The Blackwood Files - File One: Family Secrets

by Terri Reid

  The police officer nodded. “Good thinking,” he said. “Yeah, once we get positioned in front of the doors, you can bring it down.”

  “Okay,” Jake said. “It’s the third elevator.”

  “Thanks again,” the other police officer said.

  The two moved to the front of the elevator and nodded to Jake. He pressed the controls and brought the elevator back down to one, opening the doors once it touched down.

  “Jacarius Robbins,” one of the officers yelled as he entered the elevator. “You’re under arrest for trespassing.”

  Jake froze. He hadn’t told the officers Robbins’s name because he hadn’t wanted the thug to know he knew who he was. How did they…

  “Get down!”

  The voice screamed in his ear, and Jake, a veteran of the Afghanistan War, didn’t hesitate to drop behind the desk. The bullet meant for him crashed into a glass panel behind him, shattering it into a thousand pieces.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Jake heard one of the officers scream. “We got to get out of here before the whole district is on the scene.”

  Jake stayed down until he heard the door close and the squad car pull away. Only then did he stand up and press the button for the intercom. “Hey, Miss Callahan,” he said. “I think we might have a little problem here.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Art O’Reilly’s cell phone rang and vibrated on the nightstand next to his bed. Moaning, he rolled over without opening his eyes, lifted the phone up, and brought it to his ear. “O’Reilly,” he muttered wearily.

  “Dude, there’s been a shooting involving Jacarius Robbins,” Sam said. “I just got the call.”

  “What?” Art asked, rubbing his hand over his face. “Where?”

  “Actually, it was over at Brooke Callahan’s place,” Sam replied. “He tried to get up to her apartment.”

  “What the hell?”

  “Yeah, a quick thinking doorman saved her,” Sam said. “But nearly got killed for his trouble. They were going to send a unit over to take their statements. But before they did that, I wanted to see if you wanted part of this?”

  Art nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I do,” he said. “Cancel the unit. I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

  Twelve minutes later, Art was driving his car into the garage beneath Brooke’s building, using her key to bypass the front door. He parked his car and jogged to the elevators in the corner of the garage. The elevator door opened almost immediately after he pressed the button. He stepped in, pressed the button for Brooke’s floor, leaned back against the elevator wall and closed his eyes. This was day two of less than four hours of sleep, and he could tell that it was getting to him.

  “I remember those days.”

  Art’s eyes popped open when he heard the voice in the elevator with him, and he stared at the man leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the elevator. The man wasn’t much older than Art and about the same height and size. He had dark hair, combed over to one side, a dark covering of stubble on his lower face and piercing blue eyes. He was wearing a white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of black dress slacks. He seemed very relaxed and offered Art a friendly smile.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you when I got on,” Art said.

  The man nodded. “Probably because I wasn’t here yet,” the man replied, an ironic tone to his voice.

  “Excuse me?” Art asked.

  Laughing softly, the man looked approvingly at Art. “You’re an O’Reilly, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, I’m Arthur,” he said. “Art O’Reilly.”

  “You look like your dad,” the man replied.

  “And you are?” Art asked.

  “Blackwood,” the man replied, and then he suddenly disappeared before Art’s eyes. A disembodied voice then added, “Bruce Blackwood. Brooke’s father.”

  The elevator door slid open, but it took Art a couple of seconds to realize the elevator had stopped and he should get out. Shaking his head, his heart pounding in his chest, he stepped out into the hallway and took a deep breath. “Well that’s something you don’t see every day,” he stammered softly as he made his way to Brooke’s apartment. “And I’d be really okay to not see it again.”

  “Sorry, I can’t oblige you on that one.”

  Art turned to find the ghost of Bruce Blackwood walking alongside him in the hall. “Why are you here?” Art asked.

  “To protect my daughter,” he said. “And I need you to help me.”

  Art stopped. “That was you, right?” he asked. “Last night at the 12th?”

  “Yeah,” Bruce replied with a smile. “I thought it was going to take you all night to find my files. I had to step in.”

  “Do you know who killed you?” Art asked.

  Sighing, Bruce shook his head. “No, I don’t,” he said. “I keep trying to remember, but the memory’s been blocked or maybe it happened so fast I didn’t see it.”

  Art rubbed his hand over his face again. “I need more sleep.”

  “You can sleep when my daughter is safe,” Blackwood said.

  “Why is Brooke in danger?”

  “She was there,” Bruce explained. “She was there when I was killed, and there’s a good chance she saw the killer.”

  “The only witness to a murder,” Art replied. “No wonder they didn’t want her to remember.”

  “How do you feel about Callahan?” Art asked.

  Bruce shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “I got a bad feeling about the guy, but it could be because he kind of took over my space.”

  “Your space?” Art asked.

  “Suddenly there’s a new dad and a new husband on the scene,” Bruce explained with a shrug. “Doesn’t matter if you’re dead or alive; it still hurts.”

  Art nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense,” he said. “But he could be involved?”

  “Anything’s possible,” Bruce said. “I was trying to connect a bunch of cases, and I was close to pulling it all together.”

  “Sounds like you got too close,” Art said.

  “Yeah, and I don’t want the same thing that happened to me to happen to Brooke,” he said, and then he looked into Art’s eyes. “Or to you, O’Reilly. Or to you.”

  Then he disappeared again.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Brooke opened the door as soon as Art knocked. “Oh, I thought you were the police,” she said.

  Art smiled. “I am the police,” he replied.

  She peered over his shoulder into the empty hallway. “I thought I heard voices out here, is there someone else with you?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Sorry. Just muttering to myself,” Art replied, not quite ready to share his encounter with her real father. He walked into her apartment and saw Jake sitting at her table. A feeling that closely resembled jealousy washed over him.

  He didn’t like it one bit. This was only a case, and he wasn’t going to get personally involved. Taking a moment to tamp the feelings back, he nodded and walked across the room. “I’m Detective Art O’Reilly, and you are?”

  “I’m Jake,” the young man replied, standing up and offering Art his hand. “I’m the doorman from downstairs.”

  “Jake kept Jacarius from reaching my apartment,” Brooke explained, locking the door and walking over to the table. “He held him in the elevator and called the police.”

  “Good thinking,” Art replied.

  “Well, maybe not so good,” Jake said. “I called 911, and told them I had someone stuck in the elevator who had a gun and was a threat to one of my tenants. When the officers showed up, they stopped by the desk for a moment and then went to the elevators. When one of them yelled out Jacarius’ name, I immediately realized I’d never mentioned his name. Then, after they opened the elevator door, they let Jacarius fire off a couple of shots in my direction.”

  Brooke gasped. “Jake, you didn’t tell me—”

  “Yeah,” Jake interrupted. “Mostly because I only
wanted to repeat this second part once.”

  “What second part?” Art asked.

  “Just before the shot rang out, someone behind me yelled for me to get down,” he said. “I’m former military, so I immediately obeyed and that probably saved my life. But…”

  “But?” Brooke prompted.

  “But after the officers took Jacarius out the door, I looked around for the guy who saved me, and there was no one else in the lobby,” he answered. “I know I heard a voice. I just don’t have any idea where it came from.”

  “Weird,” Art said, having his own idea of who was behind that voice. “So, who’s guarding the door now?”

  “Rory,” Jake said. “My shift was ending about the time this all happened, so once Rory showed up, I came up here to tell Miss Callahan what happened. And then she suggested I wait for the cops.”

  Art turned to Brooke. “Sam got the call about Robbins, but he didn’t mention anything about him being booked,” he said. “Did you happen to call Niki?”

  Brooke bit back a smile and nodded. “Yes, I called her,” she said. “And no, he wasn’t booked.”

  “And since there is no record of his name being called in,” Art began.

  “It’s my word against the word of two Chicago police officers,” Jake inserted. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  “Could you describe the police officers?” Art asked.

  Jake shook his head. “No, sorry,” he said. “I was just so relieved they were there, I wasn’t paying attention to anything but their uniforms. One of them was white, and the other one was black.”

  “Well, that describes about half of the teams out there,” Art said. “How did the cops react when Jacarius tried to shoot you?”

  “They were pretty upset with him,” Jake said. “I could hear them shouting at him and rushing to get him out before other police officers showed up.”

  “And did they?” Art asked. “Did other cops show?”

  Jake shook his head. “Nope,” he said. “Once I got the courage to actually stand up again, I called the glass replacement service and waited for Rory to show up. Then I came up here to let Miss Callahan know what happened and she called it in.”

  “And you didn’t call the cops because?” Art asked.

  “I didn’t know who I could trust,” Jake said simply. “Seems like these cops were bought and paid for by Jacarius.”

  “Yeah,” Art said. “Yeah, it does. Do you have any vacation days saved up?”

  Jake nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got a couple of weeks,” he said.

  “I’ll make a call to your boss and suggest you go on vacation for a little while,” he said. “Do you have a place, out of town, where you can stay?”

  “Yeah,” Jake replied. “My folks live up in Wisconsin. I’ll go up there.”

  “At least until I can make sure it’s safe for you to return,” Art said. “And if you don’t mind, leave me your contact information so we can get hold of you.”

  “Sure, is there anything else you need?” Jake asked.

  Art remembered Blackwood’s suggestion about the security tapes. “Do you have cameras on all of the floors?” he asked.

  “Yeah, all of them,” he said. “We gather footage during the day and upload the footage to the server every night so it can be reviewed.”

  “Who reviews it?” Brooke asked.

  Jake shrugged. “The owners, I guess,” he said. “I never ask.”

  “Can you get me today’s footage for this floor, the front lobby, the garage and the elevator where you held Jacarius?”

  Jake thought about it for a moment and nodded. “Yeah, but I’ll have to replace it with something.”

  “Don’t worry,” Art said. “I think I know someone who can fix that for you.”

  “Yeah, I’ll do it now,” he said.

  “But first I need two things from you,” Art said.

  “Sure? What?” Jake asked.

  “Can you turn off the camera on this floor, the second elevator and the garage just until I call you?” Art asked.

  Jake nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

  “Great,” Art said. “And I need to borrow a dolly or a cart to bring some boxes down to my car.”

  “Sure,” Jake said. “We’ve got a cart you can use. Just call me when you’re done and I’ll put it away before I leave.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “What’s going on?” Brooke asked, once Jake left.

  “I’ve been after Robbins for years,” Art said. “And I can tell you that this little set-back is not going to stop him. You’ve beat him again and that’s not going to sit easy on his ego.”

  Brooke nodded. “Okay, good point. So what should I do?”

  “Can you stay somewhere else for a couple of days?” he asked. “Just until we can get a warrant out for his arrest and pick him up?”

  “Yeah, I could stay with Niki,” she said.

  “Good. And I’d suggest you take some time off work,” he added. “If he can’t find you here, he’s going to try and find you at work.”

  “Okay, I’ll call work and let them know I’m going to work from Niki’s,” she said.

  He shook his head. “Call them and tell them you’re going out of town,” he advised. “If Robbins has got cops on his payroll, he could easily have someone in your firm on his payroll too.”

  Brooke felt a chill run down her spine and she hugged herself. “Okay, I’ll let them know I’m going out of town,” she said. “I sure hope the camera caught a good picture of him.”

  She paused for a moment and then shook her head. “I’m so stupid,” she said, hurrying over to the computer on her kitchen counter.

  “What are you talking about?” Art asked.

  “Niki. Niki’s company monitors the system for this building,” Brooke said. “She’ll be able to get copies of the security tapes for us.” Brooke accessed Niki through her computer in the kitchen. Niki’s face appeared on the screen. “Hey, what’s up?” Niki asked.

  “Do you still oversee the system for my building?” Brooke asked.

  Niki shrugged. “Yeah, why?”

  “I need you to pull today’s security tapes,” Brooke said.

  “Okay, I can do that,” she replied. “And once again, why?”

  “Ask her if she can access the ownership records for the building too,” Art called from the living room.

  “Um, honey, I hear a man’s voice in the background,” Niki said. “What are you not telling me.”

  “Art wants me to ask you a question.”

  “Art’s there?” Niki asked, trying to peer around the apartment. “When did that happen?”

  “When Jacarius Robbins tried to bribe his way up to Brooke’s apartment,” Art said, entering the kitchen. “Can you access ownership records for this building?”

  “What? He did? Oh, honey are you okay?” Niki asked.

  Brooke nodded. “Yeah, I’m good,” she said. “But you might be getting a roommate for a couple of days until they can pull him off the street.”

  “No problem,” Niki said. “Okay, I’m accessing the ownership records.” She hummed to herself as she clicked on her keyboard and scanned the screen next to her web camera. Then she turned and faced them. “I think we have a winner,” she said, shaking her head. “Brookie, did you know that Reece Callahan is part owner in your building?”

  “What?” Brooke exclaimed. “Reece? Owns this building?”

  “Yeah, and he’s got one security camera aimed right at your door,” Niki said. “The rest of them just tape the general hallways. Reece is like big brother.”

  “So, he’s reviewing the tapes of who’s coming in and who’s leaving every day,” Art said.

  “He’s spying on me?” Brooke asked, incredulous.

  “Looks that way to me,” Niki said. “Keeping an eye on you so you don’t get in trouble.”

  “Niki, I want to swap out the tapes from today so Callahan doesn’t know about the files we brought up here,”
he said. “Can you play with the tapes so all he gets is empty door?”

  “Piece of cake,” Niki said. “I can go in, download what we need with Jacarius and cut and paste the rest of the tapes without anyone knowing.”

  “Great,” Art said. “I’ll let Jake know he doesn’t have to worry about it. By the way, we’re bringing the files with us.”

  “If I run into any problems, I’ll let you know,” she said. “In the meantime, I’ll send a couple of my guys downstairs to meet you and help you carry those boxes up. We’ll probably want to find another, more secure meeting place in the future, though. My place isn’t really private.”

  “Good idea,” Art said. He turned to Brooke. “Why don’t you pack a few things, and I’ll drop you off at Niki’s,” he said.

  “I can drive,” she argued.

  “Your car’s still at the bar,” Niki reminded her.

  Brooke sighed. “Thank you,” she finally said to Art. “A ride would be helpful.”

  Art grinned. “No problem.”

  They left using the freight elevator and slipped out through the garage. Brooke kept glancing over her shoulder. “I can’t believe he’s been spying on me,” she said. “Although right now, I feel like most of my life has been a lie.”

  “A lie?” Art asked.

  She sighed and nodded. “My mom told me that I was a witness to my dad’s murder when I was three,” she explained to him. “She said that I kept telling her that a bad man shot my dad. They were worried that I would be targeted by the murderer, so Reece had her take me to a psychologist to make me forget.”

  “And the psychologist?” Art asked.

  “Died in a fire along with her files,” Brooke said, a shiver running down her spine. “You know, this is crazy. My life was normal yesterday, and today…”

  “Today you’re finally not living a lie,” Art supplied.