Broken Identity (26 page)

Ivan twisted Drake’s arms behind him while one man—Drake guessed it was Lomas considering the size of those swollen pieces of flesh some might call hands—frisked him to ensure he was carrying no weapons. “Drive here?” Ivan said after the pat down was finished.

Oh, how he craved to kill this man. “You tryin’ to be funny, Ivan? If I didn’t have no money yesterday, I sure ain’t got none now.” He was glad he had thought to park several blocks away, just in case they decided to check.

“You woulda had wads of cash to buy whatever you liked if you’d followed through with our plans. Then again, maybe you did go through with it and kept all the cash for yourself. But surely you wouldn’t have done that to us. Not your pals.”

Drake continued staring and pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Ivan thrived on information. This time he would retain his self-control and use his words only to twist Ivan’s.

“What happened? Grandpa jump ya?” Everyone roared with laughter. Ivan just stood wearing a repulsive smirk.

Drake half-smiled. “Nah, I just realized what an idiot I must’ve been to ever trust dirty scum like you.”

Ivan’s smile quickly faded. “Just what
did
you hope to accomplish by comin’ down here anyway?”

Drake glanced at Ronnie. “To get him. You don’t want another kidnapping on your record, do ya, Ivan? Armed robbery is one thing, but no jury in their right mind ever goes soft on kidnapping a seven-year-old kid. And don’t think they won’t find you, either. You let us go, and nobody gets hurt.”

Ivan gave a soft clap. “Oooh, big man. Just listen to him talk. Thinks he’s got it all figured out.”

Drake sensed his hands tightening into concrete fists, turning his knuckles white and not helping much with his self-control. Fear slinked to the background as guts rammed its way to the forefront, embedding in him a hatred for such a revolting evil. Ivan had no purpose in life other than to slither through the dust and search for new victims to wrap his alluring coils around.
But not Ronnie,
Drake thought.
I’ll die before I see him hurt that kid.

“Just get this through your skull, snake. You came to me once with the smooth talk and I bought into it, but I’m not going that route again.”

“You came back. That only makes my plan all the more superior.”

“You thought your first plan was secure and it crumbled. I don’t see a lot of good plan-making on your part.”

“You’re wrong.” Ivan’s words felt like an icy sting to Drake’s heart. “The difference is you won’t be leaving my sight this time.” He nodded his head sideways at Ronnie and told one of the men, “Tie him up with the kid. Make sure their backs are to each other so they don’t try anything.”

Drake’s hands were fixed behind him with a grayish, abrasive rope before being tied to the one binding Ronnie. It scratched, it itched, it sawed against his flesh like fine razors, but he refused to acknowledge the pain just to keep from adding to Ivan’s gratification. Then, if that weren’t enough to hold them, a rope was wrapped around their waists several times to prevent them from moving. Drake could feel how cold and numb Ronnie’s hands were as they trembled lightly against his. He could only imagine what kind of panic the kid must have gone through before he showed up.

Once Ivan was convinced that neither Drake nor Ronnie could escape, he turned off the light and left them tied in the dark room on the cold floor. There was a faint murmuring outside, then the heavy thud of a lock bolting in place.
Cla-clank
. The whispering stopped, the footsteps faded, and the regulated sound of breathing continued—somewhat. Drake’s body warmed over with sweat. And so began a new nightmare.

Drake waited until he saw Ivan’s shadow disappear from underneath the door before saying, “It’s OK, buddy. Try not to worry, huh?”

“Why are they doing this, Drake? What do they want?”

Drake struggled against the tight ropes and discovered them to be sturdier than he had thought. “I dunno,” he said. Another lie. How could he not know? He had no one to blame but himself. “But your uncle’s calling the police right now,” he added quickly, trying to offer some ounce of comfort to Ronnie. “I’ll bet they’re on their way already.”

“I’m glad you came,” Ronnie whispered back, trying to blink his tears away.

Drake couldn’t believe the guilt piling up a mile high inside of him. He had never planned on Ronnie being involved in all this. If his life was screwed up, then that was his problem and his headache. Ronnie didn’t deserve this. If he was destined to ruin, why couldn’t he just go through his punishment alone like everyone else?
Because that’s what selfish people do. If they’re going to fall, they always make sure to take a crowd of people down with them.
Somehow, those people always turned out to be the ones who cared the most. That’s what caused the real hurt.

After minutes of silence between them, broken only by an occasional deep breath or jeans brushing back and forth across the floor to regenerate blood flow, Drake managed to say, “You still mad at me? About wanting to leave, I mean?”

Ronnie squirmed a little. “Made me sad. I just wanted you to stay.”

Drake couldn’t understand what Ronnie saw in him that made him bond with him the way he had. Right now, Drake wanted nothing but to die. Well, not now. Not until Ronnie was safe first.

“Why did you wanna leave?”

“Because I’ve done a lot of bad things,” Drake said, detested by the person he was forced to look at in the mirror of his conscience. He could only avoid it for so long before it came back to him in wave after wave, crashing into his heart and leaving a deeper slash every time it hit. Sure, maybe he wasn’t serving time in prison or being punished by any federal court, but he was suffering. He knew what he had done, whether in light or in secret, and those memories could never be erased. Though he wasn’t the worst person in the world, there were times he sure felt like it. He had carried enough for a lifetime, and now all he wanted to do was let go. Even the fighter in him got scared sometimes.

He felt himself letting go. The very flame that had remained ignited in his soul was now flickering weakly, fading gently. The smallest breath of air could blow it out now. But he wouldn’t fight it. Why hold on to a life that was deteriorating? His soul wasn’t at peace, and his mind was in a constant state of unrest. He had never been one to quit, but now he was relinquishing his very life. Abandoning everything he had lived for just to sleep in quiet blackness, never to wake again.
Why try if you’re just going to fall down again? I’m through with fighting the world. The game’s getting harder and I quit.

Now, he sensed the burden to let it all out to someone before it formed into something worse, even if that person was a 7-year-old. “Ronnie, you’re a great kid. I hope you know that. I know I’ve been mean and rude and selfish sometimes, but that’s nothing against you.”

“I know, Drake.”

Drake felt more blood rushing to his red-hot face. “I just had to leave because every time I see you and your uncle, I’m reminded of what a jerk I am. Maybe choosing to leave is just another selfish decision…I dunno, but I can’t take it anymore. I’ve lied more times than I can count, I’ve stolen before, I’ve tried alcohol and drugs, and I…I hurt someone really, really bad in a way you probably wouldn’t even understand if I told you. You don’t want me, Ronnie. I’m no good.”

Ronnie thought about that for a while. “Uncle Andy told me once that in the Bible it says that no one is good. Not even one person, except Jesus.”

Drake nodded weakly. “Won’t argue with that.”

“I’ve done bad things too. But when I ask Jesus to forgive me, I feel better again.”

“Yeah, well, I can understand overlooking the small sins. You got nothing to be ashamed of, Ronnie. You just don’t know the real me. My bad outweighs my good so much that if there was a God out there, there’s no way He could ever forgive a past like mine.”

The conversation ended there. Ronnie had no further words of encouragement to offer, and Drake wasn’t willing to accept any. This was his life, and he knew every little dirty part about it. Ronnie was just trying to be nice, and he knew that. Part of him even wanted to believe what he had said, but Drake was too smart to know otherwise.

There was no hope for him; people had told him that. His own father had told him that. He had scoffed at them then, but now as his life was unfolding in a way he had never expected, his future looked just as they all had predicted long ago. Failure, job-seeker, theft just to get by, unstable husband and father, alcoholic, druggie—he had heard it all too many times to remember. Of course, it had hurt then, but it hurt even more now as he realized how true those statements were.

Ronnie believed in him, and that was at least encouraging, if not slightly amusing. But Drake didn’t even believe in himself. Never would again. He had done plenty of bad things in his life, but being responsible for an innocent child’s kidnapping beat all. He had simply gone too far this time.

The wind died down outside. For the first time, Drake overheard Ivan discussing with the others the idea of waiting until midnight before calling Andrew and demanding a high-priced ransom. “That way,” Ivan told them, “it’ll give him plenty of time to worry and stress. By the time our call comes, he’ll be so desperate that he’ll agree to anything we demand.”

It turned Drake’s stomach hearing them talk, mostly because he knew that ultimately he was to blame for all this. The only way they were able to come up with this plot was because he had ignorantly supplied all the information they needed to pull it off. He had given away Andrew’s name, told them Andrew had a nephew living with him, and basically led them to Andrew’s house without even realizing it. Why couldn’t he have just clamped his mouth shut or at least lied to Ivan about Andrew’s name? Because he always did stupid things without thinking, that’s why. And where did it get him? Tied up in a dark room wondering what would happen next.

Drake observed the room around him. This was where he had sat only yesterday, holding a gun on Andrew.
Had that really been just yesterday?
The room was small and empty except for a built-in shelf on the wall and a couch that appeared to have been knifed several times from top to bottom. The air was filled with the smell of dust and old books—maybe blood, but nothing could be certain to a person sitting in pitch-black darkness with an over-alerted mind.

His eyes darted toward the sound of rustling in the corner. A small creature with a slithery tail scurried under the couch. Drake swallowed and inspected every square inch of floor that was visible to him, suddenly realizing how much he appreciated the light.

Drake had a watch on, but with his hands tied behind him, he would never really know when midnight came.
It must be getting close, though,
he thought as a soft, blue glow cast its light on the floor through a small window near the ceiling. He was grateful for the narrow strip of moonlight on the floor since he could now kick at any mouse that might happen to sneak up to them for warmth.
They’ll be making the call soon. Man, I feel like such a fool. Making Andrew pay several grand when I should be the one they charge. How could I ever pay him back for something like that?

Ronnie scooted his feet close to his body. “I’m scared, Drake. I think I saw something over there.”

“We’ll be all right, little man. I’ll think of a way outta here.”

“That man tied the knot right over my stomach. If I could reach it, I could untie it and get us both out.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“Are we gonna die?”

Drake stared straight ahead, finding it strange that tears were stinging his eyes. “No,” he said solemnly. “I won’t let them touch you, Ronnie. I swear.” In a way, Drake felt like an older brother to Ronnie, and he assumed it his duty to protect him.
How ironic,
he thought.
I get him into this mess, and then I tell him I’m gonna protect him from something I created. Oh, well. As long as he buys it. I don’t like seeing him afraid.

Ronnie had been annoying at times, and often Drake had wanted to plug his ears and walk away. No, the kid didn’t really talk that much. In fact, it was probably considerably less than a normal 7-year-old typically talked, and he knew why. His dad had made a habit of beating up on him, and being here in this place getting slapped around again was probably only rehashing old memories for Ronnie.

“Ronnie…” he started, his voice trailing off.
Just shut up. Don’t try to get him to talk about it.

“Yeah?” Ronnie said.

Drake could feel Ronnie’s small shoulders nudge up against his as he strained to turn his head, trying to see behind him. “Do you like living with Andrew?”

“A lot.”

Drake swallowed. This wasn’t going to be easy. “I guess what I’m really trying to get at is…does it still hurt thinking about your folks?”

“You mean my parents?”

“Yeah, but…never mind. None of my business anyway. Sorry for bringing it up.”

“No, it’s OK. Sometimes it feels better to talk about it. When I don’t, it makes my stomach hurt, and I sometimes get nightmares.”

Drake grimaced. “That bad, huh?”

“I don’t know why he did it. He got mad, and then he just started hitting me.”

Drake closed his eyes. “Makes me mad just thinking about it. Did he hurt you like that a lot?”

“Slapping me wasn’t the worst part. After he slapped me, he sometimes pushed me against the wall and grabbed my neck, like he wanted to kill me. He screamed and hit me a lot too, mostly in the stomach. Sometimes I threw up.”

Drake held his breath and pushed the images out of his mind. How could Ronnie not hate a man like that? “Ronnie, I…I’m so sorry. I never knew.”

“I still feel mad at him sometimes, but Andrew is real nice, and that makes me feel better.”

Drake was hesitant at first to ask, but eventually forced himself to say, “Did Andrew tell you what happened yesterday?”

“Before he left me at Grandma’s, he said something about you being in trouble.”