Broken

by Vanessa Skye

  Berg, thankfully, hadn’t needed the hysterectomy, her body instead responding well to the IV antibiotics. The doctors were hopeful regarding her future fertility and so was he.

  Vi had smiled with deep satisfaction when he’d arrived at her door to pick up Jesse. She had handed over the dog without comment, save one as he led the excited ball of fluff back into their place.

  “Hang in there,” she had called out. “It’ll be worth it.”

  He’d smiled. “I know.”

  The next day Jay had collected Berg from the hospital, put his crutches to one side, and insisted on carrying her over the threshold of the apartment.

  “Jay!” She laughed as he had swung her up into his arms. “Your foot! We’re not married, you goof. This is totally unnecessary!”

  “Not yet,” he had replied, making her brown eyes sparkle.

  That had become his new favorite hobby—particularly because he knew that they had had precious reason to shine at all until now, and when she stopped bleeding from the surgery he intended to physically demonstrate just how much he loved her. Over and over.

  He got hard just thinking about it.

  For today, however, they were alone in his office, heads together. Arena had been invited to the meeting, but had not yet shown up.

  “So what’s the game plan here?” Jay asked Berg.

  “It’s great that Marilyn has finally seen sense and given us a statement, but, as we suspected, she has no evidence proving Elizabeth had done anything to Emma—or to the baby. The statement by itself is not even enough for an arrest warrant.”

  “But it has been enough to require Elizabeth to come in for an interview?”

  Berg nodded. “Yep. I’m letting her sweat down in Interview Three while we figure out how to play it.”

  “I say we just let it unfold naturally and see if we can’t catch her out,” Arena said stiffly from the door before walking into the office and pulling up a chair.

  “She’s too smart for that,” Berg replied. “She’ll be prepared.”

  “Well, what else do you suggest?” Arena asked. “We’ve got nothing else on her.”

  “I have an idea. I’m hoping when she finds out her mother’s turned on her, she’ll make a mistake.” Berg shifted and looked squarely at Arena for the first time.

  He skidded his eyes away from Berg’s.

  “Thanks for the flowers, by the way,” she said. “They brightened up my hospital room.”

  “Ah, sure. No problem.” He smiled awkwardly, crossing and uncrossing his legs. “And I’m sorry for . . . stuff.”

  “Stuff? Stuff?” Jay’s voice rose as his face turned red. “Don’t you mean to say sorry for being a traitor and a turncoat, not to mention an all-round asshole, and potentially costing Berg her job and her life!” he yelled, standing.

  Although Jay had been itching to fire the bastard, Berg had begged him not to, and she had made a compelling case—if Arena had no job there was nothing stopping him from running back to Consiglio with everything. They needed Arena on their side.

  Arena jumped up and yelled right back, “Yeah! Sorry for all of that, okay?”

  Consiglio had arrived too late to catch Berg’s attempt on Elizabeth, but he was far from done. While Jay had managed to postpone the board hearing for another week due to Berg’s hospital stay, Consiglio was still after his pound of flesh and it looked like he just might get it.

  “Enough!” Berg yelled, pushing the two men apart. “This is not helpful. Now, sit down, shut up, and listen!”

  Fists still clenched, both men slowly sat back down, and Berg outlined her plan.

  As Arena pushed open the door of Interview Three, Berg noted that the latch was still broken. They closed it as best they could and crossed to stand over Elizabeth Young sitting at the far end of the room. She had moved from the chair she had been directed to sit in, and was sitting in Berg’s chair instead, with her back to the mirror. Elizabeth was trying to gain a psychological advantage by controlling the room and fucked if Berg was going to let her have it.

  Berg frowned in irritation. “Would you move back to your chair and face us please?” she asked politely.

  Elizabeth shrugged as if she didn’t care and did so.

  They all sat.

  There was no table in the room—Berg had had it removed to prevent Elizabeth hiding her body language—so the detectives each placed heavy files labeled ELIZABETH YOUNG in bold red letters in their laps. It gave the appearance of overwhelming evidence against Elizabeth. Truth was they were actually relabeled files from an old case.

  “The purpose of this interview today is a courtesy only. We already know you had Buchanan kill your sister and we’re giving you the opportunity to tell your side of the story. Perhaps if you admit your guilt and show remorse, the ASA will reduce the charge from capital murder to simply murder in the first degree and you can avoid the death penalty.” Berg sat back in her chair trying to seem as casual and confident as she sounded.

  Elizabeth looked shocked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied. “I think you’ve made a terrible mistake, detective.”

  “Really? I think not.” Berg smiled.

  Elizabeth picked at invisible fuzz on her suit and rearranged it just so. Having declined to have a lawyer present during questioning, it was obvious she thought herself smarter than the detectives in front of her and was unable to fathom the possibility that they might get the better of her.

  Berg opened the file and pretended to read. “We are aware that you played Realm of Blood with Jon Buchanan, communicating with him via the chat feature in the game while you manipulated him using an avatar that you designed to look like your sister. You misled this mentally challenged man into believing that your sister was his arch enemy, escaped from the game, and encouraged him to murder her. You gave him details of where she would be and at what time. Did you order him to rape her as well, or was that just an added bonus?” Berg closed the file.

  “You can’t have any evidence of any of that because none of it is true,” Elizabeth replied calmly, as if reading Berg’s mind. “I know for a fact that person-to-person chats in games like Realm of Blood do not go through the main servers and are, therefore, not recordable.”

  “And how would you know that?” Berg asked.

  “Because, as I stated to you many weeks ago, I played the game after you caught Emma’s killer. I was curious to see what made him carry out the horrible attack. I can’t say it shed any light on his motives, but obviously he was a sick man.”

  “Really?” Arena asked. “But you played the game prior to Emma’s murder.” It was not a question.

  “No, I didn’t,” Elizabeth replied, turning her attention to him.

  “We have a statement indicating otherwise,” Berg retorted.

  “Whoever gave you the statement was mistaken.” She focused her blue eyes on Arena, apparently prepared to ignore Berg completely. She smiled. “You’re a good-looking man. You could have a career in television, if you wanted one,” she said. “Now that I’m the celebrity host of a successful real crime show, I could get you on TV as a criminal expert, you know. It’s being considered for syndication as we speak. Millions could be watching you by the end of the week. Think about it.” She handed Arena a business card she fished out of the pocket of her designer suit.

  Berg watched, astounded at the audacity of the woman flirting as though she was seated in a bar and not being interviewed for murder. She rolled her eyes. “Hello?” she said, snapping her fingers.

  Berg understood how Elizabeth had managed to fuck her way up the corporate ladder, even before she became a good-looking clone of her sister—she had the kind of deluded self-confidence that some people found appealing.

  “Uh, yeah. Right,” Arena said, clearing his throat and looking away. “Where were we?”

  “Elizabeth was explaining to us how she was playing Realm of Blood earlier than she previously admitted,” Berg said, peering into her file
again.

  “I wasn’t, because I didn’t,” Elizabeth responded. “Asked and answered. Move on. I’m a lawyer, detectives. Your usual crap won’t fly with me.”

  Berg scoffed. “You’re a paralegal. And I doubt you’re even that. After this, I’m off to interview your community college professor. I’ll be so interested to hear what he has to say about you.”

  Elizabeth stared at her calmly.

  Berg examined her suspect. Elizabeth didn’t appear to be nervous; she was steady, offered regular eye contact and had yet to raise her voice. She wasn’t fidgeting or displaying any body language common to people who were lying, such as crossed legs or folded arms. Berg had to give the woman credit—she was stone cold.

  “Look,” Berg said, changing tack and leaning forward earnestly. “We all know what went on in your house. The favoritism that your parents displayed toward your sister? It was criminal! If we could prosecute for that, believe me, they’d be the ones in this room at the moment, not you,” she said with a sympathetic smile.

  Arena nodded. “Yeah. It’s amazing that you got out of that house with your sanity and went on to make such a successful career for yourself. People a lot stronger than you have crumbled over a lot less.”

  Berg smiled. “We all know there were extenuating circumstances here. The abuse you suffered? It was terrible and I know the ASA will take it into account.” Berg said to Arena, as if they were sharing a confidence, “Let’s face it, no jury’s going to convict a celebrity who suffered a kind of extenuating circumstance like abuse.” Berg turned back to Elizabeth. “Hell, your sister deserved it. Anyone can see that!”

  Elizabeth smiled slightly, as if she was terribly amused by the entire speech. “I loved my sister very much, and as I have very patiently explained numerous times, there was no favoritism toward Emma. Mommy and Daddy loved her, but if anything, they felt sorry for her, too. I was their favorite, and how could I not be? I am smarter, funnier, and more loyal. I’m the celebrity. Emma was a secretary! She wasn’t even smart enough to avoid getting pregnant with her married boss. All Emma had was looks, and as you can plainly see,” she said, winking at Arena, “she does not have exclusive rights to those anymore either. Mommy and Daddy—”

  “Oh, spare me the mommy and daddy shit,” Berg snapped. “You were, and are, so reviled in your own house your own mother was the one who gave us the statement against you!” Berg waved the statement in front of Elizabeth’s face and waited.

  Now or never.

  Elizabeth looked at the proffered statement and smiled sadly without touching it. “Oh, detectives, you obviously haven’t heard. I hope you weren’t basing this entire interview on that—”

  ASA Carla Maroney barged into the room.

  Berg whirled around. “Hey! We’re busy in here. Get out!”

  Everyone knew that you didn’t interrupt an interrogation, not even if the building was on fire.

  “Oh, good, you’re back.” Carla crossed her arms over her chest and raked her eyes over Berg as though she was a piece of dog crap on her Jimmy Choo. “Can we speak—outside—for a moment?” she asked both Berg and Arena.

  Momentum lost, Berg and Arena stepped outside and tried to close the door.

  “What the fuck?” Berg exploded at the blonde. “We nearly had her!”

  “You have less than nothing!” Carla yelled back. “I’ve been watching your entire farce of an interview with Jay next door. I’ve seen actual expeditions involving real fish with more finesse! Shut it down. Her mother’s statement is no longer admissible.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because Alex Young had her committed to a psychiatric facility this morning! He’s had her declared mentally incompetent, which makes her statement less valuable to us than the scrap paper it’s printed on. Cut Elizabeth loose. Now!” Carla stalked off, her head held high.

  Leading the way, Berg and Arena strode back into the interview room and slammed the door behind them.

  Elizabeth smirked. “Guess you heard the sad news, then?” she asked. “My poor mother. This has been coming for years, you know. Gosh, the stories she used to come up with about me! But no matter. Daddy and Emma will be coming to live with me. It will be so lovely to have that baby safely under my roof.”

  Berg could not believe the bitch. A murderous calm washed over her and she sat down slowly in her chair and crossed her legs. “You know, it’s funny. You sit there with your expensive clothes and your media profile and your little cable TV show, and you think you’re special. You think you’re worth something. But you’re not. I’ve met gangbangers with more human value than you. When I think about you, I don’t feel angry. I just feel sad for you.”

  Elizabeth shrugged.

  “You think you’re some kind of criminal mastermind? You’re not even interesting. To me or to anyone. You know what I do when I have trouble sleeping? I think about you, and I’m out in fifteen seconds. I think about the pathetic little girl who didn’t get enough attention from Daddy. You’re just sad. You wouldn’t know an actual problem if it bit you on your sizable ass.”

  “Hey, Berg,” Arena said, nervously clearing his throat and touching her lightly on the shoulder. “I think we’d better shut—”

  Berg ignored him and plowed on. “You think you’re clever? You think you’re unique? You’re not even unusual. I see ten people in this room daily with more intellect and more criminal intelligence than you’ll ever have. You sit there with your fake teeth and your fake tan and your liposucked body and your fake hair, and you think you’ve won. But the most hilarious thing is, you’re still coming second to everyone who counts!” Berg laughed. “You could cure AIDS and your parents would still love that bastard baby more than you. You thought you’d win by killing Emma, didn’t you? But she’s dead and she still won! And now, no matter what you do, you’ll never live up to the image your parents have of her in their heads, and you’ll never mean more to them than that baby does.” Berg gave the woman a knowing smile.

  Elizabeth glowered.

  “And yet you sit there like you’re important—special even. In the game of life, you’re the biggest loser I know. What you are is a silly little girl who didn’t get what she wanted so she threw a tantrum. You’re a toddler who’ll always come third in the eyes of anyone who matters to you.”

  “Berg, seriously.” Arena grabbed her shoulder and squeezed. “Enough!”

  “You poor little fat girl.” Berg snorted. “Mommy and Daddy gave all their money and time to your prettier, younger sister? They didn’t love you enough? Happens every day. And you know what other people do? They suck it up and get on with life.

  “My old boss? Now there was a woman with real problems and a true criminal to admire. I’m sure you heard about it. Did she go crying to Mommy and Daddy? Did she get someone else to do her dirty work for her? No. She planned and plotted and worked out every detail over thirty years. She was a woman who got shit done. She may have been insane, but she had good reason to be. She was driven to it, not some spoiled brat with a daddy complex who doesn’t have the guts to kill a flea!”

  “I’m outta here,” Arena said and stormed out.

  Berg didn’t even acknowledge he’d left. “You know what you are? You’re a loser who kills pussycats and takes advantage of sick people getting them to kill for you because you don’t have the guts to do it yourself. You couldn’t even kill a baby!”

  The door flew open and banged against the wall, reverberating around the room like a shotgun blast.

  “Berg!” Jay yelled. “That’s enough. You’re in enough trouble. Why are you trying to make it worse for yourself? Let her go! She’s not worth your time.”

  Berg spun around and glared at Jay before turning back to Elizabeth.

  The woman was pale and vibrating. She gripped the arms of the chair so tightly her knuckles were glowing white.

  “Sit there and pretend you’ve won. You know damn well you don’t have the courage to look a person in the eyes and do wha
t needs to be done. You never will!” Berg smiled sweetly as she gathered the folder and papers together. Taking a deep cleansing sigh, she hugged the paperwork close to her chest and looked up at Elizabeth. “Know this: I’m going home to sleep well tonight, and you can sleep safe in the knowledge that I’m just one of the millions who won’t even spare you a second thought, you pathetic little coward.”

  Jay dragged her out of the room by the arm and before he could shut the door behind her, Berg mouthed pathetic over his shoulder.

  Neither of them noticed that the lock didn’t catch or that the door swung back open slightly.

  “What the fuck was that!” Jay yelled as soon as he had her in the hall.

  “What the fuck are you doing taking her side?” Berg screamed.

  “This isn’t about sides. This is about you being unable, or unwilling, to control yourself for the sake of your career, or mine!”

  “Oh, please! The second your ex-girlfriend told you to shut it down, you did. Where’s your faith in me?”

  “You just killed it! Along with my faith in your mental health. You are obsessed with this woman! What the hell is the matter with you? And why are you trying to take me with you?”

  “Fuck you!” Berg yelled. “I want you, and your shit, out of my house!”

  “Fine by me!” Jay shouted. “I’ll stay at Carla’s tonight and move my shit out over the weekend. Good riddance, you deranged slut!”

  Jay cursed as Berg barreled out of the basement and up the stairs. “Jesus.” He sighed, running his hands through his hair.

  “Hey, man,” Arena said sympathetically. “Couldn’t help but overhear—”

  “Fuck off, Arena!”

  “Yeah, sure,” Arena said, turning to go.

  “Hey! Wait,” Jay said quickly. “Do me a favor, and I’ll let you keep your job.”

  Arena turned back warily. “What?”

  “Berg and I are done, but she’s lost it and I want to make sure she’s okay. Can you check on her later?”