The Truth of Yesterday

Book 4 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries

By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026

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Chapter 28

A sharp knock jerked me awake.

I jumped upright, briefly disoriented, not knowing where I was. Then I focused on Evans's sour mug glaring at me through the car window and realized what had happened.

Glancing at my watch as I opened the door, I saw I'd been asleep for almost half an hour.

"I hope you weren't waiting to bug me some more," he said.

"No, actually I was just resting my eyes. I haven't been sleeping very much lately."

"If you're that tired, are you sure you're okay to drive?" He sounded almost concerned.

"Yeah, I'll be fine after my power nap," I said with a cheeky grin.

"Then get going," he said, slapping the roof.

"Yes, sir." I sketched a salute and pulled the door shut.

He tapped on the window again, but this time I just rolled it down.

"One more thing." He leaned down to look in at me. "You be careful. You're one of the good guys. It'd be a shame to lose an investigator of your caliber. That was some fine detective work you did. I'd be proud to have you on the force."

"Thank you, Detective Evans," I said, sincerely moved.

He walked quickly away across the parking lot.

I watched him go, then pulled out my phone. I mentally crossed my fingers and dialed Jake's number. The phone rang and rang before going to voicemail. I hung up, waiting a few seconds, then tried again. That time, it went directly to voicemail.

I sighed and typed out a text message: "Hey, I know you're mad at me, and you have every right to be, but please call me. It's urgent."

I didn't have much faith that I'd get an answer, which meant it was on to my backup plan — the one that I had a feeling no one would approve of.

I started the car and headed for Chris's house. I owed her an explanation.

Chris's father, Lou, insisted I stay for dinner so I could tell the three of them what had happened.

"I have to say, I'm impressed," Lou said when I'd brought them up to speed.

I laughed. "I couldn't have done it without Chris."

Chris actually blushed a little.

"So that's it, then?" she said, in an effort to shift the attention away from herself. "The case is closed? Fenton Black killed Paul Flynn?"

"Well, the case won't be officially closed until they arrest him, but yeah, all the evidence points to Black as the killer."

"But our part is finished?"

"Your part is finished. I still have one more thing I have to do."

"What would that be?"

I shook my head. "It'd be better if you didn't know."

"It's not something illegal, is it?" Lou asked.

"No, nothing like that."

"Then what do you mean it would be better if I didn't know?" Chris asked.

"If you knew you'd probably try to talk me out of it, which would be pointless because it's something I have to do."

"So it's something stupid or dangerous," she muttered darkly.

"Or both," Lou said jokingly.

"Killian..." Chris started.

"Chris, really. You don't even know what I'm going to do, so why try to talk me out of it?"

"Listen to him, Christina," Lou said before our difference of opinion could degenerate into an argument. "Sometimes there are things on a case that aren't part of the official investigation but still need to be taken care of — for closure, if nothing else. God knows we don't often get it, so if we have the chance, we go for it."

I practically glowed under the inclusion implied in his statement. This veteran cop considered me to be an investigator. I was still basking in the warmth his words gave me when Chris sighed. "Well, you're going to spending the night here, at least."

"Actually no, I can't do that. I have to get back tonight."

Chris frowned. "Why? What's the rush? You're exhausted. You shouldn't be driving."

"I...I just have to get back as quickly as possible."

"Does this have to do with your closure?"

"Yes."

"Killian, I'm going to have to side with Chris on this one," Lou said. "It's obvious you're tired. If you hadn't been telling us about the investigation, I think you'd have been asleep in your plate by now. Whatever it is you have to do, it will wait until morning."

I shook my head vehemently. "That's just it. What I have to do can't wait. I have a very narrow window of opportunity, so I have to take advantage of it tonight. It could be too late by tomorrow."

Everyone sat in tense silence for a few seconds while Kevin looked back and forth between the three of us, all equally stubborn and determined.

Lou finally broke the deadlock. "Okay."

"Okay?" Chris demanded.

"Yes, okay. Killian isn't my child. In fact, he isn't a child at all. He can make his own decisions. He knows the risks. If he says he has to drive back tonight, then that's the way it has to be. I can't stop him."

"Thank you," I said quietly. "I'd better head back soon, though, so I'll be that much less tired." He nodded while Chris scowled. "I have a few phone calls to make first. I'll use my cell phone outside."

"You don't have to do that...unless you need the privacy."

"Well, that and I get better reception. Your house is like a dead zone. I'll say goodbye before I leave."

I excused myself from the table and slipped out the door. I tried Jake again, but wasn't surprised when it once again went directly to voicemail. I left another message, asking him to call me right away.

Next, I called Judy. She answered on the first ring as if she'd been waiting for the phone to ring.

"Judy, it's Killian."

"Oh, hi, Killian." Her voice was filled with disappointment, which pretty much confirmed my reason for calling.

"You haven't heard from Jake?"

"Nothing. Not a word since he left the other night."

"That's what I figured. Well, try not to worry. I think I know where he is, and I'm going to go get him."

"Killian...be careful." Her voice carried much more weight than I thought those simple words could convey.

"Is this a specific warning or just a general word of caution?" I asked carefully.

"Specific."

"Does this have anything to do with your...gift? What you told me about the other night?"

"Yes. The feeling of death has gotten stronger. It's...imminent. It's like a black cloud surrounding you and Jake."

I took a deep breath as the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

"I'll be as careful as possible."

"I just hope it isn't too late."

With those dire words echoing in my mind, I hung up and called Micah.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Hey, it's me."

"What's happening? How are things going?"

"Things are going very well, actually. I'll tell you everything, but you have to be quiet until I'm finished. I need to hurry."

"What's the rush?"

"I'll get to that." I quickly filled him in on everything that had happened since I'd talked to him last. I finished up with, "So Evans told me I only have twelve to twenty-four hours before they move to arrest Black. I have to get Jake out of there before then."

"Considering how badly the Feds want Black, I'd say you're probably closer to the twelve-hour estimate, maybe even less."

"That's what I figured. So what I need from you now is Fenton Black's address."

"Why do you need to know that?"

"I just told you, I have to try and get Jake out before the police show up."

"Killian, you're not going to be able to just waltz in. Black lives on a gated estate, and I'd be willing to bet he has security guards. You could be walking right into their hands."

"It's a risk I have to take. I can't just leave Jake in there."

"Killian, this is nuts. Do you have a death wish?"

"No," I said between clenched teeth, trying not to think about Judy's premonition. "I do not have a death wish. If you're not going to help me, I'll figure it out another way, but I'm doing this with or without your help."

Micah sighed. "Okay, fine. I'll help, but only on one condition."

"What's that?"

"That you wait for me."

"Huh?"

"Black's house is only about twenty minutes on this side of the bridge. He's closer to you than to me, so I want you to wait for me."

"You're not coming," I said firmly.

"It's the only way you'll get the address from me."

I stewed and argued for a few minutes but eventually gave in.

Micah looked up the address and gave it to me. "Hang on. I'm pulling it up on Google Maps so we know what we're up against." I listened to his keystrokes for a few seconds before he continued. "His place is on a secondary road and sits well away from the street. There aren't any other houses nearby. A fence runs around the perimeter of the property, which backs up to a river. The only way in seems to be the front gate. If you pass the house, the road ends in another half mile in a little cul-de-sac where you can turn around. On its left side is a small dirt lane that was probably a logging access road at one time. It looks to be mostly overgrown now, but there should be enough room for you to hide your car. Pull in as far as you can to let me get in behind you. Wait for me there."

"When can you leave?" I asked.

"I'm at work, so I'll need a few minutes to get everything squared away. I can't just walk out. It'll take me an hour and a half at least to drive up, so expect me in about two hours. From D.C., it shouldn't take you more than an hour to an hour and a half, depending on traffic and how fast you drive."

"I'll meet you there."

I let myself back in to find Kevin smirking at me by the door.

"Chris went upstairs," he reported. "She said she wasn't going to speak to you. Want me to show you to her room anyway?"

I stifled a smile. "Yes, please."

Occasionally, a bratty younger brother can prove useful.

He led me up the stairs to Chris's door, which was closed. I tapped on it hesitantly.

"Chris? It's me. Can we talk?"

She opened it and stood glaring at me. I managed to get a peek around her at the room beyond, which was pretty much what I'd expected: organized and neat as a pin. A few black-and-white photographs in simple black frames hung on plain white walls. A very expensive computer shared the wall I could see with a floor-to-ceiling bookcase that was filled to overflowing. The only traditionally feminine touch in the entire room was an ornate brass bed covered with a pure white coverlet.

"I thought you were in a hurry," she said peevishly.

"I sorta am, but I didn't want to leave until we'd talked."

"What's there to talk about? I thought we were partners, and here you go running off to do something stupid and/or dangerous, and you won't even tell me what it is."

"Is that what this is really about? That you're not included?"

She frowned. "Maybe."

"If I tell you what I'm doing, will you ease up on me?"

"Maybe."

"Look, Chris. I meant what I said at dinner. It's true I could have never done this without you. I've really enjoyed working with you, and I'd like to think we became friends as well as partners in this investigation. It would be great if we could work together again someday if I have a case that leads me up this way."

"Yeah, I'd like that too," she said. "I've learned a lot from helping you. You're a good investigator, Killian."

"So are you. Friends?"

"Yeah. Now, what is it you have to do?"

I quickly gave her a rudimentary outline of what I was going to try.

She stared at me dubiously when I finished.

"That sounds extremely stupid and dangerous."

I shrugged. "Maybe so, but I have to do it."

"Because this guy Jake used to be a friend of yours?"

"Yeah, and because I let him down. That's part of the reason he's in this position to begin with. I feel I owe it to him to at least try to get him out of there before the cops show up. Maybe it will start to make up for my being such an awful friend."

"I can't imagine you ever being an awful friend, Killian. It takes two people to make a friendship."

"I have to do it for my own peace of mind."

"Okay. Just...be careful."

"I will."

'Be careful' was soon going to become my motto.

She stepped forward and surprised me by giving me an awkward hug.

"Let me know how it turns out."

She stepped back and wiped her palms nervously on her pants.

"Okay."

"Wish I was going," she added with very real wistfulness in her voice.

I raised an eyebrow. "I think that would make you the stupid one here."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to go. It's not that I can't wait to throw myself into harm's way. It's just something I feel I have to do."

She grinned and shrugged. "I'd like a little more excitement in my life. So sue me."

I laughed and turned to let myself out.

"Hey, Killian?" I stopped in the doorway. "You've definitely made things exciting lately. Now I know for sure that I want to become a detective. Thanks."

"Anytime," I said with a wink. "You'll make a good detective."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

I shut her door behind me, said my goodbyes to Lou and Kevin, and started the drive to Black's house. I had to arrive there well before Micah if my plan was going to work.

My exhaustion caught up with me as soon as I was out of the city. It was a constant struggle just to keep my eyes open. My eyelids felt as though they were made of lead.

After a few swerves onto the shoulder, I rolled my window down and let the crisp fall air hit me directly in the face. Although it worked for a little while, even that began to wear off before long.

I turned on the radio, found an obnoxiously upbeat pop station, and cranked the volume up as loud as I could stand. It was an exercise in futility.

I began to worry that I'd never make it over the Bay Bridge. I had visions of getting halfway across before falling asleep at the wheel and plunging to my death in the waters below. Maybe that was what Judy's whole feeling of death was foretelling. I'd always been somewhat uncomfortable around water — I had an irrational fear of dying by drowning — so the anxiety actually kept me awake all the way over.

Once on the Eastern Shore, however, the weariness returned with a vengeance. I had to struggle to stay alert enough to follow the GPS directions. I almost missed my turn and had to backtrack when I passed the road Black lived on.

When I reached his house, I slowed down slightly to get a quick glimpse of the place I would have to infiltrate. It was a hulking fortress built of brick and stone, surrounded by a high metal fence that stood at least twice as high as I was tall. Security lights were placed at regular intervals around the perimeter. There was an actual guard booth at the gate, although I didn't see anyone in it as I drove by. The whole place looked as if it had been built to withstand an invasion, which, come to think of it, may have been the case.

I drove a little further until I came to the cul-de-sac Micah mentioned. My headlights swept the wall of trees, illuminating the narrow path — calling it a road would be misleading — right where Micah had described. It was just wide enough for me to ease my car into, but tight enough that I had nightmares of scratching my paint job. I pulled in as far as possible, although I wasn't sure if there would be enough room for Micah's car behind me.

Since a tree was too close to the driver's side to permit the door to open all the way, I had to slither sideways out the small opening.

I popped the trunk to rummage through the assorted junk that had built up in there — a sandy blanket from an impromptu beach picnic with Micah, jumper cables that Adam insisted I have with me at all times, and a lightweight doohickey that could inflate your tires and flash a warning light at the same time.

Somewhere in the mess, I knew I had an old backpack containing a black shirt, black pants, gloves, and a black skull cap. Novak called it the cat-burglar ensemble. He said every good investigator needed to keep one handy in case of emergencies. He'd never expounded on what constituted an emergency, but I figured what I was about to do qualified as one.

I quickly changed into the commando outfit and started back toward the house on foot. I had no intention of waiting for Micah. I wasn't about to put him in danger. Besides, I had to do this on my own.

Slipping through the shadows, staying just inside the tree line, it didn't take me long to reach the corner of the fence protecting the Black estate. I contemplated climbing it, but it was too high, and the spikes at the top looked sharp, so I decided to save that route as a last resort. I'd check out my other options first.

I crossed to the opposite side of the road to stay under the cover of the trees, and made my way to the gate. I watched it for a few minutes, but there was no sign of anyone around.

I saw at least one security camera mounted to the side of the guard booth, pointed at the drive. I thought I could get closer to the booth and avoid the camera pretty easily — assuming it was the only one, of course.

I darted across the road again, staying as low to the ground as possible, my heart pounding in my chest. With the rush of adrenaline coursing through my system, my earlier fatigue was all but forgotten.

I crouched under the window of the guard booth for a few seconds. Surely, if there was anyone inside, he would hear the thumping of my heart. I slowly eased up until I could see into the booth — empty, although the lights were on, clearly showing the controls to open the gate.

I wondered if activating the gate caused any alarm in the house. Even if it didn't, how was I going to get into the booth to push the button in the first place? The only entrance was on the wrong side of the fence, and the glass I was looking through was undoubtedly bulletproof. It was certainly thick enough to withstand anything except maybe an atomic blast.

I edged my way to the corner of the booth and peered around at the gate. To my surprise, I realized that it wasn't closed all the way. It was open by a little less than twelve inches. That wasn't much, but, for once, being small might be to my advantage.

Then again, how was I to know it wasn't a trap of some sort? Maybe Black or his security team had spotted me skulking around and decided to lure the mouse into the trap before killing it. Cats like to play with their prey after all.

I was standing there fretting about what to do when I heard the distant sound of an approaching vehicle. I glanced down at my watch. It was just about time for Micah to be arriving. I had to move quickly, or in just a few seconds I would be fully caught in the headlights of the oncoming car.

Should I run back to the security of the trees or risk going through the gate?

I stood indecisively until the headlights began to light up the trees at the final turn. I made my decision and dove toward the gate. It was a tight fit, and there was a moment of panic when the button of my jeans snagged, but I managed to wiggle through and throw myself behind a nearby shrub just as the car zoomed past.

I thought it looked like Micah's, but I wasn't positive. If it was, I knew I had to move fast.

I began to weave my way across the seemingly endless expanse of lawn, moving in a crouched run from tree to bush. It was scant cover at best, but it made me feel better, if nothing else.

I finally reached the house and sat panting for a moment with my back to the cool brick wall. The breathlessness was due as much to fear as to being winded from the run.

I tried to calm myself. I couldn't afford to make any mistakes at that point. My life — and possibly Jake's — depended on my having all my wits about me.

Unfortunately, they seemed to have scattered.

When my breathing was finally under control, I started moving again. I had no idea how to get into the house. I was sure there must be some sort of security system, an alarm at least, wired to all the windows and entrances. I'd never broken into a house before, so I wasn't even sure I would know how to get a locked window open without simply breaking it. I'd been lucky with the gate — assuming it was luck and not stupidity — but I couldn't count on that again.

The front of the house was definitely out of the question. The main entrance was lit up as if it was broad daylight. I couldn't just march up to the door and knock.

Needing a better idea of what I was up against, I half-crawled, half-ran toward the back of the house. To my relief, it was not as well lit. Pools of inky darkness collected between security lights spaced too far apart.

After a few seconds of study, I decided the attached garage offered me my best opportunity to gain entrance. People often forgot to lock the garage door, or so I reasoned. Although getting there would involve a race through one of the well-lit areas, I didn't have a choice. With my heart in my throat, I made a mad dash, feeling as if I was in a spotlight.

I flattened myself against the wall next to the garage door and wondered if I was under surveillance the whole time. I could picture the security guards inside watching me on closed-circuit televisions, laughing as I zigged and zagged my way across the property, knowing they could snuff me out whenever they tired of the game.

I took a deep breath, grabbed the doorknob, and twisted. It yielded. I stared dumbly at the open door for a moment, too surprised to walk through.

This was way too simple. I was becoming uneasy.

I inched through the door into the dark interior, illuminated only by what little light spilled in from outside. The garage held two cars with space for a third. Both vehicles looked to be brand-new, expensive models.

I cautiously made my way to the inside entrance to the house, being extra careful not to bump into anything in the gloom, and paused at the door.

The way things were going, I couldn't decide whether I should wish for it to be locked or unlocked. If it was locked, I'd have to find another means of entry — unless, of course, someone had conveniently left a key under the mat. If it was unlocked, I wasn't sure if I could pass that off to incredibly good fortune.

Was I stupidly following crumbs of cheese right into a trap?

I turned the doorknob and heard the telltale click. It was unlocked.

I took a shaky breath. I'd come too far to chicken out. If it was an ambush, I was already well within their reach. If it wasn't, I was quite simply the luckiest guy on the face of the earth. I would have to follow this investigation with a trip to the casino.

I held the door closed for a few seconds while I collected myself.

Assuming this had all been some sort of amazing coincidence, which I was desperately trying to believe, I was now faced with what could be the trickiest part of the operation. I had to find my way through a strange house that was easily the size of a small hotel, locate Jake, persuade him to listen to me when he'd made it quite clear at our last meeting that he didn't want to talk to me anymore, and get him out of there...all without running into another soul.

Easy as pie.

I slipped quickly inside, closing the door behind me. I was immediately struck by the utter stillness of the house. It felt eerily like a tomb.

I stood statue-still, listening for a noise — any noise — but there was only total silence. Of course, as big as that place was, they could have been having a party on the third floor complete with live music and I wouldn't have heard.

I took stock of my surroundings. The door from the garage had opened into a rather large laundry room that I was pretty certain Fenton Black never used, at least not personally. Another door stood open, leading to what looked like a hallway. There were no lights on as far as I could see.

I walked slowly down the hall, stopping every few feet to listen. I passed a couple of closed doors, but there was no light showing beneath them and no sound from within. The hallway ended at a large dining room with a door on either side. I figured the one to the right opened into the kitchen, where I finally noticed a dim light burning. The one to the left, I assumed, led to the rest of the house.

Deciding it would be wise to check the kitchen before moving on, I crept up to the door and peeked in.

I froze as my heart leapt into my throat again.

A large man sat at the table facing away from me, backlit by a low-wattage hood light over the stove. I was afraid to move for fear he'd hear me and turn around.

Then I realized he was unnaturally still. Was he listening for me to move before spinning around and shooting?

We both remained motionless. It began to remind me of the game we used to play as children where you try to go the longest without moving or speaking. I hoped the name of the game wouldn't turn out to be a portent — we called it graveyard.

I stayed locked in position until I couldn't stand it any longer. The man at the table still hadn't moved. No one was that good at the game.

I took a hesitant step into the room.

When he still didn't move, I took another. And then another, until I was within a few feet of him. My feet stuck unpleasantly to the floor, as if something had been spilled.

I moved around beside him and felt the air rush out of me as I began to tremble.

A perfectly round hole the size of a dime punctuated his forehead, dribbling a tiny trickle of blood down his face.

If it was a mob-style hit we were looking for, I had just found it.

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