The Lies We Believe: A Christian Suspense Novel
Page 1
The Lies We Believe
By:
T.K. Chapin
www.tkchapin.com
Copyright © 2017 T.K. Chapin All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.
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Version: 06.05.2017
ISBN:
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Available Books
By T.K. Chapin
(Inspirational Christian Fiction & Romance)
Diamond Lake Series
One Thursday Morning (Book 1)
One Friday Afternoon (Book 2)
One Saturday Evening (Book 3)
One Sunday Drive (Book 4)
One Monday Prayer (Book 5)
One Tuesday Lunch (Book 6)
One Wednesday Dinner (Book 7)
Embers & Ashes Series
Amongst the Flames (Book 1)
Out of the Ashes (Book 2)
Up in Smoke (Book 3)
After the Fire (Book 4)
Love’s Enduring Promise Series
The Perfect Cast (Book 1)
Finding Love (Book 2)
Claire’s Hope (Book 3)
Dylan’s Faith (Book 4)
Stand Alones
Love Interrupted
Love Again
A Chance at Love
The Broken Road
If Only
Because Of You
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Dedicated to my loving wife.
For all the years she has put up with me
And many more to come.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
CHAPTER SIXTY
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
CHAPTER SEVENTY
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
CHAPTER EIGHTY
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT
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Acknowledgements
About the Author
Her words were but a whisper in the night, panic and despair hanging from each breath she drew. My daughter was in trouble, and there wasn’t anything I could do.
***
It’s not the lies we don’t believe that are dangerous. It’s the lies we believe that are deadly.
CHAPTER ONE
THE AIR IN MY SHOP hung thick with the smell of oil and the days of old. Restoring classic cars as my profession was a true case of hobby turned career. The walls of my shop were covered in hubcaps, license plates, and various car memorabilia I had picked up throughout the years. Each square inch of the shop spoke of a lifetime spent collecting all things cars.
Right above the door of the shop hung my first hubcap, a memory I’d keep with me forever. They weren’t the easiest things to come by, at least not the way my father and I did it. We didn’t go out and buy hubcaps. We enjoyed finding them, and it made them seem like treasures. Usually, we could find them along the side of highways, and almost always in the spring. It was right after the snow and ice began to melt that the potholes could come out to help us. Couple that with the reality that not every hubcap is tightened after the snow tires come off, and it was the perfect hubcap season. I'll never forget that first one I had spotted without Dad’s help. My father had taken me on a business trip from Spokane to Moses Lake, and we were between Ritzville and Moses Lake on I-90 heading east. My eyes were glued to the edge of the road the whole way. There, along the edge of the road, in a slow-melting snow bank, that Chevy hubcap from above my door had caught a glimmer of the sunshine. The light reflected off the trophy and into my young thirteen-year-old eyes. I shouted for my dad to stop the car. He pulled over and I leaped from the car. Running down the shoulder of the road, I came to the snow bank and the hubcap. He was proud of me that day, and we hung it up on the wall in the garage with the others, but that one was more special than the rest, for it was the one I found. I'll never forget the smile he had on his face when I brought it back to the car. My father might be gone now, but I have a shop full of his memories, full of our memories.
The phone rang on the shop wall, just above the workbench.
Wiping my hands on an old dirtied rag, I tossed it over my shoulder and went to answer the call. I didn't get many phone calls, mostly telemarketers trying to sell me something and the occasional interested buyer in one of my cars who had picked up a Thrifty Nickle or seen an ad in the newspaper. Though I had a total of f
ive listed cars in the garage that was connected to my shop, I didn't seem to keep them there for long after they went on the market. They sold almost as quickly as I could fix them, except for the Camaro.
"Hello?" I answered, glancing at the clock next to the calendar on the wall.
"Hey, Dad." My daughter Emily's voice carried over the phone line and brought a smile to my heart and mouth. A welcomed, but surprising call from my twenty-two-year-old daughter. It was sad, but I barely saw her once a month now that she was working and out of college. She reminded me so much of her mother—the good parts, anyway.
"Emily! How are you? I’ve missed you." I rested a palm against the workbench.
"I want to come by and see you." Her voice seemed laced with worry, maybe even a tad uneasy. Maybe her job wasn’t working out. Maybe it was something else.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing’s wrong, Dad. We just need to chat. How's tonight?"
We both laughed. "You know me, Ems. I don't get out much."
"I know, I know." She laughed again. "I sure do miss hearing that laugh of yours. I'll be there around six. Okay?"
Hanging up with Emily, I returned to my work on the '50 Chevy truck I was working on. I still had a few hours before Emily would be arriving. Grabbing my wrench from the top of the toolbox, I was surprised when Milo, my calico cat, was standing on the bumper of the truck. Reaching down, I gave his head a small brush with my hand and then I dove back into my work on the truck.
CHAPTER TWO
WHEN I WORKED, TIME CEASED to exist. Before I knew it, I could hear Emily's car pulling into my driveway. Going over to the workbench, I grabbed the digital camera and hurried to take the pictures I needed for the photo album.
Where I lived, out in Mead, Washington, it was perfect for a country guy like myself who still wanted easy access to the city. Just a few minutes from the heart of Spokane, yet still out in the country. It was the better of two very different worlds. The drive out to my house, depending on the time of the year and direction you come in from, would bring a person through fields upon fields of farmland and flowers for as far as the eye could possibly see, and then some.
"C'mon, Milo." I set the camera down on the workbench and watched my cat. He leaped from the bed of the truck and onto the cement floor. He purred as he came over to me and rubbed his side against my leg. Smiling, I shook my head and hit the light switch. We both came outside the shop and shut the door.
Turning, my eyes fell onto my beautiful daughter Emily as she got out of her car. She was a cute girl, blonde hair with natural curls and golden brown eyes. I watched as she peered around and over to the neighbor's house. "This place is so quiet. I don’t know how you live here."
"They have a place for rent up the road. It's not far from the city."
We hugged and she let out a laugh and shook her head. "No thanks. I like being five minutes from work downtown and life in the city." She looked around again, admiring the gorgeous sapling trees that reached into the sky above our heads in the yard. "Maybe someday, I'll enjoy this kind of quiet life. Maybe when I'm old like you."
"Hey now." We laughed, and then I continued. "You know, your mother never did enjoy it out in the country."
“With those allergies of hers, it doesn’t surprise me.”
Milo came prancing by and Emily bent down to pet him. I smiled as I looked at her and thought about how wonderfully she was doing in life. She had graduated college, and she even got a job at a law firm. Now all that was left was getting back into church.
Milo soon scurried out from her grasp and hurried up the steps on the side of the porch.
"Should we join Milo inside?"
"Yeah." She smiled, forcefully, and held her purse a little tighter to the side of her body. Suddenly, she wasn’t comfortable, and I sensed it with ease. Something had her spun up, keeping her distracted. I became anxious to know what it was. I prayed it wasn’t about a guy.
Sitting down in my recliner inside, Emily took a seat on the couch. Setting her purse down on the cushion beside her, she crossed her hands in her lap and made eye contact with me.
"Hey, Dad . . ." Her eyes welled with tears.
Raising my eyebrows, I leaned on my armrest toward her on the couch. "What's wrong, Ems? I can’t help if you don’t tell me."
"I'm thirsty." The words were quick, and obviously not what was on her mind.
Nodding, I stood up and went into the kitchen to get us drinks.
CHAPTER THREE
SLICES OF LEMON GARNISHED THE tops of our glasses of ice water as I brought them into the living room. Handing one to Emily, I took mine and sat down in the recliner once again. Taking a long drink from my water, I gave her room to talk.
Her fingers intertwined together on her lap and around her glass. Her eyes connected with mine for a moment, then jumped over to the wall where I had pictures of her. They were young photographs of her from when she was just a kid.
Recognizing that Emily needed help getting whatever it was she wanted to say out, I finally asked, "What's on your mind, kiddo?"
She shrugged a shoulder, then looked at me. Fear covered her expression, breaking a part of my heart in the process. What could she be so fearful to talk to me about? Am I that intimidating?
I set my glass down on the end table beside my recliner and got up. Sitting down beside her, I put my hands atop hers. "You can talk to me about anything, Emily. You know that."
"Promise not to freak out, Dad?"
I didn't want to promise that, but I wanted to know what was plaguing my daughter to make a journey all the way out to my house on a random Monday evening. "Sure."
"Okay. Well, I went to Lighthouse last night."
I shrugged and shook my head. "What's that?"
"It's a church."
"Oh, good! That's great news." Smiling, I felt confused as to why this was so difficult for her to admit. My heart's greatest desire and prayers since she moved away from home was that she'd return to church someday. Proverbs 22:7 was a verse I clung to in my daily prayers. Often, in my sorrow-filled moments when my soul felt heavy and grieved over her, I'd call upon His words, speaking them out loud. 'Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.'
She set her cup down on the coffee table and held my hands. "Dad, It's not a Christian church."
Fear rippled through me. "What does that even mean?"
The conversation grew dark as she spoke. "It's a new age thing. It's about being connected in oneness with one another and showing love, pure love. You always taught me about loving people the way God does. This is just a branch off from that, just a little different. Not Christian though."
Branch off something, that's for sure! More like a branch off Satan! My thoughts scolded her, rebuked her. I wanted to break into a lecture right then, but I was scared. I felt it'd only divide us. I couldn't lose her again, not after last time.
Knowing I’d better tread carefully, I put a fake smile on and shook my head. "Do they believe in Jesus?"
She nodded. "They believe he was a great man who taught love and compassion. They believe that love is what connects us all, dad."
I was silent as my blood boiled inside with a fiery anger. He also taught He was the way, the truth, and the light! My thoughts were screaming inside my head.
"I knew you were going to be this way, Dad." She stood up and was about to leave, but I stopped her, catching her arm in my hand as I jumped up.
"It's fine, Emily. I'm not going to pretend it's going to lead you to the true and living God. I know the truth, and you do too. It’s the Bible. That's the God you grew up learning about, the God you gave your life to when you were ten." I shook my head as I let the idea of her joining a new age religious cult filter down through me. I felt sick. Then, I looked her in the eyes and saw my baby girl. "You're seeking God, Emily. That's not a bad thing, even if I know this religion is not true. You know how I feel about anything outside the Bible."
; She nodded and looked away. "I know . . . If it's not for God, it's against Him. If it doesn't preach Jesus, it preaches against Jesus." Looking into my eyes, my sweet Emily touched my soul with a fire as she said, "I love you, Dad, but I'm not a kid anymore. You’ve gotta let me try things. Maybe even fall down and get hurt occasionally. It’s our experiences that shape us. You say that all the time."
My daughter told me about a lot of lies, but what she said right there was truth, painful as it was. "Yeah, I do. I love you too, Ems."
CHAPTER FOUR
EMILY DECIDED TO STAY AND join me for dinner. She talked a lot about the firm and all the cases that she could that were going on with the different lawyers in the office. Then, after I had cleared the plates from dinner and dished out a scoop of ice cream for both of us, we were sitting at the kitchen table eating when she asked a question that felt like a dagger.
"Do you think I'm pretty, Dad?"
My heart fell right out of my chest there in the kitchen. Reaching my hand out as my eyebrows furrowed, I touched her hand as I looked into her eyes. "Of course I do. Why would you ask something like that?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I just haven't been asked out in almost a year, and I have only had a couple of dates since high school."
Raising my eyebrows, I nodded. "Think about it, Ems. You're intimidating to most men. You're successful, beautiful, and tall. Not to mention you’ve been in college and busy. Weak men will never approach you, and the ones worth your time are probably busy themselves. Don't worry, you'll find a guy one of these days and you'll know it when you do." Taking a bite of my ice cream, I pointed my spoon at her and smiled. "God has someone special for you, Ems. I know it."
Setting her spoon down in her bowl, she stood up and came around to me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders as she sat in my lap. "I love you, Daddy. Thank you for always being there for me."