his apartment."

"And you talked to his roommate?"

I heard some papers shuffling. "Kyle Leonard, the talking Sasquatch? I guess you could call it talking. He hadn't even noticed Wong didn't return last night. He wasn't exactly helpful."

I thought for a minute. I'd promised Adam I'd be over to tell him the whole story, but I hadn't given him a time.

Finally, I made a decision. "Would you mind if I went over and took a look around?"

"How did I know that was coming? Knock yourself out, Kendall. I hope you come up with something we missed."

"Thanks, Sarge."

I hung up and then, finally — finally — went to make friends with hot water and soap.. Although I'd hoped for a long, leisurely soak, a quick shower would have to do for the moment. The soap stung like crazy, but it felt good to wash away the unpleasant mixture of dirt, sweat, and blood.

I didn't even take time to examine my wounds when I finished showering. I just threw on some clean clothes and headed for the door.

Halfway there, I remembered that I still hadn't picked my car up from Fletcher's.

While I was trying to figure out what to do, Steve came into the foyer.

"Are you on your way to see Adam?" he asked.

"Well, I was, but I just remembered my car is at Fletcher's. Any way you could give me a lift over there to get it?"

"Maybe in exchange for the full story of what happened last night."

I grinned. "Deal."

He wrote a quick note and left it on the desk for his guests, then we were off. On the way, I gave him the condensed — and sanitized — version of the previous night's events. I downplayed any real danger to myself, not wanting to upset him after the fact.

When we pulled in behind my car, I noticed that Lily's was there as well. I decided I should at least stick my head in the house and let everyone know I was okay.

Jacy answered my knock, his face lighting up in relief. "Killian! You look a lot better than you did the last time I saw you!"

I laughed. "Thanks. I feel a lot better too. I was just picking up my car, and while I was at it, I thought I'd check in."

"I'm glad you did. Fletcher wants to see you. Do you have a second?"

"Um, sure, but only a second. I'm supposed to be on my way to Adam's, and I still have one more stop to make."

"Come on in. We won't take too long."

I followed him into the living room, where Lily and Fletcher were waiting. Obviously, they'd overheard us at the door.

Fletcher beamed up at me from his chair. "We have so much to thank you for."

I waved away his thanks. "I was just doing my job."

"Maybe so, but because of you, Jacy will be cleared, and it looks like we'll recover all the stolen artifacts."

"So you've spoken to Sergeant Kaplan?"

"I called him a little while ago, and he gave me the good news," Lily said. "He told me the antique-store owner was cooperating with them. Apparently, none of the artifacts had been sold yet."

I smiled. "That is good news. What will happen with the excavation?"

"For now, I think we'll have to let it go." Lily was clearly disappointed. "Next year, we may try again if Professor Pike is still interested."

"We've been rude and missed the most important question," Fletcher interjected. "How are you?"

"I'm okay, considering. I can't say I came through it without a scratch..." I gestured towards my face. "...but that's about all I got. I guess I should consider myself fortunate."

Fletcher nodded. "I heard you were pretty scratched up. Jacy, would you please grab him a jar of healing salve?"

Jacy nodded and left the room, then returned carrying a small jar, which he handed to me.

"It contains comfrey, plantain, and calendula. Rub a little on the scratches and they'll be gone within a couple of days," Fletcher said. "Now, tell me about White Deer."

"Yeah, you never did tell me what happened," Jacy said accusingly.

"Well, um...he appeared right before Alexander and Ricky showed up and warned me to be vigilant. Then, when I fell and twisted my ankle, and Ricky was about to shoot me, he showed up again in his deer form and attacked Ricky, throwing him into a tree and knocking him out cold. Then...he came back to me and touched my ankle and..."

"And?" he prompted.

"Honestly, I don't know. Like, when I fell, my ankle hurt so much I couldn't even get up. But after he laid his hand on it, my skin felt sort of tingly. Then when Jacy helped me up, it didn't hurt at all."

Fletcher looked mildly surprised, but merely nodded.

"What did he do?" I was pretty sure I knew the answer, but I needed to hear it from someone else.

"He healed you," the old shaman told me, as matter-of-factly as if it happened every day.

"He can do that?"

"Obviously." He had a twinkle in his eye.

"But how is that possible?"

"White Deer was a mighty shaman in life and remains so in death."

I tried to wrap my brain around what Fletcher had told me. While I'd known his explanation was the only one possible, it was still hard to accept.

"But...if he's so powerful, why didn't he help Healy and Bridget?"

Fletcher shrugged. "I hesitate to speak for him, but I'd wager he just didn't want to. He'd come to see you as an ally, whereas the archaeologists were just interlopers digging up his people's bones."

"Well, I guess whatever his reasons, I'm grateful. I wouldn't be here if he hadn't intervened. I'd better take off now. I have another stop to make before I go home. Thanks for the salve."

Fletcher gave me a warm smile. "You're welcome, but I actually have something else for you as well." He grabbed a book off the table next to him and held it out to me. "I want you to have this. I've read it so many times I practically have it memorized."

I accepted the gift and glanced down at the title — Touch the Earth.

"Thank you."

"Don't be a stranger. We consider you family now, and my offer to teach you how to use your gifts still stands. Your first lesson went well. I think you should keep learning."

I nodded. "Thank you. I've been looking for someone to help me understand my gifts for a long time. I will definitely take you up on that."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Good." He grinned. "I rather like having you around."

Lily laughed. "You've been adopted now."

I grinned back. "You won't hear me complaining!"

Jacy walked me out. "We will see you again, right?" he said shyly when we reached my car. "You're not just saying that to be polite to an old man?"

I smiled. "I'll be back. You can't get rid of me that easily. I really need the training you guys can give me. I don't understand anything that happened with White Deer."

Jacy grinned. "Neither do I. And don't let Fletcher fool you. He doesn't understand as much as he pretends. He's just learned to accept what he can't grasp."

My smile faltered a little. "That's easier said than done. But even aside from the training, I consider you a friend after all we've been through, and I don't have many of those these days."

Jacy gave me a hug. "Well, you've definitely got me."

As I drove away, I fully expected the albino buck to leap out of the woods, but it never happened.

When I reached Ricky's building, I noticed there were lights on in his apartment. That was a relief. It had occurred to me that I had no way to get in if his roommate wasn't home.

I ran up the stairs and knocked on the door. I waited a minute, then knocked again. After another long wait, the door opened a crack, still connected to the frame by a security chain. A bloodshot eye stared out at me warily.

"Yeah?"

"Kyle? I don't know if you remember me, but my name is Killian Kendall. I was here a couple days ago to see Ricky."

"Uh, right. Um, Ricky isn't here right now."

"I know. Actually, I was hoping to talk to you and maybe look around a bit."

"Are you a cop? Because you guys were here earlier—"

"No, I'm not a cop. I'm a private investigator."

"Oh. Okay. Hang on." The door shut, I heard the chain slide off, then the door swung open. "Come on in, dude."

As soon as I stepped inside, the smell of pot hit me and I noticed a blue haze hanging near the ceiling.

Kyle grinned sheepishly. "It's been a hell of a day. You scared the shit out of me when you knocked."

I chuckled. "Sorry."

"So I guess you know about Ricky, huh? Man. Talk about coming outta left field."

"You never suspected Ricky of doing anything illegal?"

"No way, man. I didn't have a clue."

I thought it would be a safe bet that not having a clue was a normal state for him.

"Do you know if he had any special hiding place where he kept things he didn't want other people to find?"

He scrunched his face up. "No. Sorry."

This was going nowhere fast. "Do you mind if I look around?"

"As long as you don't mind if I go back to my bong."

"Feel free," I said sarcastically. "Which room was Ricky's?"

He pointed roughly in the direction of one of the two doorways that led from the living and kitchen areas. When I walked in, I couldn't tell if the police had trashed the room in their search or if it was always like that. Judging by the way the apartment had looked on my previous visit, I suspected the latter.

I poked around for a few minutes, checking in all the obvious places — under the bed, in the closet, in the drawers — but turned up nothing. Was I wasting my time? Kaplan had said his men were good, and they hadn't found anything.

Where else would Ricky hide something he didn't want anyone to stumble across?

Suddenly, a light bulb went on in my head. I pulled out my phone and called Elyse Pike. "Elyse, this is Killian. Did Ricky have access to the archaeology lab?"

"Oh, hi, Killian. Um, the lab? Yeah, I guess he did. He volunteered to do some cataloguing for us a while back. It's not a popular job, so we jumped at the offer."

"Could he come and go as he pleased?"

"He had his own key, if that's what you mean."

"Is there any way you can meet me on campus?"

"Right now?"

"If possible."

"I suppose so. I just finished up at the police station. I was on my way home, but I can swing by there instead."

"Thanks. I'd appreciate it."

"You'll fill me in on what this is about when you get there?"

"I promise. Meet me by the old science building."

I returned to the living area, which had grown even cloudier in my absence. "I'm all done here. Thanks for letting me look around."

Kyle peered blearily in my direction and gave me a tight-lipped smile. A few seconds later, he released the breath he'd been holding along with a billowing puff of smoke.

"No problem, dude. You wanna hit? It's good shit."

"Uh, no thanks. I've got to go." I turned and let myself out. If I'd stayed much longer, I'd probably have gotten the munchies.

I quickly drove to the campus. On the way, I called Adam and told him I was running a little late.

He was not happy. "What's going on? Steve said he dropped you off an hour ago."

"I had some loose ends to tie up. I have one more stop to make, then I'll be done. I promise."

"Just try not to get shot at this time," he grumbled.

Elyse was waiting for me when I pulled into the deserted lot. "So what's this about?" she asked.

"Ricky told Alexander he had some evidence he was holding over him. Nothing was found in Ricky's apartment, so I'm trying to think of other places he could have hidden it."

"And you think he put it in the lab?"

"It's a possibility."

"A remote one. People are in and out of there all the time."

"It can't hurt to take a look."

She shrugged. "We're here. We might as well."

While leading me through the dark building, she kept up a steady stream of nervous conversation. "I just can't believe Ricky and Alexander were involved in all this. Stealing, murder... It's mind-boggling. Maybe I was just too caught up in my own problems to pay attention, but I never even suspected. It's so scary to think I was working next to a killer all that time."

She unlocked the lab door, turned on the lights, then watched silently as I searched the room. It didn't take long. There were only so many places to conceal something. I gave a cursory glance through the boxes of artifacts, but they were an unlikely hiding place. Too many people had access to them. My search turned up nothing.

After I'd looked everywhere I could think of, I stood in the middle of the room and racked my brain for other ideas.

Suddenly, I remembered something Elyse had mentioned the first time she'd shown me the lab.

"Didn't you tell me there was a storage area somewhere?"

"Yes, in the old janitor's closet."

"Did Ricky have a key to that?"

"Yes." She was already moving towards the door, and I was right behind her.

She started downstairs.

"Your storage closet is on a different floor from the lab?" I asked in disbelief.

"We take what we're offered." She led me to a door that still bore the letters "a-n-i-t-o-r" affixed to its surface. Unlocking it, she swung it open to reveal a tiny room lined with metal shelves bearing dozens of labeled cardboard boxes.

"This could take a while," I muttered under my breath.

"I could help," she suggested. "Just tell me what we're searching for."

"I'm not sure exactly. Probably something like a thumb drive. Oh, and some artifacts."

"Killian, all these boxes are filled with artifacts. Can you be more specific?"

"Nope. Sorry. Just look for anything that doesn't belong here."

We started opening boxes on opposite sides of the room, rummaging in silence as we moved toward the back. It was obvious this room was seldom visited, because the dust was thick on the box tops. I started sneezing after the first four or five.

I was almost to the corner when I pulled a box off the top shelf. I noticed immediately that it was lighter than the others I'd checked. My heart sped up as I set it on the floor and pried open the flaps.

"Bingo."

Elyse came up behind me and peered over my shoulder. "What's that thing?"

I looked closer. Half hidden under a small, palm-sized external drive was a watch, its leather strap crusted in what appeared to be blood.

I pulled a pen from my pocket. Using the point to hook the buckle, I lifted the watch from the box and held it up. Its gold face and red ruby flashed in the light. The glass bezel was cracked, but I'd seen that watch before.

"Recognize this?"

"I think Ricky wore one like that," she said slowly. "In fact, I know he did. He often talked about how he'd won it playing poker."

A smile spread across my face. "If this is Professor Healy's blood..."

Elyse's eyes grew wide. "You mean...you think Ricky killed Quinn?"

I nodded. "We won't be sure until they do the tests on the blood, but we know Healy already suspected Ricky of thefts on other digs, and he was angry enough to take action. According to Ricky's fence, Healy confronted Ricky, and Ricky killed him in the heat of the moment. What I don't know is if he framed Jacy as an afterthought or if he'd planned it all along. If he planned it, then it was premeditated."

"But why hang on to all this?"

"Ricky kept evidence as a backup plan in case he had to frame Alexander for everything."

Elyse shook her head. "It's so diabolical."

"It's all just a theory right now, but I have a hunch I'll be proven right." I pulled out my phone. "Time to turn it over to the police."

Kaplan arrived in record time and was extremely pleased with my find. So pleased, in fact, that he completely forgot to be surly or sarcastic. Instead, I got a hearty handshake and a sincere thanks. He said he'd update me as soon as they tested the blood on the watch.

Later that night, after repeating the story for Adam, Steve, Kane, and Tad until I was hoarse, I stood in front of the mirror examining my body. It was the first chance I'd had to really take stock of my injuries. There were scratches all over my face and arms, some of them pretty deep. My ankle was a little bruised but otherwise felt fine.

I grabbed the salve Fletcher had given me and dabbed it on the scratches and, since I figured it couldn't hurt, on my ankle as well. There was no denying that White Deer had healed me, but how?

There was so much I couldn't comprehend about my gifts and the supernatural. I didn't know if I ever would fully understand, but I knew I was far past the point of needing to learn what I could — and I knew it would be insane to not take Fletcher and Jacy up on their offer to keep teaching me. I trusted and liked both of them. I actually found I was looking forward to our next lesson.

I was brushing my teeth when I glanced up and almost choked on my toothbrush. Seth was standing right behind me.

I quickly rinsed my mouth and spun around, very glad I'd pulled on a pair of shorts after taking stock of my injuries.

"You've really got to start giving me some warning," I chided him.

"How? Ring the doorbell? Give you a call on your cell? Knock?"

"Knocking is polite."

"Well, it doesn't really matter anyway."

"Why not?"

"You might not be seeing much of me from here on out."

"What do you mean?"

"I only come when you need me. You'll need me less and less as you grow up and get control of your gifts."

"But...I don't want you to stop coming."

"I was never going to be around forever, Kill. I'm not like White Deer or, for that matter, even Amalie."

"What if I need you?"

"Then maybe I'll be back."

"So is this goodbye?"

He shrugged. "For now, at least."

"But—" I felt tears welling up.

"Hey, don't cry, Killer. At least we get to say goodbye this time, right?"

I half-laughed, half-sobbed. "Did it have to be in the bathroom?"

Seth smiled sadly. "At least you weren't on the toilet."

I wanted to hug him so much, but knew that was impossible. "I guess this is goodbye then. For now at least. I love you, Seth."

"I love you, too, Killian. Always and forever."

And then he was gone.

A week passed before I heard from Kaplan. Seven days on the calendar, but it felt like an eternity. I had to exert every ounce of self-control not to call him daily like some anxious helicopter parent checking on a science fair project. Part of it was plain curiosity — I was dying to know what was happening with the case — but the rest...the rest was harder to admit.

I was floundering.

The post-case crash hit harder than usual, leaving an empty ache in its wake. Without the mystery to distract me, I was left to deal with the emotional wreckage of my personal life. Between Seth’s quiet goodbye, the emotional scene with Asher, and the shaky, unresolved ending with Micah, I felt like a puzzle missing several essential pieces. The silence wasn’t peaceful. It was oppressive.

So I filled the time any way I could.

My new office became my distraction project. I reorganized it three times, bought plants I hoped I wouldn’t kill, argued with myself about paint chips, and arranged my desk so many ways I lost track. It wasn’t much, but it kept my hands busy when my brain threatened to spiral.

Chris started as our assistant, providing another welcome distraction. Training her gave me something to focus on besides my own mess. She was eager to learn and sharply intuitive, picking up on things I remembered struggling with when I was new. She asked smart questions, listened well, and her dry sense of humor kept me laughing.

We even started hanging out after work — grabbing dinner, browsing weird thrift stores, or just sitting in the office after hours talking about anything except our jobs. Jacy joined us occasionally, his calm, steady presence adding an easy and comfortable layer to our trio. It surprised me how natural it felt, the three of us forming the early threads of a friendship that I hadn’t realized I needed.

It didn’t erase everything else, but it made the quiet less deafening.

I also had my second lesson with Fletcher and Jacy. This session focused again on grounding and the discipline of opening myself intentionally rather than just letting it happen to me. I struggled, but Fletcher remained endlessly patient while Jacy demonstrated techniques with calm confidence that made me both impressed and a little envious.

By the end of the lesson, I felt wrung out but proud. Fletcher clapped me on the shoulder and promised that next time I’d start learning how to shield myself from unwanted contact — something that felt long overdue after everything I'd been through.

So I waited. I trained. I decorated. I tried to heal.

But beneath it all, I kept one ear open, hoping the next call would finally be Kaplan.

When my phone finally rang and I saw it was coming from the police station, I answered so fast it didn't even finish the first ring.

"It's about time," I said in lieu of a greeting.

Kaplan chuckled. "These things take time, Kendall. I wanted to make sure I had a complete report to give you before I called."

"I would have settled for regular updates. So what's going on?"

"Well, we owe you a huge thank you for your assistance with this case. The State's Attorney would have had no problem presenting a pretty airtight case even without the full confessions we got out of all of them."

"All of them?"

"Yep. Alexander James, Ricky Wong, and Malcolm Joyner all cracked like eggs when presented with the evidence you found. Plus, the blood on the watch was positively identified as being Quinn Healy's."

"So Ricky did kill Healy?"

"Yes, and it was just as you suspected. Healy asked Ricky to meet him at the site and confronted him about looting the dig. They argued and Healy threatened to turn him in. The knife Jacy Elliott had dropped during their altercation earlier that day was sitting on the table in the tent. Wong grabbed it and stabbed Healy to death, then left the knife in order to implicate Elliott.

"We don't think either Healy's or Bridget Foxwell's deaths were premeditated, but the James kid definitely showed up with the gun the other night with the intention to kill Wong. I think no matter what happened, Wong wasn't leaving there without a bullet in him. He's just lucky you were there."

"And Joyner?"

"He's admitted to knowingly accepting stolen goods, but claims he had no knowledge of the murders. I doubt we can prove otherwise, and really, he's probably telling the truth, if only just because he didn't ask any questions."

"That's it, then?"

"That's it. Wrapped up with a pretty red bow, thanks to you. Just a heads up, we're doing a press conference this afternoon and we'll be giving you due credit."

"You're saying I should be prepared for reporters to descend on our office like Biblical locusts?"

Kaplan laughed. "Something like that."

"I'll warn Chris and Novak."

"Chris?"

"Our new assistant."

"Moving up the ladder?"

"Hey, I'm a partner now, getting my license any day now. Got my own office and everything."

"Congrats, Kendall. Well deserved. Tell your boss I said hi. He is still your boss, isn't he?"

I snorted. "Novak will always be the boss."

I was getting ready for bed that night, going through the motions on autopilot, when I heard a dull thump behind me.

I froze.

For a heartbeat, I was certain it was Seth. The familiar prickle crawled across the back of my neck as I spun around.

But my heart dropped just as quickly. The room was empty.

The precarious stack of books next to my bed had simply given into gravity and fallen over, leaving a messy heap on the floor.

I let out a shaky breath, equal parts relief and disappointment tightening my chest.

Just books. Nothing supernatural. Nothing meaningful. Not this time, anyway.

I crouched to gather them, but one spine snagged my attention: the book Fletcher had given me. I hadn’t thought much about it since the day he'd handed it to me — chalk it up to distraction, exhaustion, avoidance...take your pick.

As I picked it up, I saw a sticky note jutting from the top. Odd. I hadn't noticed that before. Curiosity tugged at me, so I flipped to the indicated page. Fletcher’s cramped handwriting sprawled across the note:

Killian, this is my favorite passage in the book. I hope it speaks to you as it has to me.

He'd marked a speech attributed to Chief Seattle. Even before my eyes scanned the page, my eyes were drawn to a single line, underlined in soft pencil, the graphite worn and smudged as if fingers had traced over the words many times.

"The dead are not powerless. Dead, I say? There is no death. Only a change of worlds."

I remembered Fletcher quoting them once, the words later echoed by White Deer after he'd attacked Alexander.

The dead were not powerless, as I knew better than most. But there was death. Just ask Professor Healy or Bridget Foxwell. Or Seth.

But maybe that was the point. Maybe power and permanence weren’t the same thing. A life could end, brutally or quietly, and still send ripples through the world long after the body was gone. The dead didn’t stay with us because they refused to leave — they stayed because we carried them. In memory. In guilt. In love. In all the ways they’d changed the shape of who we were.

I closed the book gently, fingers resting on the cover. Maybe there was a change of worlds, and maybe I didn’t have to understand it yet. What mattered was the world I was in now. Grief was a kind of haunting too, but not all hauntings were meant to terrify. Some just reminded you of what mattered enough to lose.

And maybe, just maybe, they reminded you of what was still worth living for.

The next morning, I found myself back in the office bright and early. My new desk, my new walls, my new life — none of it quite fit yet, but for the first time in a long while, I wasn’t fighting that. Healing wasn’t a straight line. It wasn’t even a line at all. It was a messy, looping trail with detours and sinkholes and, if you were lucky, a few unexpected guides along the way.

Seth was gone. Asher was gone. Micah was gone. White Deer’s presence hovered at the edges of my awareness, no longer threatening but not exactly comforting either.

And yet, despite everything, I didn’t feel alone.

Chris chatted with me as she settled into her own space. Jacy texted to check on me before work. Fletcher called to arrange our next lesson, promising it would be “interesting” with his trademark warmth and humor.

They weren’t replacements for what I’d lost — they were threads of something new.

Just like people, cases would come and go. Some would bruise me. Some might break pieces off. But I was beginning to trust that I could rebuild, maybe even stronger than before. The strange, unsettling, often painful things I’d learned about myself weren’t burdens — they were tools, if I chose to use them.

I was the last to leave that night, and as I locked up and stepped out into the cooling air, I glanced back at the faint reflection in the office window. Just me, standing under a streetlight.

No ghosts or shadows...just me.

And for the first time, that was enough. I didn’t need answers tonight. I didn’t need certainty.

I just needed the next step forward.

And I was finally ready to take it.

Time to change my own world.

End of Book 5

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