Broken Identity (38 page)

The man inside stood and reached across his desk to shake Drake’s hand. “Name’s Frank.”

Drake hesitantly offered his hand. “Mine’s Drake.”

“Nice to meet you, Drake.”

Yeah, you won’t be sayin’ that in a few minutes.

“Have a seat,” Frank said, gesturing to a folded chair leaning against the wall.

Drake rubbed the palms of his hands together. “I’d rather stand, if that’s OK.”

Frank shrugged and returned to his seat behind his desk. “James tells me you have information on a murder. Is that correct?”

“That’s right,” Drake said nervously.

Frank stood up and moved to a nearby filing cabinet. “Name please?”

“Ben Pearson.”

Frank fingered through the worn folders and pulled out one near the front. “One of our recent cases,” he remarked as he checked the date. His eyes scanned down the page until he found the report. “Found dead of a gunshot wound to the head Tuesday night—”

“W-wait…what?” Drake said, walking around the desk to read the file himself. “Gunshot wound? But he wasn’t shot.”

“I’m sorry if this is coming as a shock to you. Because you came in here with information, I assumed you already knew the cause of death.”

“No,” Drake said, shaking his head in disbelief. “No, I didn’t.” That chair would come in handy right now.

“I can’t imagine how you wouldn’t have known. It was all over the local news for days.”

“Do you know who shot him?” Drake said, his mind still reeling.

Frank pursed his lips and set the folder on his desk. “Clive Roland. Based on interviews from friends, he was supposedly one of Ben Pearson’s drinking buddies. He and Ben were both very drunk when they got into an argument in the bar. Those standing around didn’t think anything of it since nothing usually came of their arguments, but then Clive pulled a gun from his pocket…”

“I understand,” Drake said, turning away.

“Roland shot Ben in the head before turning the gun on himself. There was also an old gash mark on the back of Pearson’s head, but we weren’t able to find the cause of that.” Frank shuddered. “Horrible scene. Nothing could have prepared our men for what they saw that night.”

Drake’s chest burned like fire at the thought of what had happened to his father. He didn’t know why he should feel so surprised, though. He had always expected something like that to happen.
Dad must’ve known it too. He just didn’t care, that’s all. But I did. As hard as it was for me to do, I still remember caring for him a little. Now that it’s actually happened, I’m not sure how to feel.

Frank gave Drake a moment to take in the news before saying, “The case was decided by the judge two days ago, but if you have other information that would—”

“No,” Drake said, already heading toward the door to leave. “I must’ve just made a mistake.” A horrible mistake that almost took his life too. “Thank you, sir,” he mumbled. He opened the door and never looked back. When he opened his mouth to exhale, he tasted the salty tears falling from his eyes.
Shot. All this time, I was really innocent. I didn’t kill him. I didn’t kill nobody. I’m not a murderer.
The tears stung his eyes as he pushed open the sheriff’s office doors and hobbled as fast as he could toward Andrew’s car.

Andrew opened the door for him. “What is it? What’d they say?”

Drake put his hand to his head and looked at him, wondering if Andrew would even believe what he was about to say. “I didn’t kill Dad,” he choked up.

A puzzled look came over Andrew’s face. “Say again?”

“I know it sounds crazy,” Drake said, rubbing his tears away as fast as they fell. “I mean, I thought I did it. I had been so sure…” He closed his mouth as his eyes fell to the floor. “He was shot. Somebody shot him. But I didn’t know. I would have blamed myself for his murder all my life if I hadn’t come down here.”

“You mean—”

“I left him unconscious. After he fell and I saw the blood…I didn’t stay long enough to see if he was still alive. He wasn’t moving. He looked dead, but…” Drake stared down at his hands—the hands he had thought were responsible for murder—and an indescribable surge of relief covered him. “He woke up,” he said quietly. “He went to a bar…got in another fight and someone shot him.”

Andrew put a hand on Drake’s shoulder and held it there. “And all the way up here, you were prepared to do the right thing. I’m proud of you, Drake.”

“It’s strange. It’s like a weight lifted off of me when I heard what happened to Dad. But at the same time, reliving that moment all over again was still painful. I never wanted him to die, as angry as I was. Now I know I was never part of his death.”

“The Bible says the truth will set you free.”

Drake smiled slightly—something he thought he would never do again. “The truth sure set me free today.”

“So…you’re not going to jail anymore?” Ronnie said uncertainly from the backseat.

That beautiful reality set in. As Drake’s tears dried, he felt life permeate into his body and his heart embrace that part of him he thought he had lost. “No, buddy. Not anymore.”

Ronnie grinned. “Then that means you can come home.”

Home. That really was the word, wasn’t it? And a family. Now life could be worth living again. Drake instantly looked to Andrew, who, by this time, was smiling too. “Can I?”

“Is that what you want?”

Drake’s voice trembled as he said, “I can’t imagine anything I’ve ever wanted more.”

Andrew put the car in reverse and stole a glimpse at the sky. “Me either.”

“Oh, wait,” Drake said, taking off his shoe. He lifted the flap of his heel and pulled out the six one-hundred dollars bills hidden beneath. “Just one more thing I gotta take care of first.”

Andrew looked at the money curiously. “What are you going to do with that?”

Drake nodded his head toward Ronnie. “Saw a pound about two miles back. Think maybe they have a spare box we can take a beagle home in?”

“A beagle!” Ronnie squealed. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“I never knew you wanted a beagle, Ronnie,” Andrew said. “I don’t mind buying you one.”

Drake put his hand on Andrew’s arm. “Please. Let me do this.”

Andrew smiled and pulled out of the parking lot without another word. Ronnie, on the other hand, couldn’t stop talking.

And for once, neither could Drake.

Epilogue

So that’s my story, and even if you had told me the ending ahead of time, I probably wouldn’t have believed you. Life seemed to drift back to the way it was when I first came here, only now I have to occasionally brush puppy hair off my pillow. But I don’t care. It’s just great to have a real home.

Exactly one month after I came back, Andrew got a brilliant idea and took us all to a picture studio to have our “family” picture taken. He had always called me family. Now, for the first time, I actually believe it.

To this day, I’ve kept that old angel bear Ronnie gave me on my dresser, and the picture he drew is still on the wall. It serves as a constant reminder that God can still do whatever God wants to do. My leg healed just as the doctor said it would, and now I can finally walk without a limp. I never forgot that car salesman either. He couldn’t stop grinning when I told him about how I had asked Jesus into my heart. I even offered to repay the money he had lost on the truck, but he waved off my statement with, “Be blessed.” Amazing guy. I never thought I’d see the day when I felt so complete in all my life. It’s great.

Still more surprises came my way when the church asked me if I would join the praise team and play the piano. Apparently, Andrew had spilled to them behind my back that I played, but I don’t mind. It makes me glad to know I’m able to take something I love and do it for the glory of my Savior. I’ve written two worship songs already—not bragging, but they’re pretty good. Oh yeah, I decided to start giving Ronnie lessons after he came incredibly close to dropping to his knees and begging me to teach him every day. He’s learning fast. In a month, I’ll bet he passes me up.

“Hey, everybody!” Andrew hollered from downstairs. “Come look!”

I caught Ronnie staring back at me as I ran out into the hallway. It was a race to see who could get down the stairs the fastest.

“Well, what do you think?” Andrew said, taking a seat on the couch as he stared up at something.

I looked up above the fireplace and saw our picture mounted. “You finally found a frame that fit,” I said, sitting down beside him.

“Yeah, and the perfect spot too!” Ronnie said.

I smiled as I looked at the picture. “Now that’s a picture.”

Andrew put one arm around me and the other around Ronnie. “No, Drake. That right there…” He paused and admired the picture before saying, “That’s family.”

About Ashley Williams

Ashley Williams, always a devoted reader to a fast-paced novel, began her path toward becoming a Christian novelist at age fifteen. More than just wanting to create characters that lived on in her reader’s minds, Ashley desired to write fiction that unashamedly glorified the name of Jesus and brought readers to a deeper understanding of who God is. She then enrolled in Jerry Jenkins’ Christian Writers’ Guild, determined to deliver a solid, well-crafted message to her readers. In 2009, she published her first Christian book titled
A Father’s Betrayal: Condemned to Die
--a story about persecuted Christians in Pakistan.

Born in Texas, Ashley now lives in Tennessee with her parents, two brothers, and little sister who are a constant encouragement to her dreams. Ashley had been homeschooled since the first grade and is now in college continuing to pursue her love of writing. She stays very involved in her parents’ ministry alongside of her siblings, and finds happiness in reading God’s Word, spending time with her family, and writing.

If you enjoyed this book, let Ashley know at
ashleyfiction@hotmail. com
or check out her Website at
www.ashleywilliamsbooks.com.