The Blackwood Files - File One: Family Secrets

by Terri Reid

  They quietly slipped out into the hallway and closed the door behind them. Sam looked back at the door and then at Art. “So, were they crying because Brooke was still scared?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Art said. “Niki wasn’t scared. She was angry and then, all the sudden, they’re both crying.”

  Sam shook his head. “It’s like they enjoy it,” he said, confused. “You know, women look for excuses to cry. I don’t get it.”

  “Maybe it’s like an emotional release,” Art suggested.

  “Yeah, well, they can be emotional for a few more minutes, and then we got to figure out what we’re going to do next,” Sam said. “Because Niki’s getting released in a couple of hours.”

  “Yeah, and we got to get back and let Moose out,” Art said.

  “You got her a moose?” Sam asked, incredulous. “What the hell, O’Reilly?”

  Brooke opened the door, wiping the tears from her cheeks, and smiled at the men. “I think we’re done now,” she said. “You can come back in.”

  Niki, her face wiped clean of tears, was sitting against her pillows and typing on her laptop. “Okay,” she said, her voice a little wobbly. “The murderer was a police officer, so I thought we could check the personnel files of the Chicago Police Department.”

  “Good idea,” Art said. “Since he also murdered Brooke’s father, look for people who have been with the force for over twenty-five years.”

  Niki smiled. “Yeah, good thinking,” she said.

  “I’m guessing we’d want to start with the 12th District,” Sam added. “That was where all the action was coming out of, and that was Blackwood’s district.”

  “That narrows it down a lot,” Niki said. She entered a few more commands and then turned the laptop towards Brooke. “Okay, do you see him?”

  Brooke moved closer to the bed, and Art followed her, staying close behind. She studied the small thumbnail photos of the men, and her heart dropped when she looked at one in the upper left corner. “Him,” she said, pointing to the photo. “Can you enlarge that one?”

  Niki clicked on it, and Brooke inhaled sharply, stepping backwards into Art’s arms. He held her gently and leaned over her shoulder. “Is that the one?” he asked, needing her to confirm it.

  She looked at the man in the photo, the face that had haunted her dreams as a child and nodded. “Yes,” she said, her voice just a whisper. “Yes, that’s the man.”

  “Crandall,” Art said to Sam.

  “Now why am I not surprised?” Sam asked.

  “You know him?” Niki asked.

  “Let’s just say I’ve had the unpleasant fortune to meet him,” Sam replied. “So, do we pick him up for questioning?”

  “Let me call Judge Tomlinson,” Art said, “and see if she can issue a bench warrant for him.” He looked down at Brooke. “You know that even though you recognize him, we’re going to have to build a stronger case than your memory from the age of three.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I understand,” she replied. “So, while you call the judge, I’m going to start going through my dad’s files and find anything I can related to Officer Crandall.”

  Niki sat back in her bed, closing her eyes for a moment. “Okay, so I’ll get one of the guys from the office pick me up once I’m released and he can take me to Brooke’s new place,” she said. “That way we can all concentrate on getting these guys.”

  Sam smiled at her. “Yeah, and now that we know just who we’re dealing with, it’s going to make things move a little faster,” Sam said. “I’ll make some calls to some guys I trust. You know, once a dirty cop, always a dirty cop. Maybe we can get some other stuff on Crandall so we can put him away for good.”

  Brooke leaned over and placed a kiss on Niki’s forehead. “Thank you,” she said.

  Niki nodded. “Okay, now that we’ve pulled the boogieman out of the closet and shined the flashlight on him, he’s not that scary,” she said. “Actually, he is a damn ugly son-of-a-bitch. So, you go after him, girl. And you make him pay for what he did to you.”

  “I will,” Brooke said. “Yes, I will.”

  “Good,” Niki replied. “Now get out of my room so I can get some rest.”

  “Be safe,” Brooke said.

  “Yeah, you, too,” Niki replied.

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  The trip from his stately downtown office to this particular exit on the expressway had only taken Reece Callahan eight minutes, but it was a world away from what he was used to. As he drove down the ramp, he stopped at the end and carefully surveyed his surroundings. Gone were the glitz, lights, and activity that was downtown Chicago. This place was desolate, dreary, and dangerous.

  He inched his luxury car forward underneath the viaduct that vibrated with the noise from the expressway above and put on the brake. Graffiti covered the walls, pylons, and sidewalks, leaving only a few spots where the original grey color of the concrete appeared. The car’s driving lights illuminated the bold, black and red, spray-painted drawings as Reece eased slowly down the street.

  Leaving the safety of the viaduct, Reece eyed his surroundings with disdain. Broken sidewalks with weeds growing knee-high through the cracks. Chain-link fences torn from their posts and lying drunkenly next to abandoned lots that had been turned into a makeshift garbage dumps. Parched water hydrants with their caps dangling by thick, rusted iron chains. And rusted frames of abandoned cars sitting on cinder blocks, graffiti covering what residual body parts remained.

  The abandoned warehouse sat back away from the road with a derelict lot in front of it on a city block that had an old railroad line running through it. The windows and doors were boarded over with plywood, and large chains with padlocks were looped through the door handles. The building gave every impression of being empty, but as Reece slowed and gazed carefully at the structure, he could see flickers of light through the thin cracks of the boarded façade. This was the place.

  He turned the steering wheel, bumping up over a well-worn curb and following a path in the dirt that had seen many tire tracks. He cut across the lot, weaving around large, discarded appliances, broken furniture and even car bodies, and finally stopped a few feet from the concrete loading dock in the back of the building.

  Reece waited in his car for someone on the inside to acknowledge his presence. Years ago, his car had been outfitted with bulletproof glass for occasions such as these. Often the members of the community he was visiting confused him for a detective or vice officer. Without the bulletproof glass, the misunderstanding would have been deadly. A small, neatly concealed door opened, and a young man carrying a semi-automatic weapon came out. Even though he was dressed in dropped jeans and an oversized jersey, Reece recognized him as the soldier he was. This was the headquarters for Jacarius Robbins’s army.

  The young man walked to the driver’s door, and Reece rolled down the window a fraction of an inch.

  “You the judge?” the man asked.

  Reece nodded.

  “You can come in,” he said, stepping to the side and putting his body between Reece and the road, protecting their visitor from any random attacks.

  Reece quickly slipped out of the car and over to the small door, the young man shadowing him until he was safely inside.

  “Callahan, you looking good,” Jacarius said as he walked down an aisle between floor-to-ceiling stacks of industrial shelves filled with stolen merchandise.

  “And you’re looking better than the last time I saw you,” Reece said. “Orange is not your color.”

  Jacarius frowned. “That was a set-up man,” he complained. “I thought I was supposed to be getting protection from you.”

  “I can’t protect you from being stupid,” Reece countered, meeting Jacarius’ eyes evenly. “That last job you did. That was stupid and greedy. You should have seen that it was a setup.”

  Jacarius nodded slowly. “Okay, yeah, maybe I should,” he acknowledged. “But we still had a deal.”

  “Who do you think alte
red the paperwork that got your case thrown out?” Reece countered.

  A slow smile spread on Jacarius’ face. “Your ice princess know she was played?” he asked.

  “No. And if she did, you would find your ass back in jail in no time,” Reece replied. “Which is why I’m here.”

  Jacarius’ eyes hardened. “You come here to give me shit about what happened at your girl’s place?” he asked, suspicion in his voice. “You said I could have me some as long as I didn’t kill her.”

  Reece shook his head. “Well, let’s just say I don’t approve of your over-the-top methods. But no, that’s not why I’m here,” he said. “We have an issue in our organization, and it has to be removed. But, I need it done in a certain way.”

  “Okay, that’s cool,” he said. “Who do you want taken out?”

  “Crandall,” Reece said without hesitation. “He’s become an embarrassment.”

  “How you want me to do this?” he asked.

  Reece reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. “I’m giving you a two in one,” he said. “Ice princess and Crandall. But you don’t kill Brooke, do you understand? You kill Brooke, and you just signed your own death warrant.”

  Jacarius nodded and smiled. “Yeah, I don’t need to end the bitch,” he said. “But I get my time with her, right?”

  “Yes, I’ll make sure you have enough time with Brooke before Crandall comes on the scene,” he replied. “But you need to make sure Crandall is dead.”

  “And how you gonna keep me from going down after I mess with the ice princess?” he asked.

  “Her former employer will have tapes that show you and Brooke have been having an affair,” he said. “She just screamed rape when it got a little rough. I don’t think it will even get to court once we show Brooke the evidence. She’s not a stupid girl.”

  “I’m down,” Jacarius said. “When you want me?”

  “Tonight,” Reece said. “Tonight about seven o’clock.”

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  Brooke was seated at the table in the conference room on the third floor of the house, Moose not so gently snoring at her feet. Opening another file, she scanned for Crandall’s name and, finding nothing, set it on a stack to look through later. Art watched her from the doorway for a moment and smiled. So looked so intense as she tried to find more evidence to convict Crandall. He shrugged. She was fighting crime just as he and Sam were, but in her own way, with her own skills.

  He knocked softly on the doorjamb, and she turned quickly to face him. “Sam just called. Judge Tomlinson wants us to appear before her and plead our case before she issues a warrant for Crandall,” he said. “Are you okay with that?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I’m great,” she said. “Niki is supposed to be released in the next hour, and her guys are going to drive her here with all her stuff. So, Moose and I can hold down the fort until then.”

  Art looked down at the still sleeping dog. “Yeah, I can see that he’s alert and ready to attack at a moment’s notice,” he said drily.

  Brooke grinned. “He doesn’t have to growl. He just has to show up,” she defended. “Who in their right mind would stick around to find out if he’s friendly or not?”

  Art chuckled. “Well, and if you really want to take someone down, just move so he’s between Moose and his…” he lowered his voice, “treats.” The dog whimpered in his sleep.

  Brooke clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. “He is slightly food motivated,” she agreed.

  “Yeah, just slightly,” Art replied. The smile left his face and he met her eyes. “If you are uncomfortable or uneasy, call me immediately,” he said.

  She nodded. “I will,” she said. “But knowing that you’re going after Crandall has eased my mind a great deal.”

  “If we get the go ahead from Tomlinson, we’re going to try and pick him up this afternoon,” he said. “So, I’m not sure when the interrogation will finish. But I’ll call you when we’re done.”

  “That would be great,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked.

  Smiling, she nodded. “Oh, yeah, I’ll be great,” she replied. “I have files to go through, a sleeping giant at my feet, popcorn at my side, and just in case it gets cold up here, I have an extra electric heater. I’ve got leftover pizza in the fridge in case I get hungry. And, Niki and I will be busy organizing her side of the ballroom once she arrives.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think I’m going to have time to worry about anything threatening.”

  He nodded, satisfied. “Okay, but if anything changes…”

  A wide smile spread across her face. “Yes, Dad…” she teased.

  He met her eyes, and a hot sizzle of electricity burned through her body from the emotion in his gaze. “I’m not feeling even close to being your dad right now,” he said softly.

  Her mouth went dry, and she nodded. “Well, good,” she replied breathlessly, trying to get the conversation back to normal. “Because it seems like I’ve got a surplus of those right now.”

  A smile lifted one side of his mouth, and Brooke sighed silently. He was sexy without even trying. “Be safe,” he said.

  She nodded. “Yeah, you too.”

  “Do you want to walk me down and lock the door behind me?” he asked.

  “Oh, sure,” she said, sliding out of her chair. As soon as she moved, Moose was awake, his big paws slipping on the wood floor as he tried to stand up. She looked down at him. “We’re going to have to get some runners throughout the house. Then you won’t be slipping and sliding everywhere you go.”

  Moose leaned against her, his big tail wagging in response. Then, with an excited bark, he bounded out of the room ahead of them.

  Brooke met Art at the door, and they hurried after him. “Moose, slow down,” Art commanded as the gangly canine dashed down the stairs.

  But it was too late. Moose’s downward momentum was too great. He hit the main floor in a slide that took him through the hallway and into the living room. He slid into the area rug and took it with him as he finally crashed softly into the wall, a tumble of dog and shag rug. He turned back to look at Art and Brooke, who were just finally reaching the bottom of the stairs, his tail wagging and his tongue lolling.

  “Nothing but poetry in motion, buddy,” Art said.

  A gurgle of laughter escaped Brooke’s mouth once she realized Moose had safely landed. But then it tapped into a wellspring of laughter that had been locked down for too long, and she couldn’t stop it. Tears formed in her eyes as laughter shook her body, and she had to sit down on the stairs to catch her breath.

  “Are you alright?” Art asked.

  She clapped her hands over her mouth, trying to halt the eruption, but the concern on his face was her undoing. He thinks I’m totally, absolutely nuts, she thought, and the laughter increased. Her arms wrapped around her aching sides, she gasped for air and nodded at him. “I’m good,” she gasped. “Really.”

  Art sat down on the stair next to her, and Moose trotted across the room to investigate the strange behavior of his mistress. Moose watched it for a moment and then cocked his head to one side as she burst into another reprise of hilarity.

  “It’s okay, boy,” Art said to the dog, a grin spreading across his face. “Even if the men in the white jackets take her away, I’ll be here for you.”

  Gasping for breath, she wiped her eyes and leaned against Art. “I’ve never laughed so hard in my life,” she wheezed. But when she met his eyes and saw the intent in them, her laughter stopped.

  He turned slightly on the staircase and brought his hand up to cradle one side of her face. His thumb lightly wiped away a few tears that had found their way to her cheek. He studied her face, memorizing it. The sparkle in her eyes, the upturned joy of her lips and the soft flush of her skin. She was altogether too much to resist, and he was done trying.

  He lowered his head and lightly sampled her lips. He could almost taste
the laughter still on them. He could definitely taste the remnants of the buttered popcorn. He tasted again, this time searching deeper. She moaned softly and opened to him.

  Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her closer as he angled his head and took what he’d been hungering for, ever since their first kiss. She trembled in his arms, her mouth eagerly responding.

  Suddenly, a cold, moist object was thrust between their faces, and a long, sloppy tongue was cooling their passion. Art and Brooke broke apart as Moose inserted himself between them, happily kissing each of their faces. Brooke squealed and wiped her hand over her mouth. Art smiled over at her. “I sure hope that was because of Moose and not me,” he teased.

  Her heart hammering against her chest, she smiled at him. “Well, it happened so fast,” she teased. “I guess you’ll have to try it again so I can see.”

  The promise in his eyes made her heart flip. He nodded and stood, offering her his hand to help her up. She took his hand, and he helped her stand, then drew her into his arms. “Because I’m a twin, I take challenges very seriously,” he said softly.

  She smiled up at him. “I was hoping you would,” she replied.

  He started to lower his lips to hers when his phone vibrated. He paused.

  “Answer it,” she said, offering permission. “It could be Sam.”

  He pulled it out. “O’Reilly,” he said, still looking down at Brooke with hunger in his eyes. Then his eyes shifted, and he loosened his grip. “What?” he asked. “Yeah, okay, I’ll be right there.”

  “What?” she asked, her heart hammering for a different reason.

  “Judge Tomlinson has been assaulted,” he replied. “They found her unconscious at her home.” He looked down at her, sighing with regret. “Brooke, I…”

  She smiled softly. “Go,” she said. “I’ll be safe.”

  He kissed her quickly on the lips. “I’ll call you,” he said.

  She nodded. “Yes, please do.”

  In a moment, he was gone. Brooke locked the door behind him, then turned and leaned against it with a long, contented sigh. “Moose,” she said as he watched her with confusion. “I think we need treats.”