The Blackwood Files - File One: Family Secrets

by Terri Reid

  She climbed out from under the workbench and pulled the heavy monkey wrench out after her. Moving to a more open area, she lifted the wrench, held it like a baseball bat, and waited.

  She heard something crash into one of the arms of the old furnace and then heard Jacarius swear. “I’m gonna kill you, bitch,” he yelled. “I don’t give a damn what I promised. I’m going to kill you.”

  She took a deep breath and readjusted her grip. She could hear him move closer to her in the dark. He stepped closer, then closer, and finally… “Now Brookie,” her dad called.

  Brooke swung for the upper seats and felt the monkey wrench make contact with a loud thump. Jacarius screamed, his body so close to her she could feel the heat of his breath. With action born of panic, she kept swinging sightlessly, sometimes connecting and sometimes just hitting air. Finally, she didn’t hear any more screams.

  “Daddy?” she called.

  “He’s down for the count, Brooke,” her dad said. “Good job.”

  Suddenly the basement was flooded with light. “Brooke,” Art called from the top of the stairs. “Are you down there?”

  Chapter Sixty-four

  Leonard Crandall hurried out of the police station, found the first place he could be private, pulled out his cell phone and made a phone call.

  “Where are you?” Reece exclaimed.

  “They picked me up,” he said, nearly sobbing. “I was leaving my house, and they picked me up. Took me in for questioning. I just got out.”

  “What?” Reece yelled.

  “Like I said, they just let me go,” he said. “O’Reilly got some kind of message on his phone and tore out of here like the world was ending.”

  “What were they questioning you about?” Reece asked

  “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Crandall assured him, feeling cocky. “They were asking me about my phone records, and I told them, ‘I ain’t got no phone records. I got a cell phone.’”

  “How are you calling me?” Reece asked.

  Crandall paused. “From my cell phone,” he said slowly.

  The conversation ended.

  Reece threw his phone across the room. “I can’t believe that idiot!”

  “Having a rough evening, dear?” Amy mocked from the doorway.

  “They picked Crandall up for questioning,” he shouted. “So that means no one intercepted Jacarius at Brooke’s.”

  Amy walked quickly across the room, picked up Reece’s phone and threw it at him. “Call her,” she screamed. “Call her and make sure she’s still alive.”

  Reece placed the call. After a few rings, Brooke answered, begging for help. He disconnected the phone and looked at his wife. “She’s still alive,” he said. “I don’t think he’s gotten hold of her yet.”

  “Call someone to pick him up,” she ordered. “Tell them to tell her the neighbors called in a complaint. Get someone there now.”

  She started to walk out of his office.

  “What the hell are you going to do?” he shouted after her.

  She turned, and the anger in her eyes struck him to his soul. “I’m going to clean up a mess that should have been taken care of years ago,” she said softly.

  He swallowed in fear and nodded. “I’ll make the call,” he whispered hoarsely.

  Chapter Sixty-five

  Brooke turned toward the staircase after placing the monkey wrench down on top of the workbench. “Art!” Brooke screamed. “Art, I’m down here.”

  She looked down, and her stomach turned. On the ground before her was Jacarius’ broken and battered body. She clapped a hand over her mouth and stumbled backwards.

  “Brooke, what…” Art stopped and looked at the man on the ground. “Well, damn, did you do that?”

  Eyes filling with tears, she nodded.

  Art knelt down next to the body and felt for a pulse. “He’s still alive,” he said.

  She exhaled a sigh of relief. “I didn’t kill him?” she asked for reassurance.

  Shaking his head, Art stepped over the body to reach Brooke. “No, you didn’t kill him,” he said, taking her into his arms. Then he looked over her shoulder at the monkey wrench. “But remind me never to get you angry near plumbing tools.”

  Sobbing, she leaned against him and trembled. “It was dark. He was coming for me,” she stammered. “I just started swinging, and I couldn’t stop.”

  He tightened his hold on her. “You did great, sweetheart,” he said. “You did amazing.”

  She straightened and looked up at him. “He locked the door,” she said. “I heard him lock the door. How did you get in?”

  Bruce appeared next to them. “There are two things I know I can do,” he said with a smile. “Turn off lights and open doors.”

  “Thank you, Daddy,” Brooke said.

  “No, problem, Brookie,” he replied. “I had always wanted to be your Little League coach. You got quite a swing, sweetie.”

  “Police! Who’s down there?” came a call from the top of the stairs.

  “I’m Detective Art O’Reilly,” Art called. “Everything seems to be under control here, officers. But we do need an ambulance called.”

  “Who’s hurt?” the first officer asked as he climbed down the stairs.

  “Jacarius Robbins,” Art said. “It seems he had an accident with a monkey wrench.”

  The other officer came down, and they both approached the body on the floor. “Holy shit,” the first officer exclaimed. “He’s going to hurt real bad when he wakes up.”

  “I’ll call an ambulance,” the second officer said. “And, ma’am, if you could give us your statement.”

  Within ten minutes, an ambulance appeared in front of Brooke’s house, and two uniformed EMTs carried Jacarius out in a stretcher. The two officers interviewed her for another ten minutes, thanked her for her cooperation and left.

  During the entire interview, Art had said nothing. He’d just paced back and forth between the window and the hallway. When the police finally left, Brooke was a little anxious about what Art was going to say to her.

  “I did everything you told me to do,” she began without prompting. “I didn’t take any risks, I promise.”

  He turned to her, disbelief on his face. “What?” he asked.

  “Are you angry with me?” she whispered.

  In a moment, he was next to her, pulling her into his arms and holding her close. “No, I couldn’t be angry with you,” he whispered hoarsely. “When I read your text, I had never been so frightened in my entire life. I ran out of the interrogation room, and I don’t remember even turning my car on. I just had to come, had to get here, had to make sure you were okay.”

  She trembled. “I was so scared,” she admitted. “I thought I was going to die.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “I know,” he breathed. “Me, too.”

  She relaxed against him, letting his warmth and comfort seep into her, letting his strength replace her fears. Suddenly, she sat up. “He had a key,” she blurted out.

  “What?” Art asked.

  “He had a key,” she said. “He unlocked the front door. I was downstairs in the basement because I blew a fuse. He had a key, and when Moose was barking, I heard him say no one told him I had a dog.”

  Art’s jaw clenched in anger. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

  She nodded, and a single tear slipped from her eye and traveled across her cheek. “Reece.”

  He gently wiped the tear away. “Maybe not,” he said, trying to ease her breaking heart. “Maybe Jacarius paid off the real estate agent. Maybe he had someone casing the place. Maybe…”

  She laid a hand on his lips and shook her head. “No. The man I worked all of my life to impress, the man I just wanted to love me, the man I called father,” her voice broke, and she took a deep breath. “That man, Reece Callahan, wanted Jacarius Robbins to hurt me.”

  “Brooke, I’m so sorry,” Art said. “I don’t know what else to say.”

  She shook her he
ad and brushed away a few more tears. “Just tell me that you’ll help me, and we’ll throw his sorry ass in jail.”

  Art nodded and smiled. “Yeah, I can do that,” he said. “And I think Leonard Crandall is the first piece in the puzzle.”

  Chapter Sixty-six

  The trip from the station back to his townhouse in the unmarked police car took about twenty minutes. Leonard Crandall had been warned not to leave town and not to do anything that would incite suspicion, or he would find himself spending some time in Cook County Jail. And, if you were a Chicago Police Officer, the last place you wanted to find yourself was at Cook County.

  He nodded to the guys who’d driven him, but they just brushed him off. Did they know he’d been stripped of his gun and his badge? Did they know he was under investigation?

  He shook his head as he walked up the sidewalk to his townhouse. What they didn’t know is that he had done nothing wrong. What they didn’t know is that he was the good guy. He was the one who fought the true fight when corruption and bad laws stood in the way of justice. He was a hero, dammit, and he would show them. He would show them all.

  He stuck his key in the lock and opened the door. The house was dark. Even his emergency lights were off. Dammit, did he forget to pay his electric bill again? He closed the door behind himself and walked over to the light switch. “Don’t turn on the lights.”

  He froze. He’d heard that voice before, when he took his oath to the organization.

  “Yes. I will do what you ask of me.”

  “You’ve always done what was asked of you,” the voice said. “You have been my valiant soldier.”

  Pride puffed up his chest. “I’ve tried,” he replied. “I’ve really tried.”

  He felt a hand stroke his shoulder and trail down his back slowly.

  “You have always been the epitome of what we’re fighting for,” the voice soothed as the hand slid over his shoulder and across his chest. “I’ve always found myself drawn to you.”

  His breathing intensified, and he felt his body respond to her touch. “I’m more than flattered,” he replied. He could smell her perfume, nearly taste it.

  “You intoxicate me,” she purred. “You tempt me. You arouse me.”

  He shuddered and then swallowed, his throat dry. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  She slid her hand lower, fondling his belt buckle. “You make me want to do things to you I’ve never done with another man.”

  “Okay,” he said, his eyes wide. Hoping she was thinking the same things he was.

  “Sit down on the chair, Leonard,” she whispered, leading him to a wooden chair next to his table. She stroked his shoulders as he sat down. Then she moved around in front of him. Touching his leg, she sighed softly. “Spread your legs for me, Leonard,” she softly ordered.

  He immediately complied.

  She stroked the insides of his thighs, and he moaned. “Oh, Leonard, the things I’m going to do to you,” she promised.

  He could hardly stand the anticipation. His body was on fire. He wanted this dark, mystery woman more than anything he wanted in his life. “Hurry. Hurry,” he pleaded.

  She laughed softly, and he burned even more. “Reach down, Leonard,” she whispered. “Do you feel my hands?”

  He reached down into the darkness between his legs and felt her hands. “You have gloves on,” he said.

  “It’s more mysterious, don’t you think?” she purred. “Now reach again, Leonard. I need you to help me hold something so I can move closer to you.”

  “Yeah, closer would be good,” he panted.

  He reached down and felt her hands. She guided his hands inside of hers, touching something cool and metal. “What is this?” Leonard asked.

  “Stroke it with me,” she whispered, moving his hand up and down the hard, barrel-shaped object.

  “Yes,” she moaned. “Oh Leonard, yes.”

  She guided his hands under hers, and slipped his finger through a small opening. He opened his eyes wide when he realized what it was, but the shot rang out before he could say a word.

  She stepped back, pulled the flashlight out of her pocket and looked down at the dead man in front of her. A gun clasped in his hands, a single bullet hole from the base of his head through the top. Obviously a self-inflected wound.

  She shrugged and smiled. “Well, at least he was enjoying himself when he died,” she chuckled softly. “Good-bye, Leonard.”

  Chapter Sixty-seven

  Amy Callahan marched into her husband’s office and tossed a cell phone on the center of his desk. “A present,” she snapped. “Crandall will no longer need his phone.”

  Reece leaned back in his chair and looked up at his wife. “He’s dead?” he asked.

  She met his eyes and sent him a calculated stare. “I understand that he couldn’t take the possibility of anyone finding out that he’s been disloyal to the department,” she replied evenly. “Sadly, he took his own life. You should be getting a call about it fairly soon.”

  As if on cue, his phone rang. He stared at his wife for a moment before he picked up the phone and answered it. “Callahan,” he said.

  A slight smile appeared on his face and he nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate your professionalism. Have a good night.”

  He hung up the phone and she arched an eyebrow at him. “It seems this evening is just full of tragedy,” he reported. “The notorious Jacarius Robbins died tragically this evening while in transit to the hospital. It seems that, for some reason, he was unable to get enough oxygen.”

  Amy slipped onto the edge of the seat on the other side of the desk and smiled. “Did they use a pillow?” she asked.

  “Nothing so gauche,” he replied. “They attached an oxygen mask, but never turned on the oxygen.”

  “And he didn’t struggle?” she asked.

  His smile widened. “That’s right,” he said. “You haven’t heard about the result of the meeting of Robbins with Brooke.”

  Amy stiffened slightly. “How is Brooke?”

  “She’s fine,” he said. “More than fine actually. Seems our little Brookie took an oversized monkey wrench to the head, neck and arms of Mr. Robbins. He had a number of broken bones, cuts and contusions. And, on top of that, he was unconscious when our boys in the EMT garb picked him up.”

  “Brooke took out Robbins,” she said, a trace of pride in her voice. “Who would have guessed?”

  “The police officers I sent over reported that she had him on the ground and unconscious before O’Reilly made it home,” he said. “They also mentioned that she had a dog. A very large dog.”

  Leaning back in her chair, Amy smiled. “She always wanted a dog,” she said. “Good for her.”

  “It will make getting in and out of her house more difficult,” Reece complained.

  “Why would we need to get in her house at this point?” Amy asked. “The man who killed her father is dead. Robbins is dead. The files were burned. What more can she do?”

  “I feel that there’s something missing,” he replied.

  She leaned forward and grasped the edge of the desk. “There is,” she said. “Your mind.”

  Rolling her eyes, she stood up and sighed. “Brooke can’t hurt us,” she said. “You need to leave her alone. Now, get rid of that phone before someone finds it.”

  Reece picked up the phone, turned it over and then looked at his wife. “The SD card is missing,” he said. “That has the phone’s memory.”

  She smiled sweetly and shrugged. “Well, isn’t that a shame,” she replied. “I’m sure it will turn up sometime.” She turned and walked slowly out of the room.

  Chapter Sixty-eight

  “Are you kidding me?” Niki exclaimed to the physician standing in front of her. “You gave me the wrong pharmaceutical, knocked me out five hours and all you can say are these things happen? I don’t think so.”

  She picked up her purse and shoved it under her arm. “You will be hearing from my lawyer,” she said. “A
nd I’ve got a really good lawyer.” She started walking towards the door when the doctor called after her.

  “But Miss Jhang,” the physician pleaded. “No harm was caused.”

  She turned on her heel and stared at the man. “No harm?” she asked. “I was supposed to be with my friend, five hours ago and because I wasn’t there, someone was able to attack her. Would you like to explain to me in what way that would be no harm?”

  “Well, we had no idea,” he stammered. “We couldn’t have known…”

  “No, but your job was to diagnose and treat me correctly,” she said. “And you didn’t. So, therefore, you will be penalized.”

  Sam entered the hospital room.

  “Oh, thank goodness you’re here detective,” the physician said, running around Niki to get to Sam. “This woman is making threats towards the hospital.”

  “Actually,” Sam said, picking up Niki’s overnight case. “I’m here for the lady and if she’s making threats, I would be sure to take them seriously.”

  The doctor looked over at Niki and then at Sam. “I…I….”

  “I will see you in court,” Niki interrupted, brushing past him and hurrying out the door.

  Sam followed after her, impressed by her style. “You did good in there,” he said.

  She turned and he was surprised to see tears running down her face.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked.

  Shaking her head, she hurried to the elevator and pressed the button, wiping away her tears as she waited. The door opened and the elevator was empty. Sam and Niki entered, allowed the door to close, and then Niki turned to Sam. “How’s Brooke?” she asked.

  “She’s good,” he said, his voice gentle. “She’s fine. I don’t think she even broke a nail. O’Reilly told me Robbins was out cold and Brooke was standing over him like some Celtic Warrior Maiden. Well, except for instead of a sword she had a monkey wrench.”

  Niki felt a gurgle of laughter escape. “I hope they lock him up in a deep dark place and he never gets out,” she said.