Date: Tue, 24 Dec 2002 16:36:59 EST
From: MystryAuthr@aol.com
Subject: Chapter 33 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 33

	The drive home from DC was very quiet for the most part. Since
Micah had suffered a slight head wound, I was doing the driving. Tad sat in
the back seat, silently staring out the window. I kept checking on him in
the rear view mirror, just to make sure he was still back there. He dozed
off after we'd crossed the bridge back to the Shore.

	"He's awful quiet," I commented softly to Micah.

	Micah twisted stiffly around to look back at the sleeping boy. He
looked even younger in sleep than he did awake. "He's been through a lot,"
he said.

	"I hate it that it has to be like that," I said, emotion thickening
my voice.

	Micah glanced over at me. "It's hitting close to home, huh?"

	I nodded. I tried to speak but my throat was suddenly too tight to
force the words though. I took a few deep breaths and tried again. "It
could have been me. If Adam hadn't been there for me, it could have been me
on the streets like that."

	Micah reached over and squeezed my leg. "But it wasn't you."

	We rode on a bit longer in silence, Micah's hand resting on my leg,
then he spoke up again. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Kill?"

	"What do you mean? Is what a good idea?"

	"Taking Tad home like this."

	I frowned. "Why wouldn't it be?"

	"You haven't even talked to Adam and Steve about this."

	"There wasn't time. Besides, I'm sure they'll be fine with it."

	"I think that's assuming a lot, don't you? I mean you show up with
a kid and just expect them to take him in? They don't even know him."

	"Adam took me in."

	"That was different. He knew you; you were friends with his
son. And they have a lot going on right now, with the B&B and trying to
work out their living situation. And Kane graduates next year; maybe they
won't want to be tied down for a few more years with another kid."

	"So what was I supposed to do? Just leave him there to either be
taken back to his father so he could abused some more? Or maybe let them
throw him into the foster care system? How long do you think he'd last in
either one of those situations? You know he'd run away again and just end
up right back on the street."

	"I'm just saying that maybe you shouldn't be expecting Adam and
Steve to be overly thrilled about this."

	The silence between us now was suddenly filled with tension. After
a minute, Micah sighed. "Killian, you can't save everyone."

	"Does that mean I should stop trying?" I snapped. "Should I just
give up and not try to make a difference?"

	He looked over at me, studying me. "No, I don't think you should
ever stop trying to make a difference. It's one of the things I love most
about you. You care about people; you want to make a difference. That's
great, but you need to understand that you can't personally save everyone
you come across."

	"Maybe I can't save everyone," I said quietly, "but maybe I can
save a few." And then under my breath, "Maybe I can save Tad."

	The rest of the drive home was tense and not much effort was made
at conversation. I found myself becoming more and more nervous about my
decision to bring Tad home. Micah was right; I hadn't given any thought to
Adam and Steve's reaction. Knowing Adam as well as I did, I couldn't see
him turning Tad back out on the street, but that didn't mean he had to be
happy about it.

	Tad woke up when we turned off the main highway and onto the twisty
back roads.

	"Where are we?" he asked groggily.

	"Almost to Chicone," I told him.

	"Is that where you live?"

	"Part of the time. Remember how I told you how my friend's dad took
me in after my dad threw me out?"

	"Yeah."

	"His name is Adam. He and his partner Steve bought an old house
just outside Chicone and turned it into a bed and breakfast. Adam still has
his beach house in Ocean City too though and we kind of go back and forth
between them. He has an emotional attachment to the beach house."

	"Wow, you guys sound rich."

	"Not really. I guess Steve used to be fairly well-off, but he's
spent a small fortune on the B&B."

	"Where do you live?" he asked Micah.

	"I have an apartment in Salisbury, not far from here," he answered.

	"You guys are dating, right?"

	"Yeah," Micah answered for both of us.

	"For how long?"

	"A few months now."

	Tad watched the scenery for a few minutes before commenting, "It's
really flat here. I've never been on the Shore before. Is it all this
flat?"

	"You've never been on the Shore?" Micah asked in surprise.

	"Nope."

	"Not even to Ocean City?"

	"Going to the beach was never a high priority for my dad," he said
acidly.

	"To answer your question," I said quickly, "yes, most of the Shore
is this flat."

	"Have you both always lived here?" Now that he was awake, Tad
seemed to be full of questions, but I guess that was pretty natural
really. Here he was coming to stay with people who were practically
strangers. It was to be expected that he'd be curious about us.

	I answered first, "I've lived here all my life. I grew up in a
small town near Ocean City."

	"I'm from Prince George's County, right outside DC," Micah told
him. "I moved here after I graduated from college and got a job with the
newspaper."

	"What was it like growing up here?" Tad asked me.

	"You're from a rural area, right?"

	"Yeah."

	"Probably not so different than it was for you then. I never knew
anyone who was gay growing up. If I had bothered to think about it, I guess
everyone I knew seemed to be pretty homophobic. But I never really thought
about it at all until Adam's son Seth moved here and started going to my
school. He helped me figure out that I was gay."

	"He's the one who was killed?"

	"Yes."

	"Was he your boyfriend?"

	"No, I wasn't at that point yet. We were just friends."

	"How was he killed?"

	I didn't answer for a moment. "I'll tell you some other time, ok?"
I said finally. I thought I did a pretty good job of keeping my voice
steady.

	"I'm sorry," Tad said immediately. "I shouldn't be so nosy. It's
none of my damn business."

	"No, it's ok. Don't apologize. You're just getting to know us
better. You can ask questions if you want...I just might not answer all of
them right now."

	Just then, I turned into the driveway of the bed and breakfast and
all Tad's questions were forgotten as he got his first glimpse of Amalie's
House.

	"That's it?" he asked in awe.

	"That's it," I said with a smile. I looked up at the house and saw
it through his eyes, seeing it for the very first time. It was quite grand,
a real Southern plantation manor house. Steve had made sure the restoration
was meticulously accurate. It looked very different from the first time I'd
seen it, looking more like the Addam's family mansion than a country bed
and breakfast.

	"Are you sure you're not rich?" Tad breathed.

	I laughed. "Pretty sure."

	I parked the car and Micah and I climbed out. Tad stayed put in the
backseat.

	"Aren't you getting out?' I asked him, leaning back into the
driver's side door.

	He tore his eyes away from the house and gave me an anxious
look. "Can I talk to you alone first?" he asked in a small voice.

	"I'll go on in," Micah said, overhearing Tad's request. "I want to
get some Tylenol for my head anyway; I've still got a splitting headache."
He leaned into me and whispered, "It'll also give me a chance to warn Adam
and Steve."

	I waited until he was inside then turned back to Tad. "Come,
on. Let's go for a walk."

	He climbed hesitantly out of the backseat and we started walking
around the house. I tried to wait for him to make the first move, but
eventually my inquisitiveness got the better of me. "So what did you want
to talk about?" I asked.

	"It's just that..." he started, then stopped abruptly, took a deep
breath, and tried again. "I don't want you to think I was eavesdropping or
anything, but I wasn't completely asleep when you and Micah were talking in
the car."

	"Tad, look..."

	"No, let me finish. Let's just forget this whole thing, ok? I don't
want to cause trouble for you. You've got a good thing going; I don't want
to mess that up."

	"You're not messing anything up."

	"I mess everything up. That's all I am, a screw up. I screwed
things up with my boyfriend so he left me. I screwed things up when I ran
away so that I had to become a hustler, and I couldn't even do that
right. I screwed things up with Razi so that he hit me."

	"Tad, most of those things weren't your fault. It's not your fault
your boyfriend wasn't man enough to stick by you when things got
rough. It's not your fault your dad is homophobic. It's not your fault Razi
abused you. Maybe becoming a hustler wasn't the best decision but you
didn't have a lot of choices at that point. You were just trying to
survive."

	"What about you? Think about it, how did we meet? I told you that
Micah used to be an escort. You didn't know before that, I remember the
look on your face. I screwed that up too."

	"It turned out to be a good thing in the end. It forced us to get a
lot of things out in the open where they belong. Hey, we're still together
aren't we?"

	"I guess. I still think this is a bad idea. I'll screw things up
and you'll just end up hating me. Everybody hates me. Even my own dad hates
me."

	"Tad, I don't hate you."

	"You don't even know me."

	"Why don't you give me a chance to get to know you?"

	Tad looked everywhere but at me. His eyes fell upon the old angel
statue among the trees in the back corner of the lawn. He stood staring at
the statue for a minute while I stood staring at him. I watched a tear slip
from his eye and roll slowly down his cheek. Finally, he spoke, his voice
so soft I had to lean forward to hear him.

	"Because I'm scared."

	I moved without thinking, slipping my arms around him and pulling
him against me in a hug. He stood stiffly in my embrace, not hugging me
back but not pushing me away either. I realized how much he had lost. I, of
all people, should understand what he was going through. Of course, he'd be
scared. Scared to open his heart for fear we'd just turn on him and abandon
him or let him down like everyone else in his young life.

	"I know it's scary," I said, "but give us a chance. Ok?"

	"What if they don't want me?"

	"Then we'll figure something else out, but I promise I won't leave
you. Look, why worry about that yet? You're getting too far ahead of
yourself. Let's go talk to Adam and see what he has to say. Maybe none of
this will even be an issue."

	Tad sniffed a little and nodded as he pulled away and rubbed at his
face. He followed me back to the house where we entered through the back
door. We ran into Steve in the hallway. He quickly pulled me into a hug.

	"You've got to stop almost getting killed," he said gruffly.

	"Next time I'll try to get to the job done right," I joked. Steve
answered that with a soft smack upside my head.

	"How about if there is no next time?" He turned his attention to
Tad, who was hanging back uncertainly. "And you must be Tad. I'm Steve." He
held out a hand which Tad tentatively shook. "It's nice to meet you."

	"Hi," Tad murmured.

	Steve gave him a warm smile. "Why don't I show you around this huge
hulk of a house?"

	I opened my mouth to argue but Steve gave me a look that quickly
shut me up. "Killian, why don't you go find Adam?" he suggested lightly,
although I could tell there was more to it than just a simple
suggestion. Uh oh, I thought darkly.

	I left Steve giving Tad a quick history of the house as they began
their tour. I found Adam talking to Micah in the front parlor. Adam
definitely didn't look happy. I felt my stomach clench. Adam stopped
talking abruptly as I appeared in the doorway.

	One look at his face and I knew this would be better off as a
private conversation. "Micah, why don't you catch up to Steve and Tad?
Steve's giving him the grand tour of the house and he might be more
comfortable if you're along."

	"No problem," he said, giving me an encouraging smile as he left
the room. That left Adam and I alone.

	"Look Adam," I started, figuring a good offense would be my best
defense, but he cut me off quickly.

	"I don't know what to be angrier about," he snapped in a voice like
a whip. "The fact that you just ran off without even telling me where you
were going or what you doing, the fact that you needlessly risked your life
yet again with no thought of anyone else, or the fact that you come
waltzing back in here with a kid in tow - a kid that I am told you've
already invited to live here."

	I took an involuntary step back as Adam's anger washed over me, but
then my own anger rose up at his unfair accusations. "First off, I didn't
know I had to ask you for permission," I snapped back. "I was working and I
didn't have time to run around asking if it was ok for me to go play with
my friends. I felt it was urgent that I get to Razi quickly. I was acting
on instinct and I turned out to be right. By the time the police got around
to acting, assuming they ever even got that far, Razi's informants would
have tipped him off and he would have run. And maybe even killed Tad. And
considering that I solved a crime, caught a killer, and quite possibly
saved a kid's life, I wouldn't exactly call that needlessly risking my
life.

	"As for Tad, I have not invited him to live here; I told him he
could stay with me until he figured out what to do. I thought you were the
kind of person who would be willing to help a kid in need. His dad abused
him, he was living on the streets before Razi, a homicidal prostitute, took
him in, and made him his sex-slave, and with Razi arrested, he had nowhere
to go but back to the streets. I thought we could be some sort of support
for him since he's never had any his entire life."

	"We don't even know him."

	"You didn't know me either when you took me in."

	"That was different."

	"How? Because I knew Seth? Why should Tad suffer just because he
didn't have the privilege of knowing Seth? He needs help, Adam."

	"You can't just drag home every stray you come across, Killian."

	My breath caught in my throat and my eyes stung with the tears I
was determined to hold back.

	"Is that what I was?" I asked, my voice shakily with anger and
hurt. "A stray?"

	"Killian, no!" Adam said, all anger melting from his expression to
be replaced with concern and remorse.

	"Why did you take me in, Adam? Was it out of pity? Or maybe it was
it just because you were so grief stricken from Seth's death. Is that it?
Was I just a replacement for Seth?"

	It was Adam's turn to gasp. "Killian!"

	"I'm sorry I drug home another stray. And I'm sorry this stray has
stuck around for so long, burdening you and ruining your life. You won't
have to worry about either of us from now on." I turned sharply on my heel,
but before I'd taken two steps, Adam caught me by the wrist.

	"Killian, stop. Listen to me. That was a horrible thing I said and
I didn't mean it. I was just so worried about you when you left the
hospital without a word. I've been frantic ever since. I reacted badly when
I saw you, all my fear and worry turned to anger and I took it out on
you. I'm sorry, so, so sorry."

	I refused to look at him, keeping my back purposefully to him.

	"You're not a stray. You were never a stray. You want to know why I
took you in? Because I looked at you and saw a broken, scared little boy
and my heart broke. You're right; I barely knew you. In that sense, maybe I
did take you in out of pity but I very quickly grew to love you. You were
never a replacement for Seth. Never. Not then, and not now. You've always
been Killian. I love you as if you were my very own son and I've never once
regretted asking you to live with me. You've never been a burden and you've
only enriched my life."

	I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. I burst into harsh,
ragged sobs as I turned to him and his arms circled me in the comforting
hug I'd come to take for granted.

	"Doesn't Tad deserve to have that too?" I sobbed into his chest.

	"Of course he does. Absolutely. I just don't know if I'm the person
to give it to him."

	"It could have been me," I cried.

	"What?"

	"It could have been me on the street, if you hadn't been there to
take me in. I feel like I owe it to him to be there for him like you were
there for me. I can't just turn my back on him, I can't."

	Adam squeezed me tight and was quiet for a moment. "I won't ask you
to," he said quietly.

	I pulled away, swallowing mid-sob. "What?" I asked, wiping my eyes
and sniffling.

	"I won't ask you to act against your conscience."

	"You'll let him stay here?"

	"Temporarily at least."

	"Oh, Adam!"

	He held up a hand. "I'm not promising anything, Killian. I haven't
even met him yet. All I'm saying is that he can stay here while we look at
his options."

	"You'll help him do that too? Figure out what his options are?"

	"Yes, I'll do what I can to help him, within reason."

	I ignored the provisos and threw myself into Adam's arms for a
hug. He held me tightly.

	"I'm so sorry, Killian," he whispered into my hair. "I can't
believe I said that."

	"I'm sorry I left without telling you where I was going. You were
right. I didn't even think about how worried you might be, all I could
think about was getting to Razi."

	"That's what makes you a good investigator," he said. He held me
out at arms length and grinned at me, taking in my tear-streaked
face. "You're a mess. Go wash up and then we'll tell Tad the good news."

* * *
	"You know, I still don't know if I buy this whole ghost thing," Tad
said to me. We were standing in the cellar at the B&B, waiting for the
contractor Steve had hired to start work on reopening the bricked up
doorway I'd seen Amalie pass through just a few weeks before.

	Several weeks had passed since Razi's arrest; it was just a few
days before Thanksgiving. A lot had happened in that time. Razi had been
charged with the murders of Paul Flynn, Fenton Black, and both bodyguards,
plus the attempted murder of Micah and me. Tad's involvement had been kept
quiet or he'd be facing numerous sexual abuse charges as well. Charges were
still pending on the murder of the politician from a few years ago.

	All charges against Jake had been dropped on the condition that he
immediately enter a drug treatment facility for rehab. Jake had agreed
unequivocally. He knew he needed help and he was ready to accept it. I'd
been spending as much time as possible with him and our friendship was
slowly mending. I'd vowed to be a better friend this time around.

	Micah was the new media darling on the Shore. He'd broken the
corruption story and it had turned out to have a bigger ending than even
he'd imagined. There were still arrests going on. Some of the wetlands were
already lost to development but much of it had been saved in time.

	Perhaps the biggest surprise had come the week before when we were
all at the beach house watching a movie on TV. The movie ended and the news
came on. We were all talking and not really paying attention when I thought
I recognized someone on the screen.

	"Who's that?" I'd asked, snapping to attention.

	"Who's who?" Micah had asked.

	"Shh!" I shushed him turning up the volume on the TV set.

	"After the events of the last few weeks, many of us thought we'd
seen it all," the newscaster was saying, "but the latest arrest in the
Wetlands Conspiracy has shocked even the most hardened among us."

	"A new arrest?" Micah said sitting up.

	"Shh!" I hissed again.

	"The corruption surrounding the illegal sale and development of
protected wetlands has reached all the way to the top," the anchor
continued. They flashed a picture of a man I didn't recognize. "State
Senator Tom Day was indicted today on charges of conspiracy to commit
murder, along with several other less serious charges. Police allege that
Senator Day conspired with murdered businessman Fenton Black to kill Henry
Gartland, a local environmentalist who'd been protesting the development of
the wetlands."

	"Who did you see?" Adam asked me.

	"Shh!" Micah and I sibilated together.

	"Day was indicated early on in the official investigation, but
police lacked sufficient evidence to charge him."

	"I didn't know that," Micah grumbled under his breath, low enough
not to warrant another hushing.

	"That needed evidence came from an unlikely source." The picture
changed to the one that had caught my attention in the first place. It was
the bird-lady, the woman from Novak's mystery case. "Day's own wife hired a
private investigator to look into her husband's business dealings. Justine
Sterner spoke with the PI earlier this evening."

	The flashed to a close-up of an attractive young woman with
close-cropped dark hair and huge doe eyes. The reporter stared into the
camera for a second before she began speaking. "I'm Justine Sterner and I'm
here with local private investigator Shane Novak." My mouth fell open as
they camera panned out to show Novak standing stiffly at her
side. "Mr. Novak helped police obtain the evidence they needed to bring
charges against Senator Day. Mr. Novak, you were hired by Mrs. Day, were
you not?"

	"Yes, I was," he said simply. Adam chuckled at his terse reply.

	"Do you know why Mrs. Day hired you to investigate her own
husband?"

	"Yes, I do, but wouldn't that be something you'd be better off
asking her?"

	The young reporter looked a little flustered, but she forged
bravely onward. "What can you tell us about your investigation?"

	"Very little. I'm afraid that's police business now and they'll
have to decide what they want to be public knowledge.

	"Is there anything you can tell us about the charges that have been
brought against Senator Day?"

	"Well, they're very serious charges. If they stick, I would imagine
he'll be locked up for a good long time. I'd say Tom Day's political days
are over."

	"How is Mrs. Day holding up through all this?"

	"She's been a trooper."

	The reporter waited a moment, and when it became obvious that was
all Novak had to say, she turned back to the camera and sent it back to the
newsroom. The poor girl looked like a deer caught in headlights. If I
hadn't been so shocked over seeing Novak on the news I probably would have
been laughing. As it was, Adam was laughing hard enough for both of us.

	Later, I found out from Novak that the poor woman had overheard her
husband on the phone while he was planning the murder of the
environmentalist. She'd gone to Novak because she didn't have any proof
other than what she'd heard, or thought she'd heard. She had been afraid
for her own life, terrified he'd somehow find out and have her killed as
well. That had been the reason for all the cloak and dagger secrecy.

	Things with Tad were moving slowly. Adam had taken to him as
quickly as I'd thought he would and Steve had liked him from the
first. Even Kane got along great with him. But there was still something
very reserved about him. I guess it was too soon to expect him to have
relaxed completely with us. I was still the person he seemed most
comfortable with and I made an effort to spend some amount of time with him
every day. Adam had been talking to Ilana about his situation and she's
made some overtures to his father, but so far, he's not responded. There's
still a very unsettled feel about the whole situation, too much undecided
for anyone to feel comfortable enough to commit themselves entirely.

	I looked over at him now as he watched the workman changing the
blade on a masonry saw. I'd become so fond of him in the last couple
weeks. He reminded me a lot of myself just a few years earlier. I didn't
know what would happen to him, but I found myself feeling very protective
of him. I was trying not to get too attached in case he had to leave, but
it was becoming increasingly difficult.

	He looked over at me expectantly.

	"What?" I asked, defensively. I felt guilty, as if he'd heard my
thoughts.

	He grinned at me. "I said, I'm still not sure if I buy this whole
ghost thing," he said with exaggerated patience.

	I stuck my tongue out at him. "That because you haven't seen her."

	"Are you sure you hadn't been hitting the bottle a little too hard
that night?"

	"Boys," Adam said with mock weariness, "do we have to go through
this again?"

	Tad and I had been arguing Amalie's existence since he'd first
learned of her a few days after he'd arrived. Steve had announced his plans
to tear down the wall and hopefully put her to rest. Amalie had been
uncharacteristically quiet, leaving the question in the realm of
debate. Now that we were moving towards opening the wall, she seemed to
have settled down to wait, or at least that's how my overactive imagination
had pictured it.

	Before I could respond to Adam, the contractor spoke up. "Ok folks,
we're getting ready to get to business here, you might want to step back
and watch your eyes. You really should all be wearing safety goggles but I
didn't know I was gonna have an audience."

	"Just tell us if we're in the way, Bob," Steve said as our small
group, made up of Steve, Adam, Judy, Micah, Kane, Tad, and I, obediently
moved to the farthest wall away from where he was going to be cutting.

	Bob shrugged. "Hey, it's your house. You're not in my way." He
started the saw and slowly eased it into the wall. The sharp blade cut
through the brick with surprisingly little difficulty. We watched in
silence while he cut around the outline of the old doorway. The loud roar
of the saw would have drowned out any attempt at conversation, but those of
us gathered in the basement suddenly found ourselves so tense that no one
would have spoken even if we could have. When he'd finished cutting and the
cloud of brick dust settled, he picked up a sledgehammer and swung it up
behind him.

	"Wait!" I blurted out suddenly; panic squeezing my lungs tight as
the heavy hammer started its downswing.

	The sledgehammer shuddered to a halt in midair as everyone spun
around to look at me.

	"What?" Bob asked.

	"You...you can't do it like that." Odd, disjointed images were
shifting across my vision, confusing me. At first, I thought the lights
were flickering, but I quickly realized that it was the small room that was
flickering - between the current scene and a much darker version, lit only
by a single candle in a sconce on the wall. The darker room was empty
except for a few wooden barrels against one wall. Where the bricked-up
doorway was in the current room, stood floor-to-ceiling shelves made from
rough wooden planks. The shelves were filled with glass jars of canned
fruits and vegetables.

	Just as suddenly as the strange flickering sensation began, it
stopped, leaving me blinking owlishly at the concerned faces looking back
at me.

	"Killian, are you ok?" Micah asked.

	"Did you see something?" Judy asked.

	I nodded.

	"What did you see?" she asked intensely.

	"What does she mean?" I heard Tad ask nervously.

	"The room was changing; I think I saw how it used to be. And...I
don't know; I just had this feeling..." I turned to look at Bob, who was
staring at me as if I'd lost my mind. "Is there some other way to open the
wall?" I asked.

	"Not really. If I had someone on the other side they could push it
out, but since I don't, it's gotta go that way."

	"Can you be gentle?"

	"Gentle? It's a sledgehammer and bricks - how gentle can you be?"

	"Can you just try?" Steve asked politely.

	Bob shook his head as he turned back the wall. He changed his grip
on the hammer and began to use the end like a battering ram. The first few
bricks tumbled down on the other side with the dull thud of brick hitting
bare earth. I'm sure it took a longer to do it this way, but the panicky
feeling didn't return. It wasn't too long before he had an opening big
enough to see through. He shifted one of the lights he'd brought along so
that it shined through the hole and stopped suddenly. He leaned in and
peered intensely into the inky blackness beyond the opening.

	"Do you see something?" Steve asked excitedly.

	"Amalie," I muttered under my breath.

	Bob jerked away from the wall. "There's a skeleton in there," he
said shakily. He looked over at me. "Did you know that was in there?"

	"Not before now," I answered, sounding a lot calmer than I felt.

	Judy wandered closer to the hole as Steve turned to me with a
raised eyebrow. "Is it who I think it is?" he asked.

	"It's Amalie," Judy answered with certainty, her voice sounding
eerily hollow as she spoke into the aperture.

	"What happened? How'd she get in there?" Adam asked in confusion.

	Judy turned to me. "Killian?"

	I shook my head.

	"If we want to know what happened, only you can tell us."

	"I...I can't."

	"What's going on?" Tad asked with fear in his voice.

	"That's what I want to know," Bob said, sounding a little angry
now. "If you knew there was a body behind this wall, you should have told
me up-front. I would've never agreed to do this."

	"Bob," Steve said, "why don't you go ahead and leave. I'll pay you
for the time we agreed on."

	"You don't have to tell me twice. This is all too weird for me." He
grabbed up his saw and a few odd pieces of equipment then paused. "I'll get
the rest of my stuff later," he said and made his exit.

	"Can we widen the hole enough to get through," Judy asked.

	"I'll do it," Micah said quickly. He picked up the sledge hammer
and began to carefully knock away more bricks.

	"I think I'll go upstairs," Tad declared.

	"If I'm not needed here I'll go too," Adam said. No one protested
as the two of them climbed the stairs, leaving just four of us in the
cellar - five it you counted Amalie. I shiver went up my spine at that
thought. All this time she'd been entombed behind that wall instead of the
marked grave in the backyard. How had that happened?

	"You have to go in there," Judy said.

	"I'm scared," I admitted hoarsely.

	"It's never hurt you before, has it?" she asked, maddeningly
logical.

	"What are you talking about?" Steve asked.

	"One of Killian's Gifts is his ability to see the past, especially
in cases like this, where something very tragic has taken place and it's
left a strong emotional imprint."

	Steve looked at me with wonder in his eyes. "It's only happened
once or twice," I protested weakly. "It might not even happen now."

	"Oh, I think it will," Judy insisted. "You have a strong connection
to Amalie. This is what she's wanted all along. She wants us to know what
happened."

	"We thought it was just the baby," Steve said almost to
himself. "But there was more, that's why she didn't go away after we buried
the baby next to her grave. She wasn't even there. She was here the whole
time." He looked up. "But how? What happened?"

	"Killian?" Judy urged.

	Micah stepped back and dropped the hammer, wiping sweat from his
brow. "I think it's big enough now."

	I took a deep breath. In my heart, I knew all this arguing was in
vain. If I was honest with myself, I knew I wanted to know what had
happened all those years ago as much as anyone. Maybe I even needed to
know. I took a tentative step towards the enlarged opening. Micah stepped
forward to help me.

	"I'll be right here, Kill," he whispered. I stepped up to the hole
and took my first look at what lay beyond. The light from the lamp showed
what looked like the beginning of a tunnel. It extended perhaps ten feet
from the wall before it ended in a pile of rubble. The walls looked to be
packed earth, shored up with rough hewn timber. About halfway between the
collapsed roof and the wall lay a pathetic heap of bones, all that was left
of Amalie. I took another deep breath, and climbed over the broken bricks.

* * *
	The world shifted as my feet touched the ground. Immediately, I
knew on some deep level that I was no longer in my own body. I remained
aware of myself while at the same time I was fully aware of the feelings
and emotions of my new body - Amalie's body. This was a much more intense
experience than the time in Paul's apartment. I wasn't just feeling
Amalie's emotions; I was in Amalie's body. Terror coursed through me as
she/I stumbled forward. I felt a sense of movement behind me and twisted
around, crouching down as I did. Pain shot through my side as I moved and I
knew somehow that I'd been punched there. There was someone in the doorway,
which now stood clear. It was a man, but it was so dark I couldn't make out
his features. Again, I somehow knew that this man was Amalie's husband,
Captain Marnien.

	"You're nothing but a common whore," he snarled. He moved again and
candlelight turned his face into a horrifying mask of rage and hatred. Even
distorted by the dim lighting, the part of me that remained me recognized
him as the man from my long ago vision, the one that had been rushing into
the house from the boat.

	A rush of foreign memories flooded into my consciousness. I was
standing in the cupola and it was night outside the windows. I was cradling
a crying infant in my arms. I'd come up here because for some reason, it
usually calmed the baby, but not tonight. I was so distracted with my son
that I didn't hear the footsteps until they were upon me. I spun around, my
heart in my throat.

	"Captain," I gasped. He wasn't supposed to be here. I'd been told
he was lost at sea. He couldn't be here...but there he stood, water
dripping from his graying hair and a look of astonishment on his face as he
stared at the babe in my arms. A sense of dread washed over me. I knew it
wouldn't take long for him to calculate the months in his head. It wouldn't
take him long to realize that the baby I held couldn't be his. I began to
speak quickly as his face slowly changed, losing all expression.

	"I thought you were dead," I said, pleadingly. "They told me you'd
been lost at sea, that your ship was assumed to have gone down in a
storm. I mourned you. Look, I'm still wearing black."

	"You obviously didn't mourn me for long," he growled, the first
words he'd spoken since he appeared.

	"I...it's not..."

	"Turn to another man for comfort did you? Even if I had been dead,
I wouldn't have even been cold in my grave before you took another man to
bed."

	"Where were you? If you were alive, why didn't you send word to
me?"

	"Does it matter now?" He took the remained stairs in one huge
step. I backed quickly away but he moved menacingly forward. "Let's see the
bastard. Does it take after its daddy?"

	I pulled the blankets protectively over the baby's face, his cries
had settled into a mere whimper. "Please no," I begged. "None of this is
the child's fault."

	"No, this is all your fault. You, my faithless wife." He spat the
last two words, but then his voice chilled. "The child will go."

	"No! Please! We can raise him as your own."

	"You think I'll have some other man's child raised under my roof?"
he bellowed. "You'll have me thought a fool?"

	"No one else even knows, except the servants."

	"Servants talk. The child goes."

	"Then I'll go as well," I shouted defiantly.

	His hand shot out so quickly I didn't have time to even try to get
out of his way. His fist drove into my side, throwing me back against the
windows behind me. My head hit one of the panes of glass, shattering it
outward. Cold wind whipped into the room, as I struggled to maintain my
grip on the baby, now crying again.

	"You're not going anywhere," he said in a frighteningly calm
voice. A sudden terror gripped my heart and instinct took over. I had to
protect my baby; I had to get away. I dove past him, a move so unexpected
that he barely had time to react. I made for the narrow stairs as he lunged
after me. His large hand struck my shoulder as I took the first step and I
felt myself veer out of control. I stumbled down several steps, crashing
into the wall before I caught my balance and started running down the
stairs. But he was still right behind me. Suddenly, I was shoved violently
from behind. For a few seconds, I felt as if I was suspended in mid-air,
but then I was falling, falling into the inky blackness of the stairwell.

* * *
	For the briefest moment, I was myself again. I was crouching in the
dirt of the dank passage, staring blankly at the partially opened
doorway. Micah peered anxiously in at me, Judy visible just over his
shoulder.

	"Killian, are you ok?" Micah asked.

	Then they were gone.

* * *
	I sat up with a start and looked wildly about. I was in the cellar,
lying on the dirt floor. The room was lit only by a single candle. I hurt
in so many places, but especially my side. The scene in the cupola came
back to me in a flash. My baby! Where was my baby?

	I spotted the little body lying a few feet away in an undignified
heap, still and silent - much too still. I crawled frantically towards him,
ignoring my pain, already sobbing, knowing the worst. The baby was dead,
his tiny body already growing cold. How long had I been unconscious? Could
I have saved him if I'd been awake? A grief like I'd never known before
took over me and for some unknown amount of time, I simply held my baby to
my chest and rocked back and forth, weeping so deeply I didn't make a
sound.

	Eventually, I stopped crying. I knew I had to bury him. My husband,
the Captain, wouldn't afford him that much dignity. I removed my mourning
shawl and wrapped my son carefully in it, laying him tenderly aside. I
quickly began to dig into the hard-packed earth floor. I didn't know how
long I had, how long the Captain would leave me down here. I dug and dug
with only my bare hands until my nails bled and fingers ached with the
cold, and still I dug. Finally, I had a hole large enough to bury the
little body. It was so small.

	I once again began to cry silent tears as I lifted the little
bundle and laid him in the hole as gently as possible. I stared down at him
for a moment, looking at his beautiful face. I could almost imagine that he
was only asleep. He looked so peaceful. I couldn't bring myself to cover
him with the dirt, but I knew I had no choice. I fumbled with the brooch at
my neck; it had been a wedding present from my parents. Finally, the clasp
gave way to my numb fingers and it dropped into my palm. I laid it lovingly
on my son's chest. I leaned forward and kissed his forehead, then quickly
swept the small pile of dirt over him, covering him before it was too late.

	I cried while I smoothed the dirt over his grave, my tears mixing
with the earth to form mud. When I had hidden the evidence of my digging to
my satisfaction, I curled up in a ball over the spot and wept bitterly.

	I was still crying when I heard the Captain speaking at the top of
the stairs. I suddenly hated him with a depth of emotion of which I hadn't
known I was capable. I wanted him to suffer the way he'd caused me to
suffer. I lurched to my feet and began to look madly around the room for
something to use as a weapon. I had never been down here before; the
Captain had always said it was no place for the lady of the house. It
didn't take long to realize that there was nothing here except a few wooden
barrels against one wall and shelves well-stocked with the canned food the
women had put up in the fall. A ham hung from the rafters in one corner.

	The door at the top of the stairs opened and the Captain descended
with ominous purpose. I pressed myself against the far wall. He stood
staring at me, his eyes filled with hate and disgust. Neither of us spoke
for what felt like an eternity. Then he unexpectedly swung around and
grasped the edge of the shelves containing the canned food. Even in my
grief-stricken, shocked state, I was surprised to see the shelves slowly
swing away from the brick wall to reveal a dark doorway.

	The Captain turned back to me, a dark grin on his face. "It's a
tunnel," he said simply. "It comes out near the dock. I had it built for
business purposes, but if you want to leave so badly, go ahead."

	I stared at him in disbelief. Was he actually going to let me go?
It seemed to good to be true.

	"Go!" he shouted. "Get out and never come back!"

	I threw myself away from the wall and dashed towards the door. He
pushed me as I passed him and I stumbled into the darkness. I stopped dead
when I saw that the passage only went a few feet before stopping in a heap
of rubble. A cold laugh came from behind me.

	I twisted around, crouching down into a feral position of defense
as I did. "You're nothing but a common whore," he snarled. He moved again
and candlelight turned his face into a horrifying mask of rage and
hatred. "You think I would allow you to leave me? You'll never leave this
house. Never! You'll die here like the dog you are, bitch."

	He started to close the camouflaged door. Belatedly, I realized
that he meant to lock me in the collapsed tunnel, leaving me to die. I
threw myself at the door but it was too late. It closed with a sickening
thud, shutting out all light. I began to scream and claw at the door,
pushing against it with all my weight, but to no avail. I pounded against
the wood, screaming for mercy, but my only answer was an unfeeling chuckle
and then silence. The utter darkness slowly began to close in around me,
until I couldn't breath. I crumpled to the floor, dragging myself away from
the door until I collapsed completely to the ground where I began to will
myself to die.

* * *
	"Killian!" a voice shouted.

	I opened my eyes and saw light. I wasn't locked in the tunnel, left
to die. I moved my hand and realized that I was once again back in my own
body. I was lying on my back on the dirt floor of the tunnel.

	"Killian, are you ok?" Micah called again. When I didn't answer, he
began to scramble through the opening, which while plenty large enough for
me, was almost too small for him.

	I turned my head slowly to one side and found myself staring into
the empty eye sockets of Amalie's skull. One bony arm was stretched out in
my direction, almost as if she was reaching for me. I reached out a hand
and rested it gingerly on hers.

	"I'm so sorry," I whispered.

* * *
	A couple weeks later, I stood next to Amalie's grave watching my
breath puff out into the cold air. The small funeral we'd held as she'd
been properly buried had been over for some time now, but I couldn't bring
myself to go inside just yet. My visions, my out of body experience,
whatever you want to call them, had affected me deeply. I'd been quiet and
withdrawn ever since it had happened, leaving my family quite
concerned. Experiencing the horribly traumatic events of Amalie's last
night had left me very troubled.

	I looked over at the angel statue. It was somewhat comforting to
think the angel was here to watch over Amalie at last. I thought it ironic
that it was Amalie herself who'd had it placed here, in memory of the
Captain who she had thought lost at sea. I'd always thought the statue
looked so sad with her eyes shut as if in silent prayer. It felt very
appropriate at this moment.

	"You're going to have to let it go, you know," a voice said from
behind me, causing me to jump. I turned to find Judy leaning against a tree
watching me with a concerned expression.

	"It's not so easy," I said softly.

	"No, I don't imagine it is." She walked slowly to my side. "It's
the past, Killian. It all happened well over a hundred years ago. There's
nothing that can be done to change it now. We've done what we could, and I
have to believe it's what Amalie wanted, that she can rest in peace at
last."

	"I know in my head that it all happened a long time ago, but
feeling it, living it the way I did...it's hard to convince my heart that
it's ancient history. It hurts just as much as if I'd lost a close
friend...again."

	She took my hand. "I'm sorry, dear heart. I know so little about
this sort of Gift. I wish I could have prepared you better for what
happened. I had no idea it would be such a powerful experience. We need to
get you trained as quickly as possible. I've talked to Dashel; he'll be
coming back in a few weeks."

	"Dash?"

	"This is closer to his Gift than mine and he's been learning from a
shaman. He'll be able to do more for you than I ever could."

	"What if I don't want to do anything like that again?"

	She shrugged. "Then you still need to understand your Gift so you
can control it instead of it controlling you. If you'd been a little better
trained, maybe it wouldn't have taken over you so completely." She looked
into my eyes. "You have a powerful Gift, Killian. We're still learning just
how powerful. It's not something you want to leave unchecked."

	I nodded. I knew she was right.

	Judy slipped her arm around my waist. "Come on. Let's go inside
with everyone else."

	"I'll be there in a minute," I said.

	"Okay, but don't stay too long." She kissed me softly on the cheek
and walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again.

	I stood for another minute and then turned to leave. I'd only taken
a few steps before I felt a presence behind me. I turned slowly around to
find Amalie standing in the shade of the trees. I felt the hair stand up on
my arms but I wasn't afraid. Amalie was an old friend now. She smiled at
me, the first time I'd ever seen her smile. She raised her hand and then
slowly faded from my view. A sense of peace flowed through me and I knew
everything was ok.

	"Rest well, Amalie," I whispered and then I returned to the house
and to the living, leaving the dead and the past behind me, where they
belonged.

THE END


Well, folks, this is the final chapter of The Truth of Yesterday. I hope
you've enjoyed it as much as I have. Feedback is appreciated; I would love
to know what you thought of the fourth book in the Killian Kendall Mystery
Series. If this is the first Killian story you've read, or to find out what
I'm doing next, you may want to visit my website (Black Sheep Productions)
to find out more. The first book in the series, Bleeding Hearts, was
published in 2001, and the second one, Reap the Whirlwind, will be
published in May of 2003.

Besides online novels, my website also features original columns, news,
advice, mailing lists, and more. Check it out and don't forget to drop me a
line! I love to hear from you.

Black Sheep Productions: http://www.steliko.com/bleedinghearts
Email me at: Aterovis@aol.com