The Truth of Yesterday

by Josh Aterovis

  “She, not he. Novak lined her up to help me out in DC since I don't know the city. She said that I look at this as just another tool to use in my line of work and to do that I need to understand it better.”

  “I like this Chris. Although, you probably shouldn't think of this as a tool really. It's not exactly something you actually control. There's no on and off switch. But she is right in that if you understand it you'll be able to make better use of what it tells you.”

  “So will you help me?”

  “I can't.”

  “What?” I asked, thinking that I must have misunderstood her.

  “I can't.”

  Well, I hadn't misunderstood her. “Why not?” I asked, completely flabbergasted.

  “This isn't my gift. I struggle to even sense Amalie, for you it's natural. My strongest Gifts lie in the future and sometimes in the present. Your Gifts are obviously tied to the past, that's why it's so easy for you to sense the dead.”

  “Lucky me.”

  She shrugged.

  “So you can't help me at all?”

  “I didn't say that,” she said.

  “Then you can?”

  “Not me exactly, but I might know someone who can.”

  “Who?” I bit off, struggling to keep my patience.

  “Well, now, don't get your hopes up. He's not here right now.”

  “Who?”

  “It all depends on if I can talk him to coming here, and that won't be easy.”

  “Who is it?”

  “And the soonest he could really come would probably be this summer. Unless I can convince him it's an emergency, which I suppose it could be.”

  “Judy, if you don't tell me who you're talking about right now there will be an emergency.”

  She laughed and pushed her cup of tea towards me. “I think you need this more than me. If you have chamomile that would be even better.”

  “Judy,” I said warningly.

  “Dashel.”

  I blinked. “Dash?”

  “Yes.”

  “But…what…how?”

  “His Gifts are closer to yours, I think.”

  “His Gifts? I didn't even know Dash had Gifts.”

  “Of course he does. He's my son isn't he?”

  “Does Jake?”

  Her smile faltered for a second. “I don't know,” she admitted. “If he does, he's never mentioned it. But,” she added briskly. “Dashel definitely does.”

  “But he's only a year older than me. How can he teach me?”

  “He might be only a year older, but you're just recognizing your Gifts. He's been fully aware of his for years now. Plus, he's been studying with a Maori shaman since he's been in Australia.”

  I shook my head, trying to make everything fall into place. Could my life get any more bizarre? Don't answer that. “You said their closer to mine? Does that mean they're not exactly the same?”

  “No, not exactly. His are more closely related to the spirit world. I'll ask him when I talk to him next if he thinks he'll be able to help you.”

  “Isn't what I'm dealing with the spirit world?”

  “Not exactly, at least not in the sense that I meant. The spirits Dashel senses and communicated with are not now, nor have they ever been human. They are not deceased people. There's a whole spirit world out there that most people never know exist.”

  This was all a little much for me. “You mean like angels and stuff?” I asked feeling slightly shell-shocked.

  “Among other things.”

  “I don't even want to know,” I said emphatically.

  She smiled and reached over to pat my hand. “It's really not all that bad, sweetie. You'll get used to it all eventually.”

  “I don't want to get used to it.”

  She shrugged. “What choice do you have?”

  I sighed. “I don't guess I have any choice, do I? I tried to ignore it, it wouldn't go away.”

  She stood up and came around the table to give me a hug. “It'll be ok, Killian,” she whispered as she gave me a tight hug. “I promise.”

  She straightened up and ruffled my hair playfully. “I only have one question.”

  “What's that?” I asked glumly.

  “While you were chatting with Paul, why didn't you just ask who had killed him?”

  My mouth flew open and for a second nothing would come out while several thoughts ran through my mind in rapid fire. Then everything tried to tumble out at one time. “We didn't…I didn't…he…could I have done that?”

  Judy threw her head back and laughed heartily at my expense. When she'd pulled herself together, she patted my cheek. “I was just kidding, kiddo,” she said wiping a tear from her eye. “Even if you had thought to ask him he probably couldn't have told you. It's never that easy.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged again. “Who knows? It just doesn't work like that. Now, I'd better go. Will you be ok?” I nodded and she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. I started to rise to go with her to the door but she waved me back down. “I can let myself out. Stay put; drink that tea. Don't let it go to waste.”

  I nodded, only half-listening. My mind was already picking at her statement about how it didn't work like that. I thought about how Seth said he had rules about what he could and couldn't say and do. Was it the same with all ghosts? I'd gotten the impression that Seth was some sort of special category in the echelon of the dearly departed, but what did I know?

  I absently picked up the mug of tea and took a sip.

  “It's about time you came to your senses,” someone said and I almost spit my mouthful of tea across the table.

  “I hate it when you do that,” I complained.

  “I know,” Seth said smugly as he leaned his chair back on two legs and propped his feet on the table. I started to protest, but then it occurred to me that it was just a little silly to care whether or not an insubstantial being had his feet on the table. “Just for the record,” he continued, “you were never in any real danger today, at least not from ghosts. Snooping around a sealed crime scene is a danger of another type entirely.”

  I sat up excitedly. “Was what I felt Paul?”

  “I don't know, I wasn't there,” he said.

  “Then how do you know I wasn't in any danger?”

  “I was listening to what you told Judy…”

  “You were eavesdropping!”

  “No, I just hadn't made myself known yet.”

  “You were eavesdropping.”

  “The point is, from what you told Judy; if whoever or whatever was guiding you had wanted to hurt you they had plenty of opportunity.”

  “What do you mean whoever or whatever?” I asked uneasily.

  “Just what I said. You heard Judy; there are other things in the spirit world besides what you call ghosts.”

  “Are any of them unfriendly?”

  “You bet your sweet bootie.”

  “Great.”

  “Don't worry. If I had to make a guess as to what was guiding you in the apartment I would say it was Paul, or at least some essence of Paul.”

  “Huh?”

  “It doesn't necessarily have to be Paul himself. Our personalities leave an imprint of themselves on any place where you spend a great deal of time. That impression isn't exactly sentient but if you have a strong enough Gift it can respond to direct questions.”

  “But what about feeling like I was being strangled? And that feeling that I was being drawn to the bedroom?”

  “Both of those could just be aspects of your gift, sensitivity to strong emotional imprints. Death is a pretty strong imprint, at least a violent death is. I'm not surprised you picked up on that. And if you were going to be drawn anywhere it would the bedroom, where the strongest impression was.”

  “So you don't think that Paul's ghost is really in the apartment? It's just this impression?”

  He shrugged. “I don't know. He could be. I'm just throwing out some other options.”

  “Yo
u're not a big help, you know that?”

  “Hey, I can stop coming.”

  “No, don't.”

  “Then quit your whining.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him. He quickly returned the favor then vanished into thin air.

  “You always have to have the last word, don't you?” I grumbled at the now empty room.

  * * *

  I had classes the next morning, but when I arrived at the office that afternoon I found Novak sitting at my desk.

  “I've got good news,” he said before I was even all the way through the door.

  “What has happened to manners in this society?” I lamented. “Doesn't anyone say hello anymore?”

  “I thought you'd be more interested in my news.”

  “I am,” I admitted. “Still, it would have been nice to get some sort of greeting. I have news for you too. Actually, I just want to fill you in on my day yesterday.”

  “And I want to hear it. Which do you want to do first?”

  “You're news of course.”

  “I got you in to the AIDS Ball.”

  “Yes!” I shouted. “You're a miracle worker, Novak!”

  “I don't know about that. I just happened to know someone who had a few extra tickets.”

  “A few?”

  “Well, two to be exact.”

  “Are you going with me?”

  “No, you're going with Micah.”

  That brought me up short. “What? Why?”

  “I want someone along with you and I don't think I'm the best choice. You're bound to run into Jake while you're there and I would have no reason to be there. You and Micah, on the other hand, could conceivably be there; Micah in his roll as reporter and you as his date.”

  “But…” I started to argue. I wasn't sure I was ready to go on a date with Micah just yet, even a work date.

  “No buts. Either you go with Micah or not at all.” I was almost beginning to think Novak was playing a bit of the matchmaker here.

  “When is it?” I asked sullenly.

  “Next Friday, Halloween night. It's a masquerade ball.”

  “Great. So now I have to find a costume too.”

  “If you don't want to stand out like a sore thumb, yes. And you might want to let Micah know too, so he can come up with something. By the way, this isn't your average costume party; you can't go dressed as a mummy. It's a formal masquerade ball, tuxedos with masks are the normal attire.”

  “You're kidding,” I choked out.

  “I assure you, I'm not.”

  “But how are we supposed to know who anyone is if everyone is wearing masks?”

  “People seldom leave the masks on the whole time at soirees like this. The whole purpose in going in the first place is to see and be seen.”

  I sighed. “Nothing is ever simple, is it?”

  “What would be the fun in that? Now tell me about your day yesterday. How did the first day of your investigation go?”

  I gave him a brief rundown, emitting the more supernatural elements of the adventure. He was quiet for a minute when I had finished, then said, “That was a good report; now give me your impressions so far. What you actually feel rather than a blow-by-blow of what happened.”

  “Well,” I began slowly. “I don't like Razi. I instinctively don't trust him, but somehow I don't really think he's the killer.”

  “But you know by now not to go on instinct alone. You didn't think Caleb Cohen was a killer either.”

  “I know. I think a lot of my dislike for him might be based on the situation with Tad. I don't feel at all comfortable with that.”

  “Nor do I, but it's a side issue right now. You should just turn it over to the police, but whatever you decide to do, don't let it distract you from your real case. Once the case is over, if nothing has changed, you can revisit the situation if you want. Anything else?”

  “Everyone I've talked to mentions his secretive behavior the last few weeks or months. I think that might be connected somehow.”

  “Good thinking. What's your next step?”

  “I think I need to talk to his family and the guy who owns the agency.”

  He smiled. “You're doing great, Kid. That's exactly what I would have suggested. The only thing I would add is that I think the agency needs to be your higher priority. Find this Neal person and talk to him. To do that, I think you need to talk to Micah.”

  There he went pushing me towards Micah again. Or was I just being overly sensitive? I sighed, but I knew he was right.

  “I'll call him now,” I said unenthusiastically. “As soon as you let me have my desk back anyway.”

  Novak stood up and moved towards his office, then stopped in the door as I took the seat he had just vacated. “I know this is none of my business, but whatever is going on with you and Micah, you should work it out before it's too late.”

  I looked up sharply. “What do you mean, before it's too late?”

  “Life is unpredictable, Kiddo. You never know what tomorrow might hold. Let go of the unimportant things, hang on to the things that matter.” And with that, he pulled into his office and shut the door with a quiet click.

  I sat for a minute, thinking about what he had said, trying to separate the important from the unimportant. It's often hard to tell the difference when you are in the thick of it, but I knew one thing for certain, even if my heart wasn't quite ready to admit it. I took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and dialed Micah's cell phone number.

  Chapter 16

  I sat alone at Micah's favorite diner, anxiously waiting for him to arrive. I'd managed to snag a corner booth so at least we'd have some measure of privacy when we had the conversation I'd been rehearsing over and over in my head. I was early; we'd agreed to meet here at five, but I'd been such a nervous wreck that I'd left work well before the appointed time.

  I waited, playing out what I planned to say, while mutilating sugar packet after sugar packet. Novak's advice had set me off on a path of self-examination that had ended up at some very clear decisions on my part, but I was worried about how Micah would react. I don't know why I'd chosen the diner for our meeting since we didn't have the best memories of this place. The last time we'd been here Micah had broken up with me.

  I destroyed the last sugar packet and was about to move on to the Sweet-n-Low when Micah slid into the seat across from me.

  “Hey,” he said easily. He was wearing a dark blue collared pullover with jeans. He looked a bit rumpled, his hair was mussed up a little, but he somehow looked better than ever.

  “Hi,” I answered softly.

  “How did things go yesterday?” he asked.

  “Ok,” I said, “but I need to talk to you about something else first, if that's ok.”

  Something flickered through his eyes, but it was gone too quickly for me to read. I fought a sigh as I wondered what the point in having all these Gifts was if it didn't help me out when I really needed to know what was going on right across the table from me. Before I could say a word, a waitress appeared at the table. I tried not to grit my teeth. We placed orders although I wasn't at all sure I'd be able to eat, and she left us alone.

  “Novak said something this morning that really got me thinking about us,” I began. “He told me to let go of the unimportant things and hold on to the things that matter.” I took a deep breath. “I realized as I thought about that, that you matter to me and I don't want to lose you.”

  Micah opened his mouth to respond, but I held up a hand to stop him. “Please, just let me finish,” I said quickly. “I've been rehearsing this all afternoon and if I don't say everything now I might never say it.” He nodded and I continued. “I know I reacted very badly when I found out about your past. I could make a lot of excuses-it caught me by surprise, I found out in a rotten way-but the truth is I overreacted. Who am I to judge your past? I have no right to do that. Even if it isn't what I would have chosen, it's just not my place. I've never even been in the same situation so I don't know what I
would have done. The important thing is that I love you. I love who you are, and who you are is a direct result of your past, so how can I have a problem with it? I've loved being with you these last few months, and that morning in DC when we made love, I've never been so happy or felt so right. I don't want to lose you. I...I guess what I'm saying is that I hope you can forgive me for how I've acted and we can start over. I would understand if…”