The Killing of Faith: A Suspense Thriller You Won't Soon Forget. (The Killing of Faith Series Book 1)

by William Holms

  After my massage, I’m taken to another room where a woman gives me a Buddhist blessing and I slip into a mineral pool. I fall back asleep and dream of Christian. When I wake up, it’s been over two hours. I leave the spa and head back to my room. I want to be there before Christian returns.

  As I expected, he’s still gone when I get back to the villa so I walk out onto the terrace and sit down at the table to paint until he returns. Painting has always been therapeutic for me. I used to take this time to understand myself a little better and reflect on my own life. I haven’t painted since Ryan and I started having problems. I’ve missed this time alone.

  I walk out on the terrace, and sit down at the table to paint until Christian returns. Looking out at the beach and the ocean, everything seems so surreal. Years ago I took several classes and each time before we started, the instructor began by telling the class:

  “Don’t just paint your subject. Look at your subject. Understand your subject, Internalize your subject. Make your subject a part of you. Everyone’s painting in this class should be different. It should reflect you.”

  I take my pencil and draw the horizon across the middle of the canvas. I blend shades of blue and white to paint the sky and the ocean. I use white paint to show the rolling waves. I paint the sand on the beach that’s so white it looks like the sand you see in an hourglass.

  I thought Christian might be back shortly after my massage. Five hours later, he’s still gone and I’m still painting. I paint birds in the sky and clouds in the distance. I finish by adding a few umbrellas on the beach.

  I’m looking out on the most beautiful spot on earth. I’m sitting on the most beautiful deck, eating the most beautiful meals, and sharing my bed with the most beautiful man I’ve ever met. I think about my life, and how lucky I am to have someone who cares about me. As I stare at the horizon I just painted, I think of my own horizon. It occurs to me that I’m starting another relationship with another lie. This little lie will forever damage Christian’s opinion of me when he learns the truth, and he’ll surely learn the truth. Tomorrow this dream vacation will be over, and I’ll be back in Austin. I look at myself and know that I have to change. I have to stop lying, stop living with regrets. I must stop repeating the same mistakes over and over again. I decide to tell Christian the truth.

  I finish my painting and hold it in front of me. I’m no professional—not even close—but I’m proud of my work. In the bottom right corner, I put a tiny cursive “F”, followed by a red heart, and then a “C.” I clean my brushes, return everything to the table, pour a glass of wine, and lie on the swinging bed. I doze off, so I don’t even hear Christian walk through the front door.

  He walks out onto the balcony, picks up my painting, and brings it over to me. “This is incredible,” he says as he compares the painting to the actual landscape in front of us.

  I get off the bed, stand behind him, and put my arms around him. “How was your day?”

  He puts the painting back on the easel. “It was hectic. The guy I had to meet was held up so I had to wait for him. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry; it gave me time to paint.”

  I’m still draped on his back when he puts both his hands on the rail in front of us and looks out at the ocean like something’s bothering him. He lowers his head and I ask, “You okay?”

  He talks in a low voice, barely louder than a whisper. “Faith, have you ever been at a place in your life where you face a decision that will change your life forever?”

  Hearing him talk frightens me a little. I can tell something serious happened today. I put my hands on his shoulders while he continues.

  “Sometimes in life, you have to do things you don’t want to do. It may not be easy, but you have to do it anyway.”

  I wait for him to say more, yet he doesn’t. This seems as good a time as any to reveal everything to him. I take a deep breath before telling him the truth that will shatter the image he has of me. It may change my life forever. I fully expect to lose him. Still, I have to do it.

  “It’s funny you’d say that,” I begin and then stop myself, searching for the right words. This whole telling the truth business is much harder than I expected. My heart is pounding hard in my chest so I take another deep breath to steady myself. I turn Christian toward me and say, “Christian, you’ve built me up to be someone I’m not. I’m not a saint. Far from—”

  “Faith,” he says, cutting me off again.

  “No Christian, I have to tell you—”

  He seems determined not to let me finish. “Faith, I don’t want to spoil this weekend for you. We can talk when we get back to Austin. Right now just enjoy yourself. This is your last day. Enjoy yourself.”

  “Okay, I’ll enjoy myself, but I want to talk when we get back.”

  “We can talk,” he assures me. “Just not right now.”

  We have to get up early the next morning to catch our flight back to Bangkok. Last night, we packed all our things and went to bed early so we wouldn’t be in any rush today. I’m in the shower when the butler delivers our breakfast and sets it on the table outside. Sitting on the terrace, and drinking coffee is a great ending to our vacation. As we finish breakfast, the sun comes up behind us, lighting up the morning sky.

  “I’ll really miss this place,” I sigh.

  He takes a drink of coffee, and says, “It’s so beautiful. It really gets to you.”

  We stand there in silence for quite a long time, drinking coffee and listening to the waves down below. All night long I thought about my situation and what I should do. Now I’m having second thoughts. Telling him the truth doesn’t seem like the best idea after all. I cannot believe how far one little lie can go.

  “If you’re all packed up, I’ll set our luggage outside,” he offers.

  “You don’t have to. I can bring mine out.”

  He gets up, and motions for me to relax. “I don’t mind. You sit here and enjoy your last day.”

  He comes out with our luggage, brings it out to the car, and puts it in the trunk. When he returns, I’m still sitting on the outside terrace looking at the beach. A small bird walks along the edge of the water, pecking at the sand.

  “Are you ready to go?” he asks.

  I grab my purse and walk to the door. Before we walk out, I look back one more time at our gorgeous room and the incredible terrace. How nice it would be to come back here someday. “I wish I could stay in Thailand the rest of my life,” I say.

  We leave through the incredible lagoon that the resort created. It’s early in the morning so the birds are really singing and flying overhead. This time I see even more of the wildlife, including a river running away from the waterfall. Leaf monkeys are hanging from the trees, and geckos run across our path. I’m sad to be leaving, although I also miss my kids. It’ll be nice to get back home and hold them in my arms. Christian was right. I really needed a vacation. My life is finally coming together.

  – CHAPTER 40 –

  We arrive back at the Bangkok airport, and pick up Christian’s large suitcase at the baggage carousel. I’ll get mine when we’re back in Austin. We grab some coffee and walk to a giant area with rows of orange seats that recline slightly. It allows you to look up at the sky through the large windows. We take a seat beside each other, and Christian rests his arm on his armrest. I reach over and put my hand on his arm.

  “Christian, I’ve really enjoyed myself these last few days,” I say as I settle into my chair.

  “Good, that’s what it was all about,” he responds.

  “I really can’t thank you enough. It was a wonderful getaway.” When he looks my way, I squeeze his arm and say, “I know I was tough on you when we met. I’m sorry. I was so hurt and guarded. I put walls up to protect myself. Honestly, I’ve done that all my life, but those days are behind me now.”

  Christian turns to me, squeezes my hand, and says, “Thank you for that, Faith.”

  “And it’s not the money,” I continue. “
This is all nice, but I’ve never been into money. I can live anywhere. I can live in a shack with nothing as long as I’m with you.”

  Christian lifts my hand to his lips and gives it a sweet kiss. “I wish we had more time for goodbyes, but your flight will be leaving soon. This airport is so big. You really should be going.”

  “I wish you could come back with me,” I say.

  “I wish I could too, but I have to get back to work.”

  “I know,” I say still holding his hand. I lean over and kiss him with all the love I can muster. When he pulls away, I grab him and kiss him again. “I’ve never met anyone like you,” I say, looking into his eyes.

  “I’ve never met anyone like you either,” he responds.

  “I’ll see you back in Austin in a few weeks,” I tell him tugging on each side of his sports coat. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

  “A few weeks,” he says with a wink.

  He grabs his suitcase, and heads to the exit. I sit back down in my chair and watch him as he walks out of the airport. I look at my watch. My plane is not departing for two hours so I sit for ten or fifteen minutes while I gather my thoughts.

  My whirlwind vacation is over. Now it’s time to head back to the life I know. No more sleeping in late, private chefs, long massages, or enjoying an incredible sunset from my own private terrace. Back to kids, laundry, house cleaning, and work. I lie back on the reclining seats, close my eyes, and soak in the sun coming through the windows one last time before I have to leave. I still haven’t got used to the time change. Before I realize it, I’ve dozed off again.

  – CHAPTER 41 –

  I wake up and look at my watch. I now have an hour and a half before my flight. I pick up my carry-on bag, and roll my small suitcase to the security counter. The line through security is long, but it’s no longer than most security lines in the United States. It actually moves pretty quickly. When I finally make it to the front, I put my carry-on bag on the table that leads to the scanner. When I reach down to grab my suitcase, a woman comes up from behind me speaking words I don’t understand. It sounds like, “Wang Krapow kon khun.”

  I’m not even sure if she’s talking to me. She’s Thai, dressed in a brown security uniform, and she has a badge. When I turn around, she’s directly behind me. I have no idea what she’s saying.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Wang Krapow kon khun,” she repeats over and over again while pointing at my suitcase. “Wang Krapow kon khun.”

  “I don’t understand Thai. I don’t understand what you’re saying,” I tell her, hoping I can get her to understand.

  “Wang Krapow kon khun,” she repeats even louder, still pointing at my suitcase.

  I know that Bangkok is full of college backpackers. I see backpackers right here at the airport so I’m sure they have random searches. I guess she wants to look in my suitcase. I grab my carry-on bag, and my suitcase off the table, and put them on the floor, “Do you want to see my bags?” I ask.

  She forcefully grabs my hand that’s holding my suitcase and breaks my grip. I’m completely caught off guard. I pull away and yell, “Don’t touch me. If you want to look in my bag that’s fine, but don’t put your hands on me.”

  Everyone and everything comes to a complete stop. The people in front of me move forward and the people behind me back up a few steps. I reach for my phone to call Christian. The second I put my phone to my ear, the woman grabs my wrist with one hand and tries to pull the phone out of my hand. This is crazy. We are actually wrestling over my phone! She breaks my grip and my phone falls to the floor and cracks. I’m shocked and embarrassed.

  “What the hell!” I shout pointing at the woman. “Take my bag, look in it, but don’t grab me again!”

  These words change everything. The woman grabs my arm, and a man who I didn’t even know was involved in our exchange grabs my purse and my luggage.

  “I was just trying to call my husband,” I yell. “I have to call my husband.”

  They forcefully pull me out of the line. I realize it was a big mistake to raise my voice to them. Everything is spiraling way out of control. Everyone around us looks just as surprised as I am. I try to regain my composure. In a much calmer voice, I plead, “I’m sorry, I didn’t understand what you were asking.” I point at all the people standing in line behind me. “Ask any of these people … I was trying to cooperate.”

  They don’t care to hear anything I have to say. One guard grabs my right arm and the other grabs my left. Here I am in a dress and high heels, and they’re treating me like a common criminal. This is outrageous! I’m scared, I’m angry, and I’m shaking from head to toe. I don’t know who they think I am. I’m an American and I have rights. They march me through the airport terminal. I can only walk so fast in high heels, but it’s not fast enough for them. When I stumble, the guards yank me to my feet. Everyone around watches the whole thing unfold, yet nobody does anything to help. We walk out of the main terminal and reach another long hallway. We walk down the hallway to a door with no window, a large sign written in Thai, and a keypad for entry. With each step, they’re taking me further and further from my flight. I’m so scared what they might do to me if I let them take me to a secluded place, so I refuse to walk through the door. When the woman starts to put the numbers into the keypad, I pull away and back up to the far wall.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I yell. “Look at my bags all you want, just do it here.”

  The woman grabs a handful of my hair, and they pull me forward by each arm. Things are going from bad to worse. They push me through the door and into another hallway. All the walls are white, the floor is gray, and there are many doors on the left and right. This is not a place I want to be. Each time I slow down or try to talk, the woman pushes me from behind. We walk past one person after another, and no one comes to my rescue. A man in black slacks, a short-sleeve white shirt, and a red tie appears down the hall.

  “Help me,” I yell out to him. I can’t pull away because I’m deep in their grasp. As he gets closer I stop in my tracks and yell, “Please help. They’re trying to kill me!”

  The man just keeps on walking like I said nothing. No one seems to care about how they’re pushing and pulling me down this hallway. It’s clear that I’ve infuriated both the man and the woman. I said the wrong thing and nothing I say now is calming the situation down.

  In one last attempt to stop them from pushing me forward I stop, take a deep breath, and try to reason with them. “Listen, I didn’t mean to upset you; I just didn’t know what you wanted. Go ahead, check my bags, I really don’t care.”

  Neither one has anything to say. They pull me forward, and we keep walking until we reach another door with a keypad. At this point, we’re so far away from the terminal that I have no idea how to get back to my gate. I fear these two officers might lead me to a room and beat me with their clubs or even rape me. Crying and pleading are doing me absolutely no good. I have to do something. I have to be strong.

  “Just stop,” I yell, pulling my arm out of the woman’s grasp. “I’m not going any further.” I break away and lie on the floor, curling into a ball. The man puts the numbers into the keypad. Once they get the door open, they pick me up off the floor and push me through the door.

  This room is not small or private. It’s a large office with no windows. You can tell people work here by the desks, phones, file cabinets, wastebaskets, and files scattered around. There’s a large red, white, and blue flag on the back wall with signs and plaques everywhere that are all written in Thai. Immediately to the left of the door, there’s a row of plastic chairs against the wall. Two men in chains are sitting beside each other in the middle two chairs. The woman pushes me into the chair by the door. He tosses my purse, carry-on bag, and suitcase on a nearby desk. How is this happening to me? How did things go so wrong?

  “Can I please talk to someone in charge?” I ask the woman. She walks around the desk, and takes a seat in the chair. “I’m an Amer
ican citizen,” I declare, hoping it holds some weight.

  The woman picks up the phone. With anger on her face she says, “Nieb.”

  I cannot make out what that means. I hope she’s calling a supervisor. As soon as someone in charge gets here, I’ll apologize, explain that I didn’t understand what they wanted me to do, and be on my way.

  The fear that I might miss my flight is starting to sink in. I have to find some way to call Christian. Surely, he knows enough Thai to explain what I’m saying. They have to see that I’m not some dumb backpacker. I sit in the chair and start to cry and shake. This whole thing is unreal. I’m not good with conflict and I’ve never been through anything like this before.

  Sitting in the chair, I remember the college student who took something from the hotel where he was staying. He was sentenced to many years in prison. It was all over the news when he died. Was that in Thailand? If he went to prison for something so small as taking something from a hotel, what will they do to me for fighting a police officer? Will they charge me with assault? I put my head between my legs and pray this will all be over soon.

  “Can I please have some water?” I ask the woman at the desk.

  The woman points at me and again says, “nieb,” which I’m now pretty sure means “no.”

  I do the only thing I can think of. I stand up and mimic putting a glass up to my lips. The woman walks over, puts her hand on my chest, and pushes me back down in the chair.

  I turn to the two men sitting down from me and ask, “Did you see that? You're a witness! Do either of you speak English?”

  Neither says anything.

  I sit for another thirty minutes. I’ll miss my flight if they don’t release me soon. I have no money for a hotel or to buy another airline ticket. This is a big misunderstanding. How can I show them that I’ve done nothing wrong if I can’t speak Thai? I’m sure they’ll believe whatever the officers say.