Reap The Whirlwind

Book 2 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries

By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026

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Chapter 10

I hatched a plan over the next several days that I was sure would either exorcise Joey from my life forever or let me know conclusively if there was any hope for our friendship. My plan would go into effect that Friday night. According to Aidan, Joey had become a party animal, and there was never any shortage of parties on a Friday night in a college town. All I had to do was find the one he was at and get him alone.

Easy, huh?

I would have to wing it from there since I had no clue how he would react to seeing me again, but I felt confident that I knew Joey well enough to handle it.

Friday morning, I waited by the door for over an hour to "accidentally" catch Sam in the hall. I told him I was itching to get out of the house and asked him if he knew of any fun parties going on at school that night. He mentioned a few that he'd heard about and offered to go with me, but I begged off saying I couldn't be sure I would feel up to going by that night. I needed to confront Joey alone. That last thing I needed was an audience.

The only hitch was that I had to get out of the apartment without arousing Aidan's suspicion. Not that he was keeping the eagle eye on me that he had been before everything happened. Things had grown decidedly more distant since that fateful morning. He was still kind and helped when he could — like figuring out showers with a giant cast — but he was back in class full time and was no longer waiting on me hand and foot. I decided to slip out before he got home. I'd leave a note or something so he wouldn't worry.

I spent all afternoon fretting over what to wear. I wanted to look my best. Why? I don't know. It's not like Joey ever cared what I was wearing. But I cared, and this carried a lot of weight for me, so I tried on and rejected outfit after outfit.

Finally, I settled on a bright yellow, short-sleeved polo shirt that Joey had given me for my last birthday and a nice pair of jeans. I'd only worn the shirt once — yellow wasn't my color — but I thought it was a nice touch. As an added bonus, it was also too big, which meant it fit over my cast without cutting it. Not that I would have minded cutting it. I'd only kept it because Joey gave it to me. I took one last look in the mirror and decided I looked completely ridiculous in my oversized shirt that looked like a safety vest, but it would have to do.

As near as I could figure, I had at least three hours to kill before I could start my party rounds. I was going to go crazy if I sat around the apartment, and I needed to be gone before Aidan got home or I knew he'd have a million questions. I decided to take some pictures while the light was still good. I scribbled a quick note for Aidan — which I could only hope he could read considering I was forced to use my non-dominant left hand — then grabbed my camera and headed out.

My next challenge arose when I arrived at my car only to realize I hadn't driven since I'd broken my arm. Luckily, I had an automatic or my clever plan would have been over before it even began. I managed to awkwardly wedge myself into the car and then I was off to drive around waiting for inspiration.

Though I often joked about the Eastern Shore’s insulated, sometimes backward lifestyle, it’s undeniably beautiful. Flanked by the Atlantic Ocean and the Chesapeake Bay, the Delmarva Peninsula, as it is commonly called—named for the state of Delaware, the ten counties of Maryland, and two counties of Virginia that comprise it—remains largely rural, with farmland and wetlands dominating the landscape. Even the small city where I live is surrounded by flat fields that stretch in every direction, and just beyond the city limits, you're as likely to spot a white-tailed deer as a person.

I wanted to drive to Assateague Island, but it was an hour away and I knew I didn't have enough daylight left, so I contented myself with the wooded countryside that weaves itself around the picturesque Wicomico River. I stopped often to snap photos: an abandoned house, a forgotten graveyard, a gloriously elegant blue heron hunting in the reeds, a tiny country church catching the golden hour light just right. The sun set in a spectacular display of color that would make a great backdrop for a painting.

By the time dusk settled and the moon began her reign over the night sky, I had taken well over two hundred photos. I was confident that at least some of them would produce a great composition for a painting.

I glanced at my car clock as I drove down the darkening roads. It was show time.

The first party I hit was just getting started and no one seemed to know Joey, so I quickly moved on.

At the next party, several people knew Joey, although no one looked impressed, but none of them had any reason to think he was coming there. One guy snarked that he would probably be at an off campus frat party, since that was where all the booze would be. It just so happened that the frat party was the third stop on my list, so I headed there next.

The frat house in question was a huge, older two-story house that had seen better days. The paint was flaking a bit, a couple of shutters were missing, and the grass desperately needed cutting. A tall privacy fence closed off the backyard, but the front door stood open so I let myself in and started asking around.

It didn't take long at all before some girl said she'd heard Joey say that he was coming to this particular party. "Although, to be honest, I hope he doesn't come," she added with an eye roll. "That guy is a creep. Why are you looking for him anyway? Did he sleep with your girlfriend or something?"

I made an excuse and wandered off thinking that it would seem that Aidan's reporting about Joey's reputation was accurate. I still needed to see for myself, though. Call me stubborn. Or stupid. I should have left then, but, instead, I found an out of the way corner with a view of the front door and settled in to wait for Joey to make his appearance.

While I waited, I entertained myself by people-watching. This was apparently the party to be at. The house was filling up quickly. Beer was practically a food group, with everyone chugging red cups like it was their job. Music blasted from somewhere deep inside, and a few people were already drunk enough to think dancing was a good idea. A few couples were making out like they were in a CW teen drama. Well, good for them — at least someone was enjoying themselves.

This may come as a surprise, but I've never been a party animal by any stretch. Even to my untrained eye, though, it appeared that at least half those present were stoned as well as inebriated. The smell of weed floated through the house like incense.

I noticed several girls eying me hungrily. I felt like fresh meat in the lion cage at the zoo. At one point, a flirtatious redhead pressed a cold bottle into my hand, but I managed to get rid of her and quickly passed the beer on to the first empty-handed person I encountered. I figured I needed all my wits about me for my mission, not to mention I was still on pain meds, and it seemed unwise to mix when I still had to drive home.

After a while, I got bored and took a lap of the first floor, just in case I'd missed Joey's entrance. In the kitchen, I spotted a back door and decided to step out for some fresh air. It was really starting to reek inside — a nauseating blend of beer, weed, sweat, and hormones.

I stepped out into a large fenced-in backyard with a very dirty in-ground pool that no one had bothered to cover even though we were well into the fall, as evidenced by the collection of leaves floating on the surface. A couple, a guy and a girl, were smoking on the far side of the pool, heads bent close, but I didn't pay them much attention. Otherwise, the yard was empty. The damp, chilly weather probably had something to do with that.

I turned to go back inside and almost bumped into a petite girl around my height who was just coming out of the door. She looked me up and down and smiled. "Hi there. I don't think we've met. I'm Caitlin."

"I'm, um, Will," I said.

"Hi Um Will. How'd you get that cast? You don't look like the rough and tumble type."

"I fell four stories off a fire escape."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Must have been one hell of a party!" She produced a cigarette, lit up, and took a deep drag before blowing the smoke in my direction.

"Something like that," I muttered, fanning away the smoke and already trying to figure out how to gracefully disentangle myself.

She gave me a quick smile, all perfect white teeth and practiced charm. She was objectively pretty — honey-blonde hair that fell just past her shoulders, pale blue eyes, and cupid-bow lips like a vintage perfume ad. And yet, if I’d needed a final confirmation of my sexuality, she sealed the deal: nothing.

"Do you go to PU?" she asked.

"No, I'm, uh, meeting a friend here, actually."

"Too bad. What's her name? Maybe I know her."

"Him. My friend's a guy. His name is Joey Taylor."

Her expression changed in the blink of an eye. "You're friends with Joe Taylor? You should choose your friends more carefully."

"We've been friends our entire lives. He's my best friend. Or he was. We drifted apart recently, and I was hoping to run into him here."

"Well, I hope you don't. You seem like too nice a guy for an asshole like him."

"Why do you say that? What's he done?"

"For starters, he's a jerk. He'll sleep with anything with a pulse, apparently."

"Apparently? I mean, are you sure those aren't just rumors?"

Another drag from her cigarette. "He cheated on his girlfriend with a girl in one of his classes. She didn't know he was dating someone, but found out when the girlfriend confronted her in the middle of campus in broad daylight."

"Maybe that was, like, a one-time thing. I mean, everybody messes up, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "Spoken like a true man. No, not everyone cheats."

"I didn't say—"

"He didn't even pretend to be remorseful, just stopped talking to both girls and moved on to the next. And the next. And the next. I think he's slept his way through half the female population of the campus in the last few weeks, with zero concern for anyone's feelings. Wham, bam, without so much as a thank you ma'am."

"Oh," I said in a small voice. Joey had always been a bit wild, but this didn't sound like the guy I'd grown up with.

Caitlin wasn't finished. "Plus he's almost never sober anymore. I've heard that he's shown up for one of his classes completely trashed a few times. The professor threw him out." She lowered her voice and leaned toward me, "I've even heard he got some poor girl pregnant, then told her he'd pay for the abortion. That he didn't want anything to do with a kid."

I shook my head in disbelief. If everything she was saying was true, then it sounded like Joey was in some sort of crisis. He needed help.

Caitlin laid her hand gently on my good arm. "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you your old friend is such a loser, but you're better off without him."

"Hey slut, if you're trying to get in his pants, it's a lost cause," a familiar voice slurred from behind me. I spun around, but not before seeing a look of disgust mar Caitlin's pretty face.

Joey was leaning against the doorframe, wearing a plaid shirt open over a band tee and baggy jeans, hair tucked behind his ears. His face was twisted into a sneer, his eyes slightly unfocused, clearly very drunk. The smell of alcohol almost knocked me over.

"He's a fag, Katie, and he's only here to beg for my cock, so get lost."

I blinked rapidly as I felt my face heat up, but before I could defend myself, Caitlin spoke up. "My name is Caitlin," she said sharply. "And why don't you get lost. Nobody with any self respect wants your diseased dick."

"That's not what you said before," he said, pushing away from the door and swaggering unsteadily toward the two of us. "Maybe you two want to share."

"You're fucking disgusting," she said as she moved farther away.

I managed to find my voice. "Joey, I need to talk to you."

"What's to talk about? You're a faggot. I'm not. End of discussion."

"Please? Just a few minutes?" I was embarrassed to be begging in front of Caitlin, but it was as if I couldn't help myself. "Please, Joey."

A foreign smile spread slowly across Joey's face, cruel and ugly. "Okay," he said, "I'll do you a favor if you do one for me. Follow me."

He turned and re-entered the house, weaving through the crowd and up the stairs to the second floor as if he knew where he was going. I followed wordlessly.

Apparently, he did know where he was going; he walked confidently to a closed door, opened it, and entered. He shut the door as soon as I followed him in, and immediately started unbuttoning his pants.

"What are you doing?" I asked, although I had an awful feeling that I knew.

His jeans dropped to the floor, then he pushed his boxers down. His soft dick flopped out. "It's what you wanted, isn't it, Will? A quick suck off your old pal, Joey? Well, here it is. Come on, I don't have all night."

"Joey, pull your pants up. I just want to talk to you."

"Suck first, talk later. Come on, get on your knees, fag boy."

"No! Joey..."

He grabbed his dick and shook it, then started jerking off, hard and fast, as it grew semi-hard. I wanted to look away but I couldn't.

"Stop it," I hissed.

Joey sneered. "I can see how much you want it."

"No, I do not want it," I yelled. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothings wrong with me. You're the perv. You want it. I see it in your eyes."

I turned away, desperately fighting back tears, sickened by the grain of truth in his words. Part of me did want him, but a much bigger part was disgusted.

"I thought I knew you," I said with a catch in my voice, "but I don't know who you are anymore. What happened to you? I feel like I've lost my friend."

"What happened to you? You're not the only one who lost a friend, dumbass. You used to be normal."

"I am normal!"

"No, you ruined everything when you decided you were secretly in love with me. Well, here I am. Here's your chance, the only one you're ever going to get."

"What's wrong with you?"

"I'm just having fun, letting loose, finally living my own life without anybody telling me what to do. What's wrong with you?"

"You've become a drunk asshole who sleeps around with anything with breasts."

"What's wrong, Will? Jealous again? I should have known you were a queer by the way you hated every girlfriend I've ever had. You just wanted me for yourself the whole time. You're a pathetic little fag."

I'd had enough. I grabbed the knob and started to yank the door open, but Joey was always quicker than I was. He hit me in the back before I even got the door halfway open, slamming it shut and pinning me against it. He spun me around painfully using my broken arm and pressed my back against the door, pinning the cast between our bodies. I gasped in agony as he panted, his foul breath hot in my face.

"What's the rush? I'm almost there. Don't want to miss the big show."

His other hand hadn't slowed down the whole time. His body suddenly tensed and he began to shoot onto my leg. "Look at all that going to waste. You should have swallowed it, Will. Maybe it would turn you into a real man."

I struggled to free myself but he slammed me against the door, sending new jolts of pain through my arm.

"Where ya goin', Willie?" he rasped. "We were just getting' started."

Just then, someone banged on the door and shouted, "Hey, everything okay in there?"

Using the distraction my would-be savior provided, I brought my knee up sharply into Joey's groin with all my strength, then wrenched my broken arm from his grasp, slamming him in the face with my cast at the same time. He stumbled back then bent double, groaning in pain.

I didn't wait to see if he was okay. Frankly, I no longer cared. I just yanked the door open and escaped, racing past the guy standing outside the door. He shouted something after me, but I ignored both him and the pain in my arm as I took the stairs two at a time and plunged into the crowd at the bottom.

I snatched a cup out of someone's hand, disregarding their indignant protest, and gulped it down, only to find myself bent double, coughing and sputtering when it turned out to be something I could only guess was undiluted gasoline based on the taste and burn.

My throat felt raw, my arm was throbbing, my heart was pounding, and my mind was swirling. I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, but there was hardly room to move. I found myself being jostled around the throng like a leaf caught in the current of a fast-moving river.

A sudden wave of nausea swept over me, and I began to push and shove my way in the direction of the hallway. I managed to find a mercifully empty bathroom and slammed the door shut just in time to get violently sick. Afterward, I slid down to the cool tile floor and tried not to think about how dirty the bathroom floor in an off-campus frat house probably was.

Eventually, the knocking on the door brought me out of my stupor and I pulled myself up using my one good arm. I splashed some cold water on my face and stared at my reflection in the mirror as what had just happened began to sink in. A pair of haunted eyes stared back at me. Everyone had tried to tell me, but I wouldn't listen. Joey was no longer the same person I grew up with. My friend was gone.

I began to shake uncontrollably. Then came the sobs. Followed by another round of puking. I stayed there for quite a while, crying, mourning the loss of my best friend. I was grateful for the lock on the door, but eventually the almost constant banging and yelling got to me, and I reluctantly gave up my sanctuary.

I'd had more than enough of the party, so I started weaving my way toward the front door. By the time I got there, though, I was fighting another round of nausea. Between the traumatic experience with Joey and whatever it was I'd drank out of that cup, my stomach was in full revolt. I barely cleared the front steps before upchucking the last of my stomach's contents into the shrubbery.

"Being with Joey always affects me that way, too," a feminine voice said from the shadows.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as I peered into the darkness. The glow of a cigarette butt drew my eyes to the dark form of someone sitting under the low hanging branches of an enormous magnolia tree that took up most of the front yard.

"Caitlin?" I hazarded a guess.

"Yup. Come on in. It's quiet, and Joey isn't likely to find us unless he passes out and rolls under here."

I needed a few minutes to calm myself before driving anyway, so I crawled into the cave-like space and leaned back against the tree trunk next to Caitlin. "What are you doing out here?"

"I had to get out of there. Besides, the fresh air is good for your lungs. Smoke?" she asked as she offered her cigarette.

"Uh, no, thanks."

"Good. Don't start. It's a nasty habit." She stubbed out the butt and looked over at me. "So, are you really gay?"

I drew in a sharp breath. "Yeah."

"Hey, it's cool with me. It just figures that the first nice guy I meet in months would be gay. You don't have a thing for Joey, do you?"

"I used to."

"But not now?"

"No, not anymore."

"Not after tonight?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"I tried to warn you."

"Some things you just have to see for yourself."

She continued to stare at my face as if she were memorizing my features. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

"For what?"

"For your loss."

"What do you mean?"

"You lost a friend tonight, right?"

"Yeah, I guess I did," I said, and suddenly there were tears rolling down my cheeks again. I swiped at them angrily.

"Don't," Caitlin said. "Don't be ashamed to cry. He made me cry, too."

"You? What did he do to you?"

She looked away. "I was one of those dumb girls who fell for all his lies and promises."

"I'm sorry. But hey, at least you can move on now and forget about him. I suppose that's what I have to do, too."

"It's not that easy. You have all those memories of him, and I have my own little reminder."

"What do you mean?"

She lit up another cigarette and took a long drag. "I'm the girl he got pregnant," she said, still not looking at me.

For a minute I was too stunned to think of anything to say, then I said the first thing that came to my mind, "You shouldn't be smoking."

She laughed, but there was no humor in the laugh. "Why not? I'm going to have an abortion."

Neither of us spoke for a while.

"You don't think I should, do you?" she said at last.

"I didn't say that," I said quickly.

"No, but you're thinking it, I can tell." I stayed quiet. "You don't know what you're talking about," she went on as if I were arguing with her. Maybe she was arguing with herself. "I can't afford to raise a kid on my own. I can't even afford a damn goldfish. I just started school. Oh my God, if my parents found out, we'd both be dead."

"It's not the baby's fault," I said softly. I wasn't sure why I said that. It was clearly none of my business.

She stared at the cigarette for a minute then in a quick violent motion, ground it out angrily. Then, just as suddenly, her mood switched again, and she began to cry.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered. "I can't believe I was so stupid. I'm so scared."

I sat in uncomfortable silence unsure of what to say. Then an idea popped into my head. I blurted it out before I even thought about it. "I...I'll help you raise the baby."

She stopped crying with a hiccup and stared at me as if I had lost my mind. Maybe I had.

"Are you crazy? You can't be serious?" she said when she'd found her voice.

"Yes...I mean no...I mean..."

"You don't even know me."

"No, but I know Joey. Or I used to. And the baby is half his, right? Plus, I'm an artist so I can watch the baby while you're at school. I don't have a lot of money, but you can get help from social services, and I'll help with what I can."

"You just finished puking and crying over that jackass. Why do you care?"

"If he isn't going to take care of it, then someone has to."

"Why you?"

"I've been cleaning up Joey's messes for eighteen years, I'm used to it. And...I guess I just feel kind of responsible in a way."

"How could you possibly be responsible?"

"It's kinda my fault Joey has become like this. I drove him to it."

"How are you responsible?"

"I...I told him I loved him."

"And?"

"And what?"

"You told him you loved him and..."

"And he freaked out."

She sighed. "Look, Will, you're an incredibly sweet, incredibly naïve, kind of dumb kid. I hope you find happiness and the man of your dreams. But this isn't your fault, and you don't owe me anything."

"But I..."

"Look, when did you tell him you loved him?"

"I dunno. A few weeks ago. Maybe a month."

"Well, good news. He's been a party animal since school started. He knocked me up two months ago. If he went completely off the rails after your talk, at best he used your big announcement as an excuse."

I blinked at that revelation, but she wasn't finished.

"Thank you for your offer, but this is my problem and I'll deal with it. I was the one who was stupid enough to fall for his load of shit. I was the one who didn't insist he use a condom when I knew I wasn't on the pill. That makes me responsible for this..." she gestured helplessly at her still flat stomach. "Me and Joey. And I think it's safe to say I can't count on him for anything."

"But you can count on me. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Joey was like a brother to me. So that makes me this baby's uncle, sort of, right?"

Her eyes narrowed, and she seemed to be considering my impulsive offer for the first time. "That seems like a bit of a stretch."

"Just let Uncle Will help."

She laughed. "I'm starting to think you're just a nut case."

I grinned. "I am almost certainly a nut case, but one that's making a serious offer to help."

"I'll give you one thing, you're persistent."

"Yep."

"Will you stop bugging me if I promise to at least think about it?"

"If you promise you'll actually think about it."

"I promise. To be honest, this little freeloader is all I can think about anyway."

"Great! Let me give you my phone number and stuff."

"Hey, I'm not promising to do anything but think about it," she warned.

"I know, but you'll need my number if you decide to take me up on my offer, right? Besides, if nothing else, maybe we can start a support group, you know, for those affected by Joey Taylor."

"We'd have plenty of members. For the record, I still think you're crazy."

"I know. So what's your number?"

With a sigh, she gave me her number, which I saved in my phone before sending her a quick text, waiting until she received it to slide my phone back in my pocket.

"Okay, now you have mine, too. Be sure to save it. Anyway, I wish I could say it's been a pleasure meeting you, but this night has been an absolute nightmare. Hopefully, next time we meet it will be under better circumstances. I'd better get home before my roommate gets worried."

She laughed again. "Must be nice to have a roommate who gives a damn. I'll give you this, you little weirdo, you've given me something to think about. I'm still not promising you anything, though. I don't owe you anything."

"No, but maybe you do owe something to the baby."

She gave me an odd look that was a mix of exasperation and thoughtfulness.

I started crawling out from under the tree just as a bloodcurdling scream ripped through the night. Another quickly followed it. They sounded like they were coming from the back yard.

"Sounds like Joey struck again," Caitlin said darkly.

"Maybe I should check it out," I said uncertainly.

"Are you going to follow behind him cleaning up his messes for the rest of your life? Go home, Clark Kent. You've done enough good for one night."

She was right. I turned toward my car again, but a strange sense of dread hit me and I stopped in my tracks. Something was wrong, and I just knew that Joey was involved.

I was standing there, stuck in an indecisive loop, when a tall, dark-haired guy vaulted over the fence separating the backyard from the front. He hit the ground running and slammed right into me in his haste, sending me sprawling.

He paused long enough to help me up. "Holy shit! Sorry man," he panted as he pushed his sweaty dark hair out of his eyes.

"What's going on?" I asked as the feeling of dread grew.

"Some chick just found a dead guy in the pool."

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