Liars' Games (Project Chameleon Book 1) (16 page)

The logical thing to do would be to call Brad again and tell him everything.
He wanted proof, and she had that now: the hospital emergency room could verify it. He would take her back to the center and erase her identity. What choice would Brad and his bosses have? And hadn’t that been what she wanted?

She sighed. Why couldn’t anything be simple?

Her thoughts argued on and on. She needed to get out this horrible job. She wasn’t doing anyone any good, especially not to herself. But leaving now would be admitting failure. Was she prepared for that? It wasn’t like before, when she’d blown her cover by slipping up. That was nothing compared with failing at a job. She’d never done that before. And could she really abandon ship and leave the school to the gangs and bullies? She hadn’t ignored the crime that Callum was committing. She’d gone out of her way to make sure he and the others didn’t get away with it, though of course she had other reasons as well. Was this any different?

She rolled over in bed,
wincing from pain in her side, where she’d been stabbed. Turning once more, the pain dissipated somewhat and she closed her eyes again, still trying to fall asleep. Then another thought occurred to her. If she stayed in the job, could she make a difference, or was she nothing more than another incompetent Midland school principal?

Slowly, and with care to avoid causing herself pain again, s
he pulled her legs up and curled into a fetal position, the safest position she could think of—but three unwanted faces, each with a set of brown eyes, stared fiercely at her in her mind.

A shiver ran through her. She hid her head under the fuzzy pink blanket on her bed
, trying to blot out the images, and it worked. Only now her thoughts shifted to another memory, one that had occurred in England long ago when a group of male students in her high school had followed her and cornered her in the girls’ lavatory. She was the only thirteen-year-old in the school prepping for A-Levels, which had made her a target of ridicule for the older students. “If you want to be an adult, you haveta start acting like one,” they’d said. “You gotta do what other girls do with blokes.” Luckily, a couple of girls had shown up, and the boys had run off before they had a chance to do anything more than taunt. She’d never forgotten the fear.

Stop it! Don’t let any of those jerks ruin your life. She pushed
away the mental pictures and tried to imagine going back to Midland and acting as though nothing had happened. The memories would probably diminish with time. But she knew the fear would haunt her for a lifetime.

C
HAPTER TWELVE

IN THE MORNING, on Thursday,
Nancy phoned Ron, telling him that Claire would be staying home for the rest of the week. Claire listened in on the phone call.

“She’s doing better, but isn’t ready to go back.”

“Are you staying with her, or coming in?”

“I’ll stay here today
and try to be at work on Friday. We’ll have to see how it goes. She’s been sleeping a lot, which she apparently needs.”

“Thanks,” Ron said. “
Do whatever you think is best.”

C
laire stayed in bed all day on Thursday, not by choice but out of necessity. Her body ached even more than it had the previous day, and the pain meds and tranquilizers the doctor had prescribed made her sleepy. She would sleep a while, and then awaken when a nightmare made her sit up a scream out in terror.

Nancy attended to Marcus. Claire would occasionally hear laughter coming from the living room. Several times
, when Marcus ran upstairs and into Claire’s bedroom, Nancy guided him away, and said, “Sorry, Claire.”

Claire tried to get up at noon
. When she lowered her legs over the side of the bed and tried to sit up, her side hurt fiercely and she felt nauseous. She would never have guessed that the day after her stabbing would be worse.

Nancy brought Claire
’s lunch into her bedroom. Claire nibbled at it and then set the plate on the nightstand. How could she eat when she kept choking up tears? She was worthless. She’d done nothing to fix the school and she’d let everyone down, including herself.

She rolled over with her back toward the window, and closed her eyes.

She awoke later to the sound of her mobile phone ringing in the living room.

Nancy poked her head in the doorway
and whispered, “Are you awake?”

Claire
nodded and rose up on one elbow.

“Steve Jensen is on the phone for you. He wants to know if you’re okay. He said you weren’t at the round table meeting yesterday and Kim said you were out sick.”

How could she have forgotten Steve and the meeting? He’d told her she couldn’t miss two meetings in a row.

She tried to think but her head was spinning. “Uh, I don’t think I’m up to talking with him.” She started to lie back down, stopped
, and looked at Nancy. “Did he ask you what was wrong with me?”

“I told him you have the flu. I hope that’s okay.”

Claire nodded. “That was quick thinking. Thanks for covering for me. Did he ask who you were and why you were here?”

Nancy twisted her mouth,
chuckled, and then said, “Yeah, he thought I was you, at first. I told him I’m a neighbor and I came over to check on you.”

Had he unwittingly given Nancy a hint about their relationship? Claire tried to read Nancy’s expression
, but Nancy was giving her a poker face. That, in itself, probably said it all. Claire tried to hide her sigh. “Thanks, Nancy. Please tell him I’m fine, that I’m sleeping and I’ll talk to him on Monday?”

Alone again, Claire wondered why everyone
except her could think quick and come up with easy lies. She was supposed to be the genius and yet she undoubtedly would have blundered if she’d taken the call.

In the evening Claire forced herself out of bed and wobbled into the living room.

“Mommy, you’re up!” Marcus rushed over to her and wrapped his arms around her legs.

She patted his head. She didn’t dare try to pick him up or squat down to hug him.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, looking up at her.

She tried to smile. “I am. What have you been doing?”

“We read books and played games. Nancy’s nice. We’re watching TV. Do you wanna watch with us?”

“Sure.”

After everyone went to bed, Claire lay awake, still trying to push images of the attack out of her mind. The best way to do that was to think about something else, she kept telling herself. One of the biggest moments in her life, her move from England to the U.S., came to mind. The move had been both exciting and stressful—months of planning, getting work visas, sending out resumes, interviewing. By the time they actually were on their way to the U.S. and their new life, she and Callum had momentarily felt homeless and free like gypsies. He’d suggested they sell all of their furniture and most of their belongings and start over.

“This is going to be fun,” he had said as they made their way to Heathrow Airport in a taxi. “I already rented us a posh flat. We’ll decorate it with furniture and pictures that we’ll pick out together. No more his-and-hers, you know.”

She
’d smiled, and nodded. They’d had plenty of arguments about what should stay and what should go when they’d first moved in together two years earlier.

“You’re going to love the place. Thanks for agreeing to the move. You won’t regret it. The university is prestigious and you’ll get to rub elbows with the best faculty in the world.”

A porter smiled at them, and asked which airline they were going on. He then loaded everything onto a cart and took it to the ticket counter. Once they finished with the check-in, they headed to the gate and an hour later boarded the Boeing 747.

She wouldn’t regret it. Ha! Trusting Callum was the first of many mistakes.

Claire flashed forward to another flight—her first one with
Marcus when she’d fled Boston right after someone had tried to kill her in a drive-by shooting. That was back when she was still Juliet and Marcus was still Aidan.
Callum should have been there to see his son experiencing something so big and exciting! Callum should be here now to see his son grow and learn.
But he doesn’t deserve to see.

The flight attendant had pointed out their seats, and Juliet had helped Aidan into his seat and then settled into the seat next to him. After she sat down, she made sure Aidan was comfortable and safely tucked under his seatbelt. She had seated him next to a window and he was straining to see outside, so interested in seeing everything that was happening. He smiled and watched everything with bright eyes, and Juliet smiled at his eagerness. She felt herself relax a little, and settled into her own seat.

When she was
situated, she couldn’t resist peeking through the window herself to see what the two-and-a-half-year-old was so interested in. They watched luggage carts being wheeled around, and saw men tossing suitcases and bags into the baggage compartment. Inside the airplane, she heard the throaty roar of the plane’s engines, and the whisper of the air conditioner. A man in front of her reached up to adjust the air direction, and Juliet decided to follow suit and adjust hers and Aidan’s vents, too.

Once everyone was seated, the flight attendants came around to check that seatbelts were fastened and tray tables w
ere in their upright position. A few minutes later, the pilot welcomed his passengers via the intercom and told them they would be departing for Minneapolis-St. Paul soon. Ten minutes later the plane began to move, first backing up, turning, and then maneuvering its way down a long runway.

When the plane took flight, every muscle in Juliet’s body tensed
momentarily. Flying wasn’t so bad, she thought, once they were at cruising altitude. It was taking off, landing, and flying through turbulence that frightened her. But apparently not Aiden, who reveled in every acceleration and bump. Once the airplane stabilized, the attendant conducted her safety procedure demonstration, and the fasten seatbelt signed was turned off. Juliet leaned back then, closed her eyes, and tried to relax.

Juliet was finally calming down when Aidan began to chatter enthusiastically about how they were
‘eagles flying in clouds’. Although he was mostly a well-behaved child, he was already squirming in his seat. He unfastened his seat belt and scooted to the edge of his seat, so that his short legs, with hints of baby fat remaining, hung over the edge, and the toes of his sneakers tick-ticked against the seat in front of him. He giggled and smiled and asked a hundred questions, undaunted by his limited vocabulary, taking Juliet’s mind off her fear of flying for a while.

After his fourth trip down the narrow aisle to the lavatory, Juliet finally told him he would have to stay seated because she was growing weary of escorting him back and forth
. She knew that he didn’t really need to go to the bathroom—he was only recently toilet-trained—he just liked to walk through the plane and to go into the tiny closet-like room. Once used to the sounds and motions of the plane, he quieted and played with some small toys that Juliet pulled out of his carry-on bag.

When he was finally settled in, Juliet sat back and closed her eyes again, hoping to sleep for a while. Sleep evaded her though and her mind drifted from place to place as she contemplated what she would do once she arrived in Minneapolis. She hadn’t a clue if she would find a job, but she couldn’t stay in Boston and wait for someone to take another shot at her or her son, nor could she wait for the police to come and arrest her for her inadvertent role in Callum’s criminal activities. Her biggest worry was
for Aidan, her sweet, innocent boy. He’d already lost one parent—she couldn’t let him lose another. Looking over at him and watching him play with a toy, she thought about her life. She hoped things would work out; she would probably never again be a professor—she knew that—but couldn’t imagine herself unemployed. Her work, she hated to admit, was her life, her identity.

Claire rolled over in bed and tried to push away those old memories. That flight had ended with an FBI agent handcuffing her and taking her in for questioning. She’d handed over Callum’s laptop computer and entered the program. She punched her pillow hard. It’s no use, she thought. No matter how hard I try to fix the problems in my life, I can’t. She hadn’t jumped ship, and yet she was drowning. She pulled her blanket over her head and let the tears roll down her cheeks.

In the morning Nancy said, “Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own today? I can stay another day.”

“I’m fine
,” she lied. “I will be all right alone.” She made an attempt to smile, and hoped it was convincing. Then, as an afterthought, she said, and really meant it, “I appreciate everything you’ve done. I couldn’t have made it through this without you. And Ron. Please go back to work. I’ll see you there on Monday.”

“
I’m glad I could help. I know Ron feels the same. Should I drop Marcus off at the nanny’s apartment on my way?”

“You wouldn’t mind doing that?”

“It’s not a problem. I already know where she lives.”

“
Yes, then. Thank you. I’ll call her and let her know you’re coming.”

Before Nancy left,
she stuck her head back into Claire’s room. “I just got off the phone with Ron. Your car is still at the school. If you give me your car key, I’ll pick up Marcus after work in your car and drive him here. Ron will meet me here and then drive me back to the school.”

“Oh, thank you, Nancy.
I’m sorry I’m so much trouble.”

“No problem, just feel better.”

Claire called the nanny and told her about Nancy dropping off Marcus and picking him up, then she walked downstairs and hugged Marcus before he left with Nancy. When they were outside, Claire closed the door and locked it. She double-checked the deadbolt, then sat down on the floor, covered her face with her hands, and cried herself to sleep. She woke up later on the hard floor. She pulled herself up and padded into the kitchen. The digital clock read 10:33. How could so much time have passed already?

She sat down on the sofa. Her back and necked ached, probably from lying on the floor, she decided. Picking up the remote control, she turned on the TV and flipped through the channels
, but finding nothing of interest gave up and turned it back off. She picked up her mobile phone lying on the coffee table and looked at the message list. Steve had called twice yesterday. She carried the phone upstairs, placed it on her nightstand, and lay down on the bed. She thought about dinners with Steve, how he’d made her laugh; his jokes and his stories about his growing up. They could intelligently discuss almost any topic. Did he know how rare it was for her to find someone with whom she could do that? She pictured his face, his warm blue eyes, and smiled. She was pretty sure she was falling in love with him. That brought up a new dilemma. It was bad enough having to hide her real identity from him, but how could she not tell him about what had happened today? She couldn’t tell him and she couldn’t not tell him. Their relationship, like her life was a doomed conundrum. She sighed and then groaned as images from the attack pushed their way back into her mind.

What could she have done to prevent it? Frank had told her the previous principals were incompetent,
yet they hadn’t allowed something like this to happen. What did that make her? She glanced at the bottle of prescription pills on her nightstand. How many of them would she have to take to end it all?

She rolled over and push
ed that thought out of her mind. Eventually, she fell asleep, but several times over the weekend, especially as her back-to-work day grew closer, she glanced at that bottle.