Date: Fri, 1 Nov 2002 14:04:50 EST
From: MystryAuthr@aol.com
Subject: Chapter 30 of 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!"