The Truth of Yesterday
Book 4 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries
By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026
Chapter 15
I stared at Chris while trying to decide what to say. She'd caught me off guard by demanding the whole story.
After a few minutes of silence and internal debate, I made up my mind. If she was going to be my partner in this investigation — and I really hoped she would be since it seemed we worked well together — then she had a right to know the truth. All of it.
Especially if I had another one of my "psychic friends" moments in front of her. She needed to be prepared. If she couldn't handle it or chose not to believe it, that was up to her, but at least she'd understand what was going on.
So once we were settled on a train, I told her everything.
I started with Seth — his murder and how he had started coming to see me. Then I filled her in on Amalie. After that, I tried to explain what Judy and Seth had told me about my gifts — and how I'd been reluctant to use or even acknowledge them. I finished up by explaining everything that had happened in Paul's apartment.
To my surprise — and relief — she just nodded and said, "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yeah. It's no biggie."
"No biggie? Dead people talk to me, or at least communicate with me, and all you have to say is no biggie?"
She gave me a withering look. “Why should I care? A good investigator uses whatever tools he’s got. I don’t pretend to understand your... gifts, and honestly, I’m glad I don’t have them. But you do — and if they help crack the case, then use them.”
She leaned back, arms crossed. “I mean, come on. That key in the armoire? You never would’ve found it without whatever that was. So yeah. The results speak for themselves.”
I nodded, thoughtfully. She had a point.
"What's the big deal? You have a unique ability. I don't envy you for it, but it could definitely have its uses. My advice, unsolicited as it is, would be to get all the training you can for those gifts. Maybe you'll be able to control the, er, attacks like the one you had in the apartment when you felt like you were being strangled. At any rate, the better you understand them, the more helpful and the less scary they'll be."
"You know, that's pretty much what Judy and Seth have been saying all along, but hearing it from you seems to make more sense."
She laughed. "Well, at least something makes sense."
The Metro pulled into New Carrollton station just about then, and we said our goodbyes.
Our conversation gave me a lot to think about on the long drive home. It was the first time I’d ever laid everything out like that for someone else—laid myself out like that. And Chris was only the second person I’d ever told about Seth. I’d never even mentioned him to Micah, and I wasn’t sure I ever would. Some things just felt too raw, too personal. But with Chris, it had been different.
There was something about her I trusted instinctively. Maybe it was her no-nonsense attitude or the way she stayed grounded no matter what I threw at her. She had a certain quiet steadiness — practical, clear-eyed, unflinching. I found it oddly comforting, especially when I was feeling anything but steady myself.
But more than that, something shifted in me during that conversation. As I tried to explain things to her — the ghosts, the visions, the cold touch of the unknown — I realized I was finally coming to fully accept my gifts. Not just an unwilling acknowledgment or a simmering resentment. I was starting to really appreciate how they could become useful in my chosen career. But that realization also hammered home the fact that I needed training. Real training. Not just asking for occasional advice and hoping for the best. Not just waiting and reacting.
Of course, that meant I’d have to face them — these things inside me that I didn’t fully understand, didn’t entirely want. I’d have to open the door instead of just peeking through the keyhole. And part of me was terrified of what I might find on the other side.
Still, I knew I had no choice. Things were escalating. Whatever had happened in Paul’s apartment wasn’t just another psychic blip.
While somewhat similar to what I’d experienced in the cellar with Amalie, it was also entirely different — strange and terrifying in ways I couldn’t quite explain. With Amalie, I’d felt as though I were slipping into her memories, seeing her life from behind her eyes. But with Paul...it wasn’t like stepping into the past. It was as if his death had reached forward in time and wrapped its hands around my throat, dragging me into his final moments as they happened — right there, in the present.
Was it a new gift? A deeper manifestation of the ones I already knew about? Or was something else beginning to surface? Something darker?
I didn’t know. But I couldn’t afford to keep running from it. Not anymore.
I arrived home around eight to an empty house, which suited me just fine. As much as I loved Adam and Steve, I wasn't ready to go into an explanation of my strange business trip.
I went up to my room and debated about whether or not to call Judy. I could wait until the next day to talk to her, but I was still shaken by my experiences earlier and my conversation with Chris was still fresh in my mind. I decided to call her and see if she was free.
I breathed a sigh of relief when she answered on the third ring.
"Hi. It's Killian. Are you busy right now?" I asked.
There was a slight hesitation. "Not really."
"I need to talk to you."
"Is it about...?" Her voice was filled with tension.
"Jake? No, this is personal."
"You want to talk now?"
"Yes, please. If it isn't too much trouble."
"No, I don't suppose it is. Do you want to come here, or would you rather I came to you?"
"Well, I just drove home from D.C., so I'd rather you came here, but it doesn't really matter."
"No, that's fine. I'll be over shortly."
She hung up without saying goodbye. I had the feeling I was interrupting something, but she was too polite to say so.
True to her word, Judy was knocking on the front door in half an hour.
"Thank you for coming over," I said as I let her in.
"You're welcome. Now, do you mind telling me what this is all about?"
"Something happened today that I need to discuss with you."
"In D.C.?"
"Yeah," I said slowly. "How did you know I was in D.C.? Oh...your gifts?"
She laughed. "You told me on the phone, you goof. Look, before we get started, can I make some tea?"
"I can do that," I said while blushing furiously.
We went into the kitchen, where I rummaged through the cabinet. "I don't think we have any tea leaves. Just regular tea bags."
Judy leaned against the counter with an amused expression. "That's fine. I wasn't planning on doing any readings. I just thought tea would be nice while we talked. Now tell me what happened today."
I got out a tea kettle and started filling it with water. "I'm investigating a murder. I don't know how much Novak told you..."
"He didn't tell me anything. He rarely discusses work with me."
I put the kettle on the burner and sat down at the kitchen table, taking a deep breath before I began.
“There was this guy — he was strangled in his apartment. I was in there, looking around, and when I opened the door to the bedroom where he was murdered...something happened.”
Judy raised an eyebrow. “Wait. Do I need any backstory for this?”
“Um, maybe a little. The police don’t seem too interested in solving the case. The victim, Paul, was an escort. You know what that is, right?”
She gave me a look that said really?
“Sweetie, I wasn’t born yesterday. I know what an escort is. My question is: how did you stumble onto this case? It’s in D.C., and as far as I know, you don’t frequent escorts. And how exactly did you get into his apartment?”
I sighed. “Okay, fine, you do need the background. Paul was...a friend of Micah’s.”
My pause said more than I intended, and I saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes. I pushed forward before she could comment.
“That’s how I got involved. And why I had a key to his place.”
“Got it,” she said. “So you were in his apartment, opened the door to the murder scene, and then what?”
“I...I think I experienced his murder.”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean experienced?”
“I mean it felt like I was being strangled. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even scream. I could feel fingers around my throat, digging in.”
Judy stared at me, speechless, until the kettle whistled, jolting us both. She got up and turned off the burner. I jumped to grab two mugs — one for her, one for me. A hot cup of tea suddenly seemed like the best idea in the world.
Once we were settled at the table again, I leaned back in my seat and continued.
“And that’s not even the end of it.”
“There’s more?” she asked, stirring in a spoonful of sugar with unnerving calm.
I nodded. “Paul’s neighbor Sabrina was with me. She got freaked out and wanted to leave, but I felt this...pull toward the bedroom. I couldn’t ignore it. She stayed behind, so I went in alone. The police had already cleaned the place, but I saw this...double image overlaying the room. Like how it looked right after the murder. His body. The mess. Everything.”
Judy sipped her tea like I’d just told her about a vivid dream, not a psychic death experience.
“And then I don’t know why I did it, but I asked Paul to show me what he wanted me to find.”
“Did he?” she asked, completely unshaken.
“Sort of. I heard a sound coming from the armoire. And before you say it — no, I don’t think it was a coincidence.”
“Didn’t cross my mind,” she said dryly. “Go on.”
“The sound led me to the top of the armoire, where I found a hidden compartment. Inside was a letter and a key.”
“What did the letter say?”
“That he thought he was in danger and was hiding the key.”
“And what does the key go to?”
I threw up my hands. “I don’t know! That’s not the point.”
She laughed, and I scowled. “Sorry,” she said, still chuckling. “I got caught up in the story. The point is, your gifts are evolving, and that’s upsetting you.”
“Upsetting?” I stared at her. “I felt like I was being murdered. Damn right I’m upset.”
“But no physical harm came to you, right?”
“Unless you count being scared out of my mind.”
“I don’t. This is fascinating.”
“It’s terrifying.”
“Things always are when we don’t understand them. So...what are you going to do about it?”
I took a deep breath and tried to match her calm, though it felt like a losing battle. “That’s why I called you. I think we need to amp up our search for someone to teach me."
"Oh, it's been amped. After our last chat, I reached out to a few more people and really stressed the urgency of the situation."
"And...?"
"And..." She sighed. "And nothing. Not yet anyway. If I'd found someone, I would have let you know. But I am looking."
I slumped down in my seat. "What if we can't find someone?"
"We will. It's just... It might take some time. I put out feelers to my contacts. They'll pass it on to theirs. We'll find someone eventually."
"How are you so calm about this? Weren't you the one who said I was in danger?"
She turned her mug thoughtfully in her hands. "I do sense danger all around you. I don't believe it's associated with your gifts. At least not in the immediate future. I think we have a little time to find the right person."
"Why do I not find that very comforting? Is the danger associated with one of my cases?"
She gave a little shrug. "Yes? Possibly? I mean, most likely. It's all a little...confusing."
"I wish our gifts were a little more...clear."
She smiled. "What would be the fun in that? Just hang in there. In the meantime, I'm here and I'll help as much as I can."
I stared into my mug, letting the scent of mint and chamomile ground me.
“Thanks,” I said at last.
“You're welcome,” Judy said as she took another sip. “Now, drink your tea before it goes cold.”
I obediently took a sip of tea and realized I hadn't added any sugar. I made a face, then quickly spooned in a few scoops and stirred it in. I liked my tea very sweet.
Judy stared at me, eyes thoughtful, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.
“What?” I asked warily.
She tilted her head. “While you were having your little chat with Paul...why didn’t you just ask him who killed him?”
My mouth fell open. For a second, I couldn’t form a single word. Thoughts raced through my head in a frantic tangle. Then everything tried to come out at once.
“We didn’t— I didn’t— He— Wait...could I have done that?”
Judy burst out laughing, full-throated and delighted. When she finally composed herself, she shook her head and patted my hand.
“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “I was just kidding. Even if you had thought to ask, he probably wouldn’t have told you. It’s never that easy.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged. “Who knows? Ghost logic. Things just don’t seem to work that way.”
She stood and reached for her coat. “Now, I’d better get going. Will you be okay?”
I nodded, still a little dazed.
She leaned in and kissed my cheek. I started to rise to walk her out, but she waved me off.
“Stay put. Drink your tea. Don’t let it go to waste.”
I nodded, only half-listening. My mind was already picking at her comment about how it didn't work like that. I remembered Seth's saying he had rules about what he could say and do. Was it the same with all ghosts? I'd gotten the impression that Seth occupied some sort of special category in the echelon of the dearly departed, but what did I know?
"She's right you know," someone said, and I nearly spit hot tea across the table.
I coughed and set the mug down with a clatter. "I hate it when you do that."
"I know," Seth said, entirely too pleased with himself.
He slid into the chair across from me and casually propped his feet on the table. I opened my mouth to scold him — then stopped. Scolding a ghost for putting his spectral feet on the table felt like a waste of breath. Still, I gave him a look.
"Just for the record," he said, settling in, "in my professional opinion, you were never in any real danger today. At least not from anything ghostly. Breaking into an active crime scene, though — that’s another story."
I leaned forward, suddenly alert. "Was that Paul? Did I interact with his ghost?"
Seth shrugged. "I don’t know. I wasn’t there."
"Then how do you know I wasn’t in danger?"
"I was listening to your little tea-time therapy session with Judy."
"You were eavesdropping."
"I hadn’t made myself known yet."
"That’s literally the definition of eavesdropping."
He rolled his eyes. "Are you done? Because I was trying to make a point."
I gestured for him to proceed.
"Based on what you told Judy, whatever — or whoever — was guiding you in that apartment clearly didn’t mean you harm. You were vulnerable, and if something wanted to hurt you, you wouldn’t be sitting here nursing your trauma with Earl Grey."
I frowned. "Whoever or whatever?"
"There are other things out there, Killian. Not everything in the spirit world is a ghost."
"You mean, like...angels?"
"Not exactly."
"Demons?"
He raised a brow. "Let’s not get ahead of ourselves."
"Are any of them, you know, unfriendly?"
"You bet your sweet booty they are."
I groaned and sank lower in my seat. "Fantastic."
"But like I said, I don’t think that’s what this was. If I had to guess, I’d say it was Paul. Or at least some aspect of him."
"Some...aspect?"
"Yeah. It doesn’t have to be Paul’s conscious spirit. Sometimes a person leaves behind an imprint — an emotional echo, like a psychic fingerprint. Places they lived, places they died...those impressions stick. They’re not sentient, but if someone like you comes along with the right kind of sensitivity, they can...respond. Sort of."
I let that sit for a moment, rolling the idea around in my head. "So what I felt...the hands on my throat...that wasn’t really Paul attacking me to relive his death?"
"Probably not. More likely, it was you reacting to the energy he left behind. Strong emotion — especially terror, pain, trauma — burns itself into a place. It’s not unusual for someone with your particular talents to tap into that."
"And the feeling of being pulled to the bedroom?"
He nodded. "Same deal. The strongest impression would be where the strongest emotion occurred. Death — especially violent death — leaves behind a mark. You picked up on it."
I rubbed my arms, suddenly chilled. "So you don’t think Paul’s ghost is actually there?"
He shrugged again. "He might be. He might not. I’m just saying what you experienced doesn’t require an actual ghost to be present. Don’t get too hung up on definitions."
"You’re a real comfort, you know that?"
"Hey, I’m just here to keep you humble."
"You know, you’re not actually that helpful."
He smirked. "Want me to stop showing up?"
"No! Don’t—" I cut myself off, scowling. "You know I don’t."
"Then quit your whining."
I stuck my tongue out at him.
He grinned and returned the gesture before vanishing into thin air, as usual.
"You always have to have the last word, don’t you?" I muttered into the silence.
Somewhere, I was sure he was still laughing.
I took Sunday off and had class Monday morning, so it was mid-afternoon by the time I finally made it into the office. I wasn't expecting much of a welcome — Mondays weren’t exactly warm-and-fuzzy to begin with — but I also wasn’t expecting to find Novak sitting at my desk.
"I’ve got good news," he said before I was even all the way through the door.
"Whatever happened to manners?" I asked theatrically, dropping my bag. "Doesn’t anyone say hello anymore?"
He gave me a look. "I thought you'd be more interested in the news."
"I am. But a greeting wouldn’t kill you." I plopped onto the worn orange chair across from him. "For the record, I’ve got news too. I want to fill you in on Saturday."
"Fair enough. Who goes first?"
"You."
He grinned. "I got you tickets to the Equality Ball."
I sat up straighter. "Yes! You're a miracle worker, Novak."
"Yeah, yeah. I know. Don’t start singing my praises just yet — I only scored them because I know someone who had a couple extra."
"Still, you came through. Are you going with me?"
"Nope. You're going with Micah."
That made me pause. "Wait. What? I am? Why?"
"I want someone with you," he said, calm and matter-of-fact. "But it can’t be me. Odds are good you’ll run into Jake, and you can’t very well explain my presence to him. You and Micah, on the other hand? Totally plausible. Micah’s a reporter and you’re his date."
I started to object, but he cut me off with a raised eyebrow. "No buts. You either go with Micah or you don’t go at all."
I was beginning to suspect Novak was playing matchmaker in his spare time.
"When is it again?" I asked.
"A week from Sunday. Halloween night. It’s a masquerade ball."
"Great. So now I need a costume too?"
"Not exactly. It’s formal — tuxedos and masks, not mummies and fake blood. Think elegance, not cosplay."
"You’re kidding."
"I promise you I’m not. You might want to give Micah a heads-up too, so he doesn’t show up in a Dracula cape."
"And how are we supposed to know who anyone is if everyone’s masked?"
He chuckled. "Most people take them off at some point. These things are more about being seen than staying anonymous."
I sighed. "Why can’t anything ever be simple?"
"Because then it wouldn’t be nearly as fun." He leaned back. "Now, your turn. Tell me what you uncovered this weekend."
I gave him the rundown — an edited version, of course. I left out the supernatural elements and anything too legally dubious. He listened without interrupting, nodding occasionally. When I finished, he leaned against the edge of my desk, arms crossed.
"That was a solid report," he said. "Now give me your impressions. Not the facts. I want to hear what your gut tells you."
"Well..." I hesitated, organizing my thoughts. "I don’t like Razi. I don’t trust him — instinctively — but that doesn’t make him a killer."
"You know better than to go on instinct alone. It’s failed you before."
"True." I rubbed the back of my neck. "Honestly, I think my discomfort with Razi is tangled up with the situation with Tad. That whole thing feels...off."
"It is off. To put it mildly. But it’s not our focus — at least not right now. Finish the case. Then take it to the police."
I nodded. "As for suspects, Tad actually has a decent motive. I like him, but I can’t ignore that. And that's really all the suspects I have at this point, unless you count unknown clients and the other escorts at the agency."
"I don't. Not that you should rule them out, but vague categories aren't the same as actual suspects. You need names. So, next steps?"
"I want to interview Paul’s family. And I need to track down Neal, the guy who owns the escort agency."
"Good." He smiled faintly. "That’s exactly what I would have recommended. But prioritize the agency. Neal’s the center of that particular web. And for that, I think you need Micah’s help."
There it was again — a not-so-subtle nudge toward Micah.
Or maybe I was just being paranoid.
"I’ll call him," I said with a sigh. "Just as soon as you get out of my chair."
Novak pushed himself off the desk and stood, then started toward his office. He paused in the doorway and turned back to look at me.
"I know this is none of my business," he said, voice softer, "but whatever’s going on between you and Micah? You should figure it out. Before it’s too late."
I looked up sharply. "What do you mean, too late?"
"Life’s unpredictable, kiddo. You never know what tomorrow holds. Let go of what doesn’t matter. Hang on to what does."
He disappeared into his office, closing the door with a soft click behind him.
I sat in silence for a long moment, replaying his words.
It’s hard to tell the difference between what matters and what doesn’t when you’re knee-deep in the middle of it. But one thing I did know — Micah mattered.
I took a deep breath, pulled out my phone, and dialed his number.
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