Broken (46 page)

“Never again,” Arena said.

When Berg had outlined her plan in Jay’s office, Arena had doubted, called BS, and questioned her basic instincts, too.

“No way she’ll come after you!” Arena shook his head.

“Her calm exterior belies her inside. Trust me, if I trigger her, she won’t be able to stop herself from coming after me. She’ll want to prove me wrong and get revenge for me humiliating her. Her need to always be right, along with a good narcissistic rage? I’ll bet my life on it.”

“Please don’t. You’ll be wearing a vest if I have to strap you into it myself,” Jay had said, stepping close and poking his finger in her chest.

“She’ll see a vest, I can’t wear one. And there’s no indication she has a gun.”

“I don’t give a shit, you’ll wear the vest!”

“Let’s just hope plan A works, and she capitulates in the interview,” Arena said. “So it doesn’t come to plan B.”

As soon as Berg had left the basement, she’d waited in the tech room wired and ready to move. By the time Elizabeth had left the precinct, Berg was already waiting at the bar and covered from every angle. The bartender had been clued in, giving Berg shots of water from a refilled vodka bottle, but everyone had been taken by surprise when Elizabeth had produced not only a gun, but also baby Emma. Worried for the baby, Berg had indicated they should not take Elizabeth down and had allowed herself to be taken hostage instead.

They’d let her go—the wire hadn’t caught enough to charge Elizabeth with Emma’s murder, and they couldn’t risk the life of the baby by ambushing her.

“Where’s she headed?” Arena asked as Jay continued to follow the car.

“I think she’s taking Berg to the set of her TV show in Bridgeport,” Jay replied, shrugging. “Seems like a strange place to kill a cop.” He pulled into the warehouse lot next door to the sound studio and killed the lights.

Arena quietly opened the van’s rear doors.

They waited for SWAT to take their positions.

“Do you have a shot?” Jay asked a few tense moments later, speaking into his radio. He watched as Elizabeth directed Berg to kick open the door.

“Negative,” came the fuzzy reply. “She’s still covering the baby. We can’t risk it.”

Elizabeth and the baby followed Berg inside.

“Stay in the van, Arena. I need you to track Berg via the wire.”

Arena nodded, putting the headphones back on.

Ordering SWAT off to cover the other exits, Jay stepped inside the door, his gun raised. They were nowhere in sight.

“Damn. You got anything from sound?” he asked Arena through the radio.

“Sound is compromised,” Arena replied in a burst of static. “I’m not getting anything but white noise.”

“Okay, Berg must be in one of the studios—they’re soundproofed. There’s eight of them. Come help me search them.”

“Roger that,” Arena said.

Jay started clearing the studios, his heart pounding. The adrenaline in his system allowed him to ignore the pain in his foot as he pressed on.

Jay knew that Berg could have the smaller, untrained Elizabeth disarmed in a second, but she wouldn’t risk it if the gun was anywhere near the baby.

Jay cursed again and sent out a silent prayer.

“Anything?”

Jay hadn’t heard him and couldn’t stop the reflexive jerk that shot through him as his heart pounded double-time. “Jesus, Arena!” he whispered. “I almost shot you!”

“Studio three and four are clear,” Arena whispered back.

“So are one and two. Let’s—”

They heard a muffled gunshot from somewhere up ahead.

Jay took off running before he even heard Berg’s terrified scream or the second shot not ten seconds later.

Please, no!

Arena was only a step behind him, his breathing instantly ragged.

We’ve only just found each other!

Chapter Forty-Eight

’Cause if it wasn’t for all of your torture,

I wouldn’t know how

to be this way now, and never back down.

So I wanna say thank you.

–Christina Aguilera, “Fighter”

J
ay burst into studio six and found nothing but chaos—Berg, motionless, crumpled on the ground, and Elizabeth, bleeding profusely from a leg wound, was in the process of aiming the gun at the now screeching baby.

Jay flew at her, tackling her to the ground in a move any pro baller would be proud of. He knocked the gun away and trusted that Arena, only a second behind him, would secure Elizabeth.

He lurched toward Berg, skidding across the floor and stopping near her splayed legs. “Baby?” He picked her up and cradled her still body. “Berg?” he said louder, his voice cracking. He slapped her cheek lightly while checking her for injuries. He saw the bullet hole in her shirt. “Berg!” He scrambled to tear open her shirt, looking for blood. “Please tell me you did what I asked . . . just this one fucking time! Tell me you wore a vest.” Jay panicked.

I should have insisted!

“I. Wore. A. Vest.” Berg gasped as her lungs tried to work against the blunt force trauma of a bullet at point-blank range. She heaved and gulped for oxygen, like a fish out of water.

He tore off her Kevlar to reveal nothing more than a blooming bruise high on her sternum between her breasts. “Oh, fuck. Thank God.” He sighed in relief, pulling her close and kissing her lips repeatedly. “Why I fucking agreed to this is beyond me,” he muttered in between kisses.

“Hey!” Berg struggled. “Trying. To. Breathe. Here.”

“Oh, sorry,” Jay said, loosening his arms but refusing to let her go. He helped her sit up and they watched Arena handcuff a struggling Elizabeth with a cable tie.

“She attacked me!” Elizabeth shrieked. “She shot me. Look!” She tried to point to her bleeding leg with hands that were secured in front of her. “I was defending myself. Arrest her!”

Berg slowly stood and staggered over to the enraged woman.

Arena picked Elizabeth up and placed her on her feet.

Berg shook her head as she looked down at the hysterical woman. “You’re . . . so dumb.” She coughed. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? This was a setup. We’ve been onto you since you arrived at the bar.” She waved the wire in Elizabeth’s face for emphasis.

Elizabeth’s carefully constructed façade crumbled, replaced by pure, unadulterated hatred. She let out a blood-curdling screech, struggled out of Arena’s grasp, and baring her teeth, she lunged at Berg, hands outstretched into claws.

“Down you go,” Arena said, punching the enraged woman in the face.

Elizabeth hit the ground hard.

“That was strangely satisfying,” he said in surprise to no one in particular.

Jay picked up the screaming Emma from her capsule and patted her until she calmed down. “Fuck. I can’t wait to wake up tomorrow and have this whole day be over,” he said to Berg, pulling her closer.

“Are you kidding?” Berg leaned back and stared at Jay. “You called me a deranged slut—you’ll have to be punished before I’ll let you sleep.” She smiled widely and pulled him in for a kiss.

Arena made gagging sounds.

Jay let go of Berg long enough to dig around in his pocket, fish out a card, and hand it to Arena. “Here,” he said. “You two are definitely better suited than we ever were.”

Arena looked at the business card with Carla Maroney’s various contact numbers on it and perked up. “Hey, thanks!”

Chapter Forty-Nine

I am the bullet in the gun.

And I control you.

I am the truth from which you run

And I control you.

I am the silencing machine

And I control you.

I am the end of all your dreams.

–Nine Inch Nails, “Mr. Self Destruct”

T
wo days later, Arena and ASA Maroney quickly stepped apart as the elevator doors on the detective level slid open, both looking a little disheveled.

Jay grinned.

Well, well. He obviously used the card.

Carla walked toward him, smoothing down her skirt, while Arena and Berg convened at their desks. She let herself into his office and closed the door behind her.

“You and Arena? Seriously?” Jay asked Carla wryly.

“You and Alicia? Seriously?”

“Point taken.”

“Be careful,” she said, suddenly serious.

“What do you mean?” Jay asked, frowning.

“Feeny was disemboweled in a Utah prison today. He’s dead,” Carla said.

“So?”

“So your lady ever tell you how she got that gangbanger to give him up?”

Jay went completely still except for the angry color washing over his cheeks. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“Neither do I!”

“Berg would never do that. She’s a cop! Why would you think this was anything other than your run-of-the-mill prison killing?”

“A hunch.”

“Who did it? A gangbanger?”

“No, Feeny appears to have pissed off a fellow lifer. Someone who had been having trouble with some of the Latino inmates—trouble that’s conveniently all cleared up now because the gangbangers are known to be the forgiving and forgetting types.” She arched a brow in his direction. “But if I do get evidence of a connection between Feeny’s death and Rivera, I’m coming after your girl.”

“Noted,” Jay said coldly. “Anything else?”

“Just . . . be careful.”

“Are we done here?”

“No. We have more problems, as always.” Carla sighed.

“What problems? We wrapped Elizabeth Young up in a nice neat package for you!”

“Yeah, a package full of nutjob wrapped with a bow of loony! She’s been a jabbering mess since you arrested her. Her lawyer boss is claiming she is incompetent to stand trial, no doubt in preparation for an insanity defense—if it even gets that far. He wants her relocated to a secure psychiatric facility instead of Cook County, ASAP.”

“So get her assessed by a government psychiatrist.”

“I did, and he agrees with the lawyer.”

“You’re kidding me! Her crimes not only show incredible premeditation, but also that she knew right from wrong when she was doing them.”

“I’m going to have to accept their assessment of her mental state, Jay.” Carla sighed. “She’s all kinds of crazy and cannot possibly participate in her own defense. Even if I took it to trial, it would take a jury about ten seconds to come to the same conclusion. She’s being moved to a psychiatric facility tomorrow for treatment and the chance of us reestablishing competency anytime soon is negligible. We’re taking a deal. It’ll see her locked up in a secure treatment facility for the foreseeable future. If it’s any consolation, I can’t imagine she’s going to get out in her lifetime.”

“Bullshit!”

Jay and Carla turned around in shock. Neither of them had heard Berg come in.

Berg pushed off the doorframe and stepped into Jay’s office. “This is just another game to her. You put her in a crazy house instead of prison, and I guarantee she’ll manipulate her way back into the community within two years.”

Carla was already shaking her head. “It’s not that easy to—”

Berg threw one hand up, palm out. “This is an intelligent, conniving woman who has had no problems manipulating people into doing what she wants since she was in diapers! She knows that if she can get into a psychiatric facility they’ll have to let her out if she suddenly becomes sane. She could end up serving almost no time for the cold, calculated murders of her own sister and Buchanan, not to mention several attempts to murder a tiny baby! She has
zero
remorse for her crimes and has zero empathy for her victims. She had done nothing but blame others for her actions and now she’s going to get away with it!” Berg stormed off.

“Good luck with that,” Carla said sarcastically before heading back to the elevator.

Arena nearly twisted his neck in a knot watching Carla walk away before turning back. “What was that about?” he asked, propping against the office door.

“Elizabeth Young’s getting off by reason of insanity. Berg’s not pleased,” Jay replied.

Arena grinned. “I bet.” He turned to leave.

“Arena?” Jay called.

The muscular detective turned back. “Yeah?”

“I just got word that the police board has dropped its charges against Berg. Any idea how that happened?”

Arena smirked. “Well, Elizabeth Young’s claims of harassment held considerably less weight once it turned out she was actually guilty. And . . .”

“And?”

“And some recordings of a certain ex-chief of detectives ordering me to plant drugs from the evidence locker in Berg’s apartment
may
have accidently been sent to the superintendent . . . anonymously, of course,” Arena said and smiled, the very picture of a smug bastard. “One of the great things about everyone thinking that you’re dumb is the fact that they constantly underestimate you.”