The Blackwood Files - File One: Family Secrets

by Terri Reid

  At the sound of his favorite word, he bounded down the hall, slipping and sliding as he went and crashed into the kitchen cabinets. Brooke shook her head and chuckled. “Moose, what are we going to do with you?”

  Chapter Sixty

  “You did what?” Reece screamed into the phone.

  “I took out Tomlinson,” Crandall repeated. He was getting a little tired of Reece’s outburst. “Look, I got wind that she was processing a warrant against me. I knew you had that job for me to take care of tonight, so I just took her out temporarily.”

  “Judge Tomlinson is a friend of mine,” Reece seethed.

  “She ain’t no friend of the organization,” Crandall argued. “And, what do you want? Jacarius taken out or your friend sipping tea and issuing warrants?”

  Reece closed his eyes, feeling like the blood vessels in his neck were going to burst. “Never, ever again do something like this without my express permission,” Reece said. “Do you understand?”

  “Yeah. Yeah I do,” Crandall replied. “But, I gotta say. You guys are putting me out here on a ledge. Now that Brooke recognizes me, I’m in jeopardy.”

  “And that’s why we’re going to let Jacarius knock her around a little bit before you get there,” Reece explained. “This way, we can say she suffered trauma at the hands of Jacarius. Then you came in and saved her. She transferred the violence in her past with the image of you shooting Jacarius, which is why she is substituting you for the killer of her father.”

  Crandall was quiet for a moment. “So this is like, psychology stuff,” he said. “Does that play in court?”

  “All the time,” Reece said. “All the time.”

  “Okay, I gotta trust you on this,” he finally replied. “So, when do you want me at your daughter’s place?”

  “Get there about seven-thirty,” he said. “That will give Jacarius enough time to traumatize Brooke before you take him out.”

  “He don’t know I’m coming, right?” Crandall asked suspiciously.

  “Now why would I let Jacarius know that?” Reece asked, avoiding an outright lie. “If I want you to take him out?”

  “Yeah, right, sorry,” Crandall said. “Okay, seven-thirty.”

  Reece hung up the phone and swore softly.

  “Troubles?” Amy asked. He looked up to see her leaning against the doorjamb of his home office.

  He shook his head. “No, just a confirmation of why we need to get rid of Crandall,” Reece said, rubbing the space between his eyes. “He decided to take out Judge Tomlinson.”

  “Lydia?” she exclaimed. “Is she? Did he?”

  Reece shook his head. “He didn’t kill her, just took her out of commission,” he said. “As he puts it.”

  “Why the hell would he do that?” Amy demanded.

  “It seems that there is a warrant being processed through the system for questioning him,” he explained. “And he decided by taking out Lydia, he would be thwarting the process.”

  Amy closed her eyes and shook her head. “He is such an idiot,” she finally said, meeting her husband’s eyes. “You should have taken care of him a long time ago.”

  He sighed audibly. “Yes, I know Amy,” he said. “It’s all my fault. Everything is my fault. But don’t worry. He will be off the radar by the end of the day.”

  “He better be,” she threatened. “And you’ve made sure that Brooke won’t suffer any…” She paused as she collected her thoughts. “Any unnecessary harm?”

  Reece shook his head. “I’ve told them not to kill her,” he said. “But I’ve given Jacarius about thirty minutes with her before Crandall shows up.”

  Amy nodded. “Although I hate to see Brooke suffer in the hands of a man like Robbins, I suppose it’s a lesson she must learn,” she replied with a sigh. “If you keep secrets from your parents, they can’t protect you.”

  “And you’ve taken care of things at the hospital,” Reece asked.

  “Yes, poor Niki is going to….” She paused and looked at her watch. “Has already been accidentally given the wrong prescription. She will be knocked out until about ten o’clock tonight. A text was sent from her phone to her staff letting them know the plan has been changed, and she’ll contact them later.”

  Smiling, Reece nodded approvingly. “Perfect. Well done, my dear. Well done.”

  Chapter Sixty-one

  Officer Crandall dressed for work at his home. His shift didn’t start until midnight, and he didn’t want anyone asking him why he was hanging around in full uniform at six o’clock. He pulled a fresh uniform shirt from a wire hanger in his closet, unbuttoned it and slipped it over his slightly stained, formerly white t-shirt. The hanger joined a small pile of other hangers on the floor in the corner of his room.

  His bed was unmade, the sheets not having been washed in months. Every surface top was littered with magazines, papers, and remnants of too many fast-food meals. The focal point for the room was the huge, big-screen television that was mounted to the wall across from his bed. All of his free time was spent watching that television and dreaming of the life he could have had if only other people hadn’t messed it up.

  He tightened his tie, slipped his badge in place and put his wallet in his pants pocket. Walking from the bedroom in the small townhouse to the front hall closet, he opened the door to reveal the small gun safe hidden behind his winter coats and unused cleaning supplies. Flipping the combination from number to number with practiced ease, he quickly opened the safe and pulled out his gun. This was his special gun, not the service revolver he’d been issued. This gun was for the special projects Reece asked him to do.

  He studied the gun for a moment, reflecting on his position with the organization. He’d been a rookie when they first approached him. They were persuasive, explaining that the flawed legal system allowed too many criminals to escape. Too many politicians were on the payroll of the drug dealers. Too many innocent lives were being lost because the judicial system was turning a blind eye to crime. And they were going to change all that.

  He slipped some cartridges into the empty magazine. He kind of felt sorry for Brooke Callahan. He still remembered her face the day he killed her dad. Confusion, terror and total despair. That kid really loved her dad.

  He sighed. He hadn’t wanted to kill Blackwood. Hell, he admired the guy. He was a top-notch detective and an all-around guy. He was totally incorruptible, and that was his problem, Crandall had been told. Sometimes good guys gotta die for a cause greater than all of them. He did it because he was a good soldier, and he did what he was told to do. He did it, but it changed his life.

  He stuck the gun in his back waistband, slipped his leather jacket on, picked up his duffle bag and headed out the door. He heard the click of the gun next to his head and froze.

  “Officer Crandall.” He recognized the voice and his heart dropped. It was that O’Reilly kid.

  “What do you want?” he snarled.

  “We want you to put your hands up over your head,” Art said, “and don’t move.”

  Crandall complied. “What’s this all about?”

  Detective Sam Sidney stepped in front of him. Crandall knew him from the 12th. Sam patted him down, retrieving the gun he’d just stuck in his waistband and taking his duffle away from him. “We have a warrant to take you in for questioning,” Sam said as he stepped next to him, grabbed hold of Crandall’s arm and proceeded to place him in handcuffs.

  “A warrant?” Crandall asked.

  “Yeah, whoever took Tomlinson down today did it after she signed the paperwork,” Art said pointedly. “Do you have any other weapons on you?”

  Crandall shook his head. “No, you got ‘em,” he said, panic building in his chest. He had an assignment. He needed to stop Jacarius.

  “I got rights,” he insisted. “I get to make a phone call.”

  “Actually, no,” Sam replied. “We’re not arresting you, just taking you in for questioning. So, you can make your phone call when we’re done or if we decide to arre
st you.”

  “But I gotta make a call,” Crandall said, trying to push past them and escape.

  “Too bad,” Art said. “Your call is going to have to wait.”

  Chapter Sixty-two

  After thirty minutes out in the yard playing fetch with Moose, Brooke was ready to get back to work on the files. The day had turned cold, so she brought a mug of hot chocolate upstairs with her.

  Placing the mug on the table, she pulled her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans and checked it for messages. Could Niki have written down the wrong address? She pressed Niki’s speed dial number, but it went straight to voice mail.

  “Do you think she’s still at the hospital?” she asked Moose, who responded with a vigorous tail thumping of the floor underneath her conference table. Brooke nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. Sometimes it takes forever to check out of the hospital. I’ll just leave her a text.”

  She slipped into her chair, resting her feet next to Moose, and typed a message to Niki. “Hey, call me when you’re on your way.”

  “Okay, back to work,” she said, picking up a thick file from the box next to her and sitting down to read it. The case involved a shake down of a certain neighborhood and had pages of interviews from the storeowners. Brooke could almost hear her father’s voice as she read the words he’d written about the circumstances in the lives of the victims. Forgetting about looking for Crandall, Brooke nestled down into the chair and was swept away by the story before her.

  The final words read, Brooke placed the file on the other stack. She felt stiff from sitting so long in one place, and Moose was softly snoring, once again, at her feet. She was surprised to find that it was dark outside, and the room had grown fairly chilly. She grabbed her phone and was shocked to see it was 6:45. Niki should have been there hours ago.

  Thirsty, she picked up her cup, sipped and nearly spit it out. The hot chocolate had grown cold, too. “Okay, first things first,” she said. “Get the heater going while you’re downstairs making another cup of cocoa.”

  She walked around the table to the small, electric heater she’d purchased to warm up the room. She plugged it into the nearest outlet and then turned it on high. Instantly all the power in the house went out.

  “Crap,” she said. “I blew a breaker.”

  She’d actually walked through the house with Art the day before and knew that the circuit panel was all the way in the basement on the far side of the house. She turned off the heater and made her way back to the table in the dark. Then she heard the scramble of feet and legs from under the table. Perhaps Moose was afraid of the dark. “Moose, come here,” she called.

  The dog nearly ran her over but then stayed next to her as she searched the table for her phone. Finding it, she was able to use the flashlight application and shine enough light that she could make it out of the room and down the stairs without tripping.

  Once on the first floor, Moose bounded ahead and scraped at the back door. “Really?” Brooke asked. “You have to go out now? Can’t you come down to the basement with me?”

  He looked back at her piteously.

  “Fine,” she said. “But if I encounter any mice when I’m all by myself, no treats for you.”

  She let him out the back door and then crossed the kitchen to the door that led to the basement. She opened the door and instinctively turned on the light. “Duh, power out,” she said to herself. She decided to leave it switched on so she would have lights on her way up the stairs.

  Brooke had thought the basement steps were a relic from an old horror movie where someone could stand beneath the staircase and reach a hand out between the open slats and grab his next victim. And that was when the lights were on. Now, she moved slowly down the steps, her hand grasping the cold, crumbling limestone foundation as she descended.

  The light from her phone only illuminated a few feet in front of her, so she took her time moving through the basement. The space not only had a number of old work benches in it, but also the old, giant, octopus-like oil-burning furnace that stood in the middle of the area, along with a brand new gas furnace and ductwork. Lifting her phone up, she tried to get an idea of where all those items were in comparison to her location. Finally, she spied the breaker panel on the wall. With a sigh of relief, she hurried forward, opened the panel and examined all the breakers with her phone.

  The main breaker, located on the top of the board, was flipped off. She reached up and flipped the switch, and the basement was suddenly flooded with light. “Yes,” she said softly.

  The sound of Moose barking made her pause. It sounded like he was at the backdoor trying to get in. She smiled. He probably got frightened by a squirrel. Then she heard the front door open.

  Niki, she thought. But just as she stepped away from the circuit box, she remembered. Niki didn’t have a key.

  “Brooke, turn the power back off,” her father’s disembodied voice seemed to be coming from all around her. “Turn it off now.”

  Not waiting another moment, she dashed back to the box, ripped open the cover and flipped the breaker back off, dousing the basement back into darkness.

  Moose kept barking, scratching at the glass door frantically. And Brooke could hear the movement of footsteps on the floor directly above her.

  “Ain’t no one told me about no dog.”

  She heard the voice clearly and knew who it was. Jacarius Robbins.

  Chapter Sixty-three

  Her cell phone nearly slipped out of her shaking hands as she pressed herself against the basement wall. She heard the loud rattle of the old lock slip back into the deadbolt and knew he had locked both of them in together. She needed help and right away.

  She dialed Art’s number and waited for him to answer, her heart pounding in her chest. But she only got his voice mail. “Art,” she whispered. “It’s Brooke. Jacarius is at the house. He just broke in.”

  She hung up and then texted him the same message.

  “Please hurry, Art,” she prayed. “Please hurry.”

  She heard him move forward and could see the beams of a high-powered flashlight seep between the floorboards. Had he planned on turning off the lights? Did he know where the circuit box was located?

  Hearing his footsteps continue across the living room and down the hall, she realized that he was heading directly to the kitchen. She’d left the basement door ajar. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to realize she was down here, trapped in the basement.

  She shone her weak light around. With his flashlight, he’d pick her out in a second. She needed some place to hide. She moved along the back wall, avoiding the workbenches, and moved to the old furnace. It was about six feet in diameter, seven feet tall, and had large, round protruding arms that had been attached to the older duct system. Slipping her phone into her back pocket, she moved between the furnace body and the limestone basement wall. She squatted down, hoping to make herself as invisible as possible.

  Controlling her breathing, she listened to his footsteps cross the kitchen and stop at the top of the basement stairs. She heard him flip the wall switch and then continue down the stairs.

  “Come on, baby,” he said as he waved the flashlight back and forth around the basement while he descended the stairs. “There ain’t no use in hiding. You may as well just come on out. Then I’ll make it a little easier on you.”

  Brooke remained as still as possible, her hands clutching the metal furnace.

  “You ain’t so brave when you all by yourself, are you?” he taunted, moving toward the breaker box. “I’m gonna make you cry. Then I’m going make you scream.” He laughed harshly. “Then I’m gonna make you wish you ain’t never been born.”

  She heard him open the metal circuit box and then flip the switch. But the lights in the basement didn’t turn on. Brooke shuddered with relief when she realized he had turned off the light when he walked down the stairs.

  Jacarius swore, turned and shone his flashlight slowly around the basement. “M
aybe you ain’t down here,” he said aloud.

  He started moving back toward the staircase, and Brooke nearly wept with relief. He was nearly to the stairs when Brooke felt a vibration in her back pocket. She frantically reached back, but it was too late. Her phone rang, echoing throughout the basement. Jacarius turned and smiled.

  “Okay, bitch,” he said, walking in her direction. “We gonna play now.”

  Pulling the phone out of her pocket, she looked down at the caller. It was Reece. She pressed on the answer button. “Please,” she whispered. “Someone’s in my house. They’re going to hurt me.”

  But the call was disconnected.

  She looked around. He hadn’t quite discovered where she was, but he was coming in her direction.

  Slipping down to all fours, she began to crawl towards the workbenches nearer to the circuit box. Hopefully, he’d check the other side of the furnace first. She slipped between the wooden legs and nearly cried out when her knee came in contact with a hard object.

  Sliding her hand across the ground, she felt the object. It was a tool, a metal tool with a long handle, about two feet long, with a threaded portion along the neck and an adjustable hook.

  “It’s a monkey wrench, Brookie,” her father said, appearing next to her.

  “Dad,” she whispered, grateful that Moose’s continued barking would cover her voice. “Can you help me?”

  “I don’t know, Brooke,” he said. “I can try.”

  “His flashlight,” she said. “I know you’ve turned off lights before. Can you turn off his flashlight?”

  He smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

  He disappeared, and suddenly Jacarius’ flashlight went dark. Brooke heard him switching it on and off, thumping it on the body and finally flinging it across the room. “I don’t need no flashlight, bitch,” he said. “I can find you by myself.”