Broken (43 page)

Berg nodded.

“Well, I think we can agree that that didn’t work out so well, did it?”

Berg shook her head.

“So please, I’m asking you. Let’s do this together? You might have your issues, but so do I! So let’s recover, together.”

He held her hand and stared at her face while she tried to formulate a response, but the emotion in his gaze was too intense, and she had to break it and look away.

“No you don’t,” he said, moving her chin back gently. “You’ll look at me and we’ll decide to sort all this out, together.”

Berg hesitated then nodded slightly.

“You’ll go back to Dr. Thompson.”

It wasn’t a request, but Berg nodded anyway.

“We’ll stop with the games, and the being afraid and the stupid miscommunications and the not communicating at all, and just promise, right here and now, to always be upfront and honest with each other, about everything.”

Berg nodded again.

“Finally—and this is the most important one—we will just love each other from this moment on. Nothing else matters.”

Vi’s words started playing on a loop.

Put the suitcases down, Alicia
.

She was right, it was time to put her baggage down, and move forward without it.

Her choice. Not her mother’s or her father’s or Leigh’s.

Mine.

Berg smiled. “Nothing would make me happier than to be with you, but . . .” Berg whispered.

Jay rolled his eyes. “Problems already? What now?” he asked with a smile.

“This,” she said, indicating her presence in a hospital bed. “I know you want kids. What if I can’t give you any now?”

“Berg, I’ll be happy to be the daddy of as many kids as you want to have, but if we can’t, I’ll be equally as happy with just us two. And Jess, of course. Okay?”

Berg didn’t know if she believed him, but that was something to worry about another day. Her smile grew wider and brighter and she nodded, raising her arms to be held by the one person she craved most.

Jay bent over Berg, gathered her in his arms, and kissed her, slowly and deeply.

Berg finally allowed herself to relax in his embrace, tightening her arms around him and pulling him even closer.

They parted, and Jay was back to business.

“Right. Now that’s all sorted, we need to turn our attention to a couple of pretty big problems.”

Chapter Forty-Five

You trick your lovers,

that you’re wicked and divine.

You may be a sinner,

but your innocence is mine.

–Muse, “Undisclosed Desires”

A
week later, Berg was out of the hospital and Jay was hobbling around on crutches while his broken foot healed. He’d taken time off from the paperwork to move into her apartment, cleaning up, adding his own touches and belongings, and moving his clothes into her closet in between visiting her in the hospital as she recovered from the infection.

Berg, thankfully, hadn’t needed the hysterectomy, her body instead responding well to the IV antibiotics. The doctors were hopeful regarding her future fertility and so was he.

Vi had smiled with deep satisfaction when he’d arrived at her door to pick up Jesse. She had handed over the dog without comment, save one as he led the excited ball of fluff back into their place.

“Hang in there,” she had called out. “It’ll be worth it.”

He’d smiled. “I know.”

The next day Jay had collected Berg from the hospital, put his crutches to one side, and insisted on carrying her over the threshold of the apartment.

“Jay!” She laughed as he had swung her up into his arms. “Your foot! We’re not married, you goof. This is totally unnecessary!”

“Not
yet
,” he had replied, making her brown eyes sparkle.

That had become his new favorite hobby—particularly because he knew that they had had precious reason to shine at all until now, and when she stopped bleeding from the surgery he intended to physically demonstrate just how much he loved her. Over and over.

He got hard just thinking about it.

For today, however, they were alone in his office, heads together. Arena had been invited to the meeting, but had not yet shown up.

“So what’s the game plan here?” Jay asked Berg.

“It’s great that Marilyn has finally seen sense and given us a statement, but, as we suspected, she has no evidence proving Elizabeth had done anything to Emma—or to the baby. The statement by itself is not even enough for an arrest warrant.”

“But it has been enough to require Elizabeth to come in for an interview?”

Berg nodded. “Yep. I’m letting her sweat down in Interview Three while we figure out how to play it.”

“I say we just let it unfold naturally and see if we can’t catch her out,” Arena said stiffly from the door before walking into the office and pulling up a chair.

“She’s too smart for that,” Berg replied. “She’ll be prepared.”

“Well, what else do you suggest?” Arena asked. “We’ve got nothing else on her.”

“I have an idea. I’m hoping when she finds out her mother’s turned on her, she’ll make a mistake.” Berg shifted and looked squarely at Arena for the first time.

He skidded his eyes away from Berg’s.

“Thanks for the flowers, by the way,” she said. “They brightened up my hospital room.”

“Ah, sure. No problem.” He smiled awkwardly, crossing and uncrossing his legs. “And I’m sorry for . . . stuff.”

“Stuff?
Stuff?
” Jay’s voice rose as his face turned red. “Don’t you mean to say sorry for being a traitor and a turncoat, not to mention an all-round asshole, and potentially costing Berg her job and her life!” he yelled, standing.

Although Jay had been itching to fire the bastard, Berg had begged him not to, and she had made a compelling case—if Arena had no job there was nothing stopping him from running back to Consiglio with everything. They needed Arena on their side.

Arena jumped up and yelled right back, “Yeah! Sorry for all of that, okay?”

Consiglio had arrived too late to catch Berg’s attempt on Elizabeth, but he was far from done. While Jay had managed to postpone the board hearing for another week due to Berg’s hospital stay, Consiglio was still after his pound of flesh and it looked like he just might get it.

“Enough!” Berg yelled, pushing the two men apart. “This is not helpful. Now, sit down, shut up, and listen!”

Fists still clenched, both men slowly sat back down, and Berg outlined her plan.

As Arena pushed open the door of Interview Three, Berg noted that the latch was still broken. They closed it as best they could and crossed to stand over Elizabeth Young sitting at the far end of the room. She had moved from the chair she had been directed to sit in, and was sitting in Berg’s chair instead, with her back to the mirror. Elizabeth was trying to gain a psychological advantage by controlling the room and fucked if Berg was going to let her have it.

Berg frowned in irritation. “Would you move back to your chair and face us please?” she asked politely.

Elizabeth shrugged as if she didn’t care and did so.

They all sat.

There was no table in the room—Berg had had it removed to prevent Elizabeth hiding her body language—so the detectives each placed heavy files labeled ELIZABETH YOUNG in bold red letters in their laps. It gave the appearance of overwhelming evidence against Elizabeth. Truth was they were actually relabeled files from an old case.

“The purpose of this interview today is a courtesy only. We already know you had Buchanan kill your sister and we’re giving you the opportunity to tell your side of the story. Perhaps if you admit your guilt and show remorse, the ASA will reduce the charge from capital murder to simply murder in the first degree and you can avoid the death penalty.” Berg sat back in her chair trying to seem as casual and confident as she sounded.

Elizabeth looked shocked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied. “I think you’ve made a terrible mistake, detective.”

“Really? I think not.” Berg smiled.

Elizabeth picked at invisible fuzz on her suit and rearranged it just so. Having declined to have a lawyer present during questioning, it was obvious she thought herself smarter than the detectives in front of her and was unable to fathom the possibility that they might get the better of her.

Berg opened the file and pretended to read. “We are aware that you played
Realm of Blood
with Jon Buchanan, communicating with him via the chat feature in the game while you manipulated him using an avatar that you designed to look like your sister. You misled this mentally challenged man into believing that your sister was his arch enemy, escaped from the game, and encouraged him to murder her. You gave him details of where she would be and at what time. Did you order him to rape her as well, or was that just an added bonus?” Berg closed the file.

“You can’t have any evidence of any of that because none of it is true,” Elizabeth replied calmly, as if reading Berg’s mind. “I know for a fact that person-to-person chats in games like
Realm of Blood
do not go through the main servers and are, therefore, not recordable.”

“And how would you know that?” Berg asked.

“Because, as I stated to you many weeks ago, I played the game after you caught Emma’s killer. I was curious to see what made him carry out the horrible attack. I can’t say it shed any light on his motives, but obviously he was a sick man.”

“Really?” Arena asked. “But you played the game prior to Emma’s murder.” It was not a question.

“No, I didn’t,” Elizabeth replied, turning her attention to him.

“We have a statement indicating otherwise,” Berg retorted.

“Whoever gave you the statement was mistaken.” She focused her blue eyes on Arena, apparently prepared to ignore Berg completely. She smiled. “You’re a good-looking man. You could have a career in television, if you wanted one,” she said. “Now that I’m the celebrity host of a successful real crime show, I could get you on TV as a criminal expert, you know. It’s being considered for syndication as we speak. Millions could be watching you by the end of the week. Think about it.” She handed Arena a business card she fished out of the pocket of her designer suit.

Berg watched, astounded at the audacity of the woman flirting as though she was seated in a bar and not being interviewed for murder. She rolled her eyes. “Hello?” she said, snapping her fingers.

Berg understood how Elizabeth had managed to fuck her way up the corporate ladder, even before she became a good-looking clone of her sister—she had the kind of deluded self-confidence that some people found appealing.

“Uh, yeah. Right,” Arena said, clearing his throat and looking away. “Where were we?”

“Elizabeth was explaining to us how she was playing
Realm of Blood
earlier than she previously admitted,” Berg said, peering into her file again.

“I wasn’t, because I didn’t,” Elizabeth responded. “Asked and answered. Move on. I’m a lawyer, detectives. Your usual crap won’t fly with me.”

Berg scoffed. “You’re a
paralegal
. And I doubt you’re even that. After this, I’m off to interview your community college professor. I’ll be
so
interested to hear what he has to say about you.”

Elizabeth stared at her calmly.

Berg examined her suspect. Elizabeth didn’t appear to be nervous; she was steady, offered regular eye contact and had yet to raise her voice. She wasn’t fidgeting or displaying any body language common to people who were lying, such as crossed legs or folded arms. Berg had to give the woman credit—she was stone cold.

“Look,” Berg said, changing tack and leaning forward earnestly. “We all know what went on in your house. The favoritism that your parents displayed toward your sister? It was criminal! If we could prosecute for that, believe me, they’d be the ones in this room at the moment, not you,” she said with a sympathetic smile.