The Blackwood Files - File One: Family Secrets

by Terri Reid

  “Can I help you?” the young, well-built doorman asked.

  Jacarius nodded slowly and smiled at the man. “Yeah. Yeah, you can my good man,” he replied. “My lawyer lives in this building, and I’m supposed to be meeting with her.” He smiled and sent a meaningful glance at the man. “You know, we’re having a private meeting.”

  “And who would that be?” the man asked, not returning Jacarius’ smile.

  “Brooke Callahan,” Jacarius replied. “She’s one fine lawyer, don’t you think?”

  “Ms. Callahan does not meet with her clients in her apartment,” the doorman informed him. “Would you like the address to her offices downtown?”

  Jacarius leaned against the desk. “Listen, I got her downtown address,” he said. “But it ain’t like that. She want to get some, you know what I’m saying. She want a little brown sugar, and she can’t do nothing like that in her office.”

  The doorman looked at Jacarius in disbelief. “What’s your name?” he asked. “I’ll call up to her apartment and make sure she’s available.”

  “Course she’s available,” Jacarius argued. “We got an appointment. Ain’t no need to call her. I’ll just go on up.”

  Shaking his head, the doorman met Jacarius’ eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t let you do that.”

  The façade of cordiality disappeared, and Jacarius’s eyes narrowed. “You know who I am?” he asked.

  “I have an idea,” the doorman replied.

  “I ain’t playing no games,” Jacarius said softly. “I don’t want to hurt you, man. I just need to see my lawyer.”

  “So, you just want me to step aside and let you take the elevator up to her apartment?” the doorman asked.

  Jacarius pulled out a wad of bills and placed it on the glistening white countertop of the desk. “Yeah, I do,” he said. “And there’ll be a little tip in it for you. I’m sure they ain’t paying you near what you’re worth.”

  “No, you’re right, they don’t,” the doorman replied. He pressed a button on the inside of the desk, and a soft buzzer sounded. “Take the third elevator. Do you know her apartment number?”

  Jacarius smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I do,” he said. “And thank you my good man.”

  The doorman reached over and slipped the wad of bills off the top of the counter and down behind the desk. “You’re very welcome, sir.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Brooke studied the stack of file boxes, tempted to start sorting through them. Walking over, she lifted the lid on the first box and started to withdraw the first manila file, but the slightly mildewed scent of the paperwork and her still-nagging headache made her stomach turn. She placed the lid back on the box and stepped away. “Okay, that’s totally gross,” she said, crossing over to the guest bathroom and pulling an aerosol can of spray disinfectant out from under her sink.

  She sprayed the area all around the boxes and then lit a favorite, scented candle to kill the mildew smell. “That has to improve things,” she said as she backed out the door into the hallway. “But I’m going to give you guys a couple of hours to air out before I try that again.”

  She walked down the hall into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. Reaching up into the cabinets above the sink, she pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen and shook out a couple of tablets. After swallowing them and some water, she sighed softly and ran her hand through her hair. “I guess I should log into work and look at emails,” she muttered.

  She started to slip into the stool next to the counter when she heard a knock on the door. Had Niki forgotten something? Walking across the room, still thinking about her work, she didn’t think to check the door before she opened it. “What did you…”

  She froze when she opened the door and saw who was standing on the other side. “How did you get up here?” she asked.

  “I had the key you gave me last year when you were out of town,” her mother replied. “You didn’t answer your phone yesterday, last night or this morning, so I decided to stop by and talk with you.”

  Moving past her daughter into the apartment, she walked into the living room, sat down on the couch and folded her arms across her chest. “And I’m not going to leave your apartment until we have this out.”

  With a frustrated sigh, Brooke closed the door and locked it securely just to give herself a few moments before she had to face her mother. She was ready to turn around when the intercom rang. “Hello?” she asked once she’d pressed the button.

  “Hi Miss Callahan, this is Jake from the lobby.”

  Brooke could picture the friendly doorman, and she nodded and smiled. “Hi Jake, what’s up?” she asked, assuming that he’d noticed her mother bypassing him.

  “I just wanted to let you know that the third elevator is offline for a while,” he said. “We’ve got someone stuck in it right now, but the police are coming to his aid.”

  “The police?” she asked. “Not the fire department?”

  “Well, he may or may not have tried to bribe me to let him get up to your apartment without me placing a call to you,” Jake said. “And, he may or may not have been packing a gun in his belt.”

  Brooke’s mouth went dry, and her heart pounded in her chest. “Did you get his name?” she asked.

  “For some reason he didn’t want to share that with me,” he said. “But I was studying that list of current cases you gave to me, and I think I just met Jacarius Robbins.”

  “Oh, god,” Brooke whispered. “Jake, that man is so dangerous. You need to be careful.”

  “Don’t worry,” Jake said. “I’ll just flip the switch on the control board and bring the elevator down to the first floor once the police arrive. He can step into their waiting hands. I’ll have them accidentally find his gun, so you won’t have to do anything about it. But you might want to file some kind of order of protection so we can arrest him if he shows up again.”

  She took a deep breath and nodded. “That’s a good idea,” she said. “Thank you, Jake. Thank you so much.”

  “No problem,” he said. “By the way, tell your mother I say hi.”

  An uneasy chuckle escaped Brooke’s lips. “Is there anything you don’t see?” she asked.

  She could hear his soft laughter. “And that’s why I get paid the big bucks,” he said. “Have a good day, Miss Callahan.”

  “You too, Jake,” she said. “You, too.”

  Turning around, she met her mother’s inquisitive look. “What was that all about?” her mother asked.

  Taking a deep breath and then slowly releasing it, Brooke was amazed that her voice sounded as steady as it did when she replied. “That was Jake, the doorman,” she explained. “He called to let me know that one of my former clients was trying to come up and see me.”

  Studying Brooke’s face for a moment, Amy knew there was something her daughter was not telling her. “And this former client wanted to see you because…?” she asked.

  “Probably because he wanted to teach me a lesson,” Brooke said, walking across the room and sinking into the chair across from her mother. “I wasn’t duly impressed with his charm and charisma when he decided to hit on me after the trial yesterday.”

  “So, we’re talking about Jacarius Robbins,” Amy stated.

  Brooke was shocked. “You know who I was representing yesterday?” she asked.

  With a soft sigh, Amy reached over and gathered Brooke’s hands in her own. “I am always interested in what you are doing,” she said. “And I’m always worried. You seem to be trying to take on the world single-handedly.”

  “Like my dad?” Brooke asked quietly.

  Tears glistening in her eyes, Amy nodded. “Yes,” she said softly. “Just like him.”

  Shaking her head, Brooke pulled her hands away from her mother and stood up. “Don’t you dare pretend you’re shedding tears about him,” she spat angrily. “Don’t you dare act like you cared. Why didn’t you tell me? How could you just forget about your husband?”

  “I never forgot
him,” Amy replied calmly.

  “That’s crap,” Brooke said. “His body wasn’t even cold when you were already shacking up with Callahan. Where you guys having an affair on the side?”

  Amy rose and slapped her daughter’s face. “How dare you?”

  “I dare because that’s the evidence I see,” Brooke replied, stepping away from her mother, her voice filled with quiet fury. “I dare because you stole my father from me. I dare because all you were thinking about was yourself.”

  “Oh really?” Amy shouted at her daughter. “You have all the answers, don’t you? You’re the brilliant attorney aren’t you? Well, before you also decide that you’re the judge and jury, too, you should know that you were the only witness to your father’s murder. I had to hide you so they wouldn’t kill you, too.”

  Immediately remorseful, Amy clapped her hands over her mouth and shook her head. “Oh, Brooke, I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed.

  Brooke stared at her mother, her eyes wide. Her mother stepped forward and hugged her daughter. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to know. I didn’t want you to remember.”

  Brooke stiffened as Amy’s words echoed in her head. “I saw the killer,” she finally repeated slowly.

  “I was gone, a quick trip to the grocery store,” Amy explained, tears thick in her voice. “Your dad was in the backyard getting ready for a backyard barbeque. You were supposed to be taking a nap in your bedroom while he started the grill. When I got home, you were screaming at your father to wake up as he lay dead on the ground.”

  Brooke stepped back so she could meet her mother’s eyes. “And you’re sure I saw the person who killed him?”

  Amy nodded. “You kept telling me that a bad man shot your dad,” she said. “You had nightmares for months. Reece came to me and told me that they were worried you would be targeted, and we needed to do whatever we could to protect you.”

  “What did you do?” Brooke asked.

  “Reece knew of a psychologist who had worked with repressing memories,” Amy explained. “We brought you to her and she helped you forget.”

  “Helped me forget my father?” Brooke asked.

  “You were only three years old,” Amy said, pleading for understanding. “You were so sad and frightened. I just wanted you to be safe.”

  Brooke thought about what Art had said about her vendetta against police officers. If she had indeed seen a police officer kill her father, maybe she did have an unconscious desire to beat them.

  “Do you still have the name of the psychologist?” Brooke asked, hoping she could recover some of the memories.

  Amy shook her head. “She was killed in a fire in her office,” she replied. “Her records were all destroyed, too.”

  This was beginning to sound like an old, gothic mystery. “Didn’t you think it odd that the doctor who repressed my memories was killed?” she asked her mother.

  “No,” Amy replied, shaking her head. “No one but Reece and I knew what was happening. The killer never found out you had been a witness. It was just a sad coincidence.”

  “Yeah,” Brooke repeated slowly, her blood running chill. “Just a sad coincidence.”

  Walking across the room, Amy sat down on the couch and reached into her purse. She pulled out a folded manila envelope. “I think I always knew that somehow this day would come,” she said. “And maybe, deep down inside, I wanted you to know about your real father.”

  “What is it?” Brooke asked.

  “It’s a bank statement,” Amy replied, “For an account in your name.”

  Brooke shook her head. “No, I don’t want any money from you.”

  “It’s not from me, and it’s not from Callahan,” Amy said. “It was a trust fund, set up for you right after Bruce died. His insurance money. No one knew about it but me. Over the years I’ve invested wisely. You’ll find that it’s a tidy sum to do with however you choose.”

  Then she reached inside her purse and pulled out another, smaller envelope. “This, on the other hand, is from…” she paused for a moment, “your stepfather. It’s a check for $50,000 with a very strong suggestion that you take the money and tour Europe for a while.”

  “Why?” Brooke asked.

  “I would think the answer to that would be obvious,” her mother replied.

  Brooke studied her mother for a moment. “What do you want me to do?” she asked.

  “I want you to be safe,” Amy said emphatically. “I would never want anything to happen to you.”

  Brooke nodded. “Yes, Mom, I know that.”

  “You can’t change the past, dear,” Amy said. “You can’t dwell in the past. And sometimes, the secrets of the past need to stay there.”

  Brooke studied her mother for a moment. Amy was still a beautiful woman, but there was always a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Why?” Brooke finally asked.

  “Why what, sweetheart?” her mother replied, confusion in her eyes.

  “Why did you marry him?” Brooke answered.

  A look of surprise crossed Amy’s face, and then she looked away from Brooke and sighed. “At the time, I thought it was the right thing to do,” she said, and then her eyes came back to meet Brooke’s. “I thought it was best for both of us.”

  She thought about Art’s suggestion that Judge Callahan might be involved with her father’s death. “Mom, do you think…” she paused, not even knowing how to ask such a question to her mother. It seemed disloyal.

  “Do I think what, Brookie?” she asked.

  “Could Dad, I mean Reece, could he be involved in my father’s death?”

  Amy shrugged, the sadness in her eyes more evident than usual. “What I think, sweetheart, is that the world is not just black and white,” she said. “There are many layers in between. Sometimes when we step into a shady area, because we think it’s for the greater good, we end up doing things we might not have considered in the past.”

  Brooke shook her head. “I don’t understand,” she replied.

  Amy walked back across the room and took both of her daughter’s hands in her own. “I don’t think he would ever intentionally hurt you,” she said softly. “He’s made a lot of compromises over the years, owes a lot debts, and often his hands are tied because of it. That’s why I would rather have you leave your father’s death alone. I’m sure that what your father would want too.”

  Brooke knew that wasn’t true. Bruce Blackwood definitely wanted her to solve his murder. “But Mom…” she began.

  Amy put her fingers on Brooke’s lips, silencing her. She closed her eyes for a brief moment and Amy sighed. When she looked at her daughter, a moment later, her eyes were filled with tears. She bent her head so their foreheads were touching. “I love you, Brookie,” she said. “And I have always loved you. Never doubt that.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Brooke said. “I know.”

  Amy placed a kiss on her daughter’s forehead and stepped back. “You are so talented and have such a bright future,” she said. “Don’t let something from the past derail that future. Do what’s best for you.”

  Brooke studied her mom and silently wondered why her mother was so hell bent on getting her to promise she’d leave the investigation alone. Her attorney instincts were screaming there was a lot more going on here than meets the eye. But the one thing she’d learned early in life when dealing with her parents, promise them anything and then do what you want.

  “I will, Mom,” Brooke said with a smile. “I promise.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Jacarius Robbins kicked the wall of the elevator and then pounded on the intercom. “Get me outta here,” he yelled, lacing his request with profanity.

  “I’m so sorry,” Jake replied through the intercom, biting back a smile. “We are doing everything we can to get the elevator up and running. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

  “I don’t care how sorry you are,” Jacarius exclaimed. “I want out now.”

  “I’ve called for help,” Jake replied. “They should
be here any minute.”

  Help? Did help mean the police? Jacarius slid his hand around to the gun tucked in his waistband and swore softly. Then he slowly examined the elevator and saw the small camera mounted in the corner. That doorman knew exactly what he was doing, he decided. A trap was set, and he’d walked right into it.

  Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, Jacarius placed a quick call. “Yeah, it’s me,” he said. “You know that favor you owe me? It’s time to pay up now. I need to you to intercept a patrol car on its way towards me,” he said, reciting the address of the high-rise. “Then you come and pick me up. You got that? You miss, and everyone learns about our relationship.”

  He hung up the phone and then moved around the elevator so he was situated directly underneath the camera.

  Jake glanced at the television screen monitor for the elevator and shook his head. “I know you’re in there,” he quipped softly. “You can run, but you can’t hide.”

  But hiding was exactly what Jacarius was interested in doing. Leaning up against one of the lower panels in the elevator, he was able to snap the cover out of place and access the outer shell of the elevator. Slipping the gun out of his waistband, he carefully slid it behind the panel and snapped the panel piece back in place.

  “Let’s just see who caught who,” he snarled softly, slowly walking back away from the corner and heading to stand in front of the door. As he stood, looking at his reflection in the steel doors, his phone vibrated. Pulling it out of his pocket, he looked at the text and smiled. “Intercepted. On my way.”

  “That’s more like it,” he said, looking up at the camera and smiling. “And we gonna see who’s sorry.”

  He slowly moved back to his place under the camera and retrieved his gun, sliding it back underneath his jacket. “Yeah, we just gonna see.”

  The police car pulled up in front of the high-rise, its lights flashing, and two uniformed police officers hurried over to Jake. “You got a problem?” one of them asked.

  Jake nodded. “Yeah, I got a guy trapped in the elevator who wanted access to Attorney Brooke Callahan’s apartment,” he said. “She represented him yesterday in court. But he’s no longer her client. I thought I saw the bulge of a gun underneath the back of his jacket. So, I got him in the elevator and then stopped it between floors. I can bring it down to one whenever you’re ready.”