Broken Identity (27 page)

“No, I mean after that,” Drake pressed, fishing for more. “He didn’t say anything else?”

“Nothing except that you were OK.”

What had he done to deserve that kind of forgiveness? Nothing, that’s what, and that’s what was bothering him. He knew that if he were to place himself in Andrew’s shoes and vice versa, there would have been no second chance. In fact, if he were to be completely honest with himself, there would have been no second
glance
that first day he showed up on Andrew’s doorstep.

Now, he had forever ruined his chances of any further kindness because of another one of his stupid ideas. The good food, the warm bed, and even the grand piano was good while it had lasted, but he had always known in the back of his mind that it wouldn’t last forever. Nothing good ever did for him, especially with the way he always seemed to mess things up. Everything always started off seeming like a good plan, but without fail, something went wrong and it ended in disaster.

Like the day he had murdered his dad. One decision had forever cost him, and being tied to a little kid only made him despise the person he had become even more.
Eighteen years old just a couple weeks ago. Happy birthday, Drake.
Instead of becoming a responsible adult, the only thing he had done successfully was screw up his life even more.

When I get outta here…
He cut his thought short and refused to continue. The familiarity of those words stung. He had said them too many times before, and every time he had broken his own promises.

When he had smoked his first cigarette at age 9, he had told himself, “I promise I’ll change.” When he had taken his first shot of alcohol and experienced his first real hangover as a preteen, he had said, “I promise I’ll change.” After he had gotten a girl pregnant, only to find out later that it had ended in abortion, he had again said to himself, “I promise I’ll change.” He had made so many promises to himself that over time he just lost count.

Now recently, he even made a promise to God and included the words, “I promise I’ll change.” But they were just words filled with a lot of emotion that he never really meant in the first place. He knew that when he made one wrong decision, it was like a chain reaction for all the others following.

Andrew didn’t know what he was getting into when he welcomed him into his home, and if there was a God somewhere, He must not have known what He was getting into either when He created him. Why would any loving God, as Ronnie depicted Him, ever create such a sinful person and then allow him to be shown a kindness he didn’t even deserve? Everything that had happened to him from day one was just a mistake that a kindhearted old man had made, thinking he could somehow influence a homeless teen’s messed-up life by showing love and providing a home.

Well, kind and thoughtful as it may have been, and even if Andrew were in some strange way still willing to give him another chance after this, Drake found it his responsibility to put a stop to it before the monster inside him got any worse. If not for himself, he would do it for Ronnie.

Chapter

15

CLOSING IN

“I can barely feel my legs anymore,” Ronnie said, restlessly trying to find a comfortable position. “Wish I could walk around.”

“Try stretching them,” Drake suggested.

“I have, but they still feel tingly. And my feet hurt too.”

“Can you kick off your shoes?”

Ronnie grunted as he pushed one shoe off, then the other. He sighed. “That feels better.”

Drake decided to kick off his shoes, too, and was amazed at how good it felt to be able to wiggle his toes again.

“Now if we could just get this rope off like we got our shoes off,” Ronnie said. “Too bad it’s not that easy.”

Drake looked at his shoes and remembered the money.
What am I doing?! I can’t let them find that. It’s all I have left.
He extended his legs and pulled his shoes close to him. He wriggled one foot in and felt a smooth object beneath the thin layer of padding in the heel of his shoe. He could hardly contain himself from gasping, “Ronnie!”

“What?”

“There’s a pocketknife in my shoe! If I can reach it, I can cut us loose!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but shhh.” Quietly and cautiously, fearing now that at any moment Ivan or one of the others would unlock the door and burst into the room, Drake and Ronnie scooted around the shoe until it was at their fingertips. Drake leaned back slowly, blindly groping for the knife. The pressure caused the rope to creak and constrict tighter around Ronnie’s waist.

“Have you reached it yet?” Ronnie panted.

Drake stretched down just a few more inches and wiggled his fingers underneath the padding. He touched the pocketknife and snatched it up. “Got it!” He traded it to his other hand and unfolded the blade. “Don’t move your fingers, Ronnie. I don’t want to cut you.”

Ronnie just nodded and closed his eyes as Drake began sawing against the thick rope. Drake kept the blade close to his own hands facing his back so he wouldn’t accidentally cut Ronnie if he happened to miss and slip.
Careful
, he told himself. Sweat rolled down his forehead and stung his eyes.

“Feel anything?”

“Not yet, buddy. Almost…” He sucked in another breath of cool air. His hands were shaking now and his heart pumping faster to supply the needed strength and adrenaline to his bloodstream. He should have cut through the rope by now. It had been too long.
Don’t try to rush it. Just slow, easy motions. That’s it.

The rope slackened, then crumpled to the floor. That soft thump was the most wonderful sound in the world.

He had done it. It was only after he held his quivering hands in front of his face that he realized he had really freed himself. He was surprised, however, to see numerous slashes on his wrists seeping with fresh blood. Apparently, his hands had grown so numb that he hadn’t felt the blade as it had sawed against his bare flesh. He was thankful his hands were still deadened; it would be best if the numbness were prolonged. He had more important things to worry about right now, like what their next step toward freedom was.

He turned and saw that Ronnie had already freed his hands and was working on untying the knot in front of him.

“Got it!” Ronnie said in a hushed voice.

Drake finished unraveling the rope and laid it silently on the floor. No noise, no mistakes, and still no Ivan.
So far, so good.
He slid the knife back into its hiding place and slipped his shoes on. “Now to find a way outta here,” he whispered, searching the dark room uncertainly.

Ronnie investigated the walls until his eyes came to rest on the window. “What about there?”

Drake studied the window. Would he even be able to fit through something that small? Well, whether he would be able to or not was out of the question. Ronnie could squeeze through, and his safety was priority.

Drake went over to one end of the worn couch in the middle of the room and slowly picked up the side, gradually rotating it sideways as he took small steps toward the wall below the window.

“Need any help?” Ronnie said, watching from a distance.

Drake quietly set the couch down, and then moved over to the other end and repeated the same process. “There,” he said, positioning the armrest directly underneath the window. He stepped onto the couch and bent over. “Here, hop on my back.”

Ronnie mounted Drake’s back about as gently as a rider mounts a bull in a rodeo. He wrapped his arms around his neck so forcefully that it endangered Drake’s air supply.

“Maybe not so tight,” Drake said in a strained voice.

Ronnie let up—which was realistically no more than an inch slack.

Unintentional payback. Drake ignored it and took shallow breaths instead.

“How am I doing?”

Like you’re bracing for an earthquake.
“You just tell me how close you are to the window.”

“Right now, a long ways.”

Splendid. That meant tackling the armrest.
Oh, man. Here goes nothing.
Carefully, Drake steadied one foot on the armrest, then quickly raised the other and balanced himself. He came close to falling forward, but he threw Ronnie’s weight back just in time to keep him from tipping.
Easy
, he thought.
One wrong move and you’ll fall, and then you’ll have the entire gang in here in an instant.
He tried to look up, but was afraid that if he tilted his head back any further, he would throw himself off balance and fall backward. Instead, he asked Ronnie, “Now can you reach it?”

Ronnie stretched his hands up as high as he could and barely felt the latch on the bottom of the window. “Almost.”

Double splendid. To come this far only to miss the perfect escape by a few inches. Drake wasn’t about to let that happen.

“What are we gonna do?” Ronnie whispered.

“Shhh.” What could he do other than put Ronnie on his shoulders? It was the only way to reach the window. Drake placed the palms of his hands against the frigid concrete wall in front of him and slightly bent his body forward. “Climb up on my shoulders,” he said, taking another deep, labored breath. This kid was heavier than he looked.

Still keeping a steady hold around Drake’s neck, Ronnie wriggled his legs up until they too clung around Drake’s neck. “Sorry,” he whispered.

Don’t worry about me,
Drake thought, while a rushing, erratic feeling of anxiety was charging like voltage through his body.
I just can’t breathe, that’s all.

Once Ronnie was certain he was in a position where he wouldn’t fall, he again reached up. This time, he was high enough to see out the window.

“Open the latch,” Drake said, still unable to look up.

Ronnie worked at the latch until he finally got it unlocked. He quietly lifted the windowpane. “Now what?”

“Climb through!”

“I…I don’t know. Besides, there’s a funny looking box thing outside the window full of dirt.”

“Just do it, Ronnie, and stop making excuses!”

“I can’t! It’s too far down.”

“Just put one leg through the opening and leave the other inside!”

“Huh?”

“Like you’re riding a horse, for goodness’ sake!” Drake said tersely. “Once you’re up there, I’ll go back and grab the rope so I can lower you down.”

Ronnie gulped and lifted one foot cautiously. “Well…I’ll try.” He pushed himself up through the opening and did just as Drake had instructed him. He kept his body flat against the concrete with the windowpane above him, one leg inside the room and the other dangling on the outside. “Hurry, Drake!” he whined. “I’m scared!”

As much as Drake wanted to jump off the couch and grab the rope, he reminded himself to stay quiet and keep his movements slow and silent. He picked up one end of the rope and triple-knotted it around his waist. Then he stepped onto the armrest of the couch and tied the other end firmly around Ronnie. “Now, I’m gonna go right over there and get the rope taut between us before you go climbing out the window. Ever seen someone repel on one of those animal rescue shows you watch?”

Ronnie shook his head.

“OK, well, lowering you down is fine too.” He pointed his finger at Ronnie and said, “That is, as long as you don’t squirm around too much. If you go kicking the building on your way down—”

“I won’t.”

Drake walked over to the other end of the room and gathered the rope in his hands until there was almost no slack left. “All right. You can do this, Ronnie.”

“Drake, I’m scared. What if I fall?”

“You won’t fall. I’ve got you, and I’ll lower you down slowly.”

“What’ll I do when I reach the bottom?”

“Lay flat on the ground so no one sees you and wait for me.”

Ronnie nodded his head, though not yet entirely convinced. He peered once more out the window into the darkness below him before clutching the rope securely in his hands.
OK,
he told himself.
Don’t be afraid. Just do it.
He pulled his other leg through the window and let his body slide off the edge.

The rope jerked Drake forward as it became taut, triggering him to wrap his already-white fingers around the rope even tighter to keep from losing his hold. He was afraid Ronnie would scream or let out a cry, but to his surprise, Ronnie had left his perch in the window with ease. He kept a firm hold on the rope as he lowered Ronnie down to the ground inches at a time.

Then came a muted noise—a footstep maybe or a door closing. Drake stopped, his heart picking up speed. Every part of his body froze as footsteps shuffled by the door, then back again. He heard the muffled sound of the television and allowed himself to relax.
Just do what you gotta do and do it fast,
he thought.
You may not have much longer.

A little faster now, Drake began lowering Ronnie again.
C’mon, Ronnie, you gotta be close to the ground by now. I ain’t got much rope left.

The rope suddenly went limp. A second later, Ronnie gave the rope two quick tugs.

He had made it down safely.

Leaving the rest of the rope on the ground, Drake climbed up on the armrest of the couch and stared up at the small window above him
. I have to fit. I’ll make myself fit. I can’t stay here and risk being killed.
He stretched his arms up, but the window was too far away to get his fingers through the opening. He stepped down on the floor, eyes still locked on the window.
Who am I kidding? There’s no way I’ll reach it. I’m stuck.
He leaned close to the window and whispered loudly, “Psst. Ronnie!”