Broken (7 page)

Arena nodded.

“Do you actually play?”

“Of course. I’m good, too. Got a six handicap. It’s just, you know, it doesn’t really get the blood pumping. You want to play a round sometime?” he asked.

“No, I was actually thinking Feeny’s club might yield some new leads.”

“Ah. You want me to play a few rounds at the Cook County Golf Club and nose around a bit.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s a private club—you have to be invited by a member,” Arena replied, frowning.

“It’s full of desperate, rich, middle-aged housewives with philandering husbands. I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” Berg said. “Or are you not the lothario you claim to be? Plus, I guarantee those nosy women will know something about who Feeny’s fucking.”

Arena nodded. “Okay, Feeny’s headed to O’Hare in the morning for a flight to New York, so I’ll head to the course at the same time. What are you going to do?”

“I’ll do more research into Feeny’s business affairs. Later on I’ll go see the Youngs again. I’ve also been handing around the Metra surveillance shot of the suspect to other precincts and a few CIs, hoping to get a hit. I’ll keep at it.”

“We may have to release the shot to the media,” Arena said.

“Yeah.” Berg stood, scooping up her phone and notepad. “If I get no new leads, we’ll make that call tomorrow. Let’s go see Emma Young’s boss.”

Putting off going home until the very last second, Berg found herself driving to Chinatown in search of dinner. She wasn’t sure if it was the great food that drew her or the memory of their passionate encounter in the bathroom hallway the last time she and Jay were there, but soon enough, she was seated alone at the familiar Chinese restaurant.

Unlike last time, she wasn’t too late for the special, and within thirty seconds of being seated, she had grabbed some Chinese broccoli with oyster sauce as it was wheeled past.

Jay’s right,
the dim sum is good here.

She resisted the urge to revisit the long corridor to the bathrooms, the corridor where she and Jay had groped at each other frantically. He had called her amazing that night as he’d cupped her face and kissed her . . .

Her body reacted to the memory and she flushed.

Until she had seen him at the deli with the blonde, everything had seemed so alive with possibility—her work and her life. He had said he loved her. No one had ever said that to her before, not in that way.

Her recovery had felt like it meant something. She had a goal and she was working toward it, for the both of them. Now she wasn’t sure what she was recovering for or if she even wanted to. She had gone so far as to cancel her evening session with Dr. Thompson, claiming work commitments. The fact was she just couldn’t face it. It was too tiring, too hard.

Some people just can’t be fixed.

She chuckled at the irony
,
remembering when she had likened herself to Jay’s old DVD player the night he and his ex-girlfriend, Cindy, had stumbled across her secret at an underground swingers club . . .

“Did I tell you, or what?”

Berg was jolted out of her daydream and snapped her head up at the sound of the familiar voice. She found Jay smiling back at her so wide it crinkled the edges of his blue eyes. He was staring so intensely at her, she’d forgotten the question. “W-what?” she asked, flustered.

“The dim sum here—awesome or what?”

Berg smiled. “Yeah, it’s pretty good, I must admit.”

Jay sat down opposite her, reaching for her hands. “So what brings you to Chinatown this freezing evening?”

I don’t want to go home. And your hands feel so warm . . .

“I wanted something quick and easy for dinner. I might go back to the office now I’m done. You?”

“I was feeling chained to my desk. I had to escape.”

“I’m about to go, if you’re not . . .
alone
.”

Jay frowned. “Of course I’m alone. Any leads on your cases?”

Berg was quite relieved he asked about work; it was a comfortable topic. “Very little. We interviewed Emma Young’s boss today. He was sad but not suspicious. He seemed genuinely disappointed that he had lost a good worker. He was going to pay for her training in graphic design. Apparently Emma had a talent for it. And the storage facility we hoped would have good video of the assailant? It didn’t.

“Arena’s heading semi-undercover tomorrow to play a round or two to see if he can’t drill a bit deeper on the Feeny case, and I’m considering releasing the image of the Young suspect to the media. That’s it. You’re all caught up on the headline cases.”

“That all sounds good. Just run with whatever you think is right. So . . . how’s working with Arena?” he asked.

“Oh, you know . . . he’s a Neanderthal,” Berg said with a straight face.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Jay laughed. “He’s young. I’m sure he’ll settle down. Eventually.”

“Explain it to me again . . . how do I always get stuck with the oversexed partners?” Berg tried to scowl at Jay then, unable to maintain it any longer, grinned.

Jay laughed. “Dunno, must be your karma. I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t handle. You managed all right with me . . .” He brushed a finger down her face before hooking a lone tendril of hair behind her ear. He cupped her face. “I miss you,” he said softly.

“You see me every day.” Berg looked away and leaned into his palm slightly.

“It’s not the same and you know it.”

Berg smiled but refused to give in any further. They were heading into dangerous territory—territory she was too raw to get into. If Jay asked her back to his place, she’d go—even having his lack of long-term interest and need to sleep with ever-younger and more beautiful women dangled in front her, she wouldn’t be able to say no to him. She didn’t even want to.

Jay looked concerned at her sudden silence and grasped her hands firmly. “Are you . . . okay?” he asked. The implication was clear—he wasn’t just asking about her immediate mood.

“I’m totally fine, just tired is all,” Berg replied.

You can’t put off going to sleep forever . . .

“You sure that’s it? I detected some . . . weirdness . . . in my office yesterday?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Jay caught Berg’s gaze and held it as his face moved closer and his hands grabbed her shoulders, holding her steady.

Their lips touched.

A cell beeped.

Jay sighed, released Berg, and dragged his cell out of his pocket. “Fuck. So much for dinner.”

“It’s fine, you go,” Berg said as she motioned to a waiter that she wanted the check.

“I can stay for a few more minutes. It’s not that important,” Jay replied, grabbing an uneaten dumpling off Berg’s plate and stuffing the whole thing in his mouth, before choking on the hot sauce. He sniffled and looked around for water, grabbing for her glass at the edge of the table.

“No, go. You don’t need to stay . . . I totally understand.”

The waiter brought over the check in a maroon, faux-leather folder.

She grabbed it and rammed a twenty in it without checking the amount. “Have a good night,” she said, sliding on her coat and walking to the exit before Jay had recovered enough to argue.

She never saw the confusion written on Jay’s face. She never saw his shoulders slump, or heard the resigned sigh as he pulled his cell out and hit redial.

Berg knocked on the heavy wooden door, a door identical to hers in every way except for the fake silver number nailed on the front: 5B. She waited as the occupant checked the peephole and threw back the multitude of locks.

“Hi, Alicia! Busy day?” her neighbor asked cheerfully.

“Hi, Vi. Yes, another busy one, sorry. Was Jess okay?”

“He was fine. We went out a few times. That silly ball of fur has become the most important part of my day,” Berg’s elderly neighbor said with a smile.

“Yeah, he gets under your skin. He did have the option to run with me this morning before five, but he snubbed me totally.”

“Can’t say I blame him—it was below freezing last night. I took him out a few hours ago, so you might want to take him out to do his business again before bed.”

“Thanks, will do.”

Berg’s smile faded as she entered her own apartment. The sudden silence was oppressive and she felt a trickle of fear creep across her scalp and ooze down her spine.

Shaking it off, she ruffled Jesse’s head as she adjusted the thermostat. It was a little chilly, most likely because of Jesse’s almost man-sized doggy door, which led out to her tiny balcony and offered a scintillating view of the apartments next door. Even with shared doggy custody, Jesse still needed a place to pee in an emergency.

Two hours later, she had taken the dog out, set a fire, cleaned the apartment, ironed her clothes, and sorted her linen closet meticulously.

She couldn’t put it off any longer.

Wearing her warm, fluffy robe and nothing else, she wandered into the bedroom where an exhausted Jesse was already asleep. She stared at the bed for a moment, feeling nothing but dread and nauseating fear.

Maybe a change of scenery
.

She grabbed her pillow and a cream, woolen blanket from the closet, carried them out to the living room, and threw them on the couch. Turning off the lights, she returned to the couch and snuggled down, watching the dying embers of her warming fire flicker in the small fireplace.

No sooner had she closed her eyes than she saw his face.

“I love you so much, Alicia,”
her father whispered.

Berg’s eyes flew open again. She tried desperately to stay awake, staring at the fire without blinking, but she had gone forty-eight hours on only a few hours of sleep and her eyelids were leaden. Her lids slowly closed again and her body relaxed as she drifted off into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

You’re broken and you know it.

The voice started her awake and she sat bolt upright, sure that someone was in the apartment. Her heart pounding, she searched the darkness with a probing gaze, wishing she had taken her personal revolver from the bedside table where it usually resided.

She realized in dismay that she was alone.

Instead of calming at the thought, her heart rate accelerated and her fingers and toes tingled with primal fear.

The prospect of being alone was even more terrifying than an intruder; it meant the voice was back. And it was different.

Cold sweat broke out on her upper lip.

This time, it wasn’t her mother’s familiar leering.

No. This time, the voice was Leigh’s.

You’re broken and you know it.

Chapter Six

I loved you with a fire red.

Now it’s turning blue, and you say,

sorry like the angel heaven let me think was you.

But I’m afraid,

it’s too late to apologize.

–One Republic, “Apologize”

“P
ay dirt,” Arena said excitedly as he slid into his seat late the next afternoon.