Broken Identity (12 page)

Drake turned, his hand clutching the doorknob. “What is it?”

“Why don’t you stay here tonight? Ten miles is a long way, and seems even longer when it’s night and you’re tired.”

Am I hearing this guy right?
“You’re asking me to stay here tonight? Here? In your house?”

“It’s up to you. There’s a bedroom upstairs I’ve never used. The bed sheets haven’t been changed for over a year now, but they’re clean and the bed’s comfortable. At least more comfortable than the shelter’s are, I’m sure.”

Drake released his hold on the doorknob and stood with his mouth gaping open. “I don’t know what to say.”

“All you have to say is yes.”

“If you’re really sure about this…” Drake said slowly, “then I guess the answer’s yes.”

Chapter

7

E
NTERTAINING
A
NGELS

Ronnie Tavner opened one eye slightly as he heard his uncle whispering to someone across the hall. He lifted his body off the mattress and moved a few feet toward the door, struggling to make out the words. An unfamiliar voice answered his uncle. Now his curiosity was aroused.

Someone was coming. Ronnie scurried back to his covers. The bedroom door opened and his uncle stepped into the room quietly, closing and locking the door behind him. Locking? That was strange. Ronnie wanted to peek through the door before it closed, but when his uncle shot a glance at him, he shut his eyes before he was noticed and pretended to be asleep.

Andrew breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed into bed, too tired to pull the covers over his legs. A satisfied feeling swept over him in knowing that he had made an impact on someone’s life today. How long he planned to help Drake, he had no idea, but he was certain God was behind this. Was the kid dangerous? He doubted it. Would he take something of value and leave in the middle of the night? He doubted that too. God had laid it upon his heart to help him, so it had to be right. Whoever Drake was and whatever his background might be wouldn’t determine how he would treat him. Everyone needed love, especially those who were hurting. He wasn’t sure if Drake had told him the entire truth tonight—Andrew was remarkably good at being able to tell if someone was lying to him—but then again, what if Drake had a good reason for not telling him his whole story? Maybe he was ashamed of where he had come from and what his family life had been like. It sure sounded like that during some parts of the conversation.

Whatever the case might have been, Andrew was determined not to judge. If God had put it on his heart to help this young man, he was confident enough to trust that God knew what He was doing.

Drake tossed his duffel bag at the foot of the bed and surveyed his room for the night. Impressive. He couldn’t believe how perfect the temperature was, how clean it smelled, and how the padded carpet felt beneath his feet. He longed for a deep, unbroken sleep, and for a few seconds, allowed himself to forget all the runaway plans and schemes and dividing his money into small portions so he could survive decently for a few months.
You got one night. Make it count.

Drake sprawled himself on top of the covers and allowed his body to soak into much-needed rest. The mattress was comfortable; and for once, he didn’t have to worry about rolling over and being assaulted by a cluster of broken springs during the night. The comforter, the pillows, the sheets—everything was fresh and soft. He wadded his pillow at his side and pressed his face against it, smelling the perfume from its last washing. And to think that this was only a guest room no one ever used. What about the other bedrooms? How much nicer were they?

Drake sat up on the bed and untied his shoes, feeling so tired that he let them drop to the floor.

His silver knife hit the floor. He saw its reflection in the glow of the moon and realized he had lied to Andrew about not having a weapon. He picked it up quickly and stuffed it in the hollowed-out heel of his shoe until it was once again out of sight.
Can’t let him find that
. He hadn’t lied on purpose. He only carried a knife as a protective measure, but Andrew still couldn’t find out he had it. It’s not like it was really that important anyway.

Along with the knife, hidden underneath the insole at the base of his heel, where he had carved out a narrow hole in the dense rubber, was his wad of money. Six hundred Benjamins. He had left his fifty-two dollars inside his wallet for easy reach in case he went into a gas station to buy food, but he kept his six hundred dollars tucked away where he knew it would be safe from being found or stolen. That too was something else he wouldn’t tell Andrew or anyone else about, even though he figured that six hundred dollars would seem petty to a well-to-do man like him. Still, he couldn’t trust anyone but himself.

Ronnie waited until he was sure his uncle was asleep before delicately lifting the covers off his body. With his panda under his arm, he tiptoed to the door, bit his lip as he looked over his shoulder at his uncle, and noiselessly cracked the door open wide enough to slip his body through. Now, he just had to figure out where that stranger was staying. He walked toward a room with an open door and peered inside.

Empty.

The next room down had a closed door. Ronnie thought about passing it up, but his curiosity just wouldn’t allow it.

He turned the doorknob quietly. Inside, he saw a mound of covers gradually rising and falling, accompanied by the sound of labored breathing. He hesitantly sneaked over and tapped on the sheets.

Drake jumped like he had been shot. He wrestled his covers off his body and whirled around to find a little kid in Scooby Doo pajamas staring at him. He pressed a hand against his chest and exhaled. “What’s wrong with you, waking a guy up in the middle of the night like this? Who are you anyway?”

“Ronnie. Who are you?”

Drake looked at him skeptically. “The man living here said he didn’t have any kids.”

“He’s my uncle.”

Drake raised an eyebrow and sank back down in his bed. “Look, kid, I am
really
tired and—”

“Are you an angel?”

Drake sat up slowly and squinted. “Am I a
what?”

“An angel. The preacher said something about taking in homeless people who are angels or something.”

Drake sat there, weary eyed and wishing that this little pest would leave him alone. “Do I look like an angel to you?”

Ronnie looked him over. “I don’t know. Never saw one before.”

“Well, I’m not. I don’t know what kind of preachin’ you’ve been listenin’ to, but—”

“So what’s your name?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Huh?”

“Skip it.”

“OK…then, where’d you come from?”

Oh, for the love of
… “Around,” Drake said dully.

Ronnie giggled. “That’s a funny place to live.”

Drake rolled his eyes.
Oh, I give up.
“Look, kid, whatever you said your name is—”

“Ronnie.”

“Whatever. Look. I’m tired—as in very, very, very tired—and I want more than
anything
to go to sleep, so if you don’t mind—”

“Why did you come here? Don’t you have a family?”

Catch a clue, kid. I do not want to talk to you.
“No, I don’t have no family,” Drake answered without any interest whatsoever, thinking that maybe after the kid was done playing private eye he would leave him alone.

“I live with my uncle because my parents didn’t want me anymore.”

I don’t blame ’em,
Drake thought. “Uh-huh. Well, I’d really love to sit here and talk to you all night long—”

“You would?” Ronnie said, perking up.

“—but I’m tired and I am
going
to get some
rest.
So leave me alone.”

Ronnie looked down at his panda and handed him over to Drake. “You can sleep with Arrow tonight.”

Drake shoved the stuffed animal away. “I don’t need that stupid fuzz-ball in my face; I need sleep! Just leave me alone, OK?”

Ronnie scooped up his panda and dashed out of the room. Drake thought he heard sniffling before his door closed shut.
Yeah, good riddance.

The front door creaked as Drake opened it and stepped inside cautiously. So dark. He tried a light switch, but there was nothing. Wait…someone was breathing. He heard it.

Drake reached inside his shoe for his knife. Never could be too sure. He crawled toward the back of the couch and heard the breathing more distinctly now.

But he knew he had killed him. He had seen the blood. Drake scooted to the edge of the couch and tried to see the fireplace through the hazy darkness.

He was gone. So was the blood.

A shadow swept across the wall. Drake clutched the knife more firmly in his hand as sweat and adrenaline chilled his body.

“Looking for someone, Drake?” Ben yelled, emerging from the shadows like a ghostly fog.

“You can’t do anything to me!” Drake screamed, raising the knife. “You’re dead!”

Ben pulled out a gun and aimed it at Drake’s chest. “Yeah, and now it’s your turn.”

Drake gasped for air and threw his body in an upright position, beads of sweat clinging to his face.
He’s dead. He can’t do anything to me. It was just a dream. Nothing more. He’s dead. He’ll always be dead.

A knock came at the door. “Drake? You awake yet?”

Drake put a trembling hand over his chest. No bullet. Just a violently beating heart. “Yeah, I’m awake.”

“You like pancakes?”

“Uh…sure.”

“That’s all I needed to know.”

Drake heard Andrew walking away and fell back on his pillow.
He won’t find you. He can’t. He’s dead.
He closed his eyes and tried to forget his dream.
He’s dead.

Drake slipped his socks on and walked downstairs. He was still trembling, but found it was easier to ignore the feeling than to worry about it. Dreams were just dreams. What was happening in his life now was more significant than replaying his past a thousand times over and coming up with the same ending.

Ronnie was at the breakfast table chugging down a glass of chocolate milk when Drake walked in.

“Can I sit here?” Drake said, sliding a chair away from the table.

Ronnie shrugged without making eye contact.

“Pancakes are almost ready!” Andrew hollered from the kitchen.

Drake stared at Ronnie out of the corner of his eye, feeling ashamed though he knew he shouldn’t. He felt out of place sitting here, like he should be moving along now instead of bumming another meal. When he realized the kid was purposefully avoiding him, he turned to face him. “All right, I’ll bite. What’s the problem?”

Ronnie looked at him for only a second before his eyes hit the table.

“You don’t like me being here, is that it?”

“You threw Arrow down,” Ronnie said, studying the clump of chocolate syrup stuck to the bottom of his glass.

Drake noticed the panda bear in Ronnie’s lap and made the connection.
Didn’t know the bear was so touchy.
But a rude remark wasn’t worth it. Not in front of Andrew, as kind as he had been to him. It was a long shot, but maybe he could work on the old man’s compassion some more and get another night’s sleep in this palace. So the kid was sensitive. He could work around that. “I’m sorry, OK? Is that what you wanna hear?”