Broken (47 page)

Jay grinned. “I’m glad you’ve found a way to come to terms with it.”

Berg waited as the heavy door of the psychiatric facility buzzed open. She flashed her badge and asked to see Elizabeth.

The nurse at reception frowned. “They didn’t tell us you were coming. Sign in please. I’ll get her doctor,” she said in a no-nonsense tone.

Berg signed her name in the book and waited.

It wasn’t long before a short, balding man with a pronounced beer belly not very well concealed behind a white doctor’s coat came bustling up the carpeted hallway. He used his pass card to let himself into the unadorned but comfortable reception area.

“Detective?” he asked. “I thought you guys were all done for the day?”

“Not quite. Sorry for the confusion. I’ll need to speak to Elizabeth for few more minutes. It won’t take long,” she replied.

He sighed. “Okay, this way. She received treatment for a flesh wound, so I’ve locked her back in her room. Do you want me to take her over to one of the interview areas?”

“No, her room is fine.”

“It’s not under surveillance—I’ll post an orderly at the door, just in case . . .”

“That won’t be necessary,” Berg said. “She poses no threat to me.”

Shrugging, the doctor led her to level three of the facility, then down a series of long corridors separated by thick metal doors that he opened with his pass card. Security increased the farther into the heart of the hospital they went, with guards appearing at the inner security doors. Both Berg and the doctor were required to show their ID as they entered the inpatient facility for violent psychiatric patients.

The doctor nodded at one of the guards who stepped forward and opened a door marked 2319 with both a pass card and a heavy brass key.

“Pound on the door when you’re done, or if you need help,” the large man said gruffly, stepping aside to let Berg into the cell.

The door locked ominously behind her.

Elizabeth sat on the unmade mattress, a folded sheet, blanket, and pillow at one end of the bed. Her hair was once again short and wispy—extensions weren’t allowed inside. She wore standard issue hospital pajamas with string ties. She looked at Berg with loathing.

“Haven’t made yourself at home yet?” Berg asked.

“I won’t be here long. Doesn’t seem necessary to unpack,” Elizabeth said. Crossing her legs and linking her fingers over her knees, she looked every bit the proper lady waiting for tea rather than inmate-patient waiting for evaluation or prosecution.

“You’re right not to unpack, actually,” Berg replied.

Elizabeth peered at her. “Really. And why is that?” she said, tilting her head to one side.

“Because they’re coming to take you back to Cook County tomorrow. You’ll love the ladies in the women’s section of the prison, and I imagine all eight hundred of them can’t
wait
to meet you. They love attempted baby-killers there.”

“Wrong!” Elizabeth latched onto the bed, her knuckles turning white, and planted both her feet firmly on the floor. “I’m here until I decide it’s time to leave. Deal’s done.”

Berg shook her head. “The deal’s been revoked. You’re off to Cook County to stand trial for capital murder. Just wanted to tell you myself.” Berg raised her hand to pound on the door.

“Wait!” Elizabeth stood and reached one hand out toward Berg. “T-t-that’s not possible. My lawyer would have—”

Berg snorted and turned to face Elizabeth again. “Your
lawyer
has removed himself and his firm from all dealings with you. It seems once we searched your place and found the sex tape you’d been blackmailing him with—really nasty stuff by the way—he wasn’t nearly so keen to come to your assistance.

“Particularly after I told him about you blackmailing your law professor at your community college—you know, the one who signed off on your paralegal degree even though you never finished it? But not to worry, we’ll find you a lovely public defender for your unqualified, fired ass.”

Berg watched as the look of calculation crossed Elizabeth’s face. She could almost hear the gears turning as the young woman’s eyes flicked and flickered around the room, searching for her next angle. “I assume you’re thinking you’ll hire your own Loop lawyer?” Berg smirked. “With what? All your assets have been seized—proceeds of crime, you know.”

That part was, in fact, true. The law firm that had collected the reward money for the Buchanan tip and the estate agency that had sold Elizabeth her house had coughed up their financials after warrants had been presented. The money would eventually find its way back to Marilyn Young.

“It’s just a pity we can’t take back that spray tan, lipo, hair dye, and dental work.” Berg spread her fingers wide, flipping her hand and curling her fingers inward, checked her nails and looked so very bored. “Without access to a personal trainer, a hairdresser, cosmetic surgery or dentist in Cook County, I imagine you’ll look like your normal self in no time! I hear they serve
a lot
of carbs in there.”

Elizabeth sagged under the weight of Berg’s words, but her stare remained defiant. “Daddy would never—”

“What? Let you rot in prison? Oh yes, he would.” Berg laughed. “He’s disowned you, and not only had your mother released, but added a lovely little statement of his own to hers about your behavior toward your sister. Weren’t you wondering why he hadn’t visited? Don’t wait for that to happen anytime this millennia.”

Not only had Alex Young disavowed all knowledge of his daughter’s criminal activities and completely cut her off, he had signed over custody of little Emma to Tim Hudson with minimum fuss. He’d had to once he had learned that Hudson had a number of CPD detectives willing to testify on his behalf in any custody hearing. Little Emma was with her father, safe and loved, and would remain so. And, last Berg had heard, Marilyn had kicked Alex’s ass out and filed divorce papers.

“He
loathes
you. The man who you’ve been trying to get the attention of your whole life denies your very existence. Says he has no daughters anymore.” With that, Berg watched as Elizabeth finally broke. A single tear made its way down her cheek. Berg recognized it for what it was—not remorse, but self-pity. The only tears that Elizabeth had ever, and would ever, shed were for herself.

“And he’s not the only one. Enough is Enough has cut you loose in a lovely little statement that not only covers their asses but announces your replacement, too.” Berg pulled out the statement from her jacket pocket and held it out. “Would you like to read it?”

Elizabeth shook her head.

Berg snorted and tucked the paperwork away. “But all your efforts to be famous weren’t entirely in vain. Although, infamous is not really what you were aiming for, was it?

“The producers of your little TV show walked out on an average Chicago street, hocked up some phlegm, and spit on six younger, prettier women with more talent than you. Seriously, they said that,” Berg said. “And the little tantrums you threw on set will be exhibit one in an episode dedicated entirely to your botched life of crime! Or were you not aware they had been taped?”

Berg let the truths, half-truths and outright lies sink in. “At least Buchanan had the intelligence to kill himself so he didn’t have to live through being made fun of by the entire planet.

“Oh, and I told your neighbor that you killed her cat, so don’t expect any support from that side either.”

Throughout the last half of her manipulations, Elizabeth had remained completely still, the occasional tear making its way down her cheek. Now, she stared blankly at the wall.

“Well, my work here is done,” Berg said and stepped back to the door, pounding to alert the guard. Turning back one last time, she gave that final nail a hit. “Did you know that Buchanan tore up his own sheets to hang himself?”

The guard opened the door and Berg slipped out without a backward glance.

Epilogue

T
he phone buzzed on the nightstand. Even though it was set to vibrate, the clattering of two hard surfaces banging together was enough to wake them all—man, woman and canine.

“Yours or mine?” Jay muttered, rolling over, trying to extract his feet from under the one hundred pound dog.

Berg sat up and reached for the lit display. “Mine,” she said, answering it. “Yeah?” she said through a yawn. She glanced at her clock—just after one in the morning.

“Berg? Sorry to wake you.” Arena sounded sincere, but anxious.

“S’okay,” she said groggily. “What’s up?”

“Carla just got a call—Elizabeth Young committed suicide in her cell about an hour ago.”

Berg smiled, not at the news, but at the inadvertent confession that the ASA and Arena were clearly spending the night together. She was happy for them.

“Okay.” She yawned again.

“She fashioned a noose out of her sheets and hung herself. You were the last person to see her. Did you get the feeling she was suicidal?”

“Not at all,” Berg said, pulling herself further upright. “Quite the contrary—she was delighted with herself for pulling off the insanity deal and was looking forward to manipulating her psychiatrists into letting her go. I was going to ask Carla to tank the deal tomorrow and put her on trial for murder—but I guess that’s irrelevant now.”

“Yeah. Oh well, no great loss. Just thought you’d like to know,” Arena said, punctuating the sentence with a yawn himself.

“Okay, thanks,” Berg said ending the call. She snuggled back down under the covers and smiled.

“Anything important?” Jay mumbled from next to her, still half asleep.

“No,” Berg said as she curled into his back, wrapping one arm around him. “Nothing important at all.”

Assistant States Attorney Carla Maroney sat at her desk the next day, fiddling with her pen. Making up her mind, she picked up her desk phone and dialed from memory the number of her best investigator.

“Hey,” she said when he answered. “I’ve got a job for you. I want everything you can find on a Detective Alicia Raymond. Everything. Her birth, childhood, what schools she went to, service record, college transcripts—everything. Leave no stone unturned. Get back to me as soon as it’s done.” She hung up.