Broken Identity (20 page)

Don’t flatter yourself.

“So, back to my question. Why were you running?”

Drake finally conceded. “Why do you think I was running? I was being chased.”

“Cops?”

Drake rubbed his forehead with both hands. “Yeah,” he said miserably.

“Figured. What’d ya do?”

With his head still buried in his hands, Drake mumbled, “I murdered my dad.”

Ivan let out a low whistle. “Wow, capital felony. I’m impressed.”

“I’m not.”

Ivan thought a moment before leaning close—close enough to make Drake feel uncomfortable—and said quietly, “I can help you if you want, but you have to help me first.”

“How can you help me?”

“I can hide you.”

Drake snorted. “Yeah, sure. I tried that, and it doesn’t work.”

“You think I’m playing you?”

“C’mon, get real. How can you hide me?” Drake shook his head angrily and clenched his teeth, despising everything his life was becoming. “No criminal can ever really hide from the cops. Sure, maybe some, but ninety-nine percent of the time, you get caught. I’m smart enough to know that much.”

“I’ve been holed up for nearly two years now and the cops have never once come close to findin’ me.”

Drake stared into Ivan’s dark brown eyes. “What dirt do the cops have on you?” he said, almost too afraid to ask.

Ivan smiled smugly. “Two murders. One was connected to a kidnapping and rape, and the other involved a strategically planned armed robbery that left me with thousands. The only thing that went wrong was that the money didn’t last as long as I had hoped. Now, your name please.”

Drake waited, hating himself already for what he was about to do. “Drake,” he said slowly.

“The rest.”

Drake wanted to throw up. “Pearson,” he said through an exhale. “But I still don’t think I fully understand your plan yet.”

Ivan scooted his chair away from the table and rose from his seat. “Follow me, Drake Pearson.”

Ivan led Drake around the back of Miller’s Diner through heaps of old tires, discarded twines of barbed wire, jagged pieces of scrap wood, and a tangle of thorns and poison ivy. Drake welcomed the shade beneath the cover of the massive white oaks, but the coolness reminded him that evening was coming. Soon, darkness would resume control, and he knew how the night enjoyed muddling with his thoughts, dictating his mind, torturing him to no end. He glanced at Ivan’s sweat-soaked muscular body and thought,
There’s really no difference between him and me, is there? Both murderers. Both running. Both scared to death, though we’ve managed to mask the pain.

Drake’s insides began to writhe in pain. How could he have not seen this day coming before now? Why did he ever open himself up to Andrew’s scheme, just to end up walking through this unfamiliar place with a murderer who promised hope? Ivan could be packing heat right now for all he knew and have ulterior motives for bringing him here.

Drake looked over his shoulder, yearning to go back. He could do this on his own. He didn’t need Ivan, and he sure didn’t need to keep walking like this unarmed.

Ivan stopped. “And here we are,” he said, pointing to a small shack half hidden beneath the trees that shockingly reminded Drake of what used to be his own home.

“Wow,” Drake remarked. “This where you live?”

“Well, it ain’t no subdivision, but it’s the best we’ve got.”

Drake shot him a look. “We?…As in me and you, right?”

“Oops, did I forget to tell you about the others?” Ivan said, acting surprised. “My bad. I’ll introduce you to the gang.”

Drake gulped as he followed Ivan up to the old structure.
What have I gotten myself into?

Ivan hammered forcefully on the door and yelled, “Open up! It’s me, Ivan!” He shook his head. “Bunch a cowards. Leave ’em alone for two seconds and already they got the place bolted up like Fort Knox.”

The man on the inside went through a lengthy process of unlocking, unchaining, and more unlocking until he eventually cracked the door open. “Who’s that?” he said, staring daggers at Drake.

“Relax, Lomas. He’s gonna help us.” Ivan forced his way through the door and held it open for Drake. There was something sinister about the way his cold smile suddenly curved downward as he said, “Welcome to my castle, Drake.”

Drake took one step inside and found himself staring into the faces of eight hard-looking men. He would have preferred wrestling with that Rottweiler he had seen back on the road than taking on one of these gorillas. If Ivan gave the command, they would turn his body into a sack of bones so fast he’d be dead in a heartbeat.
This was your idea, stupid. You play with a murderer, you get the whole package.

On a rickety table in the middle of the room lay a soupspoon that had been charred black by heat. Beside it were four discolored needles, stained mostly by blood. Drake stared at the sight, suddenly feeling way in over his head.

“Drake here’s a wanted man,” Ivan explained, shoving Drake in front of him so everyone could get a good look. “Cops want him for murder. We’re gonna help him in return for a favor.” He looked sideways at Drake and said, “That is, if he decides to cooperate.”

“Of course,” Drake said, almost too quickly. “But you still haven’t told me what it is you want me to do.”

“Ever smoke?”

Drake shrugged. “Yeah, who hasn’t?”

All the men laughed.

Ivan rolled his eyes exhaustedly. “Hilarious. I’m talking about weed and crack, brainless, not cigarettes.”

Drake tried to hide his embarrassment. “Oh. No, I never smoked it.”

“Then I guess you don’t know how expensive it can be to buy.”

“No, I don’t, but I have a clue.”

“Hershall died a few months back,” Ivan said abruptly, cutting his eyes to the other end of the room. The other men seemed to have their entire attention glued to him as he paced the room. “The chemicals he was working with blew up in his face and set his whole house ablaze. He never made it out.”

“Um…OK,” Drake said, not knowing where Ivan was going with this.

Ivan stopped walking and turned to him. “He was our supplier,” he said solemnly.

Oh,
Drake thought. “No one else sell around here?”

Ivan snorted. “The others want more cash. A lot more than Hershall ever asked for. We’re goin’ broke faster than we ever planned with the new guy, and we never have enough cash. Can’t keep up.”

Drake was beginning to understand why Ivan had brought him here.

“That’s where you come in, Drake,” Ivan said, resting a calloused hand on Drake’s shoulder.

“The old man you worked for had wads of cash, right?”

“Right, but—”

“Do you mean anything to him?”

“What?”

“C’mon, kid, cut the stupidity. Would he give up something of value if he thought his little hired hand was in trouble?”

“He would now, but not for the reason you’re thinking. I heard him talking to the cops before I took off. He was trying to lead ’em to me.”

“Perfect,” Ivan said, his eyes dancing with ideas as he began to put a plan in motion. “This’ll be easier than I thought.”

Morning came, yet did little to erase the darkness in its early rising. The tall, orange lights surrounding the backside of the grocery store gave the wet pavement an eerie tint, as if it had been veiled in evil from every descending shaft of the light’s glow. Ivan slowed to a stop and parked his truck against the windowless backside of the building just as he finished giving Drake his directions. “I want you to do this right, understand? You ain’t got no second chance, so make it sound real.”

“I hope this works,” Drake said.

“You do what I told you and it will.”

Drake glanced around the building skeptically. “How do you know there aren’t any cameras?”

Ivan chuckled and killed the engine. “Man, we been doin’ drug deals for years behind this building and never got caught yet. Why? You ready to bail out already?”

“Hardly,” Drake retorted, hating it when people laughed at him. “Just give me the money and point me in the right direction.” He snatched the quarters from Ivan and kept them clutched tightly in his fist as he stepped out of Ivan’s truck and made his way up to the pay-phone. The air chilled him, but he knew his fear was to blame for most of the goose bumps on his skin.
Forget about it. You want revenge, don’t you?
Did he ever.

Drake slid the coins in the machine and, with a trembling hand, punched in Andrew’s number.

It rang twice before it was picked up. Those two rings felt like an eternity.

“Hello?” Andrew said tiredly.

Drake’s voice was weak and raspy as he said, “Mr. Andrew? Is that you?”

“Drake! Where are you? I’ve been looking all over for—”

“Please hurry. I was beat up real bad and my…my head’s bleeding a lot. You have to come.”

“I will, Drake! I will! But where are you?”

“They dragged me behind a grocery store after they mugged me, and—”

“Grocery store?” Andrew said hastily. “Which one?”

“I don’t know…beside a Blockbuster, I think. Please, you have to come quickly. I…I don’t think I can hold out much longer. I feel so…” Drake let the phone fall from his hand and hang there.

Revenge was so sweet.

Andrew dropped Ronnie off at his mother’s house after a very brief explanation and sped off toward the grocery store. He was driving way over the speed limit, and he prayed he wouldn’t be stopped. He had to get to Drake as quickly as possible. “God, whatever trouble Drake’s in, however hurt he may be right now, I thank You that You will protect him and keep him safe from all harm.” He curled his fingers around his trembling chin and breathed deeply. “Let him still be there when I arrive.”

Andrew swerved in front of the grocery store, applied his brakes, and surveyed the front of the building for any payphones. He saw one, but it was currently being used and Drake was nowhere in sight. Knowing Drake probably hadn’t used that one when he had been attacked, he drove around the backside of the building.

Andrew slammed on the brakes. “Oh, no,” he said under his breath.

Underneath the dangling phone lay Drake’s body in a heap. Unmoving.

Andrew left his keys in the ignition and wrestled out of his seat-belt.
I’m coming, Drake.
He jumped out of his car and rushed toward the pay phone.

“Not so fast,” someone said, emerging from behind two large garbage bins waving a Glock 9mm in his hand. Six or seven others stood behind him like stone images.

Andrew lifted his hands in the midst of his confusion.
They must be the ones who jumped Drake,
he thought. He knew there were people around the other side of the building, but he wouldn’t dare call out for help with a loaded gun pointed at him. “I don’t need trouble,” he managed to say calmly. “I just came to get him.” He nodded toward Drake.

“Get up, Drake. The act’s over,” Ivan said, aiming his gun at Andrew’s chest.

Andrew looked warily at Drake. “What is this?”

Drake stood up and brushed himself off. “A setup. Only this time it’s turned around on you.”

“Drake, I thought you were—”

A heavily tattooed man with a thick stick stepped behind Andrew and gave a solid blow to the back of his head.

Andrew’s vision went black. He collapsed to the ground and heard a loud ringing in his ears just before he lost consciousness. It was all Drake could do to stop himself from rushing toward him.

“Load him up in the trunk and cover him with the blanket,” Ivan ordered. “I’ll meet you back at the hideout with his car. Oh, yeah. Nice work, Drake.”