by Vanessa Skye
Chapter Sixteen
I’ve been roaming around, always looking down at all I see.
Painted faces fill the places I can’t reach.
You know that I could use somebody.
–Kings of Leon, “Use Somebody”
Jay stared at Berg and Arena, his arms crossed and eyebrows raised.
It was a few days after her horrific session with the judge, and Berg was finally able to sit on the hard wooden chair in front of the desk without wincing.
“Let me get this straight,” Jay repeated. “You want me to try and get Feeny back in here so you can apologize?”
Berg and Arena nodded.
“We thought if we apologized, he might drop the harassment lawsuit and become a little more cooperative,” Berg said.
Jay clearly smelled bullshit. “So you admit you went more than a little too far?”
Berg inclined her head slightly. “I should have kept my cool. If you can convince Feeny to come back in here, I’ll be happy to tell him that.”
Arms still folded, Jay walked away a few paces. “Okay.” He turned back to face them. “I’ll see what I can do. But he’s pretty pissed off. I’d be surprised if he voluntarily comes back in here again.”
Berg didn’t doubt it for a second, however. Feeny would love to watch her eat crow. It’d be just the kind of thing a power-hungry coward like him lived for. She kept that to herself, of course, and simply nodded instead.
“But, detectives,” Jay called out as the pair began to leave his office, “you better not be planning to ambush or badger him again, or there will be suspensions in your future.”
“This better work,” Arena whispered as they sat back down at their desks. “O’Loughlin’s just dying to take my badge!”
“Well stop giving him reasons to.” Berg scowled at Arena while worry gnawed at her gut.
“I can’t do it,” Arena muttered into the phone. He held the cell away from his ear while a barrage of abuse came from the other end. “Because I just can’t, that’s why!” He listened for a moment. “No, I don’t think that’s the case. I-I-I’ve gotten to know her a—” He held the phone away from his ear again. “Shut up and listen! She does a good job. If anything, she cares about her cases too much! You’ll have to find another way. I can’t do it, sorry.” He hung up without waiting for a response.
Berg had been right about Feeny—he pledged to visit the station that very afternoon.
“Wow. The guy couldn’t wait to clear his schedule. I admit, I thought this was a long shot at best,” Arena commented as they walked to Jay’s office where Feeny and his lawyer were waiting.
“The man’s a bully and a coward. Any opportunity to make himself look big by making someone else look small, he’ll take it.” Berg smiled as they walked into the office.
“What are you so happy about?” Feeny asked as they walked in and closed the door behind them. “You have some ass to kiss, according to your captain here.” His lip was curled into a sneer. “Pity we have to be clothed for this.”
Jay bristled next to Feeny but kept silent.
“So go on.” Feeny leaned back and crossed his arms, every inch of him covered in smug contempt. “I’m waiting.”
She almost choked on the words but cleared her throat and even managed to sound polite in the process. “I apologize, sir.”
Feeny smiled and placed his hands on his hips. “For what?”
Berg pushed aside the overwhelming instinct to punch Feeny right in his arrogant face and sucked it up. “For being disrespectful when you voluntarily presented yourself for an interview and tried to cooperate. I was out of line and I apologize.”
Feeny examined his perfect manicure and sniffed. “She doesn’t sound very sincere to me,” he said to Jay. “Maybe you could motivate her to try again?”
Jay clenched his jaw before taking a deep, calming breath. “Sir, Detective Raymond has apologized, and I assure you, she was sincere. I would also like to apologize on behalf of the entire department. I hope we can put this whole incident behind us, and perhaps drop the harassment case.” Jay looked as revolted by his apology as Berg felt about hers.
Feeny stopped examining his nails long enough to appraise Berg. “She’s got quite the temper. How do you control her?” he asked Jay.
“Okay!” Jay clapped his hands together. “This meeting is ov—”
“Bet she’s a spitfire in the sack, though, am I right?”
Berg watched as Jay’s nostrils flared with another slow, deep inhale, and he shoved his hands into his pockets to stop himself from clenching his fists. There was no way he was going to give Feeny the reaction he was clearly pushing for. “As I was saying, this meeting is over. Did you have anything you wanted to add, Detective Raymond?”
Yes, a thousand things—most of them four letters.
Berg cleared her throat once more and forced a smile. “I just wish to reiterate my apology and say I was way off base. Our subsequent investigation has revealed another suspect entirely in the death of Lauren Wesley.”
Jay looked at Berg and raised an eyebrow.
Feeny’s curiosity was definitely piqued, although he tried to hide it. “A suspect?”
“Yes. It seems one of the city’s more notorious gangs, a group called Devil’s Hand, carried out Lauren’s murder, and your wife’s murder is unrelated. We’re not sure why Lauren became a target, but it’s only a matter of time before we find out. We’re expecting a dead body to show up at any time. Nobody gets involved with these guys and lives to tell about it.”
Feeny swallowed audibly. “Oh?”
“We’re thinking someone at the golf club, maybe a disgruntled wannabe member, hired these Devil’s Hand psychos to take out Lauren. Lauren was in charge of memberships and renewals, yes?”
Feeny nodded slightly.
“Prestigious club, long waiting list . . . I’m sure we’ll find motive. But these Devil’s Hand guys, they’re pretty paranoid. Once the job is done and the money is paid, there’s nothing to stop these gang members from offing the only remaining witness to the crime—the person who hired them. They are chronically suspicious of anyone not in the gang, and if they even suspect someone is informing on them to the cops . . . what do they call it again, Detective Arena?” Berg asked.
Jay rubbed his temples and shot Berg a clear look of warning, which she ignored.
“It’s called a shoot on sight, Detective Raymond,” Arena answered. “It goes for the informant and their family—no exceptions.”
“That’s it, ‘shoot on sight.’ Like I said, you’d have to be nuts to get involved with these guys. That or suicidal.” She scoffed and shook her head before sighing and shrugging it off. “Anyway, thank you for coming all the way down here prepared to listen to our apology.”
Feeny, looking pale, just nodded.
“Okay,” Jay said, “I’ll walk Mr. Feeny and his lawyer out—”
“No.” Berg stood ramrod straight. “Let me do it. It’s the least I can do.”
She and Arena guided Feeny and his lawyer out of Jay’s office, feeling the latter’s eyes on her back the entire way.
Feeny was uncharacteristically silent in the elevator while Arena and Berg made idle chitchat.
“Weather’s warming up nicely,” Berg commented. “Summer’s coming early this year.”
“Yup. No more ice on the river in the mornings.”
“Oh, that must be lovely for your sculling. Well, here we are!” Berg said and pushed open one of the glass doors, intent on walking Feeny right out onto the street in front of the station.
“Thank you, sir, for being so gracious,” Arena said, sticking out his hand.
Feeny grasped it weakly and shook hands while Arena clapped him on the back with his other hand as though they were great friends.
“Is that your ride?” Berg asked, pointing to a black SUV on the opposite side of the road.
“No,” Feeny replied, just as the driver’s tinted window rolled down and a ha
nd slowly appeared from the darkness within.
The hand was empty, but as the group watched, the owner of the hand clenched his fist, extended his index finger, and stuck his thumb straight up in an unmistakable gun symbol. The puppet gun then pointed at Feeny and mimicked firing.
The SUV peeled away.
The whole incident had taken only a few seconds, but Feeny looked as though he’d aged a decade.
“I didn’t tell them anything!” he screamed at the retreating SUV. “No!”
“Didn’t tell us what, Feeny?” Berg calmly asked the man who was still staring at the retreating SUV.
“My client has nothing to say!” Feeny’s lawyer said, sounding uncharacteristically shrill.
“That’s a shame,” Berg said. “Because if he did have something to tell us, we could protect him. As it is, he’ll have to watch his own back.”
Feeny’s arrogance was warring with his cowardice. It was written all over his face. He seemed to be searching for something.
Somewhere to hide maybe?
She was pretty sure cowardice would win. This was a man who didn’t have the balls to pull the trigger on two women himself. Much like any bully, he would cave when confronted by a bigger bully, she was sure of it.
“Confess and we’ll put you and your children in immediate protective custody. Don’t, and you can take your chances with those guys on your own.” Berg checked her nails then slid her hands in her pockets and waited.
Feeny clenched his jaw and glared at Berg with complete and utter loathing.
For a minute, Berg wondered if his ego would win out over self-preservation, but then he clearly made the better decision.
“Fine! They killed Lauren. I want immediate protection!”
“How do you know that?” Berg asked.
“Because I hired them, okay?” he screamed.
“And your wife?” Berg questioned. “Deal’s only good if you cop to both.”
“Now, listen here—” the lawyer said.
“Shut the fuck up, Eric!” Feeny roared. “Yes. Okay. Fine! I hired them to kill both women. Satisfied? Where’s my protection?”
Berg noted he didn’t seem so much concerned about his kids’ welfare as his own.
Feeny’s lawyer spoke grimly. “Let’s go back inside. It looks like we have a few things to discuss.”
“Looks like it,” Berg replied. “Mr. Feeny, I am charging you with two counts of murder for hire. That’s the death penalty. Arena, read him his rights and get Feeny’s statement, and be sure to get a state’s attorney down here. Well, shall we?” Berg smiled brightly as she waved Feeny and his lawyer back inside. “Not bad for a woman, hey?” she muttered to Feeny as Arena pushed him forward.
“Bitch!” Feeny lunged at Berg’s throat and locked his fingers around her neck. “Die!”
Before anyone else had a chance to intervene, Berg launched into action, flinging her right leg back into a deep lunge while simultaneously forcing her arms up between Feeny’s clenched forearms. The action of lowering herself and driving her locked arms up easily broke his hold on her neck.
She grabbed his wrists and pulled him toward her, smashing the thick bony part of her forehead down on the unprotected bridge of Feeny’s nose.
There was a loud and distinct crack.
For good measure—and just because the guy pissed her off—she thrust her right leg forward, using all her thigh and abdominal muscles to drive her knee deep into his testicles.
Feeny hit the ground like the hundred-and-seventy-pound sack of manure he was.
It was over within a matter of seconds.
Arena blinked in astonishment.
“We’ll be happy to add assault and battery of a police officer to the list of charges,” Berg said to Feeny’s dumbstruck lawyer as she carefully smoothed down her hair and straightened her suit. “You might want to call an ambulance,” she said as she stepped back inside the station rubbing her forehead.
Fifteen minutes later, Arena walked into the room and interrupted Berg who was writing up the report for the state’s attorney that would form the case against Feeny. “That was the best thing I have ever seen. The medic thinks you ruptured one of his balls,” Arena said, grinning.
“I was aiming to lodge them in his esophagus, so that’s a bit disappointing,” she replied, still typing.
“Fuck. Remind me never to piss you off.”
“You’re just figuring that out? Were you held back a few years at school?”
Jay stalked out of his office, his eyes locked on Berg. “What am I hearing about battery of a suspect?” he asked angrily.
“It was totally self defense, Captain,” Arena replied as he jumped off the edge of Berg’s desk. “He was trying to choke her.”
Jay frowned and moved closer. “Are you okay?” Leaning down, he pulled aside her collar and checked out the red marks on her neck, some of which were already blooming into a deep purple. He pressed his lips together in a thin line. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”
“I’m fine.” Berg raised her hand and rubbed the welt that was forming on her forehead. “No permanent harm done. I get worse in the dojo.”
Among other places.
“I’d feel better if you at least went downstairs to see Dr. D and got checked out,” Jay insisted.
“Hey, guys! It’s already on YouTube!” Cheney rushed in with his phone. “There’re calling you the Copinator,” he said to Berg proudly.
Berg sighed.
Of course. Nothing’s private nowadays.
Several detectives, including Cheney and Arena, as well as Jay, crowded around the small screen, watching the short clip twice.
“That was awesome!” Cheney said in awe. “Did you see the way he hit the deck? Boom!” he shouted in glee. “They teach you how to do a headbutt like that in kung fu?” he asked Berg.
“Nope. I learned that in foster care,” Berg replied. “And I don’t do kung fu, I do karate. If I’d used that on him, he’d be dead. My sensei has a considerably less forgiving philosophy of ‘one punch, one kill.’ ”
Suddenly speechless, the crowd dispersed, staring at their phones intently.
“Go and see Dr. D. now,” Jay ordered Berg. “When you’re done, I need to see you both in my office.”
It was several hours before Berg and Arena made their way to Jay’s office as requested.
Jay was in the middle of a phone call and motioned for them to take a seat while he finished.
He hung up. “First, are you okay?” he asked Berg through clenched teeth.
She nodded.
“Then, what the fuck?”
Arena waved Jay off and started fast-talking. “Before you lose it, you should know that, in order to stay safely tucked away from his coconspirators, Feeny copped to two counts of murder for hire and gave up the hitters in Devil’s Hand. They’re being picked up now by SWAT.”
“He took a plea, of course,” Berg said. “In exchange for pleading guilty and handing over the hitters, the ASA took the death penalty off the table, dropped the charges of assaulting me, and Maroney will allow him to serve out the remainder of his life in an out-of-state federal prison under an alias for his own protection. His children will go into witness protection.”
“I don’t give a shit!” Jay bellowed. “I don’t know how you did it, or what you were thinking, but how could you? This is borderline coercion! Not to mention the gangbangers could have offed Feeny right in front of us and taken a few CPD officers with him. And what about Feeny’s kids? You just gave them a death sentence, too!”
Berg held up her hand. “To be clear, Feeny did that the second he hired those gangbangers to murder their mother. It’s a miracle he and his kids are not dead already. And we didn’t—”
“The hell you didn’t!”
“Captain!” Arena slammed his hand on Jay’s desk. “If you’ll just listen for a minute . . .”
Jay glared at Arena with such venom Berg wouldn’t have been the least bit surpris
ed if he had punched Arena in the face. With great effort, Jay bit his tongue and crossed his arms.
“As we were saying . . .” Berg cleared her throat and stared at Jay an extra beat just to make a point. “We called in a favor with an undercover in the gang—that’s who you saw out the front, not some psycho banger. If Feeny jumped to conclusions and a confession followed, then great! And if he didn’t, there would be no harm done. Besides, who cares how we did it? Feeny’s in a federal prison for the rest of his life, the hitters will get death, and the rest of the conspirators will go away for a good, long time. Just to be safe, the kids are already on their way out of the cit—”
“I care! This is not some TV cop show. We use proper police work here, not games or manipulations. We interview witnesses, examine evidence, and draw conclusions. You got impatient and lazy and you’ve put a case at risk because of it!”
“Jay, we got the job done,” Berg said. “There was every chance Feeny was going to walk, and all our leads went nowhere.”
“That’s ‘Captain O’Loughlin’ to you,” Jay snapped.
Stung, Berg fell silent.
“Captain O’Loughlin,” Arena drawled sarcastically. “There was no evidence! What we had was burned up when they set that car on fire. The witnesses saw nothing admissible in a court of law. Feeny hid behind his lawyers and either paid off or scared the shit out of everyone we spoke to. What would you have done? Let him go? I know that you were a hell of a detective once, but I guess that all got forgotten when you got the corner office, huh? We did what we had to do, end of story. There was a time you would’ve done the same—or is the cop who went undercover without authorization nothing but folklore?” Arena asked, referring to Jay going undercover as a trucker without the knowledge of his superiors to flush out Leigh.
“If Feeny’s lawyer gets even a hint that we tricked him, he’ll have the case thrown out faster than you can say ‘we did what we had to do,’ including your confession. Feeny will walk out a free man and we won’t be able to touch him!” Jay yelled.
“It’s a done deal! Signed, sealed and delivered. You’re just jealous because you didn’t think of it,” Arena said sourly.