Blood Lines: Edge of Darkness Book 3

by Vanessa Skye

  She frowned as she remembered the pictures of Jay marrying Niah Alexander.

  It’s the one part that doesn’t make any sense.

  There was a soft knock at the door, and Berg flung it open expecting to see Vi returning Jesse home.

  But no one was there.

  She frowned and took a step forward, poking her head out and checking both ends of the hallway. There was no one at either end, and she heard no footfalls.

  Frowning, she stepped back and something crunched under her shoe. She jerked her foot up to find a piece of folded paper, slightly crumpled, lying on her front doormat. Paper she was sure hadn’t been there when she had walked inside a few minutes ago.

  Feeling the hairs on the back of her neck prickle, she suddenly wished she hadn’t taken off her gun as she snatched the paper up and ducked back inside, slamming the door behind her.

  She smoothed out the piece of paper before realizing it must be trash after all as she saw the name of her and Jay’s favorite Chinese restaurant at the top. As she started to scrunch it back up, something dropped and clattered to the floor.

  She gasped and her eyes widened when she saw her engagement ring sitting against the edge of the throw rug. She picked it up, staring at the black diamond glinting in the light of her apartment.

  Did the restaurant return this to me?

  But then she remembered she had paid with cash. They didn’t even have her name, let alone an address or credit card information.

  Hands shaking, she walked over to the table and pressed the wrinkles back out of the receipt. It was definitely the check she had left on the table. She turned it over and read the single sentence on the back of the paper.

  I understand.

  Her knees buckled as she recognized Jay’s handwriting, and she stopped herself from falling by grabbing a sofa arm.

  Pushing herself up, she wrenched open the door and yelped as she almost ran into Vi and Jesse, the former standing with her hand raised and about to knock on the door.

  “Did you see anyone else out here?” she asked after she took a deep breath to slow her hammering heart.

  The elderly black woman shook her head, her eyes widening. “No. Were you expecting someone?”

  She darted past the woman. “Make yourself at home,” she called over her shoulder. She hit the stairs running, taking the five flights down two steps at a time, and then ran into the street.

  Spinning around, she looked for retreating figures or cars just pulling out, but there was nothing.

  “Jay!” she screamed into the night.

  But no one answered.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Berg was still shaking as she tapped mindlessly away on her laptop the next day, her thoughts racing.

  Did Jay follow me to the restaurant? Or was it a coincidence? And if he did follow me, why? Was it even Jay at all?

  She’d recognize his handwriting anywhere, though.

  Does this mean he’s alive?

  Her hopes surged at the thought but were quickly tamped down by even more questions.

  Who do I tell? The CPD? His family? Does he want me to find him? Or is he letting me go?

  “Hey,” Arena said, standing next to her desk. “Smith says he wants to see you.”

  Berg heard the words but they barely registered, her mind spinning at the possibilities.

  “Berg?” Arena budged her shoulder. “Hey. What’s up?”

  Berg looked around to ensure none of the other detectives was listening. “Jay contacted me,” she whispered.

  Arena’s eyebrows nearly skidded off his forehead. He pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. “What? When?” he murmured.

  “Last night.” Berg fished the ring out of her pocket. “He left this on my doorstep.”

  Arena frowned. “I don’t understand. How did he get it?”

  “I left it at a restaurant as a tip a few nights ago.”

  Arena looked incredulous. “Leaving that idiotic decision aside for a moment, did you see him? Did he say anything?”

  Berg shook her head, unwilling to share the note’s contents with Arena just yet. Mainly because she wasn’t even sure exactly what the message meant. “There was a knock on my door. When I opened it nobody was there, and this was on the doormat.”

  “So it may not have even been him. Maybe it was the restaurant returning it?”

  “Without a name or address? I paid with cash. I left the check there. I’m sure it was him.”

  Arena sighed and rubbed a hand through his thick hair. “Okay, let’s say for argument’s sake it was. Why would he do that? Why return the ring to you? He’s married to someone else. Does he expect you to keep wearing it? What’s the message here? Is he telling us he’s alive or to leave him alone? Does he want us to find him? And if so, an address would have been helpful.” He snorted in frustration.

  “I was asking myself the same questions.” Berg shrugged. “I don’t know the answers to any—”

  “Berg?” Smith said from above them, his arms folded. “I need to see you. Didn’t you get the message?” He looked annoyed.

  “Ah—” Berg said.

  “My bad, Captain,” Arena said, holding up his hands. “I forgot to give her the message. We got caught up on a case.”

  “Let’s go, Berg. Now,” Smith said, turning and walking back to his office.

  Berg stood to follow him.

  “Berg?” Arena stood and reached for her arm. “What time did you say you . . . watched that great TV show last night? I want to check it out.”

  “I think it started at about eight thirty,” Berg said over her shoulder and walked into the office.

  “Close the door,” Smith snapped.

  Berg did so before settling in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

  “I can’t cover for you anymore,” Smith said with a long sigh. “Over the last six months, I have been very sympathetic to what you have been going through. But enough is enough. It’s gotten so bad now that even I can’t ignore it anymore.”

  “O-kaaay.” Berg drew the word out, unsure what was going on.

  Smith bowed his head in his hands. “Shit, Berg, I love you like a daughter, you know?”

  “It’s okay, Smith. What’s going on? Just tell me.”

  He looked at her, his eyebrows raised. “Judge Oliver? Contempt of court? Out on bail? Ring any bells?”

  Berg snorted. “Oliver will drop the charges. No cops ever get put away for—”

  “It doesn’t matter if he drops the charges!” Smith snapped. “The damage is done. After the murder charges and your hearing with the board eighteen months ago, another almost-hearing last year, not to mention all the rumors circulating about Feeny, the gangbanger, and Elizabeth Young, I don’t think you’re going to be able to keep your job. Your judgment is considered questionable at best, and defense attorneys will have a field day with it next time you’re a witness. The board is very concerned.” Unshed tears glistened in his eyes. “I’ve covered for you as much as I can, but . . .”

  Berg nodded and smiled. “I understand. Please don’t put your career in jeopardy because of me. This has been a long time coming.”

  Smith nodded. “I can only say that Jay—wherever he is—wouldn’t want you to destroy yourself because of him. I understand you’re upset, Berg, and none of us know why he did what he did. One thing I know for sure is he loved you, and I think that if he’d stayed, you guys would have worked things out. But he made a choice, and it’s his choice to also live with the consequences of that decision. You can’t keep punishing yourself because—”

  “Was it his choice?” Berg asked, sitting forward.

  “What do you mean?” Smith replied, frowning.

  “I heard that Jay was recommended for the assignment by someone high up. Is that true?”

  Smith shrugged. “I don’t understand. What’s that got to do with anything? He accepted the assignment, he made the decision.”

  Berg pursed her lips. “Please,
Smith, I’ve got a theory, and that information will confirm it for me, one way or another.”

  Smith scrubbed his thinning gray hair. “Yes, he was recommended to the FBI by someone out of the State’s Attorney’s Office as the best man for the job, but I don’t know by who.”

  Berg’s heart dropped.

  If that was true, it was unlikely Jay’s involvement in the undercover operation was a coincidence. Nothing Alexander did was by accident. Jay’s assignment was most likely a deliberate ploy on her father’s behalf to punish her for not joining him, which meant that whoever had recommended Jay for the assignment was on Alexander’s payroll.

  Smith half stood as he reached for Berg. “Are you okay? You just went white. What’s going on?”

  “He is where he is because of me, Smith,” Berg whispered, looking down at her hands.

  “He’s not.” Smith shook his head. “He accepted the assign—”

  “You don’t understand,” Berg said, leaning forward. “He’s there because of me. David Alexander is—he’s my biological father.”

  To say Smith was stunned would have been an understatement. The man’s mouth flapped open and closed and his chair squawked in protest as he collapsed into it.

  “I’ve never met my biological father. He ran out on me and my mother shortly after I was born. Almost a year ago, he contacted me, said he wanted to meet.” Berg flicked a glance at Smith, who, still speechless, gestured for her to continue. “I was considering it until we had the briefing about the task force and I realized who my father really was and what he really wanted from me. Obviously, I was his way into the department.”

  “How did we not know this?”

  “He’s not listed on my birth certificate as my father because my mother’s subsequent husband adopted me. My mother only mentioned him by name to me when she was drunk. There is no paper trail linking him and me—I looked.”

  “Did Jay know this before he left?” Smith asked.

  Berg nodded. “The fact that I didn’t tell him the real reason I’d turned down the task force is why we fought before we ended things.”

  One of the things we fought about.

  Smith thought. “Okay, I understand why you feel responsible. But Jay still made the decision to go undercover—”

  “It gets worse.”

  Smith leaned back in his chair. “Sure it does. Go on.”

  “I think Alexander knew who Jay was before he’d even accepted the assignment.”

  “How?”

  “I recently found out that Alexander had me followed and photographed before he made his approach. If he saw photographs of me, then he would have undoubtedly seen photographs of Jay and known who he was the second he inserted himself into Niah Alexander’s life.”

  “Oh fuck,” Smith whispered.

  “Are you sure you don’t know who recommended Jay for the assignment in the first place?”

  “It was sanctioned by the state’s attorney, but I don’t know where he got Jay’s name from in the first place—wait. You think it was a setup?”

  “I think it was punishment,” Berg whispered. “I turned down Alexander’s offer, and he took what was most important to me in retaliation.”

  “I . . .” Smith’s face crumpled. “I can’t keep this to myself for long, Berg. Your family, Jay’s blown cover—it’s all relevant to the investigation.”

  He gnawed at his finger, and Berg could almost see the gears spinning.

  “How did you find out Alexander had you followed and photographed?”

  “I had the opportunity to interview the suspect in the dealer murders,” Berg mumbled.

  Smith pursed his lips. “And how did you get that opportunity, I wonder?”

  Berg shook her head.

  “Fucking Cheney,” he mumbled. “I guess we actually have you to thank for the address we got out of the suspect?”

  Berg shrugged and looked away. “Did you find anything?” Berg saw Smith cross his arms in her peripheral vision.

  “I’d answer that if I thought you didn’t already know the answer,” he snapped, sighing when she didn’t meet his gaze. “I’m going to have to suspend you, Berg, and I’d say it’s just temporary, but we both know it’s not. You’ve put a major multiorganizational investigation in jeopardy. You’ve kept your background as Alexander’s daughter from us for months. Months!”

  She nodded. “I’ll save you the hassle and investigation and resign. Effective immediately.”

  As she handed over her badge and her gun, she realized she wasn’t even upset. This day had been inevitable from the moment she had become a cadet and killed her father. She had always wanted to get justice for people, but the justice system wasn’t about justice. It tied her hands. She knew in her bones the only thing the justice system was going to do was get Jay killed.

  She had a little bit of money saved, enough to live on for a short time while she figured out her next move, but first things first—she was going to find Jay.

  Smith accepted her badge and her gun with no argument. He looked at her for a moment. “You’re brilliant, Berg. Amazingly so. But you’re also . . . troubled. You seem to have this need to sabotage your life. I’ve seen it before, and you will wind up dead . . . or in prison. Jay may not make it out of this, but you can. You can set yourself straight. Consider this a wake-up call.”

  Berg shook her head and stood. “Jay is going to make it out of this, that I can promise you.”

  But I won’t.

  She was going to free Jay and take down Alexander if she had to hold him inside a burning building herself. His days on the planet were numbered, and so were those who were helping him.

  “Dammit, Berg! I recognize that look on your face. You’re going after Alexander, aren’t you? You’re going to try to get Jay out,” Smith said, a resigned expression on his face.

  “He’s there because of me. I can’t live with that.”

  Smith nodded and sighed. “Let me know if I can do anything under the radar to help you.”

  Berg turned to leave.

  “But Berg?”

  She turned back around.

  “Don’t get caught. The CPD can’t turn a blind eye forever, even if you’re on the right side.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Berg left the station without saying goodbye to anyone, not even Arena, who was on the phone when she left. He scowled at her as she walked out, but she only shook her head and winked.

  She pulled up in front of the large O’Loughlin family home and killed the engine. She hadn’t paid a visit to the address in more than six months and wasn’t sure how she would be received by the inhabitants.

  Knocking on the blue door, she stepped back and waited. Liz pulled open the door, and Berg steeled herself for the inevitable abuse, but the woman just stepped aside.

  “Come in,” she said softly.

  Berg was taken aback at the calm demeanor of Jay’s sister and resisted the urge to watch her back as she walked inside the beautiful home.

  “Mom’s been waiting for you,” she said, motioning upstairs where Berg knew the bedrooms were. “We’ve been calling you, but you don’t answer.”

  “Oh, sorry,” Berg said, grimacing. “I changed my number. I didn’t think you’d need to . . .” When she changed her number to stop the incessant calls from Oliver, she had never dreamed of letting Jay’s family know, figuring they wouldn’t want to speak to her ever again.

  Liz merely nodded, lightly tapping on the master suite’s double doors and then opening them.

  They walked inside, and Berg gasped as she saw Carmel O’Loughlin asleep in the large king bed.

  No longer blond, her hair was now gray and thinning. Her arms, which were the only visible part of her body apart from her head, were thin and spindly as they rested on the thick, gold comforter wrapped around her, despite the warm weather. The dark circles under her eyes and deep wrinkles that hadn’t been there months ago only emphasized Jay’s mother’s gaunt face.

&nbs
p; Berg was horrified at the sight of this woman she cared so much about. She frowned and turned to Liz, who answered even before the question had formed on Berg’s lips.

  “She got the flu a few months ago, which turned into pneumonia. She’s still recovering and is very weak.”

  Berg nodded.

  “She’s lost all her vitality since Jay . . .” Liz swallowed. “We haven’t heard from him for so long. Please tell us you have good news?” Liz looked so hopeful that Berg didn’t have the stomach to break her heart.

  “Alicia?” a croaky voice asked from the bed.

  Berg rushed to Carmel’s side and sat down on the plush comforter, grabbing the woman’s hand gently.

  “Have you heard from him?” The tears flooded her eyes.

  “Indirectly, yes,” Berg said, nodding, squeezing her hand. “I’m confident he’s alive.”

  Carmel’s eyes widened. “You are?” She let out a painfully weak sob, and her lips trembled.

  Berg nodded.

  “Is it true what I was told? Did he marry someone else?”

  “Where did you hear that?” Berg asked, surprised.

  “Jay’s ex, that horrible Carla woman, told me . . .” Carmel coughed a terrible, bone-grinding sound that made Berg wince.

  “We were desperate for information. Mom called her hoping that . . .” Liz shrugged.

  “I can’t believe that she wo—”

  Fact was Berg could believe Carla would tell Jay’s family. The woman was a bitch. And it was about time someone taught her a lesson.

  “Why . . . why would he get married without us?” Carmel whispered. “To someone we’ve never even met?”

  Berg had no good answer for that, so she made one up. “It was just part of his assignment.” She fervently wished it was true. “He’s deep undercover, that’s all.”

  That explains it . . . mostly.

  It didn’t, but she couldn’t say that to Jay’s mom. The poor woman needed some hope.

  “The stolen evidence . . . he wouldn’t do that . . . and he didn’t do what he was accused of,” Carmel argued in a small voice. “He would never . . . they’re keeping him against his will, I know it.”