Broken (38 page)

“Berg! Did you even hear what I fucking said?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And, don’t worry. It’ll all work out in the end.”

Berg had just left the office headed to her car, and Arena sat seething on the opposite side of the street, staring at her through his closed, tinted window.

Bitch! How dare she break up with me?

He had been prepared to give her everything—his heart, his body . . . he had even been prepared to be the father of her bastard child. That’s how much he loved her. And she threw him away like garbage?

Fuck me if she’s getting away with it.

His cell rang and he groaned with annoyance. “Yeah?” He ran his hands through his hair. “I’m doing it now! Dumb move coming to the office, by the way. They’ll be on their guards now.”

As much as he hated this, she had to get what was coming to her. That was his focus now—it wasn’t even about his own career anymore.

Funny, hate makes for strange bedfellows
.

“Look, I got you the statement from the judge, and I’m following her right now. Have a bit of patience, Consiglio! I know this woman. Sooner or later, she’ll fuck up. It’s only a matter of time.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

You’re gonna catch a cold,

from the ice inside your soul.

–Christina Perri, “Jar of Hearts”

B
erg knocked on the door again and listened closely for the sound of movement.

“I have nothing to say to you,” Marilyn said, already pushing the door shut as quickly as it had swung open.

“I know,” Berg replied, putting her hand out to stop the door from slamming in her face. “And I don’t blame you. Just please, accept this gift for Emma as a way for me to say I’m sorry?” She held out a big, colorfully wrapped box tied with a huge pink bow.

Marilyn turned at the sound of a baby crying behind her. “Fine,” she said. “Come in. I have to check on Emma.”

Berg shut the door behind her and quickly followed the woman to the tiny room obviously functioning as baby Emma’s bedroom.

The Brighton Park house was small and dingy, even more depressing than the old family home Emma’s mother had been attacked in. The lack of windows and ventilation had the summer heat lingering in the space like pea soup, and it didn’t hold a candle to the beautiful, gleaming home that Elizabeth had bought—with her parents’ reward money, no less.

The baby squawked loudly in her battered crib, her little lungs working overtime.

Marilyn rushed to pick her up. “She’s hungry.”

Berg felt her heart tug at the sight of the little girl but quickly pushed the brimming tears away. “Got a good set of lungs on her. You must be happy . . . now that she’s home with you.”

Marilyn picked up the baby and fussed, straightening her simple white vest and checking her cloth diaper. “Yes, it’s lovely to finally be out of the hospital.”

Berg fidgeted in the long, uncomfortable silence before clearing her throat. “Anyway . . . like I said, I got you a gift as a welcome home present for Emma.”

“Thank you, that’s very thoughtful. Why don’t you pop it over there, and we’ll look at it later. I have to heat up a bottle—”

“Let me open it for you. Emma will love it,” Berg said as she tore open the wrapping she had meticulously done herself and pulled out a plush pink teddy bear from the big brown box. She held it up to little Emma, who was immediately entranced.

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” Marilyn smiled slightly as a hint of red tinged her cheeks. “We can’t get her much . . .” She either couldn’t, or didn’t want to, finish the statement.

“I know,” Berg said. “But I’m sure there’s money coming in soon, when Lizzy sells Emma’s story, right?”

Marilyn pursed her lips. “Lizzy said there wasn’t much left over after she paid lawyers’ fees, taxes, and her agent, but she has offered to extend us a loan so we can get by.”

It was nearly more than Berg could bear.

A loan? To her own parents? Does her selfishness know no bounds? Scratch that. It isn’t selfishness, it’s punishment.

Berg cleared her throat again, keeping her opinions to herself. “Why don’t I put the teddy up here for now?” she said, carefully placing the pink teddy bear on a shelf overlooking the crib. “She’ll be able to play with it when she gets bigger.”

“Thank you,” Marilyn said as she took the three steps required to go from baby’s room to the kitchen. The place was tiny with rooms crammed together like cabins on a budget cruise ship.

Berg followed her and spied the burnt vinyl couch that had been damaged in Emma’s attack. What was left of her heart broke.

“I’m sure you’ll get settled in here soon. In the meantime, I bet Elizabeth wouldn’t mind if you visited her. That big, brand new house. All that space. She was really lucky coming in to all that money when she did . . .”

“Yes. Well, if you’ll excuse us,” Marilyn said. “It’s lunch time.”

“Of course. I’ll see myself out.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Time to go down in flames,

and I’m taking you closer to the edge.

–30 Seconds To Mars, “Closer to the Edge”

“I
t’s happened again,” Arena said, barging up to Berg’s desk. It was the most he had spoken to her in two weeks.

“What?’ Berg said, looking up from her desk. She had been trying to concentrate on a report for one of the ASAs—not Carla—but she was so exhausted she had double vision.

“Emma Young stopped breathing last night. Fortunately, they have a crib alarm, which went off. She’s okay.”

“Was Elizabeth there?” Berg asked.

“Marilyn Young wouldn’t say,” Arena said. “But I’d bet my pension on it.”

Berg nodded. “And now we can know for sure.” She opened her browser and typed the web address she’d come to know by heart.

“What do you mean?” he said as he watched what was obviously footage from a webcam flash up onto the screen. “Is that . . .”

They watched as Marilyn Young carried little Emma into the bedroom of the tiny home and carefully placed the sleeping baby into her crib. After getting her settled, Marilyn reached down the side of the crib and appeared to press a button.

“Breathing monitor,” Berg muttered.

Marilyn walked out of the room and flicked off the light. The camera immediately switched to night vision, and they watched little Emma sleep peacefully.

“What did you do?” Arena asked Berg.

“Nanny cam,” she answered. “In a teddy bear I gave Emma. Not illegal.” She clicked the mouse and the footage started backing up.

“Not illegal for civilians maybe, but I’m pretty sure it’s illegal for us to use them to secretly carry out surveillance on a suspect. Besides, anything you get with this will never be admissible in court in a million years. What were you thinking?” Arena asked.

“It may not be admissible, but I’m fairly certain that if I show Elizabeth’s parents this footage of Elizabeth trying to murder their helpless grandchild, they won’t be so keen to protect her anymore.” Berg hit stop then play.

They watched as the time stamp began ticking off seconds again, the time indicating the footage had been taken late the previous afternoon. The room was empty. Nothing but the sunlight feeding through the windows and changing the length of the shadows cast on the walls and floor.

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”

A
rena 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.