Page 109 of Blue-Eyed Jacks
I opened the closet and pulled at the panel in the corner.
Under the fake wall was a metal door, very similar to the one in the study.But the lock was different.I tapped on the numbers in sequence.My birthday, Dad told me.I stored my childhood drawings, my diary, and music sheets in there.
Then one day, Dad asked to store some of his papers there.No, demanded.With that demand, he tacked on another one—that I wasn’t to let anyone know the safe or its contents were here.Nor should I peek inside.
But I had.You can’t leave something curious in a teenager’s bedroom and not expect them to look.
At the time, I learned more than I ever wanted to know about the local judge.It was too early of an age to lose faith in law enforcement, making me ripe pickings for someone like Shock.I burned my diary the same day, along with some of the respect I had for my father.I should have run then.
The door opened easily for something so old.
From the piles of papers in there, Dad used it often after I was gone.I glanced at the carpet stains, wondering if maybe, just maybe, he felt guilt every time he came into this room.I hoped so.He deserved it.I pulled out the first stack.There were photos mixed in with the papers.
My hands shook.“Zoe, please stand by the door.”I didn’t want her to see any of this.
I handed it to Cara who rifled through the pile and searched for the elusive “house” paperwork she had lied to me about.
The second grab was much more interesting.
I checked to see if Zoe was watching or not.Some of the same photos I’d seen in Shock’s package were in this one.Jackson featured prominently in most.There were a few more with Nonno in them.Having just met the man, he’d made an impression.I had a hunch we were getting closer to Cara’s goal.“Here.Anything in there that you need?”My question was pointed, and my words were sharper than intended.
She studied a photo of Jackson, turning it sideways to get a different angle on it.I had the overwhelming urge to scream, “Mine,” and rip it from her hands, but one glance at the large, rectangular spot where the carpet was more pristine white than the other sections of the floor made me stuff that desire back down.He wasn’t anyone’s.Most certainly not mine.And Cara now held the photos to prove it.
Cara pulled out another photo.Nonno.She stuffed it under her shirt.
I tugged out the next stack.The safe was larger than the one in the office, and it was filled to the brim.With each layer, I noticed a pattern.The targets weren’t Dad’s political or career rivals; they were bikers and dealers.Criminals, politicians, law enforcement, even business leaders.Many of the photos were taken in this house.Probably from parties Dad threw.The ones that weren’t bothered me.My father wouldn’t be able to get into some of these places.But Shock definitely could.
One particular photo made me pause.It was Dad in his office, shaking hands with a man.
He was wearing the same tie as the one in the crime scene photo.
If he was killed after this photo was taken, why was it here?
I handed that folder off to Cara.
Under it was a crime report for a missing person.Then, a news clipping of a Jane Doe who washed up along the river.Accompanying it was a photo of the same girl with Shock.
A hand-written suicide note… I slapped that file shut and passed it to Cara.
She smiled when she opened it.“Got him.”
I dug out the rest of the stacks without looking at any of them.Cara sent Zoe for a suitcase from the main bedroom, describing exactly where it was.Zoe returned and helped load the documents into the bag.
“Are there any other places your dad stored stuff?”
“His office downtown.”
Cara shook her head.“They went through that.”
“They,who?”
She swallowed.“His coworkers.Those blood-sucking, lawyer assholes.Cut me out of the Will.And there’s no life insurance policy.Except this.”She patted her shirt and smiled.
From what I’d already seen of Nonno, he wasn’t a man to be messed with.Worse, now that she had what she wanted, I was deathly afraid she would kill us as easily as she killed Tina.
“I want you to take everything.”I indicated the suitcase, now crammed with over sixteen years of blackmail.
Cara’s glee evaporated.
