Broken (28 page)

The more she thought about it, the angrier she got.

Do what you know you have to do
, Leigh whispered as Berg pulled up to the prison.

As much as she hated to admit it, she was with Leigh on this one.

You’re broken and you know it . . . use it.

The prison guards buzzed her though, and after a shockingly long walk, led her to one of the private interview rooms in the maximum security section of the Cook County sheriff-run prison, Division One.

She looked around as she waited. The bare room only contained a table and two chairs, both of which were welded to the floor. The upper right hand corner of the room held a small video camera. She hadn’t asked for it to be turned on, but she unplugged it just to be sure. It was a private room where inmates consulted with their lawyers, so recording was not mandatory, and no one would notice.

Soon enough, a lone guard led a medium-height Hispanic man with a shaved head and a thick black mustache into the room. He was shackled at wrists and ankles, with thick chains linking the restraints together.

The guard pushed him into the chair and carefully locked his chains into a metal loop embedded into the floor, yanking them a few times to ensure they were secure. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’ll be right outside.” The guard nodded at Berg. “Call if you need me.”

Berg handed him a twenty. “Actually, could you get me a coffee?” Berg smiled. “Get yourself one, too.”

“Detective?” The guard clearly thought she was nuts wanting to spend even a moment alone with a man who had cold-bloodedly murdered two innocent women for profit, among others.

“We’ll be fine. Black, thank you,” Berg said. “And bring a legal pad and a pen back, would you, please?”

The guard shrugged and shut the door behind him.

Berg listened as his footsteps retreated.

“What’s the pen and paper for? I’m not telling you a goddamned thing.”

“Your statement,” Berg said, not intimidated by the hatred and violence rolling off the banger in waves. “Details about who hired you to murder Lauren Wesley and Elena Feeny.”

“Well, I’m glad you’ve got coffee coming, because you’re gonna be waitin’ a while,” he said as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Don’t want you gettin’ dehydrated.”

“Funny,” Berg said and stared at the man, noting the plethora of tattoos he had all over the parts of his body not covered by bright orange short-sleeved coveralls, including his scalp. The tally included the black pitchfork identifying him as a Devil’s Hand member.

“Like I told the blond cunt before you, I don’t talk to no cops. If I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die with honor. To the code. And you got nothing I want anyway. I’m not afraid to die,” he said.

“I do have something you want, actually,” Berg replied. “Something you want very badly.”

The banger leered at Berg. “You’re a good-looking bitch, for a cop, but I’ve got me a woman. I don’t need to fuck yo’ skinny ass.”

“Cut the shit, I don’t have time for it,” Berg said, keen to get the conversation moving before the guard came back. “You know what I can give you, and it’s got nothing to do with sex.”

The man glanced up at the video camera, noticing it was unhooked. “You do that?” he asked, interested.

“Yes.” Berg actually saw the light go on behind his eyes.

“You on the level? You’ll give me what I want?” He leaned forward.

Berg stopped herself from smiling in triumph. “Yes.”

“You’re a cop. Don’t this go against everything you stand for?”

“I stand for justice,” Berg said firmly. “That’s
my
code.”

He looked at her and smiled cruelly, nodding. “Well, whaddaya know? You’re my kind of woman after all. Maybe we could rethink that body thing?”

“Hell no. Take it or leave it.”

“What do I gotta do?”

“In a moment, the guard will come back in here. You’ll tell me, with him as a witness, who hired you to kill those two women, how he contacted you, how he paid you, and where the money is now. You’ll be amazingly forthcoming with information, and give us anything that will ensure we nail this fucker. I’ll write out the statement, you’ll sign it, I’ll sign it, and the guard will sign it. You’ll testify in court that the statement is true and accurate and given of your own free will. We’re done.”

“And if I do all that?”

“I’ll give you want you want.”

“When? How do I know I can trust you?”

“Like you said, I’m your kind of woman.”

The banger licked his lips and slowly nodded.

Berg held up one finger. “But I do have one condition.”

“What?”

“Call your men off his children. You’ve got no problem with them,” she said.

He shook his head. “That goes against our code—he spoke to the cops, they have to die.”

“Take it or leave it. It’s the only way to get what you want.”

The banger stared at her. “I don’t like conditions.”

Berg shrugged, as if she didn’t care one way or the other. She didn’t react as he sat, silent and still, watching her. She had the upper hand, and she knew it.

Eventually, he spoke. “Fine, I’ll give the order today. When do I get it?”

“It comes in two parts. You’ll get one part when we’ve concluded our business here today, as a gesture of goodwill. You’ll get the other part when you testify, and I confirm the hit on his children has been removed.”

“You better not be lying to me, or your life is over,” he said, staring at her with dead eyes. “Don’t think being a cop will protect you. If you cross me, my boys will find you, your family, anyone you’ve ever met.”

She resisted telling him that she had no family or friends. That she valued her own life less than her dog’s. Being a woman with nothing to lose sometimes came in handy.

“I’m not lying. Like I said, we’re not that different.”

And isn’t that just sad
.

Maybe she wouldn’t uphold her end after all. Maybe she’d place a big red target on her back and save herself the trouble of pulling off what she’d failed to do since she was a teenager.

No you won’t. You want justice
, Leigh’s reasoning rang in her head.

The banger stared at her carefully then nodded once, indicating they had an uneasy alliance.

Berg heard the guard making his way down the shiny linoleum hallway, his shoes squeaking on the hard surface.

He swung open the door slowly and poked his head in, as if dreading what condition he’d find Berg in.

“Great timing,” Berg said, grabbing her black coffee. “Mr. Rivera here has decided to clear his conscience, and we need a witness.”

Berg wandered into Jay’s office without knocking and slapped three sheets of copy paper down on his desk.

“What’s this?” Jay asked, obviously still pissed.

“A full, signed statement detailing how Feeny hired Rivera and his men to take out Lauren and his wife, including dates of conversations, cell phone numbers, cash payment amounts, exchange locations—some of which are sure to involve traffic cams, ATM cameras, and security footage. We’re about to go and check it all out. It even includes directions to a safety deposit box where we will find the cash and a handy recording of Feeny ordering the hits. Rivera got a little insurance for himself to keep Feeny in line. He’s no dummy—a cold-blooded killer, sure, but not an idiot. He’s going to testify to all of it at the hearing. Feeny’s toast.”

“How did you get this?” he asked her, folding his arms and frowning.

“Rivera’s a religious man at heart. He wanted to die with a clear conscience, apparently,” Berg said.

Jay looked suspicious. “With the number of appeals that guy will get? His sentence won’t be carried out for another ten years, if at all! It looks like the death penalty will be outlawed in Illinois next year. His lawyer’s got to know that. You’re good, Berg, but not that good,” he said quietly.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she said. “Oh, and fuck you.”

“You know what I mean.”

Berg shrugged, took a bottle out of her pocket, and placed it on Jay’s desk next to the statement.

“Hot sauce?”

“For your girlfriend. I though it’d make the paper her law degree’s printed on more appetizing. Feel free to pass it on with my compliments.” She walked out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

“Is it true? You got it?” Arena asked as she got back to their desks.

“I got it.”

“Up top!” Arena said, hand extended and waiting for a high five.

Berg left him hanging. “Aren’t you going to ask me how I got it?”

“I don’t give a fuck how you got it, you saved our asses! I couldn’t care less if you took Maroney’s suggestion and fucked him on the Supreme Court Bench, and they all joined in. You’re fucking awesome!”

Berg actually smiled a little. She appreciated that he didn’t ask—maybe he had some redeeming qualities after all. She reached up and slapped his high five.

“Come on, we’ve got surveillance footage to check. Hopefully, Feeny’s on tape at a meet somewhere. The asshole’s not getting away this time,” she said.

Chapter Twenty-Four

When I’m counting up my demons,

saw there was one for every day.

–Coldplay, “Everything’s Not Lost”

T
he high-speed elevator dinged loudly and Berg and Arena stepped out onto the fifty-second floor of ‘Big John.’

The black glazed John Hancock Center opened in 1969, was located in The Loop, adorned with huge twin antennae at its peak, and considered to be premier office space.

The spotless glass office doors slid open silently, and the detectives walked up to the huge reception desk of Edwin, Smythe, and Bakker—the law firm where Elizabeth Young had been a paralegal for the previous two years.

Flashing their badges, they asked to see Elizabeth Young.

The receptionist nodded, punched some numbers on the phone’s keypad, and directed them to sit in the plush waiting area.

They walked over to the huge floor-to-ceiling glass windows that dominated the space, drinking in the view of Lake Michigan and the afternoon sun dancing off the surrounding office buildings.

“So do we have a game plan here?” Arena asked softly as they both stared at the stunning view.

“This will have to be a voluntary interview, so let’s just hope she says something that gives us cause to arrest her,” Berg replied.

“And why would she do that, if she’s as smart as you say?”

“She doesn’t know we are coming, and she doesn’t know we’re on to her. Plus, two detectives have shown up at her workplace. Hopefully, all that will put her off her game.” Berg covered her mouth and quickly swallowed down the sudden nausea.

“You okay? You look gray.”

“I stupidly got a deep dish pie from a new place, and I’ve been paying for it ever since.”

“Bummer,” Arena said and ran his hands through his hair. “There’s no guarantee she’ll speak to us at all, though.”

“She will.”

Arena sighed. “And why is that?”

“Because she thinks she’s smarter than us. It will amuse her to think she’s running rings around us. There’s nothing a sociopath likes more than a good game of cat and mouse. Trust me.”

“You don’t leave me any choice, do you?” Arena whispered, folding his arms.

“Detectives!” Elizabeth seemed delighted to see them. “Come in,” she said, waving them into her glass-walled office. She swung the door proclaiming her
Lead Paralegal
in neat charcoal lettering shut silently after them. “Take a seat,” she said, gesturing to the comfortable, fabric-covered chairs in front of her large marble-topped desk. “Is there something new regarding my sister’s case?”

“Nice office,” Arena commented as she sat in her leather office chair. “You’ve done really well for yourself.”

“Thank you,” she said, the wide view of the lake shimmering like a living watercolor behind her. “But I won’t be a simple paralegal for long. The senior partner is paying for me to attend Harvard Law next year.”