by Vanessa Skye
Berg fast-forwarded impatiently. She settled on footage that showed little Emma fussing in her crib. She leaned forward to get a better look and winced slightly as an unexpected pain shot through her abdomen.
The black and white footage was grainy, but still quite clear as they watched Marilyn enter the baby’s room, followed by Elizabeth. Marilyn fussed over the baby while Elizabeth watched. Elizabeth said something and Marilyn shook her head. Elizabeth said something else and the detectives watched as the women argued—judging by the body language Marilyn was reluctant to let Elizabeth hold Emma. After some back and forth, the older woman relented and hovered protectively as Elizabeth held the baby.
Berg couldn’t figure out why she had insisted. Elizabeth looked awkward and uncomfortable and soon gave the baby back.
Marilyn turned, her back to the camera, placed little Emma down on the change table, and grabbed a cloth diaper from under the contraption.
Her mother distracted, Elizabeth stared up steadily at the teddy bear concealing the nanny cam. She moved closer, reached up, waved, and then turned the bear around until it was facing the blank right-hand wall of the room.
Arena swore. “She knows it’s there.”
“Fuck!” Berg manipulated the footage.
The time stamp indicated she was fast-forwarding through several hours, but the picture remained the same. The time of Emma’s breathing problem came and went and Berg wanted to cry in frustration.
She’s one step ahead of me—again.
“If she knows the camera’s there, why not just disable the breathing monitor?” Arena asked.
Berg stared at the footage, refusing to blink in case she missed it—that one thing she knew had to be there.
“Sorry, Berg.”
The picture remained unchanged until Marilyn’s face appeared, cleaning cloth in hand. She positioned the teddy bear so it was overlooking the crib once more, looked right into the camera’s lens, and then behind her. She nodded once slowly.
“Elizabeth’s not the only one who knows it’s there,” Berg said. “I’m guessing Elizabeth didn’t know about the breathing monitor—until it went off,” Berg said, answering Arena’s previous question. “Marilyn’s a lot more clever than she seems. I think we can see where Elizabeth gets her brains.” Berg stopped the footage.
Elizabeth had made another attempt on the baby’s life.
How much luck does one baby get before it runs out?
Elizabeth wasn’t going to stop, and despite her insistence, last night had proven that Marilyn couldn’t be everywhere. She couldn’t protect that baby.
But I can.
Berg wiped a sheen of sweat off her forehead with a shaky hand. She hadn’t been able to save their baby, but she would damn well save this one if it was the last thing she did.
In fact, now that her precious little reason for living was no longer here, it would be the last thing she did.
Endgame time.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
And you can’t fight the tears that ain’t coming,
or the moment of truth in your lies.
When everything feels like the movies,
yeah, you bleed just to know you’re alive.
–The Goo Goo Dolls, “Iris”
Arena hunkered down into the driver’s seat and tried to figure out what the fuck Berg was doing. He had been following her for two weeks now, but for the last two nights, she appeared to be following Elizabeth while he was following her. It was like some kind of idiotic comedy cop show.
He knew she was desperate to get something on Elizabeth—he was, too—but Arena wasn’t entirely sure what following the psycho on her nightly run achieved.
While the analysis he and Consiglio had gotten back on her hair sample had shown nothing, between O’Loughlin’s angry slip months ago about her recovery, her shaking hands, and the layer of sweat consistently covering her face, he’d assumed she had fallen off the wagon. It was the whole reason he’d followed her initially.
During the short time he had been a part of her life, he had repeatedly searched her place whenever she took the dog for a walk or showered. At the time, it had been for his own peace of mind. He’d never found anything. In fact, she had been diligent about eating healthy and taking the prenatal vitamins he had bought for her.
Since the breakup, she hadn’t bought or drank alcohol that he’d seen, and no one had visited her place. That left one possibility—she was getting her regular fix from a dealer someplace else. So he’d begun following her whenever he could. The idea being to make a note of dates, places and times of her buys, then—if a pattern became obvious—tip off Consiglio, who’d wait for her to make her next buy and carry out the bust in the most public way possible.
The older man was salivating.
Berg would be fired, and O’Loughlin—who had clearly known about a detective in his precinct with a substance abuse problem and done nothing—would finally be seen as the pathetic and ineffectual leader that he was. Consiglio would be reinstated as chief of detectives, and his first order of business would be to appoint Arena captain of the 12th.
Job done—karmic retribution carried out.
Arena felt a pang of guilt for a moment before shrugging it off. He swore and turned up the air conditioning, sweltering in the summer heat. He’d much rather be swimming down at the lake with a couple of bikini-clad hotties than following an ex and sticking to his seat.
He hoped the recon would pan out and the whole situation would soon be over. Even if it didn’t, he had a lovely file building on Berg detailing her every indiscretion—including the latest illegal surveillance of the Youngs’ home.
Consiglio was pleased with the development, promising him immunity for his involvement in any wrongdoing, but he still wanted more. The disgruntled ex-chief was determined to force the CPD’s hand and the big, public bust in front of the media was the only way to do it. He wouldn’t stop until he got it.
All of the tailing, surveillance, and file building in the world failed to explain what Berg hoped to achieve by following Elizabeth every evening, though. Unless the lunatic made an attempt on the baby’s life in broad daylight, it was an utterly pointless exercise.
Soon enough, Elizabeth finished her three-mile run and headed back toward her new home.
Berg peeled off, heading in the direction of her own apartment, and he followed as she weaved through the traffic like she had her eyes half closed and screeched into her parking garage.
Driving away, he dialed Consiglio.
“Hey, can we talk for a sec?” Jay asked Berg, indicating she should follow.
Berg stood and felt Arena’s gaze burning into her back as they wandered into Jay’s office and closed the door behind them.
“Your board hearing is in two weeks. Has Malloy been in contact?”
“Yep, sure.”
She had actually been dodging the stodgy lawyer’s calls. It wasn’t his fault. The union-appointed lawyer had been very supportive the previous year the first time Consiglio had brought her up on charges, but she didn’t need his services this time. The entire situation would be irrelevant in a few days anyway.
Jay looked relieved. “Okay, great. So you’re all good?”
“Yep.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure it will all be fine.”
But Berg knew he was lying. This was her second board hearing in a year. Even if she had planned to attend, if she managed to walk out of there with her job, she’d be shocked to shit.
“Yep, sure,” Berg said again. “It’s totally fine.”
Jay narrowed his eyes. “Why are you agreeing with me so easily? The last time you went before the board you were emotionally and physically wrecked. I remember having to literally drag you out of your house to face them.”
Berg sighed as her gaze drifted out the windows to watch the office antics on the other side of the glass.
“Berg? Are you okay? You seem . . . distracted.” He frowned. “Is everything all
right with Arena and . . . the baby?” He glanced out at Arena studiously ignoring Jay’s office as he went through case files on Berg’s desk.
“Everything’s great.”
“I don’t believe a fucking word you are saying. You’re staying away from the Youngs, right? Doing everything above board?”
“Don’t worry,” Berg muttered. “I know what I have to do.”
Arena watched Berg stand up from Jay’s office chair slowly and head to the door, and he crammed the file back into the pile on Berg’s desk, his head spinning at the implications of what he had just seen.
What the fuck?
While snooping, he had found what was obviously a newly updated last will and testament. He gave it a cursory glance until he caught sight of the high six figures that Berg had just inherited from her mother’s estate.
On the surface, Berg updating her will wasn’t suspicious. She’d just inherited a substantial amount of money and was going to be a mother soon. It made sense that she’d want to ensure the welfare of that child if she was incapacitated or killed in the line of duty. The problem? There was no mention of any minor children in the new will. Plus, she’d added a paragraph detailing donations of her inheritance, via her lawyer, if she died prior to distributing them all herself.
Why would she die before the donations were carried out?
She had also given a large sum of money to her mother’s nurse, Helen, which was understandable had the woman not been old enough to have given birth to God. The chances of her outliving Berg were negligible. He had checked twice—Berg’s loopy signature at the bottom of the document was clear. There was no mistake.
Arena felt uneasy. In fact, this entire situation made him uneasy.
You sure she deserves this?
He frowned and stared at his computer pretending he was lost in casework while he tried to figure out what the hell was going on.
Chapter Forty
It’s the same dream,
it goes on and on and on and on.
But this is where it ends.
This is the collapse.
–Kill Hannah, “The Collapse”
This was the third night Berg had checked Elizabeth Young’s route on her run around the suburban streets and, despite the celebrity trainer she had boasted about, it was clear she liked to run alone—always at six in the evening and always along the same route.
Elizabeth had to be the only paralegal on earth who ever finished work that early. Combined with all the spokesperson work she had been doing, Elizabeth was hardly ever in the office. Given her reputation, however, perhaps no one objected.
Berg pulled out from her parking spot and drove around the corner, parking behind another car, and waited for Elizabeth to run by the high school near her home. She knew the woman’s route by heart and had no need to keep overly close.
A wave of nausea struck, but she ignored it until it slowly subsided.
Berg blinked to clear her suddenly blurry vision and watched as Elizabeth passed the school right on time.
Ignoring the lick of pain that shot through her belly at the slightest movement, she pulled out and checked to make sure her shadow was still with her as she headed toward her apartment.
Arena may have had some talents—most of them in the sack—but surveillance wasn’t one of them.
She drove carelessly, slowing when Arena lost her so he could catch up. She could’ve ditched him at any time, but his being a traitor actually worked to her advantage.
Berg wondered if he had figured out what she was doing yet, or if she was going to have to send him a singing telegram.
She had been suspicious for a while. His cloak and dagger routine every time his phone rang. The hair sample she was pretty sure he’d taken after Jay’s slip about her recovery. Her carefully placed belongings being moved. She had started making notes of the numbers dialed and calling when he had left his phone unattended. Sure enough, Arena always dialed one number in particular when she was out of the room. The same number he had refused to answer in her presence. So she had called it, fully expecting to find he had been seeing someone on the side.
Consiglio had answered.
When Jay told her that Consiglio was making a move to depose them both, it had all fallen into place. Arena was helping him get his old job back and no doubt helping himself to a decent promotion at the same time. She had noticed more signs since then and, for the last two weeks, a persistent tail.
She had written her discoveries in a letter to Jay and was going to post it to his home the next day so he was prepared for the shitstorm coming when her plans came to fruition. She didn’t want him blindsided by Arena and Consiglio. She had also apologized for the mess she had made of things and thanked him for loving her, even if it had only been for one night.
While she had been, and still was, using Arena, she had planned to make amends with him, too. He would feel enough like shit when it all went down; his bravado was all a façade.
It was getting close, and she was glad.
Jesse was already at Vi’s. The legalities were all in place; she just had a few final details to work out, including some not-so-legal breaking and entering, and it would be all set.
Two birds, one gun.
Berg tidied her desk for the final time, ensuring there were no personal items on the blotter or in the drawers. All her case reports were completed, filed, and all her notes regarding her cases were accessible.
Sweat beaded and dripped down onto her desk.
Jesus! Who turned the air down?
Arena wandered in, glared at her, and wandered off to the break room.
“Hey, Arena,” Berg called out, jogging to catch up with him. “Can we talk for a second?” The ridiculously short jog left her heart pounding and her head whirled for a moment.
Arena turned around and eyed her warily. “What about?” he asked folding his arms.
“I just wanted to . . . to apologize to you,” she said and as she watched the hope flare in his eyes. Even knowing he was trying to get her fired, she felt a stab of guilt. The realization only confirmed her decision was the right one. “I feel awful for what happened between us, and I want you to know that I really hope you find someone who’ll make you happy.” She watched the hope flicker and die.
“Whatever,” he said, moving to walk away.
Berg grabbed his arm. “Arena, no.” She twisted and turned until he looked her straight in the eyes. “I really regret it. You were nothing but kind to me and I fucked it up. I’m so sorry. I hope, in time, you will forgive me.”
His expression had not likely written all over it.
“You’re an amazing man—really amazing,” she said sincerely. “If I wasn’t already . . .”
She didn’t say it, but Arena frowned and shook his head. “Fucking O’Loughlin,” he muttered. “Why does it always come back to him?”
Berg didn’t know how to answer. “Anyway, it wasn’t your fault that things didn’t work out and I wanted you to know that.”
“Whatever,” Arena said before he raised his gaze and seemed to truly see her for the first time. “Hey . . . are you okay?” he asked, frowning again. “You look sick. And shouldn’t you be getting fatter, not thinner? Are you eating?”
“I’m fine,” she said, wandering back to her desk.
Arena watched her go and wondered again what she was addicted to, and how she was getting it. He was pretty sure it wasn’t at the high school he’d observed her breaking into the previous night. She had come out about fifteen minutes later without any goods or company, but he’d resolved to check it out if she went there again.
Given her pale and gaunt appearance, she was the perfect picture of an addict. She looked unwell, and he felt an irrational desire to try and help her before he pushed the urge away.
She deserves what she gets! Doesn’t she?
Chapter Forty-One
I don’t know where to go
to find my way back home.
I’m
drowning.
–Stereophonics, “Drowning”
Berg practically crawled with the traffic to her storage unit over on North Western Avenue. Her preferred driving speed was breakneck, but her vision was blurry and her mind strangely cloudy. She couldn’t afford to be taken out by a truck before her business was complete.
She daydreamed as she drove, envisioning the baby kicking in her hard, swollen abdomen. Patting the imaginary baby lightly in encouragement, she pretended that Jay had chosen to leave Carla and be with her. Picturing perfect days and nights with them as a family, professional family portraits, big family barbecues in their large backyard, their son growing up to follow in his daddy’s footsteps, nights filled with words of love and moments of passion . . . everything she never knew she wanted until now.
Jesus. I’m actually dreaming of a white picket fence.
The moment of clarity she had felt when she’d decided to break up with Arena and tell Jay about his baby came back to her. She knew she had been on the right track then. It had felt so right . . .
For a second, she almost turned the car around and accidentally swerved into the path of an oncoming minivan. Its horn blared indignantly as she corrected her course quickly and passed it.
It wasn’t fair that she had been denied that kind of normal family existence. How did those more evil than her get what she desperately wanted? What had she had done to deserve a life filled with abuse, hatred and death? Why couldn’t she seem to stop it leaching into the lives of the people she cared about?
It doesn’t matter now.
The crushing reality fell down around her shoulders. She had no baby. No Jay. She was responsible for a murderer going free and an innocent child being in danger.
She pictured Elizabeth’s smug face and felt a stab of hatred.
She will not harm that baby. No way.
She turned off at the storage unit place and dawdled to give her shadow all the time he needed to figure out exactly where she was going as she unlocked and rolled up the small red door of number twenty-four.
