by Vanessa Skye
Berg glared back. “I told you I have an issue with that one.”
The blonde shrugged. “I don’t care.”
“I don’t think he did it!”
Maroney threw her hands up in the air. “Not my problem!”
Berg snorted. “What do you mean not your problem? You’ve indicted a guy on capital murder charges, and you don’t even care if he did it or not?”
The ASA shrugged. “He was found with the murder weapon. He has previous convictions for robberies with a deadly weapon. There’s only a couple of loose ends that don’t tie up.”
“A couple? Ramon Fervola’s convictions for robbery were almost ten years ago, Maroney. By all reports, the guy is a changed man. He’s going to night school, he’s left the gang, he’s a good father, and he has an alibi!”
Maroney waved her hand. “Alibis can be fabricated, you know that. So he got one of his gangbanger buddies to stand up f—”
“A fellow student is hardly a fellow gangbanger. The alibi places him clear across the city when the robbery and murder took place.”
Maroney pursed her lips before speaking. “There’s still the matter of the gun being found in his possession!”
Berg shook her head. “Yes, the gun he freely admits to buying the day before he was picked up for the robbery. He needed it to protect himself and his family from gang reprisals, which matches the complaint he made to the cops a few weeks before about being threatened by his old gang for leaving. Then there’s the fact that none of the victim’s stuff was found on him or at his home. Come on, Maroney!” Berg felt her patience slip as her voice rose. “You admitted to me that I have an instinct for these things. Well my instincts are shouting that he didn’t do it!”
“So he got rid of all the evidence.”
“Please.” Berg rolled her eyes. “He had the presence of mind to get rid of the stolen goods after the crime but not the gun that ties him to the murder?”
Maroney shrugged, and Berg’s temper hit a new level.
She got in Maroney’s face. “Wanting to put bad guys away is one thing. But putting away an innocent man who is trying to turn his life around, just for a cheap win? That’s something else, Maroney. I won’t be a part of it,” Berg said, folding her arms. “I’m not so far gone that I don’t have principles.”
Maroney curled her lip into a sneer. “Don’t even! You’re bereft of anything resembling principles, and I’m pretty sure Jay and the CPD would agree with me if they knew everything. If you value your career and your relationship, you’ll find the evidence that puts this guy away, and you’ll do it before the trial starts in ten days.” She picked up her briefcase and stalked out of the room.
***
Jay watched the woman he loved walk back into the detectives’ level with a look of thunder on her beautiful face.
She flopped into her seat and reached for her cell.
Jay walked up behind her just as she answered it.
“I told you to stop fucking calling me!” She hung up and caught him watching her.
Jay watched her carefully rearrange her features and plaster a smile on her face. “Who was that?” He discreetly wrapped his finger around her pinky and squeezed in greeting.
“Nobody,” she said, glancing down at her cell.
“Your biological dad still hounding you for money? Because I notice you’ve been ignoring a lot of calls the past few weeks.”
That was an understatement. There had been a lot of vicious whispers and mutterings for weeks now, and that was when she didn’t outright reject the calls.
Berg pulled her hand back and studied her desk. “No, nothing like that. Just a persistent salesperson trying to get me to switch carriers. I think I’m on some kind of spam list.”
Jay frowned. He didn’t need to be a detective to know she was lying. “Where have you been?”
“Working,” she said, frowning right back at him.
Jay grabbed her hand and pulled her into his office, shutting the door behind them. “Doing what?”
“I was in court, okay? What’s this about, Jay?” She crossed her arms. “Because if you think I’m not pulling my weight around here—”
“Of course I don’t think that! You do more than any other detective here. But you seem to be working a lot, that’s all. In the last few weeks, I’ve hardly seen you! Dinner with my mom was the last time I even saw you eat.”
Berg scowled. “I’m just . . . busy, that’s all.”
Jay sighed. “Is your caseload too much? Because if I’ve given you too many cases, I can shift some over. I’ve lost Cheney to the task force, but I’m sure I can—”
Berg refused to meet his eyes. “No! I’m fine with my caseload.”
Jay looked away and thought carefully about his next sentence. “What’s going on, Berg? Why are you lying to me? Arena begrudgingly admitted he doesn’t know where you are half the time, and I know for a fact that you weren’t scheduled to be in court today. You seem distracted.”
Berg sighed. “I went to see what kind of sentence Oliver gave a dorm-room dealer, okay? In case you haven’t noticed, jaywalkers are getting harsher sentences than dealers at the moment. And last I checked, you were not my keeper!”
Jay scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Are you . . . have you . . . have you relapsed?”
“What?” Berg took a step back, her eyes widening as if he had struck her. “No!”
“Because if you have, I understand. We’ll deal with it. Addiction is, well, it’s a complicated thing.”
Berg sucked her bottom lip then sighed. “Fuck, Jay. I don’t want you to think that I . . . I would never . . . I haven’t relapsed, okay? I swear. You know I love you, and I would never cheat on you. The depression is under control, I promise.”
Jay breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Okay. I believe you.”
Berg sighed, and Jay watched various detectives file past the office making a concerted effort not to look inside. Glass walls concealed noise about as well as they concealed movement.
“I’m just putting in some extra effort on my cases, Jay. The Robertson rape case has stalled, and Arena thinks it’s going to go cold. I refuse to let that happen.” Berg fisted her hands at her sides.
“And yet there’s something you’re not telling me,” Jay said softly, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I can feel it.”
Berg shrugged his hands off.
“Because when we got together—”
“Fuck!” Berg whispered furiously. “Spare me the lying speech, okay? Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got cases to get back to.” She opened the door and walked out, slamming it behind her.
Jay sighed and slumped into his chair. Dread pooled in his chest as he realized that, whatever was going on with the woman he loved, it must be bad if she needed to lie to his face.
Chapter Ten
Berg sighed and tightly gripped the steering wheel of the unmarked sedan as she drove back from interviewing several witnesses in the Ramon Fervola robbery and murder case.
Over the last week, she had grilled Ramon’s alibi—a fellow classmate studying to get his high school equivalency, too. The guy swore up and down that they’d had a study session together at a local library, and log-in reports of the library’s computer seemed to back that up. She had taken the copies of the information to show Maroney, even though she was certain CPD had tendered it as evidence the first time around. Not that it had done any good.
If the ASA had been remotely interested in finding out who had really shot the accountant, she should have tracked down the guy who had sold the gun to Ramon and leaned on him. Instead, Maroney was pushing her to fabricate evidence for a conviction, but Berg was more certain than ever that the guy hadn’t done it.
The other detectives had never managed to find the gun seller, but Berg had. While he had claimed he couldn’t remember where he’d gotten it, Berg was betting he did, which was why she had assured the guy she wasn’t going to arrest him for the illegal sale. He’
d refused to meet with her otherwise. Once she had made her promises, he’d given very specific details about the sale, including the timeframe, which had occurred only days after a Loop accountant had been shot dead in a robbery gone wrong.
That statement burned a hole in her pocket as she crossed the intersection.
If only it had been my case to begin with.
She needed several more weeks to track down the real killer—a gangbanger unrelated to the victim, if she had to guess—but she didn’t have it, and Maroney was refusing to ask for a continuance to buy her more time.
“Fuck,” she muttered.
She believed Maroney’s threats. The woman didn’t give a shit whether Fervola was guilty or not. She just wanted the conviction.
The real question was whether she believed Maroney had the stones to air unsubstantiated suspicions about her. It could be bad for Berg, but it could also backfire on Maroney.
Berg hadn’t killed Feeny or Young. There was zero evidence that she had helped Young in her decision to commit suicide—only speculation. There had only been the two of them in Young’s isolation cell, and the murderer was alive when Berg had left. A fact witnessed by the guard who had let her out.
The only loose end in the Feeny case was the gangbanger, Rivera, who had no doubt ordered the hit on Feeny after Berg had given him the asshole’s alias and location. She very much doubted Rivera would give the ASA anything at all. He hadn’t so far. The gangbangers had an honor code not to talk to cops. The only reason he had given up Feeny to Berg in the first place was because Berg had provided the information he needed to get the revenge he felt he was owed.
Rivera was serving life for multiple murders beyond that of Feeny’s wife and mistress since the revocation of the death penalty in Illinois. There was no deal he could be offered to roll over on Berg, and no way he would take it if there were—his own gang would kill him if he did.
As for her adoptive father’s death—the crime was more than fifteen years ago. How much evidence could Maroney have? It had taken place before the days of surveillance cameras on every corner. There had been no autopsy before the bastard had been cremated against her mother’s wishes thanks to Berg’s talents and her mother’s credit card.
The only mistake she had made was fucking the funeral home attendant. If she’d just left him alone, her father’s cremation would have faded into his distant memory. But she had been eyeball deep into her sex addiction then and had made many bad decisions. He was just one of them. But even then, there was no way he could offer Maroney anything by way of evidence.
Berg pulled into the parking lot under the State’s Attorney’s Office. Grabbing the signed statement and the library log-ins, she took the elevator to Maroney’s floor. Before she walked into the woman’s office, she discreetly turned on her cell’s recording app and placed it into the breast pocket of her skirt suit.
Berg didn’t knock but simply strode in, and a look of irritation crossed Maroney’s face as she hung up her desk phone.
“What do you want?” she asked, looking at her computer. “I’m busy.”
“We need to talk,” Berg said grimly.
Maroney looked up and smirked. “Sounds serious. Are you breaking up with me?”
Berg placed the statement and the library copies on Maroney’s desk.
The woman barely gave them a glance before she asked, “What’s this?”
“It’s a sworn statement from the guy who sold Fervola the gun saying your murder suspect purchased the gun after the murder was committed. Here.” She pointed to the pile of papers. “Those are copies of library log-in details showing that Fervola and his alibi were where they said they were at the time of the crime.”
“You found the gun seller? Impressive. You’ve gone above and beyond, detective,” Maroney said, folding her arms.
“It’s enough to cast all kinds of reasonable doubt on your prosecution of Fervola. If you don’t drop the charges, his defense attorney will get copies of these. I cannot allow an innocent man to go to prison, no matter what you might do to me.”
Maroney glared at her.
“This is still good for your career,” Berg insisted. “It looks like you went out of your way to ensure an innocent man wasn’t prosecuted.”
“I did go out of my way,” Maroney said with a smirk. “Of course nobody in the State’s Attorney’s Office wants an innocent man to go to prison.”
Berg frowned. “Then why did you try to blackmail me into fabricating evidence so you could get a conviction?”
Maroney put her hands up as though she were being held at gunpoint. “Hey! Who said that? Certainly not me. I would never advocate such a dishonest, not to mention criminal, act. We are all aboveboard here, and proud to be so.” A smile played on the corners of her mouth.
The bitch knows.
“Then why am I working on your cases?” Berg said through gritted teeth.
“You’ve got me, detective. I don’t know. I appreciate that you’ve taken a special interest in my cases, but honestly, doesn’t your boyfriend give you enough to do? You’ve been acting very strangely lately, and I know you’re the subject of much rumor and innuendo. You can’t solve all the crimes in Chicago by yourself. You really should take a break, or you’re headed for a burnout. I’m very concerned for your mental health. You have seemed very erratic since you lost Jay’s baby.”
Berg stood abruptly. “You don’t need to worry. My special interest in your cases is now over. Enjoy investigating them yourself. I trust these documents will find their way into the right hands?”
“Of course. You don’t even have to ask,” Maroney said with a chilling smile that didn’t match the friendliness of her tone.
Berg turned to leave.
“Oh, and detective?” Maroney called.
Berg stopped but refused to turn around.
“I’ve come across some troubling information about you personally. As an ASA, you understand that I cannot sit on it, despite our very cordial personal relationship? I do hope there are no hard feelings.”
Berg whirled around, stomped toward the desk, and placed her fists in the middle of it, leaning right into Maroney’s face. “And you understand that you better have solid evidence proving this ‘troubling information’—not just speculation or gossip—or I’ll sue you for slander?”
Maroney cocked her head to the side. “Naturally.”
***
“So where do you want to eat tonight?” Berg asked Jay as he packed up his desk for the day. “Chinese? Italian? We could go to our place and grab some yum cha. Relive our first kiss in the corridor?”
“Finally given up on the cooking, huh?” Jay said with a smile, closing some files and putting them away.
Berg smirked. “I’m recognizing my own limitations. So wha—”
Carla barged into the office without knocking.
Berg knew the instant look of annoyance on Jay’s face matched her own.
“What is it, Carla? It’s late, and I was about to leave,” Jay snapped.
“I’m sorry, Jay, but I have come across some information I think you need to hear.” She flashed a glance at Berg. “Do you want to be the one to tell him, or shall I?”
Berg glared at the woman. “Be careful, Carla.”
She had been greatly relieved when she’d heard Maroney had been forced to drop the charges against Fervola. Clearly, she was now on the warpath.
The blonde crossed her arms. “Tell him why it is you really didn’t want in on the FBI’s David Alexander task force. I assume you turned down the opportunity? I mean, you could hardly take the spot given who you are.”
Jay’s head snapped up.
Fuck.
Berg’s heart sank. She had been so sure calling Maroney’s bluff was the right move. She couldn’t possibly have evidence to back up her suspicions.
Wrong again.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Carla?” Jay asked, folding his arms. “The reasons Berg didn’t wan
t in on the task force are none of your concern. The reasons she gave me are valid and her own, and an alternate detective has been appointed. This is none of your business. Please le—”
“Tell him your last name, Alicia.” Carla looked at Berg, mock pity etched on her pretty features as her mouth formed the usual smirk.
Jay raised his eyebrows. “What the fuck? I know her last name. It’s Raymond.”
“Not her adopted name. Her real last name.”
Berg looked at Jay. “Jay, I—”
“Tell him, or I will!” Carla yelled.
Jay looked at Berg, confusion written all over his face. “Berg? What’s going on?” He looked at Maroney. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Maroney smiled widely at Berg. “Last chance. Don’t make me show him your birth certificate.”
Berg practically collapsed into the hard wooden chair beside her and bowed her head into her hands. “Alexander,” she whispered.
Jay took a step toward her. “What did you say?”
Berg looked at him. “My last name, before I was adopted. If my mother had kept my biological father’s last name, it would have been . . . Alexander.”
Jay sat down in his chair with a thump.
Maroney had the gall to smile in triumph and jiggled up and down as though she was about to break into dance. “Yep! Your detective, and soon-to-be wife, is the daughter of one of Michigan’s biggest crime lords. Mazel tov, Jay.”
“Is this true?” Jay asked Berg, his face bleak. “Are you really David Alexander’s daughter?”
“Jay, listen to me . . . she’s been blackmailing me. She claimed to have all kinds of information about the deaths of my adoptive father, Feeny, and Young. I didn’t even know she knew about Alexander! That’s why I’ve been so busy. I’ve been investigating her cases, finding the evidence she needs to ensure a conviction. The reason she’s telling you this is because I refused to help her put an innocent man away for something he didn’t do.” She reached her hands out to Jay, before dropping them.
“I hope you have proof of that allegation, Alicia. I’d hate to have to sue you for slander,” Maroney said with a sneer.
