The Truth of Yesterday

Josh Aterovis is the author of Bleeding Hearts (ISBN: 1930928688) and the upcoming Reap the Whirlwind (Coming in May of 2003), published by Renaissance Alliance Publishing Inc. (http://www.rapbooks.biz) The Truth of Yesterday is the fourth book in the Killian Kendall series.

Visit "Black Sheep Productions" for more information. Official Site of the Killian Kendall Mystery Series http://www.steliko.com/bleedinghearts

The Truth of Yesterday

Chapter 30

My stomach lurched violently as I staggered back in horror. I barely made it to the trashcan before I lost the entire contents of my stomach. He wasn't the first dead body I'd seen, but apparently, it didn't get any easier with repetition. Dead bodies were officially out of my league. I quickly searched for a phone, finally finding it on the counter, and dialed 911 with shaking hands. I carefully kept my back to the dead guy the entire time.

When the dispatcher answered, I quickly told her that there'd been a murder and gave her the address. When she asked for my name, I hung up. I was still holding onto the idea that I might somehow find Jake and get him out of here before the police arrived. It suddenly occurred to me that I had no way of knowing whether the killer was still here in the house or not. A chill ran up my spine as I spun around. The hallway beyond the door was pitch black; anyone could have been hiding in the shadows, aiming the gun, preparing to shoot me right where I stood. With a stifled gasp, I dropped to the floor, getting an up close look at the gore splattered across its surface. The room began to spin and my stomach heaved again as I realized it was blood and brain matter. I fought down the nausea and waited for the dizziness to pass. Then pushed myself into a crouching position.

No one had come into the room and it was only a matter of time before the police arrived. I had to move quickly. I wasn't about to leave the kitchen without a weapon of some sort. I wished desperately that I had a gun, and it occurred to me that the guy at the table might be a security guard and therefore have one, but I wasn't about to get close enough to find out. I remembered seeing a knife block on the counter when I was looking for the phone. I stood up and pulled several out, choosing the largest one and leaving the rest. Still feeling terribly vulnerable, I eased back into the hallway and waited anxiously for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. So far, the house was still deadly quiet. For the first time, I began to truly fear for Jake.

I moved down the hall as quickly and quietly as possible. My ragged breathing sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness. I grew more tense with every second spent searching the first floor. Finally, I ended up at the bottom of the stairs to the second floor. I looked up into the blackness above me and felt as if I was looking into the mouth of some great beast, waiting to swallow me whole. I stood there for what felt like an eternity; I just couldn't seem to bring myself to walk blindly into its gullet. There was a light switch on the wall next to me, but I was afraid to turn it on. I didn't want to alert anyone that I was in the house if they didn't already know. Finally, I worked up enough nerve and slowly began to climb. I took one step at a time, testing it for squeaks before placing my entire weight on it. I managed to keep my assent pretty much silent until I was halfway up when of course, the step squeaked. The sound was like a car alarm in the eerie silence. I stood frozen like a deer caught in headlights until it became obvious no one was going to come running with gun blazing. I took the remaining steps quickly. I felt at a disadvantage as long as I was on them.

At the top, I found myself once again in a hallway. It stretched a short distance both ways. Four doors opened off it, two on one side, and two on the other. One of the doors on my left stood open so I moved cautiously towards it. Better to get that one out of the way first. As I edged up to the door, I noticed a light at the bottom of the door across from it. I stopped and listened, but I didn't hear anything from either room. The room with the open door was brightly lit from the security light outside. A quick glace showed it to be a home office, sparsely furnished with a simple but elegant antique desk and chair. Bookcases lined the walls, holding not just books, but also various exotic and ancient looking artifacts that would have been more at home in a museum. I had a feeling they probably were not obtained by entirely legal means. The room was empty with no place to hide. I turned back to the door with the light showing under it. I moved slowly until I could press my ear against the door-nothing. I touched the knob hesitantly, gripping the knife handle so tightly my fingers ached. I took a deep breath, turned the knob, and threw the door open in one sudden movement as I jumped back into the room across the hall.

Nothing happened; no one yelled out. It was just as quiet as it was before. I peeked around the corner. The door now stood open, spilling warm yellow light into the hall. A pair of feet splayed out on the floor were plainly visible through the door. I took a shuddery breath and stepped closer. The feet belonged to another dead body. This one had been shot as well, at least twice in the chest from the looks of things. He'd knocked over a table as he'd fallen. The room appeared to be a sitting room of some sort. There was a fireplace at one end with chairs arranged in conversational groupings. Another door stood partially open on my right.

I edged around the body, trying hard not to look too closely, and approached the door. I kicked it open and brandished my knife, as if it would stop a bullet. There were no lights on in the room, but enough light spilled in from the sitting room that I could see it was a lavishly furnished bedroom, and from the looks of things, someone was in the bed. Something was very wrong. No one could sleep through all this. I fumbled clumsily for the light switch. The room suddenly filled with bright light and I found myself staring at a very naked, very dead Fenton Black sprawled across the bed. Blood splattered across the pure white silk sheets. He too had been shot. I looked quickly away.

I realized that everyone I'd found had looked as if they'd been caught by surprise. It was a big house, but they still should have heard the gunshots. Unless the killer was using a silencer. More importantly, I still hadn't found Jake.

I took a quick look around the spacious room. The king sized bed took up a large part of the floor space. An enormous armoire sat opposite the bed, its front doors open to reveal a large television set. A leather sofa and arm chair sat in front of another fireplace, the back side of the one in the sitting room, I realized. Original oil paintings of what appeared to me to be the Masters hung on the wall. Mirrored sliding glass doors led to what I assumed to be the closet. I was about to leave the room when I noticed a shoe sticking out from behind the sofa. I moved closer, hoping it would just be an empty shoe and I wouldn't find Jake dead as well.

A muffled sob escaped me when I got close enough to see that it was indeed Jake. It took me a few seconds of panic before I realized that there was no blood and that he was breathing. He was alive, but unconscious.

I dropped to his side with another sob, this one of relief. Then I noticed the gun gripped loosely in his hand. I felt the knife slip from my numb fingers as I realized the implications. No, no, no. It can't be true, my brain jabbered as I pushed away. Why not? another part of me argued. After all he's been through, you had to expect him to crack eventually. His brother was a killer. Maybe it runs in the family. He looked so peaceful lying there, as if he were simply taking a nap. But only a few feet away lay a murdered body, and here was Jake holding a gun. Passed out? Except for his shallow breathing, he hadn't moved a muscle since I'd found him. I took a closer look and noticed some bruising on his face and around his mouth.

"Jake?" I said, my voice coming out in a hoarse croak. "Jake?" I shook his foot hesitantly.

"Freeze, don't move," a loud voice suddenly barked from behind me. I screamed and lurched forward, throwing myself behind the couch with Jake.

"This is the police," the voice identified itself. "You're under arrest. Come out with your hands where I can clearly see them. If you make any sudden moves, I will shoot."

"Don't shoot," I said shakily. "I'm the one who called the police. I'm Killian Kendall. I work for Shane Novak. We're private investigators."

"Come out where I can see you," the police officer ordered. "Keep your hands where I can see them."

I edged carefully out from behind the couch, moving slowly and deliberately, keeping my hands in plain sight at all times. The officer was wearing a uniform and pointing a gun right at me. If you've never had the pleasure of such an experience, let me tell you, it's a very unsettling feeling. I wasn't about to make any sudden moves. He looked surprised when he saw me.

"Let's see your license," he said, covering his surprise well. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, with dark hair, a carefully trimmed mustache, and heavy eyebrows over dark eyes.

"I don't have one. I'm still in training."

"Is there anyone else in the room with you?"

"Yes, there's another person behind the couch, but he's unconscious." I decided not to mention the gun just yet. The cop looked a little nervous as it was. "He might need medical help."

"Guys," he said, as he stepped farther into the room, his gun never once wavering. Two more uniformed police officers stepped around him, guns drawn, and approached me carefully.

"Turn around," one of them ordered. I quickly did as he said and I was grabbed roughly from behind, pushed down onto the sofa, and handcuffs were swiftly snapped around my wrists. It all happened so fast I didn't have time to do more than gasp. After patting me down and removing my wallet, they left me on the couch, the first cop still holding the gun on me, while the other two checked Jake.

"He's got a gun," one of them said tightly.

"Is he out?" the first one, who seemed to be in charge, asked.

"Looks like it."

"Get Deacon and have him get some shots before you move him then. We don't want to fuck this one up. This is high profile."

One of the officers stood up and started to leave the room.

"Take the other kid with you," the one in charge snapped.

He hauled me roughly to my feet and shoved me in the direction of the door. He led me downstairs and into the front room, which appeared to have been taken over as headquarters. The place seemed to be crawling with cops. As we passed, I saw flashes coming from the kitchen. Apparently, the crime lab was already getting started. My escort left me sitting awkwardly on a chair; hands still cuffed behind my back, and placed another young cop to watch over me. He wasn't very talkative and I wasn't exactly feeling chatty myself, so we sat in uncomfortable silence while police bustled busily around us. I had plenty of time to study the guy they'd chosen to watch me. He couldn't have been more than a few years older than me. He was probably fresh out of police academy. He had close-cut light reddish-brown hair and hazel eyes. A smattering of freckles across his pug nose made him look even younger. His thin lips were pressed together in a nervous expression and I realized that this was probably his first big case. He looked almost as scared as I felt.

After about half an hour, they wheeled the guy from the kitchen out in a body bag.

Soon after, the officer in charge from upstairs came into the room and spotted me. He frowned and walked over.

He looked down at the clipboard in his hand. "Killian Kendall," he announced in a dark voice. "What do you know about these murders?"

"Less than you do, probably."

His frown deepened. "What were you doing here?"

"Am I still under arrest?"

"Considering I found you at the site of a multiple homicide, yes."

"Then maybe I should wait to talk until I have a lawyer."

"Damn kids. You've watched too many movies. You got something to hide?"

"No, sir. I just think it would be best if I wait to be questioned until I have a lawyer."

He sucked in a deep breath between clenched teeth. "Marshall, take him to the station and lock him up," he growled to my young guard. "And be sure to let him call his damn lawyer first."

The officer nodded sharply. "Yes, sir," he said. So he could speak. He helped me up and led me out the front door and towards the cluster of police cruisers parked on the lawn. I noticed he was being a lot gentler than the guys who'd cuffed me. The whole thing was kind of surreal. I'd never been arrested before. I was pretty shaken, but I would have been a lot more scared if I thought there was any chance of being charged with anything. I knew I hadn't done anything to be charged with though...unless you counted breaking and entering. And possibly interfering with a crime scene. Hmm, maybe I should be a bit worried after all.

"I'm going to switch your cuffs to the front," the cop said, stopping next to one of the cars.

"Thanks," I said, unsure of what else to say to that. I was relieved though. It was very uncomfortable with my arms locked behind my back.

"You're Killian Kendall?" he asked softly as he unlocked one side of the handcuffs. I gratefully dropped my arms to my side, but he quickly pulled my wrists forward and cuffed them again in front. "I've read about you in the paper."

"About me?"

"Yeah, I..."

"Killian!" a familiar voice called from the direction of the street.

I turned and spotted Micah by the front gate behind the police tape. Another officer stood nearby, arms crossed over his chest, making sure no one dared cross the line.

"The reporters are here already?" Officer Marshall grumbled. "They're like vultures."

"Actually, he's with me," I said and then I called to Micah, "Find Novak and Judy."

"You shouldn't be talking to him," Marshall said uncertainly.

"Sorry," I said and allowed him to push me gently into the back seat. He buckled me in and then he slid in behind the wheel. A metal grill separated the front seat from the back. We didn't speak again until we were on the road.

"What did you mean you've read about me in the paper?"

"After you solved that ax murder case. I wasn't on the force yet, but there was a big article about you. It said you'd solved another case too, when you were younger."

"Oh, um...I don't know that I solved either of them really."

"The article said you did. Is that what you were doing here?"

"I probably shouldn't say anything..."

"I'm not going to tell anyone. I think it's awesome that you're so young and you're out there solving crimes that the police can't figure out."

"It's not always that they can't," I said, thinking about Seth and Paul. "Sometimes it's because they don't really care."

"What do you mean?"

"Some cases don't seem to get the same priority. Fenton Black was a killer and a criminal and there must be twenty to twenty-five cops crawling around his house, just because he was rich and powerful. I had a friend who was murdered because he was gay and no one cared about finding his killer. The case I'm working on now involves a young guy who was murdered in his own apartment, but because he was a gay escort, nothing happened on his case for over a month."

"So you were on a case. Black was involved?"

I sighed. "I'm not saying anything more about it."

Marshall looked disappointed. He looked at me in the rear view mirror, his eyes catching mine. "I'm gay too," he suddenly blurted out.

I blinked in surprise. I couldn't believe this was actually happening. I was sitting handcuffed in the back of a police car while the cop driving came out to me. This day kept getting more and more bizarre.

"I've never told anyone before," he went on.

"Oh." I didn't know what else to say.

"Was that reporter your boyfriend?'

I nodded. "How did you know he was a reporter?"

"You get to know the reporters pretty quick around here. It's not like there's that many, and he's been working on that corruption case." He was quiet for a minute. "I've never had a boyfriend."

He obviously wanted to talk about it. "How long have you known?" I asked.

"That I'm gay? A long time. Since junior high at least."

"Why didn't you ever tell anyone?"

"I don't know. I grew up in a small farming town, very rural. All my friends were rednecks. I wasn't like...you know, queer acting, so I fit in. It just seemed easier not to tell anyone. I dated a couple girls in high school but it wasn't serious. I never even kissed one of them. Man, it feels good to be telling all this to someone."

"Um, glad I can help."

"My dad used to be a state trooper, but he was injured in an accident when I was a kid. He always wanted me to become a cop too, so when I graduated high school, I went to community college and went into the police academy as soon as I was old enough. I've never even kissed a guy, but I've thought about it a lot." He looked at me in the rearview mirror again and I got the feeling he was thinking about it right then.

"You should, uh, meet more people. Gay people I mean," I said awkwardly.

"I don't know where," he said, blushing. "And I'd be scared. I don't think the guys in the department would be very happy if they found out." His eyes widened as he thought of something. "You won't tell anyone will you?"

"No, I won't tell anyone," I assured him. "I promise. It's not my place to out anyone else."

He gave me a tentative smile. "Thanks. Maybe I'll come out some day, but not yet."

We arrived at the police station just then, and all conversation about being gay was abruptly dropped. He led me inside, where the officers had apparently been warned of my impending arrival. I was photographed and fingerprinted, just like a real suspect, and then I was allowed to make my phone call. I looked up the phone number for the only lawyer I knew, Ilana Constantino. She was a family lawyer, but she was the only person I could think of to call. I didn't want to panic Adam. Ilana agreed to get there as quickly as possible and said she'd call Adam to let him know what was going on.

I was then led to the holding area. My cuffs were removed and I was locked inside the small featureless cell. My stomach sank as the door swung shut with a loud clang. I sat down on the metal bed built into one wall and suddenly everything caught up to me at once. The lack of sleep, the shock of finding the dead bodies, my fears for Jake, being arrested...whatever had been holding me together completely collapsed and tears began to fall, slowly at first, and then faster as my sobs built. Eventually, I cried myself into an uneasy sleep.

I startled awake as keys jangled outside my cell. I sat up with a jerk to find the officer who had been giving orders back at Black's house. He didn't look any happier than the last time I'd seen him.

"You're lawyer is here now, Kendall," he said as he unlocked the door. "If you'd be so kind as to follow me, we'll have that little chat now."

I didn't really follow him; he walked a few careful steps behind me, directing me where to go with terse commands. At least he didn't put the cuffs back on. We arrived at an interrogation room, a small room with a table and a few chairs. Ilana was waiting at the table, looking as calm and self-assured as always. She was the lawyer that handled all the legal proceedings when Mom gave Adam custody of me, and when Adam had fought his ex-wife for custody of Kane. She was a close friend of the family. It was a comfort just to see her.

I sat down at the table and the officer sat down across from me. "I'm Detective Rosen," he told me. "This will all be recorded. Please state your full name."

"Killian Travers Kendall."

"Please tell me what you were doing at the estate of Fenton Black this evening when police responded to an anonymous call that a murder had taken place at that address."

I looked over at Ilana and she nodded. I took a deep breath. "Actually, the anonymous call was me. I was there because I work for Shane Novak; he's a private investigator, retired from the Baltimore City PD." Rosen didn't look impressed. "I'm working on a case involving a murder in Washington DC, a strangled escort. In the course of my investigation I discovered that Fenton Black was actually the murdered escort's...er, employer. Then I discovered evidence linking him to the killing itself. I turned the evidence over to a Detective Owen Evans of the DC this afternoon and they were planning on moving to arrest Black within the next 24 hours."

Rosen was scribbling furiously. He paused when I stopped. "I'm assuming this is the reader's digest version?" he asked dryly.

"Yes, sir."

"You still haven't explained what you were doing at Black's house."

"I was getting to that. The guy that was unconscious behind the couch is a friend of mine. His name is Jake Davis. He used to be Jake Sheridan; maybe you remember the Sheridan murders a few years ago." I could see in his eyes that he did, although he refused to comment. I continued, "I knew he was involved with Black and...well...it's a long story..."

"We've got all the time in world."

I took another deep breath. "I guess I felt I owed him a favor, so I wanted to warn him to get out before the police arrived." I finished up in a small voice.

"Exactly what do you mean by involved."

"I don't know all the details. I've heard that Black was something of a pedophile; he liked his boys young. I think Jake was his...boyfriend. I'm pretty sure he was supplying Jake with drugs."

"So you went to warn him that the police were coming?"

I nodded miserably, sure I was going to be charged with something now. I realized just how stupid it had been.

"What happened when you arrived? I want a detailed step by step account of your movements so we know where you went and what you did."

"I parked up the road at a dead-end turnabout."

"How'd you know it was there?"

"A reporter friend told me." He nodded and I went on. "I walked back and found the gate open. I was trying to decide whether or not to risk going in when a car came along so I went inside to avoid the headlights." He quirked an eyebrow but I ignored it. "Staying hidden as best I could, I made my way to the back of the house and went in through the garage."

"It was all unlocked?"

"Yes."

"And that didn't strike you as odd?"

"Maybe a little. To be honest, I wasn't really thinking very clearly. I was going on a serious lack of sleep; I'd been functioning on adrenaline all day. All I could think about was finding Jake. Anyway, I went inside and it was dark and very quiet. I went down the hall and I saw a light on in the kitchen. I went in and found the guy. He was...dead." I stop and gulped. "I called the police right away."

"But you didn't leave your name and then you stayed."

"I don't know why I didn't leave my name. I guess I didn't want anyone to know I was there. Especially if there was a chance I might still be able to find Jake and leave. I told you, I wasn't thinking clearly."

"What happened next?"

"I searched the rest of the first floor and then went upstairs. The door to the sitting room was closed, but I saw a light on so I opened it. There was one guy in the middle of the floor. He was dead too. The door to the bedroom was open so I went in and turned the lights on. That's when I found Fenton Black. I was about to leave when I saw Jake behind the couch. And that's pretty much when you came in."

"Do you know of any reason why someone might want to kill Fenton Black?"

I almost sighed with relief. Maybe they didn't suspect Jake after all. "I imagine people were lining up for the privilege. He was a drug dealer, he ran an illegal escort agency, he was involved with the mafia, and he was behind the corruption with the land deals here on the Shore."

"Let me be more specific. Do you know of any reason why Jacob Davis would want to kill Fenton Black?" My heart sank again.

"Jake isn't a killer," I protested, but it sounded weak even to me.

Rosen didn't comment, just sat there staring levelly at me.

"I really don't think he did," I repeated softly.

"I'm sure we'll take that into consideration," the detective said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. He stood to leave, signally the end of my interview. "Ballistics will be able to tell if the gun in his hand was the same weapon that killed the two bodyguards and Black. If it is, I'm afraid your opinion won't carry as much weight as the evidence."

The mention of the gun brought something to memory. "Did the gun have a silencer on it?" I asked.

"What?" I'd clearly caught him off guard.

"The gun in Jake's hand, did it have a silencer?"

"No, it didn't. May I assume there's a reason behind your seemingly random question?"

"Think about it," I said. "Three people were shot, all in the same house. Two of them were trained bodyguards. They all looked to me as if they'd been caught off guard. The house is huge, but you would still hear the gun shots, unless maybe the sitting room and bedroom were soundproofed. The only other option is that the shooter used a silencer."

Rosin looked down on me with a new respect in his eyes. "I'm going to go check on your story now. If any of it doesn't check out, you're going to be in very deep shit. I'll be back. You can wait in here."

As soon as the door closed, Ilana breathed a deep sigh. "That went a lot better than I had feared," she said.

"Really?" I asked. Not knowing what to expect, I hadn't known if it had gone well or not.

"Definitely. He didn't take you back to the cell, which means he probably believes you're being level with him. You are aren't you?"

"Yes. I told him the truth."

"Good. That was definitely the best move in this situation. You could still be facing some serious charges though Killian. What were you thinking?"

I shrugged helplessly. "I just wanted to help Jake. I've failed him in so many ways as a friend. I felt I owed him this. If I'd been a better friend to start with maybe he wouldn't have even been in this mess."

"Killian, you can't blame yourself for the choices other people make. Maybe you did play a part in all this, but he made the decision to get involved with Fenton Black. You didn't force him to do that."

I sighed. I knew she was right, but I still felt guilty. "So you think I could still get in a lot of trouble?"

"It all depends on how generous Detective Rosen is feeling. That last bit about the silencer might be helpful. If you have any other flashes of brilliance, it wouldn't hurt to share."

"What do we do while I wait for a flash of brilliance?"

"We sit here patiently."

We sat patiently for about an hour, while neither flash of brilliance nor Detective Rosen came. Finally, the door opened again and the detective came back into the room. He didn't look quite a sour as he had before. I took that as a good sign. I stood up to face him.

"Alright, Mr. Kendall. Your story checked out and several good men have vouched for you. I should be charging you on several counts, but since you have a clean record and this isn't usual behavior for you, we're going to let you go. But. If I ever catch you interfering with official police business again, or even hear that you've gotten in the way of an official investigation, you will face serious charges."

"I'm free to go?" I said, barely able to believe my luck.

"You're free to go."

"Thank you, Detective Rosen," I said sincerely, holding out my hand to shake.

"You're welcome, Mr. Kendall," he said shaking my hand. "By all accounts you're a good investigator. Don't ruin your chances by screwing up."

"I won't." He turned to leave but I had one more question. "Sir?"

He turned back.

"Was I right about the silencer?"

He paused for a second and I thought he wasn't going to answer, then he shrugged. "Let's just say the rooms aren't soundproofed."

I hugged Ilana and then she held me by the shoulders at arms length. "Now if you thought that was bad," she said with a smile, "you ain't seen anything yet. The hardest part is yet to come."

"What do you mean?" I asked in alarm.

"Adam, Shane Novak, and Micah are all waiting in the lobby."

I gulped. I knew she was right. I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. "Well, it's been a good life. Let's go face the firing squad."

She chuckled and slipped her arm through mine. "Any last requests?" she asked as we walked into the hall.

Adam and Micah leaped to their feet as soon as we came through the door. It was a race to see who could get to me first. Adam won by a hair, enveloping me in a huge hug. He gripped tightly for a long time, then stepped back abruptly and shook me by the arms. "Don't you ever do something that stupid again!"

He let go of me and Micah quickly moved in for a hug. He held me close even longer than Adam had, then whispered fiercely in my ear, "I love you, Killian Kendall, but I swear, if you ever do something like that to me again I will leave you and never look back."

I jerked back to look into his eyes and saw that he was very serious.

"I've never been so scared in my entire life," he said hoarsely as a tear rolled down his cheek. "I couldn't stand to lose you."

"I'm so sorry," I said, wiping away the tear. I felt as if my heart was being ripped out. "It's ok now though. It's all over."

"I'm still furious with you. Why didn't you wait for me?"

"If I had, you would have been arrested with me."

"At least I would have known what was happening. And you lied to me, Killian. You said you'd wait."

"I'm sorry."

"Can we continue this later?" Novak asked, walking up. He gave me an unreadable look. I had a feeling I'd be hearing from him later. "I'd like to get over the hospital to sit with Judy."

"The hospital?" I asked.

"Jake was admitted for a drug overdose," Adam told me.

"Oh my God! Is he ok?"

"He's still not regained consciousness last I heard, but they expect him to be fine," Novak reported.

I turned to look at Adam and Micah. "Can we go over there too?"

They both nodded. "Of course," Micah said.

"Are you going?" I asked Ilana.

"Well, I was really only here as a family friend. I'm not a criminal lawyer, so I won't be much help to Jake, but I can give some advice and if things look bad, I have a colleague who is an excellent criminal lawyer that I can recommend. So, yes, I'll come too."

We all left together, but drove to the hospital separately. Adam, Novak, Ilana, and Micah had all driven their own cars to the police station. I rode with Micah, but the drive over was mostly silent. I could tell Micah was really hurt.

"Micah, I'm really sorry," I tried at one point. "I just felt like this was something I had to do by myself. Promising to wait for you was the only way I could get you to give me the address. I'm sorry I lied to you. I promise I won't ever do it again."

"Not now, Killian," he'd responded and turned on the radio.

At the hospital, we found a Judy I hardly recognized. She looked so lost and alone sitting in the hospital waiting room. I'd never seen her look so defeated and, well, old.

She brightened a bit when she saw us, however. Her eyes caught and held mine, sharing the knowledge of the fulfillment of her vision. I could see the fear in her eyes that Jake would be the final loss.

There wasn't much to say. Nothing had really changed in Jake's condition, but the doctors were still being positive. We sat and waited in an uneasy silence, while sick and injured people came and went around us. I dozed fitfully, snapping awake as images of the dead bodies I'd seen floated up before my eyes over and over. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a doctor approached Judy, whose eyes I hadn't seen shut for the entire time we'd been there.

"Ms. Davis?" he asked.

"Yes," she said snapped to attention, her back straightening.

"Jake is awake now. The police have been in and talked to him and now he's asking to see you. They've said it's ok if you go in."

She was on her feet immediately. "If you'll show me the way," she said.

"Of course. Just follow me." He led her off beyond the doors. The rest of us sat waiting.

"Do you think they'll charge him?" I asked.

"They'll probably hold him in custody at least," Ilana said. "Unless they have more than they told us, they won't be able to actually charge him yet. The ballistics tests won't be done today, even with the rush they'll put on it because of who it is. We can probably get him home by tonight assuming they set his bail."

"I can't believe this is happening."

"Believe it," Novak said shortly and we fell back into silence.

It wasn't too long before Judy was back out.

"Killian, he wants to see you."

"Me?" I gasped.

"I told him what happened. He has no memory whatsoever of the killings. He can't tell the police anything. He can't even say for sure he didn't do it."

"Drugs?" Novak asked.

"Possibly," Judy said with a weary shrug. "He could also be blocking the memory. Or maybe he's lying. Who knows anymore?"

"The police said it's ok if he sees me?" I asked after an awkward pause.

"Yes. They're hoping something will trigger his memory. They're recording everything, of course, so be careful what you say."

I nodded and stood up nervously.

"Just go through those doors and a nurse will be waiting to show you the room."

I almost turned around when I saw Jake. He looked so pitiful lying in that big hospital bed, pale and sunken in. There was something black all around his mouth.

"Charcoal," he said in a frail voice.

"Huh?" I said as I drew closer to his side.

"The black stuff. They pumped my stomach and then gave me charcoal just to be safe. It's supposed to soak up any poisons in my stomach or something like that. I think it was just to torture me."

I stopped next to him and reached out a tentative hand. He took it in his, his grip weak.

"You came for me," he said after a moment.

I bit my lip, not sure what to say.

"You risked your life for me...again. After everything I said to you the other night."

"Actually, it was because of everything you said to me the other night. It made me realize what a terrible friend I've been. I wanted...to make it up to you somehow. I wanted to help you." I looked down at him. "What happened Jake?"

"I...I don't know."

"I don't even mean just tonight. I mean...what happened to you? How did you end up with Fenton Black?"

He looked away and a tear rolled down his cheek. "When I first came back," he said in a voice so soft I had to lean in to hear him, "I told you how messed up I was in California. That's part of the reason Mom wanted to move back here. I was having sex with anyone who would supply me."

"Supply you?"

"Drugs. I got into drugs. Mom moved me back here and I guess she thought that would stop it. It did for awhile; even I thought things might be different. But then, it wasn't. I started using again. Small stuff at first, weed, maybe some pills now and then. That stuff is easy to get. You can get it at school. It kept progressing. There was this one guy who supplied me for sex. His name was Julio or something like that, I don't even remember. Isn't that disgusting? He told me he knew someone who would like to meet me. It was Fenton."

"And he offered you drugs for sex?"

"More than just drugs. It was clothes and presents and cash. I felt like a prince. I felt like someone actually cared about me for a change. He didn't of course. All he cared about was the sex, but I could fool myself, lie to myself enough that I didn't think about that."

I squeezed his hand. "Did you kill him?" I asked softly.

His eyes welled up. "I don't know."

"What happened after I left the Ball?"

"He was furious. He screamed at me for talking to you. He said that I had ruined everything, that I was a stupid drug addicted slut, and that I had single-handedly brought down his empire. I told him I didn't know what he was talking about, that I hadn't told you anything. He didn't believe me. He took me home and then knocked me around a bit."

"He hit you?"

Jake nodded. "Then he gave me some drugs, I don't even know what. I didn't really care. I think he was hoping that I'd OD and take care of his dirty work for him."

"You almost did."

He looked up at me. "I wish I had."

I bent over him and gathered him up in a hug. "Don't say that, Jake," I said fiercely.

"Why not? It's true."

"Because...do you know what that would have done to me? To your mom? We love you Jake. I know I haven't done a very good job of showing it, but I do. I want to be a better friend for you."

We cried for a few minutes, him clinging to me as if I was a life preserver and he was drowning.

"Jake," I said at last, "I don't think you killed Fenton."

"You don't?"

"No, but I don't know who did. You have to try and remember."

"I can't, Killian. I've been trying. Really I have."

"Ok, what about the case I was working? Did you ever hear Fenton mention someone named Paul Flynn?"

He thought for a minute, "No, not that I can remember."

"He was an escort in Washington DC. He was murdered about a month ago. Paul knew that Fenton was involved in some illegal things and he'd been collecting evidence. I'm not sure what he intended to do with it, turn him in I guess, but he was a nice guy-if a little dumb-so he gave Fenton the chance to turn himself in first. I think Fenton killed him instead."

"I...maybe there was something..."

"What?"

"It was a little over a month ago maybe. Something had been bothering Fenton. He'd been really edgy for a couple weeks. We were in his bedroom one night when someone came to see him. I got the impression Fenton has asked him to come. Fenton always sent me out of the room when he talked business. I went to the sitting room and sat down by the fireplace. There was no fire going so the exhaust fan that pulls the smoke up the chimney wasn't on. I could hear most of what they said. It sounded like Fenton was asking this guy to kill somebody. He didn't come out and say it, but he kept saying things like, 'This problem has to be eliminated' and 'I want you to take care of this for me'."

"You think he was hiring this guy to kill Paul?"

"He never mentioned any names. It was like the guy knew who he was talking about. And he wasn't hiring him. They never discussed money or payment. It sounded to me more like Fenton had something he was holding over him, like blackmail or something."

"Did you see the guy?"

"Yeah."

"Can you remember what he looked like?"

"No problem. He was kinda small and dark skinned, like he was from the Middle East or something. He had dark eyes, long black hair, and kind of sharp features. He reminded me of a hawk."

I knew someone who fit that description perfectly. My heart began to pound as his name formed on my lips. "Razi!"