Liars' Games (Project Chameleon Book 1) (14 page)

“You can’t do nothin’. Nobody can.” Tears flowed down her cheeks.

Claire handed her more tissues. She knew about the district’s no tolerance policy. Gang members could be suspended, but Claire needed help with that. She would discuss it with Frank.
Unfortunately, even if they could eliminate the gangs from the school, the bigger problem remained: how to prevent gang members from retaliating outside of school.

“I don’t know how yet,” Claire said
. “Please trust me. I’ll figure out how to protect you. Hang in there, okay?”

Tyeesha looked up and gave her a timid smile. “Thanks. I never had nobody stick up for me before.” She stood up, then swung her backpack over her shoulder.

“I’ll get you that hall pass,” Claire said.

Now, all I have to do is figure out how to follow through on my promise.

AFTER
PUTTING MARCUS to bed, Claire collapsed on her sofa, her mind returning to all the problems at school. Somehow, she desperately needed to figure out how to help the poor students who weren’t unreachable, and also deal with the rest. In the morning she resolved to go in extra early again and do more research online.

Weary and not finding any real solutions coming to mind, Claire drug herself off to her bedroom, undressed and prepared for bed. Once in bed her mind solidly refused to settle down, continuing to plague her, replaying the day’s events. Eventually though, tired to the bone, her thoughts drift
ed off randomly and precious sleep claimed her.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CLAIRE FELT CHILLS through her body as she entered the school Wednesday morning, wondering why it was so cold in the building. She checked the thermostat and realized it was on an automatic timer and wouldn’t turn on the heat for another half-hour. Ah, she’d never arrived this early before. She manually increased the temperature setting, then went into the admin office and began brewing a pot of coffee.

 
While the coffee machine performed its magic, in robotic fashion Claire unlocked the door to her office, hung up her jacket on the coat rack in the corner, and switched on her computer. She then picked up her ceramic mug from her desk and carried it to the coffee stand. With a steaming cup in hand, she was ready to get down to business. She closed her office door, sat down, and brought up the internet while she sipped coffee. 

  
Gangs, how they operated, their codes and lingo, their initiations, their strengths and weaknesses—those were questions she needed answers to, and today she began searching the internet to learn everything she could about the school’s number one enemy.

She read an article from the
local newspaper. It stated that Colorado was home to 110 gangs and 12,741 members. It went on acknowledging the obvious, that there was a serious gang problem in the Denver metro area. Another article talked about police liaison officers being placed in many Denver high schools. An article on Wikipedia gave history of gangs, current numbers, and info on who’s at risk.

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 th
at 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 against 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.”