The Truth of Yesterday Read online

  “Maybe I don't want to,” I said. I knew I sounded like a petulant pre-schooler, but I couldn't help myself.

  “That much is obvious. Like it or not, you're involved; you are one of the threads of this tapestry. Amalie has shown in the past that for reasons of her own she is drawn to you. I think if we're going to get to the bottom of this, it will take all of us working together.”

  “The bottom of what? She's dead. And either she hasn't figured it out yet or she just doesn't give a damn. She seems quite content to just haunt the place forever.”

  “I think you're wrong. I think she's very aware of the fact that she's dead and I think she is very much discontented. Originally, we thought that her discontent had to do with the baby, but now I think that was only a marginal issue, or at least only part of a much larger whole.”

  “Killian,” Adam broke in, “What can it hurt to just sit down and talk with us? As exciting as Steve found all this at first, the thrill has worn off and reality has set in. He's very stressed right now with the possibility that this could all go south quickly and leave him pretty much penniless. He has an awful lot invested in this house. Amalie is not helping things.”

  “I thought a friendly ghost was a draw,” I said.

  “Most avid ghost hunters have never seen a ghost and wouldn't know what to do with one if it bit them on the nose. Besides, even people who are interested in ghosts don't necessarily want to spend the night with one. So far, Amalie hasn't chased off any guests, but there haven't been all that many to chase off, and we've made sure to keep them all on the second floor since she seems to favor the third floor. Please, Killian. What could it hurt to just sit down and talk with us about this?”

  “Why can't you all just accept that I don't want to do this? I don't care if I have Gifts or not. If they're a gift then I get to decide what to do with them, right? If you give me a butt-ugly sweater, I can choose not to wear it. Well, I choose not to use these so-called Gifts. I'll be up in my room. Don't call if you need me.”

  I spun around and stormed off.

  Kane was in the bedroom when I sailed through the door. He looked up from the computer screen long enough to gauge my mood.

  “I take it Judy asked you to help out with Amalie again,” he said.

  “You knew about that?”

  “Yeah, she and Dad have been plotting about the best way to ask you.”

  “You mean they planned that? I can't believe this.”

  “Well, you have to admit, you've not exactly been open to the idea.”

  “I don't see you jumping at the chance to go over there.”

  “I'm not the one with the Gifts.”

  I let out a wordless roar that made Kane wince. “I'm so sick and tired of hearing about these damn Gifts,” I snarled. “I didn't ask for them and I don't want them. That's my choice and I wish everyone would just leave me the hell alone about them.”

  “Jeez, Kill,” he said, “You don't have to bite my head off. I didn't mean anything by it. If you're going to be all bitchy, I'm going to go downstairs and watch TV.” He signed off of the internet and pushed away from the desk.

  “I'm sorry, Kane,” I said with a sigh.

  “Whatever.”

  I watched him leave, a hurt expression on his face. I hadn't taken the time to look at Judy and Adam when I'd left in my little huff, but I imagine they hadn't been all that happy either. Damn it, why couldn't anyone just leave me alone about this? And why was I so scared of it all? I wasn't in the mood for deep self-examination, so I grabbed my backpack and pulled out my books. Time to get lost in studying.

  I called Mrs. Knox the next day in between classes and learned that she knew all about the business trip and she wanted me to follow him. An all-expense paid trip to DC sounded great to me, and it was only a three-hour drive. I wondered why Mr. Knox was taking the commuter plane, but I guess if your company is willing to spring for the tickets, it's better than driving. After classes were over for the day, I went to the office after my last class to talk to Novak.

  I found him in his office typing away on a report. He stopped when I stuck my head in the door.

  “What's up, kiddo?” he asked. Shane Novak, or just Novak as I called him, was a retired police detective. His wife had died soon after he retired and it hadn't taken him long to realize he wasn't cut out for sitting around the house. And that was the beginning of Novak Investigations. You know right away, just by a glance, that he's retired law enforcement or military. He wears his gray hair in a buzz cut and keeps his body fit and lean. His age was hard to guess, but I knew he had to at least be in his late fifties, and it wasn't impossible that he was even older.

  “There's a new development in the Knox case,” I told him, still in the doorway.

  “Sit down and fill me in,” he said, swiveling his leather desk chair around to face me. Novak's office was a comfortably eclectic space. The first things you notice when you walk in are the bookcases; they take up one whole wall, all different heights and woods and all overflowing. There are law books, phone books, atlases, maps, and a set of encyclopedias that were easily older than I was. One case was reserved for his collection of hardcover detective novels, many of which were signed and/or first editions.

  In the center of the room sits his desk, a huge expanse of scarred golden oak. I always figured the office must have been built around it since there was no way that mother could have fit through the door. Its top was usually completely clear, unless he was working on a case as he was now, and then the top was apt to be quite cluttered with files, papers, photos and more. Behind the oak behemoth was a daunting procession of battleship-gray filing cabinets, each one meticulously labeled and locked. Two large leather armchairs faced his desk.

  For the most part, I liked Novak's office. There was one exception, however, and that was the odd, ugly, humpbacked sofa he kept on the wall opposite the bookcases and under the room's lone window. Now I know that furniture is incapable of harboring ill will, but I would swear that the sofa is evil. It seems to crouch malevolently off to one side waiting for some poor unsuspecting individual to make the fatal mistake of sitting on it. In my imagination, which I admit to being somewhat fanciful at times, I see it then moving with a swiftness that belies its ungainly size to devour the hapless soul whole, and then perhaps spitting out a shoe.

  I moved quickly to the armchairs while carefully avoiding looking at the sofa. Somehow, I feel that if I can steer clear of eye contact then it will stay peaceably in its place and leave me alone. As usual, it worked and I arrived at the chair unmolested.

  I quickly filled Novak in on what little progress I had made on the Knox case thus far and ended by telling him about the proposed DC trip.

  “Will it interfere with your school work?” Novak asked when I was finished.

  “No, he isn't checking in until late afternoon and his flight time leaves him just enough time to get there. I can finish my classes that day and still have plenty of time to drive up there before he arrives.”

  “Have you been to DC much?”

  “Not really.”

  “Damn. I would go with you but my case is close to busting wide open and I can't afford to leave. Do you know anyone who is familiar with the city?”

  “Micah used to live there,” I told him.

  “Do you think he'd be willing to go along with you? We can hire him as a consultant if we need to.”

  I smiled. “I think he'd be willing to go without the monetary incentive.”

  Novak chuckled. “I would imagine you're right there. Ask him and let me know what he says. If he can't go, I don't want you going. You don't know the city well enough to be running around on your own.”

  As much as I liked the idea of having Micah along, I felt I had to defend myself. “I don't need a babysitter.”

  “I didn't say you did, I just think you need a guide along who is familiar with the city. That is, if you think you can work with your boyfriend along and not get too, ahem, shall we say,
distracted?”

  I blushed. Novak didn't have any problems with the fact that I was gay, in fact, his grandson was gay too, but it still seemed odd to hear him making comments like that. “I think I'm professional enough to not get distracted,” I said rather stiffly.

  Novak let out a guffaw. “Kid, there's never been a man born yet who was professional enough to not get distracted by sex. Tell you what though, you do your job well enough, and maybe we'll work something out so that you have some free time. Deal?”

  “Deal,” I mumbled as my face burned.

  Chapter 4

  The next day, Thursday, was uneventful. Mr. Know drove to and from work without deviation from his usual schedule, my classes were boring for the most part, and I was pretty much caught up on paperwork at the office for the moment.

  I was sitting in my room later that night, supposedly studying, but Micah had come over unexpectedly and we were talking more than anything. I was sitting at my desk and Micah was sprawled across my bed.

  “I'm just not sure this is such a good idea,” Micah said uncomfortably. To my surprise, Micah hadn't been all that enthusiastic about going with me to DC. His reaction when I'd asked had been an immediate tensing up, followed quickly by a solid no. I was trying to figure out why he was so set against it now.

  “If you think I won't be able to do work with you along…”

  “It's not that,” he said.

  “Then what? You don't want to go with me?”

  “Don't be silly, I want to go, it's just…”

  “Just what? How can I understand if you don't tell me anything?”

  He took a deep breath. “I lived there the whole time I was in college. Let's just say I'm not in a hurry to go back.”

  “But that's exactly why I asked you, because you've lived there. You know the city. I don't. I've only been there a few times, and I've never been there alone. Besides, the only times I have been there was to go to the zoo or the Smithsonian or somewhere like that. I mean, I can barely figure out the Metro let alone find my way around.”

  “Look, Kill, not all of my memories from that time are good ones. In fact, I have some pretty unhappy associations with that place. If you were going anywhere else I'd be thrilled that you'd asked me.”

  “What kind of unhappy associations?” I asked; my curiosity suddenly piqued. I could actually see him close off, as if he were throwing up a wall between us. Obviously, I wasn't the only one with trust issues. “Ok, I can see you aren't going to tell me so I'll withdraw the question and save you the trouble.”

  “This isn't a courtroom, Killian, and you're not a lawyer,” Micah said quietly. “You can't withdraw a question and expect it to be stricken from the record. You're right though, I'm not ready to talk about it just yet. I promise I'll tell you sometime, just…not right now.”

  “Skeletons in the closet,” I whispered, remembering a conversation we'd had when we'd first started dating.

  “What?” he asked now, not quite catching my words from across the room.

  I shook my head, “Never mind.”

  He frowned and we fell into an uneasy silence. He glanced down at his watch. “Oh hey,” he said suddenly, “Didn't you say something about a meeting you had to go to tonight?”

  I drew a blank at first, and then I remembered the gay/straight alliance. I'd mentioned it to Micah yesterday when we'd talked on the phone and he'd thought it was a great idea. It seemed like everyone thought it was a great idea; Micah, Adam, Steve, Novak-everyone I'd mentioned it to, in fact. I was the only one still a little uncertain about it.

  “You mean Haven?”

  “Is that the gay/straight thing on campus?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you ever call that guy?”

  I'd told him about meeting Noah, but left out my attraction to him. It was just a physical attraction, after all. No sense in bringing it up. At least that was my justification. “No, I never called him,” I said.

  “Well, call him now. See if they are meeting tonight.”

  “You just want to get rid of me so I won't sulk about the fact that you're keeping secrets from me.”

  “I'm not trying to get rid of you and I'm not keeping secrets. I'm just not ready to talk about it.”

  “You're not ready or I'm not ready?”

  “Does it make a difference?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Oh for…! Are you going to call that guy or not?”

  With an exaggerated sigh, I swung around to the desk and rummaged around the cluttered top for the slip of paper Noah had written his number on. I found it under the sticky bottom of a glass mug that held a thin film of something that may have once been hot chocolate. Purposefully keeping my back towards Micah, I picked up the phone and dialed the numbers. Kane and I had our own line in our bedroom so that we wouldn't tie up the main line with the computer. I listened to the phone ring in my ear. I was just about to hang up when I heard someone pick up the phone on the other end.

  “Yo,” a male voice practically shouted into my ear. Whoever he was, he sounded quite winded.

  “Oh, um…is Noah there?” I asked tentatively.

  “Yeah, hang on,” he panted. I wondered what I had interrupted. I heard the guy's muffled voice calling Noah. “It's for you,” he said. “Why didn't you just answer it? I had to run all the way from the shower. I thought you'd left or something.” I guess that answered my question.

  “Sorry, I was playing my guitar and I had my headphones on,” I heard someone, presumably Noah, say. A second later, his voice came on the line. “Hello?”

  “Noah? Hi. This is Killian; we met in the bookstore…”

  “With the pride necklace, right?”

  “Yeah,” I said. I couldn't help smiling at the thought that he remembered me.

  “You're the cute little blonde. You're calling about Haven?”

  I blushed at the cute blonde remark and almost stuttered when I answered. I was suddenly glad I'd kept my back to Micah. “Yeah, are you meeting tonight?”

  “Sure are. You thinking about coming?”

  “Maybe,” I said uncertainly.

  “Oh come on, no maybes. Say you'll come. It's a great bunch; I think you'd like them. Are you shy?”

  “A little.”

  “I used to be really shy too, so I understand. How about if I meet you in from of the main doors at Wicomico Hall and we can walk in together. That way I can introduce you.”

  He wasn't leaving me much room to back out. I gave a mental shrug and gave in. “Ok, what time?”

  “The meeting starts at eight, so how about if we meet at like quarter of in front of the doors?”

  “Ok.”

  “Great, see you then, Killian.”

  “See you then.”

  We hung up and I took a second to pull myself together before I turned back toward Micah. “I'm supposed to meet him in front of Wicomico Hall at quarter of eight,” I told him.

  He glanced at his watch again. “Then you'd better get going. It's at least a forty-five minute drive from here.”

  I nodded and stood up at the same time Micah did. He moved towards me until he was standing so close I could feel his body heat, almost touching, but not quite. I slid my arms around his waist and pulled him against me, my lips finding his. We kissed for a minute, then he slipped gently away.

  “I'm sorry about, well, you know,” he said softly.

  I gave him a half-smile. “You'll tell me when you're ready. Or I'm ready, whichever it is. Don't worry about it. I'll live.”

  He pulled me in for a tight hug. “I love you, Killian. Don't ever doubt that.”

  “I love you, too,” I responded, my voice muffled by his shoulder.

  He pulled back and gave me one more quick kiss before we walked downstairs together.

  I stuck my head into the living room where Steve was reading a book. Tonight was his night at home and he was taking full advantage of his time away from the B&B. Steve was about the same age as Adam and was
just as handsome, in a darker more solid way. He had been a successful architect, but he'd given up his practice to open Amalie's House. Adam and Steve had been together since Adam and his wife had broken up when he came out to her. I told Steve where I was going and he sent me on my way with a wave and an absent-minded smile. He's been very distracted lately, and it occurred to me that it was possible he really was feeling weighed down by the idea that the B&B might not be a success.

  I thought about the whole situation during the drive to school. I knew Steve had sunk a sizable fortune into buying, restoring, and renovating the house, a fortune he had partially inherited and partially saved from his successful business. I also knew that except for a small safety net he'd put into CD's, almost all his money had gone into launching this thing. He was now almost completely depending on the Bed and Breakfast being a success or else he'd find himself pretty much broke. It struck me that he was probably sweating this out a lot more than I had realized.