by Vanessa Skye
“It was, um, well . . .” Carla’s face crumpled. “It was me. I recommended Jay to Hillis. We’re sleeping together, and—”
Berg took two more steps away. She had to, or she was going to wrap her hands around Maroney’s neck. She clenched her fists, turned her back, and took several deep breaths. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t beat the ever-loving fuck out of you,” she said through clenched teeth. “You sent him to what could well be his death, for what? To get back at me? Him?”
“It wasn’t my choice.” Maroney sobbed. “I was being blackmailed. I had to do it. I had to recommend Jay to Hillis or kiss my career goodbye.”
Berg wheeled around, took two steps, and slapped Maroney across the face. In light of how she felt, it was restrained. “Fuck you, you selfish bitch!”
Carla clutched at her cheek, her eyes wide.
“Your precious fucking career! Is it worth it? Is Jay’s death worth the corner office? Are you going to enjoy it knowing you sacrificed him to get it?”
Carla shook her head as Berg’s handprint, clearly outlined on her cheek, grew redder by the moment. “Of—of course not!”
Berg slammed her hand against the woman’s shoulder, effectively pinning her to the wall again. “Then tell me who’s behind this. Tell me who’s been blackmailing you!”
“I can’t!” Carla screamed. “He’s got pictures of me! He’s . . . doing things to me in them. If I tell you, he’ll send them to Hillis! You know what will happen—a woman never gets over a smear like that. My career will be over!”
“I don’t give a fuck about your career! This is about Jay, a human being, one we both love! Who’s got the pictures? Alexander?”
Carla pushed Berg in the chest, trying to force her back, but she was immovable. “No!” She took a deep, heaving breath. “I told you, I’m not working with Alexander.”
Berg stared her down.
“When I arrived in Chicago, I was on track to lose my very first prosecution. I needed the win to secure my job and to ensure future promotions by getting the tough cases. I want to be State’s Attorney. It’s all I’ve ever wanted! It’s why I’ve been blackmailing you. I need to be unbeatable. I have to be better than the men. Can’t you understand? You’re a woman. I—”
“Cut the shit and get to the point! I don’t give a fuck about you.”
“You’re a fucking cold-hearted bitch, you know that?” Carla sobbed into her hands.
“Takes one to know one. You’ve been blackmailing me for months. You ensured Jay left me. You threw him to the wolves. Cut the shit, or I’ll break your fucking nose, and I’ll fucking enjoy it.” Berg never blinked as she spat out her threats between clenched teeth. “Or didn’t your well-placed source clue you in? I’m no longer on the CPD payroll and therefore have nothing left to lose.”
Carla took another breath, her lips trembling. “Fine. I was going to lose my first case. The presiding judge made me an offer. If I fucked him, he’d rule in my favor. I agreed. But I-I-I didn’t know he had a room set up for—never in my life would I have agreed to it if I’d known what he was going to—I still have nightmares!” Her voice rose again as she looked at Berg, her eyes wide. “And to make matters worse, he filmed it! He has pictures . . . of me . . . doing the worst kind of—in positions—using . . . if I don’t do what he says, he says he’ll release them to the media, to my boss . . . to everyone! That was the worst night of my life. Do you understand that? It’s why I needed to find a new way to win my cases. I’m sorry I blackmailed you, okay? I’m sorry Jay left because of it. But I’m never going back into that basement. Not ever!” Carla shrieked hysterically, the whites of her eyes now visible in terror.
As much as she loathed the woman, she recognized that look, and the realization hit Berg like a lightning bolt.
Only one person inspires that kind of visceral reaction.
She stepped back and gave the sobbing woman some space.
Maroney crumpled to the floor, her chest heaving as she cried into her hands.
“It’s Oliver, isn’t it?”
She didn’t need an answer. She’d been in his room, felt the fear. She knew it all too well. She’d been there voluntarily, however, and she’d known what she was in for. Carla obviously hadn’t. She’d suspected Oliver had worked over other, less willing women in exchange for judicial favors. Quid-pro-quo was like breathing for him. She hadn’t suspected the video or the blackmail, though.
The fucker.
“Why would Oliver want Jay for the assignment? Is he with Alexander?”
Carla took a few deep breaths. “I-I don’t know. But he’s been feeding me information to feed to you and Hillis. He wanted Jay out of the way on the task force. He’s obsessed with you.”
Berg took a step back. She had known from the start that Oliver wanted to get into her pants . . .
But this?
Carla was curled up in a ball on the carpet of her large office, still sobbing, her makeup smeared and clothes askew.
Berg extended a hand and helped her to her feet. “Carla,” she said softly, trying to catch the hysterical woman’s eye. “Carla? Calm down. It’s going to be okay.”
“How?” She sobbed. “He—he’s going to know I told you. The pictures . . .”
“I’ll get rid of the pictures, okay? I promise you. He’ll never come near you, or anyone else, ever again. That fucker has raped his last woman.”
She left Carla staring after her with hope in her eyes rather than contempt.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Alicia!” Judge Oliver said, smiling as he opened his front door later that afternoon. “What a pleasant—”
“Let’s get to it, shall we?” Berg stepped inside and headed down the plush, carpeted hallway toward the basement door.
“My, my, so eager.” He shut his front door and trailed behind her. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away for long. That you’d realize what we share is sp—”
“Yeah, yeah, real special. After you.” She held open the door to the custom-built basement and waved him through.
Oliver smiled. “But of course. How lovely.” He headed down the stairs, tuning on the lights as he went.
Berg clicked the heavy door shut, locked it, and followed.
“It would be good for you to remember, for next time, that I expect you to be a little more presentable when you come to me.” He raked his eye over her black cargo pants and short-sleeved black tee critically. “There is nothing I enjoy more than peeling your suit skirts off your beautiful body. It’s like unwrapping a candy bar.”
He, as usual, looked immaculate in his perfectly pressed chinos and pristine white, collared, short-sleeved shirt.
Berg rolled her eyes and tried not to vomit in her mouth.
“Where do you want to begin?’ Oliver asked, waiting as he watched her descent. “The horse? The machine? The flogger? The fuck saw? Name your passion, and I will gladly provide it.”
“I think I’d like to watch you bleed for a change,” Berg said with a smile, facing him.
Oliver shifted uncomfortably, his hands clasped in front of him. “Well, Alicia, that’s not our usual arrangem—”
Berg punched him in the nose with a neat left jab that came out of nowhere. She heard a bone crack before he fell to the floor, catching himself on his hands and knees.
He wiped the blood from his nose with a hand and stared at it dripping down his fingers for a moment before looking up at Berg incredulously. He heaved himself off the floor. “You stupid fucking bitch!”
Oliver clenched his fist and hoisted his arm back, giving Berg ample time to see the blow coming. She stepped out of reach and Oliver’s arm swung wildly, connecting with nothing. As he turned, pulled by his own momentum, she punched another left into his kidney and followed it with a right cross to the jaw.
He yelped.
“Shut the fuck up.” Berg produced her revolver from the holster hidden on the back of her pants and aimed it at his head.
&
nbsp; The judge’s eyes went wide, but he fell silent, nursing his side and bloody face.
“Go lie facedown on the horse.” She gestured, using the barrel like an extension of her arm, toward the far side of the room.
Oliver clenched his fists but complied. “This is the end of your career, you stupid cunt. You know that, right? Holding a judge at gunpoint is not a smart move, particularly after a contempt charge.” He swiped at his bleeding nose again before lying facedown on the leather-padded, wooden gymnastics horse.
“Hands in the restraints,” Berg ordered.
The judge placed his hands in the custom cuffs he had added to the contraption, and Berg quickly tightened them, checking that he was secure by yanking on his arms and legs a few times, gratified when the asshole winced.
She stepped back. “Now you’re going to tell me where Jay is.” She held the gun so he could see it, but without pointing it at him.
“I have no idea where he is.”
“That’s a shame, because if you don’t come up with a location in the next two minutes, I’m going to kill you. So you’d better hope you know where he is. You either ensured he was recommended for the Niah Alexander undercover work because you wanted him out of the way, or because Alexander wanted him. In one scenario you live. In the other, you die.”
The blood from his nose ran down one side of the sturdy horse, but he laughed. “Please! You actually want me to believe you’re going to kill me with your gun in my own home? The neighbors will hear the shot, and the police would be here in minutes.”
She scoffed. “No they won’t. This room is soundproofed. All the better for raping your victims, right? Can’t have any screams giving the game away, can you? Where. Is. He?”
He clenched his fists. “Fuck you. I don’t kn—”
Berg raised the gun and squeezed off a shot, the bullet lodging only inches away from Oliver’s head.
His eyes widened as a trickle of blood caused by flying splinters of wood made its way along his cheek to his mouth.
She leveled the gun at his head so there was no mistake where the next shot would land if he pressed her. “Try. Again.”
“Help!” he screamed, pulling desperately on his restraints. “Help!”
Berg shifted the gun a few millimeters and squeezed off a second shot, this one punching through the wood even closer to Oliver’s thrashing head.
“Fine!” he screeched. “Fine. You win. He’s in Lake Forest. It’s good you know. There should be no more secrets between us. But you’re wasting your time. He’s in too deep now. He couldn’t get out even if he wanted to, which he doesn’t. He doesn’t love you anymore, he loves—”
“Shut the fuck up, you lying, traitorous piece of shit! You’re working with Alexander? How could you go against the justice system you swore to uphold?”
Oliver snorted, spraying blood everywhere. “You’re one to talk, darling. Don’t you see? We can all be one big, happy family now! Me, you, and your father. There is nothing I can’t provide for you now.”
“The only thing I want is your head in a bag.”
“Please, Alicia. You need to untie me. These are . . . dangerous people. They will come looking for me. You need to join us, for your own protection. I have secured a promise from Alexander to spare your life, but you must stay with me—”
“We’ll see about that,” Berg said.
“Are we done here? Let me go, and I swear I won’t say anything to your father about this little spat.”
“We are not done here, not by a long shot.” She walked to the computer set up on a desk in the corner and flicked it on. “How many have there been?” she asked with interest as the computer booted up. “I never understood why you kept a separate computer down here. Now I do.”
Oliver frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“How many women have you taped yourself raping? How many women—colleagues—have you blackmailed? How many have you humiliated?” Her voice was low, soft . . . deadly.
He smiled despite his rapidly swelling jaw. “Darling. If you’re jealous, I understand. If you’d prefer it just be us two—”
“Password.” Berg placed the revolver on the desk within easy reach and sat in front of the computer in the expensive leather swivel chair.
Oliver shook his head. “I would never have blackmailed you! What we share is too unique, too wonderful to be used for such—”
“Password!” Berg yelled.
“Never!”
“Last chance.”
“Screw you. You’ll just have to shoot me.”
Berg smiled and stood up. “No. Let’s screw you. I think you’ll enjoy being on the receiving end for a change.” She looked around the room, searching. “Ah! Here it is.” She meandered over to what looked like a common smoke alarm mounted on the wall overlooking the room. “Aren’t these usually on the ceiling?” It only took a few moments to work the cover off, revealing a small recess in the wall where a digital video camera sat. She flicked it on and tapped the red light when it started blinking, grinning as she faced the judge.
Oliver frowned. “W-what are you doing?”
Berg remained silent, dropping her smile, and moved back to the prone Oliver. She bent down, pulling a knife out of her boot, and twisted it, letting the light flicker and flash across his face before walking behind the man and pushing up his collared shirt now spattered with blood. Quickly, she removed his cell from his pants pocket and put it on a nearby chest of drawers, and then placed the knife on the back of his smooth, black belt. She sliced the knife through the supple leather like butter. Next, she slit the back of his pants and underwear, laying him bare. Grimacing at the view, she walked to the heavy, ornate chest of drawers against the wall and opened the top drawer, where she knew he kept his sex toys.
“I believe you are familiar with this one?” she asked as she held the red, ridged dildo in his line of vision. “Not sure you’ve ever been on the receiving end, though. It hurts.” She took the mammoth sex toy firmly in hand and positioned herself behind him. “Last chance,” she said in a mild, almost singsong tone.
Oliver smiled. “Go ahead, Alicia. I’m excited to explore new depths together.”
He’s actually getting off!
Berg tried not to gag. She dropped the dildo like a hot potato.
Okay, new strategy.
She walked back to the chest and opened the second drawer from the top, fishing out a ball gag. “How’s the breathing? Your nose is a bit of a mess. Sorry about that.” She held up the leather strap held together by metal links with a big red rubber ball dangling between them. She quickly stuffed the ball into Oliver’s mouth and tightened the straps behind his head. She listened to his frenzied attempts to breathe through his ruined nose as he sprayed blood everywhere while trying to clear his nasal passages.
In less than a minute, he was screaming into the gag and nodding his head at her desperately.
She removed the gag.
“Alicia,” he said through gasps for air. “The password . . . is Alicia!”
“Jesus,” she muttered, shaking her head as she walked back to the computer and typed it in. She searched his neatly filed desktop icons, opening and closing the different files until she found what she was looking for. “You are a sick fuck. Oh, and I see Alexander joined you in a few of these. These poor women. Obviously you share some common interests.” Opening his e-mail, she started a new message. “I’m sending an e-mail to the state’s attorney and cc’ing in the editor of The Trib ,” she said as she typed. “I think I’ll title it ‘I’ve been a very bad, bad boy.’ ”
Oliver’s eyes widened. “What are you—”
“You’re not very smart, are you? Some of these images show your face, Judge.” She read as she typed. “Dear Rob, I can no longer live with the guilt. I need to confess that I’ve been helping David Alexander with his operation in Chicago. I’ve also been secretly taping women I’ve raped in my basement for years and using the images to blackmail t
hem so they’d stay quiet and do my and Alexander’s bidding. I am not fit to sit on the bench. See attached images proving my confession. Please accept my resignation, effective immediately. Sincerely, yada yada. And . . . sent.” She clicked the mouse with a flourish. “I think you’ll be pleased with my selections. They all show your face as well as Alexander’s quite clearly, but not the faces of the poor women you worked over. I think they’ve been through enough, don’t you?”
Oliver looked shocked she’d actually done it.
“Now to delete these files,” she muttered, trashing all his folders. She checked out his file directory. “It will be interesting to see if you are still useful to Alexander once your leverage is gone and you are in prison. I see you’ve been saving your files to the cloud,” she said. “Very prudent. Surely you didn’t use the same password to protect these?” She typed as she talked. “Wow! You did. You are one deluded asshole. And . . . trashed. And just for good measure, the password on your cloud folder has now been changed.” She smiled as Oliver glowered at her from his position. The blood had stopped seeping from his various wounds, and he was trembling with the effort to break his bonds.
She walked past him into the small bathroom off the main room, rummaging around until she found a bucket and filled it with water. She placed it on the desk before opening his desk drawers and pulling out various jump drives and memory cards. After checking the contents, she dumped them in the bucket, along with his cell and the video camera she had fished from the recess in the wall. She held on to one jump drive, however, just to ensure Maroney’s departure from Chicago was imminent.
“Is that it?” she asked, turning to face him and holding his gaze.
“Yes, you bitch!” he spat.
She fingered the ball gag before making the decision and strapping it back on him. “I don’t believe you.”
He thrashed his head, trying to yell through the ball.
Berg took it off. “Got something to say?”