Liars' Games (Project Chameleon Book 1)

by Susan Finlay

  Claire typed two letters of a new search word and jumped at a loud noise in the outer office. She raised her head and listened. Had Ron come in early? She remembered him complaining yesterday about not having enough time in the school day to get his work done, because of all the fights and recent problems.

  She waited, expecting him to peek in her office, but nothing happened. Probably overreacting to what she was reading, she decided. Returning her attention to the computer, she typed in “how to leave a gang”, and clicked enter.

  Several loud thumps followed by multiple deep voices raised hairs on the back of her neck. Ron might come in early, but whom else? None of the other employees came in this early.

  The sounds were coming directly from the other side of her closed door.

  Claire’s mouth went dry. She stood up and moved around her desk, her mobile phone in hand so she could dial 911 if needed. She edged toward the door and when she was close enough, she reached out for the doorknob. Before her hand touched it, the door swung open with a force that made her jump backwards and drop her phone. She reached down and picked it up.

  “Get her,” a male voice said.

  She jerked back upright, dropping the phone in the process, and froze. Facing her were three students wearing orange bandanas, students who had been among the group bullying the two boys in the corridor last week. She hadn’t known their names until yesterday when they’d become agitated because of the drug search, and Ron had identified them.

  The student closest to her, the tallest of the three, was Jose Rodriguez. He lunged at Claire and she stepped backward. Ricardo Black and Darius Lorenz followed him into the office and closed the door, blocking Claire’s only exit. Her mouth went dry and her heart raced. Jose stood towering over her, so close she could smell his foul breath. He lifted a hand and she caught a glimmer of steel. She tore her eyes away from the steel to glance at Ricardo and Darius through a daze, then gasped as two more knives came into focus. She backed up further until she bumped into her desk. With nowhere else to go, she put her arms in front of her in a feeble effort to keep the students away. If they were trying to scare her, they were doing a bang up job of it.

  She stared at their legs. Their intimidating stance made her blood run cold. She jerked her attention up to their faces and immediately regretted it because the contempt in their eyes left little doubt in her mind: she was going to die.

  Jose grabbed her arm. She struggled to get free from his grip.

  “Please don’t do this. You won’t get away with it. You must know that. You’ll accomplish nothing.” She sounded desperate to her own ears and she hated that. Be brave. Don’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you cower.

  Jose was twisting her arm now, twisting it so hard that tears welled up in her eyes. She tried to pull away. Darius grabbed her shoulder in a steel grip as Ricardo tore at her clothes.

  She struggled, but the more she fought, the rougher they treated her as she learned after she kicked one of them in the groan and he struck back harder and with intense anger. With three pairs of hands now restraining her, she knew she didn’t stand much of a chance of escaping. A cold knot formed in her stomach and she felt sick.

  She tried to scream, but someone’s hand was glued over her mouth, and then in a flash she was being forced down, backwards. Desperate, she kicked upward. She didn’t have enough leverage to do any damage so she tightened her hands and clawed at them like an animal. One of them yelped in pain.

  “Get the bitch,” he yelled.

  Shaking and scared witless, she tried to roll over, hoping to break their grip. Somehow, without her realizing what was happening, one of the gang members had sprawled on top of her. His weight crushed her, making it difficult to breathe, but nothing could keep her from screaming. She was going to die, she thought. So much for witness protection.

  UPON ENTERING THE school building, Ron heard a blood-curdling scream followed by another and another. He ran toward the sound, and quickly realized the screams were coming from the admin office. Claire!

  He sped up, yanked open the door to the admin office, yelling out her name at the top of his lungs. Someone rammed him and knocked him down. He landed hard on his side and groaned. Momentarily stunned and out of breath, he watched two more men run past. He pulled himself up and took off in pursuit. By the time he made it outside, the men were driving away in a beat up Chevy Impala low-rider. He thought he recognized one of them but not the car. Trying to read the license plate number, he caught only the last two numbers, and waved his arms in frustration.

  He ran back into the building to find Claire. The sight of her lying on the floor in a crumpled heap, her clothes torn and barely covering her, her hair in wild disarray, with strands stuck to her tear streaked red face, sent waves of nausea through him.

  “Oh, my God!” he said. He froze, perspiration beading up on his head. She was bleeding. He could see it from where he stood. He moved closer and crouched. She was conscious and semi-alert, probably in shock. Taking her hand in his, he said, “Claire, can you talk to me? I’ll call 911.” He tried to let go of her hand so he could get the phone on her desk, but she held on tight.

  “No!” she wailed. “Please don’t call the police.” Tears glistened on her pale face, and she struggled with her free hand to pull together her torn clothing. He took off his coat and draped it over her.

  “I’ve gotta call them, Claire. They’ll catch the creeps that did this to you.”

  “Please don’t! I’m begging you.” Her voice was fragile and shaking. “Don’t call them. You can’t tell anyone.”

  Letting go of his hand, she buried her face in her hands and cried.

  Ron sat down with his legs sprawled and stared in disbelief that she didn’t want to report the crime. She’d never hesitated to call the police or paramedics before. What the hell was he supposed to do? His normal reaction would be to hold her and soothe her like he would a frightened child, like he had done when this happened to his youngest sister, Celia. She was only fourteen at the time. Celia hadn’t wanted the police either, but he’d called them. He’d thought he was doing the right thing. He was wrong.

  He struggled to keep his voice under control. “You need to report this, and then get medical attention.”

  “No! You can’t call the police.”

  He rubbed his beard. “Okay. Then Frank. I’ll call him. He’ll know what to do.”

  “Please don’t call them. Don’t call the police or Frank.” Tears were blinding her eyes and choking her voice. When she spoke again, Ron had trouble understanding her words. “Plea—please don’t tell—tell anyone.”

  “They stabbed you Claire, and raped you. You need medical attention.”

  She was unable to speak for a moment, and the tormented look on her face was wrenching. This was his fault. He knew the school, he knew the gangs and how they operated. He’d been in a gang when he was in middle school, before his family moved out of Chicago. He should have expected some kind of retaliation for the drug search. He shouldn’t have let her be alone in the school. He should have insisted on a buddy system where they’d get to work at the same time. He could have prevented this.

  He was jolted out of his own thoughts when she spoke again.

  “They didn’t rape me! They would have, I’m sure, but you arrived before . . . Ron, please, no one can know about this.” Although her eyes were red and swollen, and a wound on her abdomen was bleeding, she continued. “If the school board finds out, they’ll remove me from here, and those gangbangers will win. That’s what Jose and the others want. I can’t let that happen.” She paused, and half sobbed. She stopped again and swallowed hard, then looked up at him pleading.

  “You know who did this and you’re still refusing to report them?” He couldn’t believe she would let them get away with it. “You say you don’t want them to win. Then let me call the police.”

  “Do you think that will stop them? Won’t others in their gang retaliate against me or again
st the school? I know I’ve failed so far, but don’t make me run away in shame.”

  He saw her agony, and he could understand to some extent. His sister’s shame had ruined her. Yet the thought of letting those creeps get away with this was too much. “Claire, I can’t do that.”

  “It’s my decision to make. Please. Help me.”

  “You’re in shock. I get it, but I’m afraid you’ll feel different when you calm down.”

  “How can you know how I’ll feel? You’ve never been in this position.” She looked at him, pleading, and he wasn’t sure he could speak. Celia had looked at him the same way. Although only nineteen at the time, he had been the man of the family. The police had shown up with their flashing lights and two days later Celia was dead. She’d slit her own wrists in the family’s bathtub.

  Ron took a deep breath. He couldn’t force Claire to report it. He could try to reason with her, tell her she needed to get out of her job. Of course that would sound like he wanted her out of the way so he could have the job. He sighed and shook his head. God, he hoped he was making the right decision. He lifted her gently up in his arms and walked toward the door.

  “My keys,” she said, reaching out toward the desk. “Must get my school keys and lock this door. Get my handbag, too. The keys are inside it.”

  Probably a good idea to lock the office. Keep people out. Safeguard any evidence, in case she changed her mind about notifying the police. He found her purse lying on her desk, took out the keys and locked the door, then drove as fast as he could to St. Joseph’s Hospital’s emergency room. At the hospital the doctor, a middle-aged woman, instructed a nurse to bring over a rape kit test.

  Claire said, “That’s not necessary. I wasn’t raped. Ron arrived before—”

  The doctor looked at Ron. Ron squirmed, then looked at Claire and said, “Please let the doctor do her job. The test is standard, isn’t it, doc?”

  The doctor nodded.

  While she was being treated for the stab wound and bruises, Ron called the school and let their secretary know that they would both be out of the office all day. He told her they were in an offsite meeting.

  “What meeting is that?” Kim asked. “I haven’t heard anything about it?”

  “We’re meeting with the police department. We need to talk about security, drug enforcement, that sort of thing.”

  Kim was silent for a moment. “Both of you? Who’s going to run things here? I hope you don’t expect me to talk to students and parents.”

  He hadn’t thought of that. Now what?

  “Tell Ed Logan he’s in charge today. He can pull a few teachers out of the classrooms to help. Call in substitutes for the teachers. Oh, and will you please announce that today’s assembly is cancelled?”

  “Okay. Will do.”

  A short time later, when the doctor came back into waiting room, Ron asked, “Is Claire okay?”

  “She’ll be fine. I stitched up the wound and I’m giving her a sedative. She shouldn’t be alone for the first 24 hours.”

  Ron nodded. “She wasn’t raped then?”

  “No, but she was traumatized. I talked to her and tried to convince her to report this.”

  “Yeah, I know. I tried, too. She’s so damned stubborn.”

  The doctor nodded and said, “Would you try again? She’s been through a lot. I don’t want to upset her any more. Maybe as her friend you can reach her. She seems to trust you.”

  Trust him? He wasn’t so sure about that. One thing he’d learned about her was that she was as aloof and distrustful as he was. “I’ll try, but I doubt she’ll budge.”

  The doctor led Ron into the exam room to talk with her.

  “I can’t do it,” she said. “I know you must think I’m crazy, but you don’t know, you can’t know, how it is. I’ve made up my mind. It has to be this way.”

  The doctor and Ron exchanged looks, and finally conceded to her wishes. The doctor sent her home with instructions for changing the bandages covering her wound, where the attackers had stabbed her. “If you have any problems or develop a fever, call me here at the hospital.” She gave a pamphlet to Claire, and added, “Read this. And please consider making an appointment with a counselor.”

  Outside, Ron helped her into his car and when she was comfortable, he said, “I’ll drive you to your home. I need an address.”

  She sat next to him, his coat wrapped around her like a blanket, slouching so that she was half-hidden, and her purse was lying on the floor near her feet. “I don’t want to go home yet. Could you take me to your home? For a little while.”

  He raised an eyebrow, and was about to ask why, but changed his mind.

  He started the engine and drove to his apartment in south Denver, and helped her get up the stairs. “You can lie down there on the sofa while I go in the kitchen and make some hot tea, okay?”

  She took off her shoes and grabbed a plaid blue and white blanket that Ron kept on the sofa for cold evenings when he watched television.

  While he was in the kitchen, he peeked into the living room at her. She was still sitting with her legs curled under her, the blanket around her shoulders, and her bare feet uncovered. She looked younger than ever, and vulnerable. He’d never really thought of her like that before.

  He handed her a warm cup and she responded with a feeble smile and pulled the blanket tighter around her neck. Feeling awkward, he stood up and went into his bedroom and came out with an old sweatshirt and sweatpants his former girlfriend had left behind. “You can change into these,” he said. “There’s a bathroom down the hall.”

  “Thank you, Ron. I owe you more than you can possibly imagine.”

  After she changed clothes, they sat together, drinking their tea. As the sedative the doctor gave her took effect, she fell asleep. Ron puttered around the house and tried to keep quiet so he wouldn’t wake her. When she awoke a couple hours later, he said, “Will you be okay alone if I leave you for a little while? I need to go to the school and check on things.”

  “You’re right. I should have thought about that.”

  “No. I’m acting principal today. You’re supposed to be resting.”

  She gave him another of those half-smiles, then said, “I’ll be fine. Go. I’m going to sleep some more. I think the doctor gave me horse tranquilizers.”

  He grinned, and pulled the blanket up over her. Before he left her, he said, “Call me if you need anything. I’ll come back in a while to check on you.”

  She nodded and said, “Go.”

  “Okay, I’m going. But can I at least call Frank? He’s been great, helping with other problems. He should know about this.”

  “No! Please, don’t. Please promise me you won’t tell him, or anyone.”

  He nodded, and left. Damn, she could be frustrating at times.

  STEVE JENSEN SAT in the conference room at Cameron High School, along with the school board’s president and four of the six high school principals, waiting for the remaining two principals to arrive so that he could begin the Round Table Luncheon Meeting. Steve glanced at his watch again. Three minutes had passed since the last time he checked.

  John was tapping his pencil on the table, clearly annoyed at the delay. “Well, it looks like they aren’t going to show.” He looked at Frank, and said, “They know they’re supposed to be here today, don’t they?”

  Frank leaned forward in his seat and said, “Oh, definitely. I talked to both of them on Friday.”

  “Well, then I suggest you get on the phone and find out what’s holding them up. Tell them to get over here. But we’re not going to wait any longer.”

  Before John had a chance to say anything more, Liz Olson burst into the room.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said, taking her coat off and draping it over the back of an empty chair.

  John glared at her, then said, “That’s it? Sorry I’m late. No particular reason for your tardiness, Liz?” His voice had an edge to it that signaled to Steve that this was going to be a dif
ficult meeting. John was not an easy man to get along with even when he was in a good mood.

  “Believe it or not, I had another meeting prior to this one. It ran a little longer than expected.”

  Frank left the room to call Claire. When he returned, he was frowning.

  John asked, “Well? Did you talk to her?”

  “Midland’s secretary said that Claire and the assistant principal, Ron Baker, are in a meeting off premises. She didn’t have any more information.”

  John shook his head and said, “What the hell! These meetings are mandatory.”

  Frank nodded, then looked down at his notebook on the table in front of him.

  As John turned his head and stared momentarily at Steve, Steve clenched his jaw. Whether or not John was right about Claire and the Senator, it was obvious John believed it and was not going to let it go. The man had it in for Claire. Sooner or later, Steve would need to talk about the issue with her.

  WHEN RON ARRIVED at the school, Kim told him that Frank had called.

  “Claire’s supposed to be at the Superintendent’s Round Table Luncheon,” Kim said.

  Ron sighed, and rubbed his head. “Sorry. We both forgot about that meeting. I should have called in to let them know she went home sick. I’ll call Frank.”

  “Huh? She went home sick? I thought you were both at a meeting.”

  “Yeah, we were. But she got sick and left.”

  Kim nodded.

  “Any problems here today?”

  “Not so far.”

  After Ron called Frank, he returned to his apartment at lunchtime to check on Claire. When he opened the door, she jumped.

  “It’s me. Ron. Don’t worry.” He stuck his keys back in his trouser pockets. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. What’s happening at school?”

  “Believe it or not, it’s relatively quiet there today.”

  “You mean if I’m not there, they behave. Is someone trying to tell me something?”