Chapter 15

Hart pulled his red BMW into the gravel drive. The two-hour drive out to the house seemed vague and distant like it had taken years to get here. He alternated between hypervigilance and exhaustion since he left the DSI, he was at least reasonably sure it was somewhere between mid-morning and early afternoon. The sun was high and seemed to mock his weariness as he grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder and drug himself to the house. No matter how tired he was there was still more that had to be done.

Opening the front door, he found the three of them in the living room. Phet was curled up in the armchair, his sketchpad on his knees facing the couch where Kram and Love sat. He could feel relief wash over the waiting group, Love rushed to where he was taking off his shoes inside the door. Taking Hart's bag, he hung it on a peg above the shoe rack. 

"Are you hungry? I can make you something." Said, Love. Hart shook his head. "I'm too tired to eat." He said rubbing Love's arm gently as he passed by on his way to Phet. 

"Are you ok?" Hart ruffled Phet's hair, then tilted his face from side to side looking for anything that might show he had been mistreated. Phet swatted his hand away. 

"Would you stop it! I'm fine, I promise. Kram and Love have been kind. Kram made me the best coffee I have ever had, and Love made us breakfast" Said, Phet while Hart continued to paw over him. 

"Let me guess he made omelets, that's what he made me on our first morning together" Hart smirked.

Kram nudged Love with his foot. 

"You sneaky dog! You were supposed to investigate Hart, not sleep with him!' Kram whispered to Love.

A well-aimed kick caught Kram hard in the shin. 

"We slept together in the same bed, but we didn't sleep together…. Hart was very drunk…we were both drunk." Love whispered back annoyed under his breath. 

"Oh, I am so telling Noh you were drunk on duty!" Kram teased.

Love opened his mouth to issue another retort, but Hart cut him off. 

"As much as I love your schoolboy antics, I'm too tired and we have a lot to talk about." His words were sharp, but he smiled at them before looking at Phet. 

"Do you want to tell them or is it easier if I do it?" Hart asked gently. Phet let out a sigh. 

"I'm exhausted and I don't want to talk about it at all but It's my story I should tell it," Phet said quietly, he tucked his feet tighter underneath himself and continued to sketch. The sound of his pencil on the thick paper was the only sound in the room for a while until he very quietly began to speak.

"I was in my second year and Hart was in his third year of university when I met this guy. It was a typical boy meets boy, I saw him a few times in the library and across campus. He was a law student, and I was an art student, so we had no classes together. One day I asked if I could draw him for a project and we started talking, in no time we were inseparable and dating. 

I thought it was cute at the time. All those things' couples do, listening to each other's music, wearing clothes the other suggests, I didn't realize it was only me changing. Everything was fine the first year then after Hart graduated, my boyfriend suggested we move in together for our last year since I didn't have a roommate anymore. That's when everything changed. 

He had to know, everything all the time, who I was with, where I was going, he knew how long it should take me to get to campus, to the library, the studio, etc., and if I didn't text him to let him know when I arrived, or it took longer he thought I was cheating. I stopped hanging out with friends, and it affected my art. My favorite thing to paint has always been the night sky, but everything felt like a black hole. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't get myself out. The sex that had been beautiful and passionate at first changed with his mood. It was fun, soft, and exciting when he was happy, but it could get so painful and violent and scary when he wasn't. I remember one time he was screaming at me and choking me, and I kept going in and out of consciousness and wondered if I died, under him in bed would he even notice? If he killed me that night would that be my fault too? A few days later, Hart came to campus to find me, and he freaked out when he saw the bruises." 

"I should have killed him that day" Hart interjected angrily, wincing slightly at the expression that flashed across Phet's face. 

"Let me finish! the longer this goes on! The harder it is for me to tell!" Phet snapped before continuing. 

"Anyway, when I saw Hart, I just lost it, I broke down in tears and told him everything. I didn't even have my own key to the apartment anymore because he picked me up and took me everywhere so there was no need for separate keys. We came up with a plan that as soon as graduation happened, I would leave with Hart, and move to his new place so I wouldn't run into my boyfriend, I could break it off after that then I could be safe and focus on my art, I decided I would just leave everything I couldn't carry.

I think he must have sensed a change in me, he kept saying things like: No one else would ever love me. I was depressed, and my mood swings made me a burden, I was lucky he loved me enough to put up with me. Then he started saying things like if I tried to leave, he would keep me locked up in his apartment, chain me to the bed, he kept reminding me of who his father was, how much influence their family had, even if he kept me, prisoner, forever or killed me no one would do anything about it. He even gave me this tattoo, it's his symbol to show the world I belonged to him.

Somehow Hart and I managed to get me out of there while he was gone for a few hours. Everything was fine for the first year, I recovered, I had to spend some time in a hospital at first, then I went to live with Hart. I even had my first exhibit at Hart's gallery, the one Kisa covered. She was critical of my work, but I didn't take it personally. The art world can be fickle, and it makes people jaded. Kisa hated it when words like genius were thrown around. Another reviewer said something like my painting peered into the soul of time itself, I honestly thought she would pop a vein when she read it. Two days later she published her scathing review of the exhibit. After that things started to change.

Hart received a letter at the gallery telling him he had 10 days to return my ex's stolen property. A sketch of my tattoo is at the bottom of the letter. When Hart didn't respond the notes kept coming, then dead birds were left on the stairs. Finally, he left a watermelon with a wig and a face painted on it, and a machete was stuck through it. Like a pierced head! That was what finally sent us to the police for a restraining order. But he was right, as soon as we mentioned his name, his father, his family name, anything! We were turned away. No one would help us, so we moved. But everywhere we went he would find us, he had people reporting to him about us, we even had cops pulling us over just to deliver a message to us and let us know he was watching! 

There was no escape. He would show up at places, like outside the gallery or the condo, anywhere. Finally, I was too scared to leave the house at all. Hart decided to buy a house under the company of a family friend and moved me here overnight. It's been three years since I've lived in this house, he hasn't found me here yet and so I can't risk leaving. That's why I hid when you two came the first time. Hart and I were so relieved that you came about a murder, we thought it had nothing to do with us at all…" Phet's voice was hoarse as it trailed off. 

He glanced at Hart to see if he had left out anything important. Hart Just gave a small nod to let him know he had done well. Now all that was left was to wait for Kram and Love's reaction. This was the worst part of telling anyone.

 How would they react? With pity? Disbelief? Disgust at his Ex or at Phet? The inevitable: how did you let this happen? Why did you stay? Kinds of questions. He wasn't sure if those people or the ones that seemed completely numb to it were worse, they muttered things like, that's awful, before changing the subject as though that would simply make it go away, as though not thinking about it made it never happen in the first place. All these things only made Phet feel worse. Instead, Love led with the question Phet was dreading most. 

"You kept saying him, or my boyfriend, my ex. But you never told us his name. What is his name?" Love asked. 

Phet and Hart exchanged glances, this was what they had been avoiding, if they told Kram and Love and they were betrayed, where would they run to this time? 

"We can't help you if you don't tell us," Kram said gently.

"His name is Khom-Akkaradet Phaiwannasorn," Said Phet, studying his sketch pad, afraid to see their faces. 

Both detectives reacted at once. 

"Shia!" Love swore loudly, his eyes snapping to Kram who had suddenly and violently erupted into a fit of the angriest laughter Phet and Hart had ever heard. Both of them recoiled, frightened by the manic, grotesque display. 

Love jumped to his feet. 

"We need to talk now! And I'm calling Noh" He reached down and tried to drag Kram from the couch to somewhere more private. However, it was two against one as Hart jumped up. 

"Anything you want to say you have to say it in front of us! It's our lives at risk here and I'm not letting you sneak around and get us killed." His voice was fierce as he stood between them and a Phet. 

Kram on the other hand refused to be moved. Yanking his arm back he sent Love tumbling back onto the couch. 

"Call Noh if you want but we both know it won't do any good!" Kram spat the words like venom before turning to Hart. 

"Don't worry, neither of you is in danger from us, you see I know your story is true, I don't doubt a word of it. I have hated the Phaiwannasorn family my entire life! Assawin Phaiwannasorn also called "Ek" the father of your ex is responsible for my mother's death. You're right to not go to the cops, they won't help you" Said Kram, his voice full of bitterness.

Hart and Phet exchanged shocked and incredulous glances. The same thought passed between them. This was too much of a coincidence, maybe it was a trap. 

Seeing their fear, Love spoke up. 

"He's not lying, he's been chasing Ek Phaiwannasorn for as long as I have known him." Love said then looked at Kram.

"We are not going to follow some crazy plan of yours that gets us all killed in your quest for revenge." Love said.

"You're right, these two aren't cops and we can't get them killed," Kram said.

"I'm glad you understand..." Love started to speak. 

"That's why we're just going to kill him." Kram's voice was cold and matter of fact.