Broken Identity (10 page)

What is it I want?
The question took him by surprise. He put his hand on the door, ready to go talk to the salesman about this truck so he could hit the road, not be lectured by his conscience.
I want to be free, that’s what I want. To be left alone finally. I want to live without being screamed at and hated. I want to prove to the world that Drake Pearson doesn’t have to live at the bottom anymore. That’s what I want, and I finally got the chance to get it.

He stepped out of his truck and jogged up the short flight of steps that led to the office building, but he stopped when he saw a sign posted on the door.
“Some trust in chariots, and some in horses; but we will remember the name of the Lord our God”
(Psalm 20:7). He read over the words again and wrinkled his brow.
Whatever that’s supposed to mean.
He tapped lightly on the door and hesitantly took a step inside. “Hello?”

A tall, black man in his late forties stood and greeted him with a glowing smile. “Hello! Guess I didn’t even hear you drive up.”

I ain’t here to buy any of your cars, pal.
Drake forced a smile back and tried to remember to keep his words polite. Selling his truck might take about every trick in the book, so he extended his hand and kept smiling. “Good morning, sir,” he said, trying to sound as educated and respectful as possible.

The man returned the greeting and identified himself as Bruno Gorman. “See anything you’re interested in, Mr.…”

“Drake,” he answered politely. “Drake Pearson.” He wanted to slap himself as soon as he gave the man his last name.
You idiot! What are you thinking throwing your last name out there when you’re a wanted man? How could you be so stupid?
He tried to conceal his fear with another smile, but felt as if the look on his face was giving him away.
Just another guy with nothing to hide, remember? Easy.

Of course, Bruno didn’t seem to notice as he shuffled past Drake and held open the door for him. “Shall we take a look around outside then, Drake, or do you already have your eye on one?”

“Sir…” Drake started, debating whether he should be direct with the man or leave now before getting laughed at. He could still leave. The man would think he was crazy, of course, but he could handle that much easier than being told by this upper-class gentleman that his dilapidated vehicle would be better off in a junkyard than on the road. “I might as well tell you now. I don’t even have a fraction of the money I need to buy a car, used or not. I brought my truck down here today to see if you might be…well, if you might be interested in buying it.”

Bruno maintained his smile, which Drake found particularly odd. Why hadn’t this guy already run him out of his office? Drake almost left, but Bruno stopped him by saying, “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll be happy to look at your truck.”

Drake knew he should feel ecstatic at those words, but he couldn’t ignore the looming dread of being turned down as he led the man outside.
Don’t hold your breath, Drake. Once he sees your truck, you’re gone.

“I can’t find my toothbrush
anywhere,”
Ronnie complained as he searched again through his unpacked bags.

“Did you check the zippers?” Andrew called from downstairs.

“All empty.”

“Hang on, I’m coming.” Andrew hustled up the stairs, wishing his body would stop reminding him of his age. “Wait…” he stopped. “Then you didn’t brush your teeth last night?”

“Uh…no.”

“Then I must have forgotten it,” Andrew said, mounting the last stair. “I didn’t even think to get your things out of the bathroom before I left.” He thought for a moment and snapped his fingers. “Ronnie, hold on. I think I have an extra toothbrush in the bottom left drawer in the bathroom cabinet. You’re welcome to it until I buy you a new one.”

Ronnie made a face. “You mean a
used
one?” he said, dragging out the word “used” as if it were the most nauseating thing on earth.

Andrew stifled a laugh. “No, I don’t mean a
used
one.” He walked to the bathroom with Ronnie following close behind him. He found the toothbrush and held it up. “See? Still in the package. Here you go.”

Ronnie took the toothbrush in his hands and examined it, nearly making Andrew laugh again.

“Still not completely convinced, eh?” he joked.

“It’s really big,” Ronnie said. “You must have a big mouth.”

Andrew knew Ronnie hadn’t meant for that to be an insult, so he didn’t take it as one. “Well, I can’t argue with that,” he answered truthfully, rubbing his jaw. “I’ll find you your own toothbrush tomorrow. But for now…” He observed the toothbrush and couldn’t help but smile. Ronnie was right; it was rather big. “I guess you’ll just have to somehow fit that monstrous thing in your mouth and get it over with.”

Ronnie sighed and trudged over to the sink, but Andrew detected a smile on his face before he disappeared from view. Andrew wondered what it must be like for Ronnie to at last live in a peaceful environment where it was normal to joke around and have fun. Ronnie seemed relaxed here, not tense like Andrew had seen him when he was around Kevin. He was 7 years old, and for the first time in his life, he was allowed to be a kid.

“Uncle Andy?” Ronnie said in a garbled voice from the bathroom, his mouth overflowing with foamy toothpaste.

“Yes, Ronnie?”

Ronnie trudged into Andrew’s bedroom and found him already pulling the covers back on his bed. “Mind if I make a pallet in your room again tonight?”

Andrew let go of the covers and met Ronnie’s eyes. “You mean you don’t want to try out your soft, new bed yet?”

Ronnie halfheartedly turned his head to the side in a yes-and-no answer.

Andrew noticed the disappointment on Ronnie’s face as soon as those words left his mouth, so he said quickly, “Of course you can, Ronnie. I just didn’t want you to think you couldn’t stay in your room because I enjoy your company so much. You know, I sometimes get lonely too in this big old house by myself.”

“Really?”

“Sure. C’mon, I’ll pull out the inflatable mattress while you go get the blanket and sheet off your bed.”

Chapter

6

S
TRANGE
R
EACTIONS

Bruno Gorman did appear somewhat stunned when he caught sight of Drake’s 1981 Ford truck. However, if he was completely uninterested, he did an excellent job of hiding it. “I’ll be honest with you, Drake. You got a nice vehicle, but it’s in pretty rough condition. Sides are beaten in; some of the scrapes are pretty deep. That’s coming from a guy who’s spent most of his life around used cars.”

Drake rubbed the back of his neck and unwillingly nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah, I kinda figured you’d say that.”

“Has the vehicle ever been involved in any accidents? I mean, other than the obvious bumps and scratches. Any internal damage?”

Drake paused for a moment, questioning if he would kill his chances for selling this man on his car if he told the truth. “Well…” This guy looked, acted, and talked professional, and Drake was sure he knew his stuff like the back of his hand. He may have been able to get away with some things, but to say that his truck had never been in an accident would be an obvious lie. “Yeah,” he admitted, much to his dislike. “Twice, actually.”

“Minor or major?”

“The first one was…well, I wouldn’t call it major, but it was pretty close. Second one just involved the fender getting smashed, and I already replaced the side mirror that got tore off.” As if that was a big plus.

Bruno found the indention and examined it for himself.

“Might as well go ahead and save you the time by telling you that the airbags don’t work either. Found that out the hard way in my first accident.”

Bruno cringed. “Ouch. Were you hurt badly?”

“My head and shoulder hit the steering wheel.” Drake lifted up his hair and pointed to a small line across the left side of his forehead. “Took six stitches to patch it up.”

Bruno popped the hood and took his time inspecting every part, taking a few mental notes on loose parts and anything that appeared to need immediate fixing.

Jump him.
The thought came out of nowhere as Drake watched how occupied Bruno was under the hood of his truck. Drake debated the temptation in his mind and glanced back at the office.

Vacant.
Imagine how much cash he has stashed inside that huge desk.
Drake considered his own weight and strength and looked again at Bruno, whose head was now almost entirely out of sight as he examined the truck more meticulously.
Are you crazy, Drake? Don’t you realize you’ve already committed a murder? Do you want theft added to your sentence too?
His stomach churned restlessly as he realized the stupidity of his idea.
Besides, even if you got one-up on this guy, he’s likely to overpower you in two seconds instead of vice versa. It’d be suicide.

Bruno lowered the hood and moved to the back of the truck. He casually glanced at the license plate. “From Missouri, eh? Long way from home.”

Drake snapped out of his thoughts and faced Bruno. “What’d you say?”

“I noticed your Missouri plates. Haven’t been there in years.”

“Yeah, well, I pronounce it as
Misery
instead of
Missouri
. Not a lot of good memories.”

Bruno forced a grim smile. “Sorry to hear that.”

How little you know, buddy. And I plan to keep it that way.

Bruno opened the driver’s door and sat down in the seat. “Mind if I have the keys?” he said, stretching out his hand.

“You wanna drive it?”

“If that’s all right with you.”

“’Course,” Drake said. He handed him his keys and climbed in the passenger seat beside him.

“Oh, almost out of gas,” Bruno remarked once he saw the warning near the gas tank level. “I’ll make it a quick ride, then.” Bruno took the truck a mile down the road, turned around, and finally pulled back into the car lot. “A little bumpy, but overall it rides fairly well. Brakes are a bit worn down and I heard some air gushing through from somewhere—”

“The floorboard,” Drake interrupted, lifting up a soiled green towel he used as a mat to reveal a tiny puncture in the floor next to his seat.

“That was a result of your accident too, I suppose?”

“Yeah, but you get used to the noise eventually.”

Bruno stepped out of the truck with Drake and looked him steadily in the eyes. “I know you came here in hopes of selling me this truck, but…quite frankly, it’s a hazard to anyone driving it.”

Drake couldn’t believe it. After all the hope that had been built inside him, he was left standing right where he started. “But you said—”

“It’s more than just the brakes and the hole in the floor. There were other things I noticed in the engine. Sounds, rattles…a lot of things I would have to go into detail in order for you to understand. Some of the parts are pretty much shot. It would cost me too much to try to fix it to resell. I’m sorry.”

“I know it may not seem like much, but it really is a great truck,” Drake countered, not willing to be refused this easily. “And there’s only fourteen thousand miles on it!”

Bruno stared at him, his expression blank. “I was really beginning to like you, kid, but I don’t respect liars.”

Drake fell silent. He knew the odometer had been broken the day he bought it from that double-dealer across the road, and obviously Bruno had taken note of it too before he took it for a drive.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Drake said, leaning against his truck in spite of the heat it brought to his back. “I’m just desperate. I need money.” He lowered his head and stared down at the rubber strands peeling away around his shoelaces.
C’mon, think! Something…
“See…my grandpa’s real sick, and I’m all he’s got left. If he don’t get a hospital bed in his home soon, I’ll have to send him back to the nursing home again. All the loneliness and confinement nearly killed him last time. I can’t do that to him again.”

Drake began tearing up, and he turned away.
Man, I’m getting pretty good at this stuff.
He almost didn’t even have to think about what he would say anymore; the lies just seemed to flow from his mouth.

Bruno’s face softened as he heard the utter desperation in Drake’s voice. “Well…”

“You’re right, though,” Drake said softly. “This truck…ah, I can see the years have taken its toll on it. But boy in its day, it was a pride just to drive it. It was my grandpa who gave it to me, you know. He’s the one who sent me down here to…oh, but you know all that. Hey, sorry to cost you your time, sir. You’re the car salesman, not me. If you say it’s no good, I respect that.”

Bruno gave the vehicle a once-over and checked his watch. Almost closing time. He nodded his head toward his office and said, “Come with me.”

Drake followed the man inside. Bruno tugged his billfold from his back pocket and pulled six one-hundred dollar bills out. Drake nearly fell over.

“I’m not doing this because I’m going to make a profit, because the fact of the matter is, I probably won’t after all the maintenance costs. I’m doing this because I believe that you’re a good kid. Not only did I notice your truck out there, but I also noticed that there was no smell of alcohol or cigarette smoke in your breath as you talked to me. That made me doubt you wanted the money for beer or smokes.”