Broken (36 page)

She imagined a little boy with his dark curls and blue eyes in the rare moments she’d allowed herself to think about it.

As she tried to think of something to say, other than ‘good riddance’, a warm hand gripped hers tightly, and she looked up into the very same eyes she had just imagined her child inheriting.

“I couldn’t let you be here alone,” Jay whispered.

“How did you find out?” Berg asked, shocked.

She had kept it quiet—not even her permanent shadow, Arena, knew. She’d had to ditch him at the station just to get here alone. She had checked the rearview mirror constantly—he wasn’t above following her.

“I saw the announcement in
The Trib
. I came to tell you it’s okay,” he replied.

“I’m not upset that she’s dead,” Berg said, shrugging.

Even though I never got to tell her that I hated her, that visiting her in the home was a chore, that I’ll never forgive her for setting me on this path . . .

“I know, but that’s not why I’m here. I came to tell you it’s okay that you’re not upset. You’re upset that you’re not upset, am I right?” he questioned.

Berg nodded, the much longed for tears finally welling. Not over the death of her mother but in reaction to Jay knowing her so well that he came to the funeral just to tell her that she wasn’t some fucked-up person with no soul.

Heaven help her if that blond wench ever hurts him!

“I just came to tell you that it is okay,” he said, shrugging. “She was no kind of mother to you. Don’t beat yourself up over this.”

Berg nodded again through the tears and took a steadying breath. “Goodbye . . . Mother,” she said quietly. “I hope you’re finally happy where you are.”

But I doubt it
.

She walked away from the casket to the neatly displayed chairs, stopping for a moment to give Mary’s long-time nurse, Helen, a grateful hug.

Her cell vibrated in her suit pocket as she sat down in the back of the room next to Jay. The service was starting, and she looked at the phone in irritation, expecting it to be Arena—again.

Reading the unfamiliar number, she answered it, whispering. “Yes?” Her curiosity was replaced by concern and Jay mouthed ‘what is it’ next to her. “When?” she said and ignored the glare of the priest presiding over the service.

What the hell is he worried about? I’ll disturb the other three-quarters of the audience?

“I’ll be right there.” She jumped up, not caring about the service, and rushed to the door. She’d said what she wanted to say to the woman, and Berg’s presence would’ve just annoyed her anyway.

“What’s happened?” Jay said, running outside and catching up with her.

“Baby Emma stopped breathing. I’ve got to get to the hospital.” Berg jumped in her car and peeled out of the lot.

Jay jumped into his car a fraction of a second later and followed.

Forty agonizing minutes later, they arrived at the hospital.

Berg grabbed the first nurse she saw as she rushed into the NICU, looking for the baby. “What happened?” Before the woman could answer, Berg spotted little Emma alive and well, cradled in the arms of Alex Young, and sighed gratefully.

Tim and Marilyn hovered close by, both looking ready to pounce at the first opening they saw to hold the baby themselves.

Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen.

The NICU nurse gently pried Berg’s fingers free of her scrubs and patted her hand. “We’re not sure, she just stopped breathing. But we got her breathing again very quickly, so she shouldn’t have any lasting damage. We’re running a battery of tests . . .”

“How could this happen? Weren’t you watching her?” Berg shouted.

“Usually there’s someone here, yes, but another baby coded on the other side of the nursery, and we all had to attend. It’s procedure—”

Jay frowned. “It’s okay. The baby’s fine, and I’m sure she’ll be watched more carefully.”

Berg tried to calm down, but she felt a horrible suspicion creeping over her. “What happened to the other baby?” she asked the nurse.

“He’s fine. It was a matter of an unplugged cord, nothing serious.”

“Where were you two?” Berg asked, trying to keep the accusation out of her voice but failing.

“We were having lunch in the cafeteria,” Alex replied quickly. “She was asleep and stable when we left.”

Berg finally asked the question she really wanted to know the answer to. “Where was Elizabeth?”

“With us,” Alex replied.

“You all went together?”

“No, she wasn’t even at the hospital. She called us for lunch. We went down to the cafeteria first, and Elizabeth joined us just as we got the call,” he said defensively. “I don’t appreciate what you’re implying!”

“Detective Raymond is not implying anything,” Jay replied for her. “It’s her job to ask questions. Don’t read anything into it.”

Berg glared at Alex, then at Jay, and finally at Marilyn Young as Jay dragged her out of the NICU.

The new grandmother looked sick to her stomach as she hovered near the baby.

“Berg, cut it out!” Jay whispered. “You want to get us sued . . .
again?
”

“Berg!” Arena called, flashing an irritated glance at Jay. “I just heard. How is she?”

“Stable, for now,” Berg replied.

“Elizabeth?” Arena asked.

“I’d almost bet on it. The nurses’ attention was conveniently diverted to the other side of the ward, and her parents were downstairs waiting for a lunch Elizabeth suggested.”

“Fuck,” Arena said, running his hands through his hair in frustration. He paced a couple of steps away before turning back. “Operation divide and conquer?”

“You read my mind,” Berg said, nodding.

They wandered down the hall, heads together, working out the plan, and leaving Jay behind.

“Mr. and Mrs. Young,” Berg greeted the couple a few days later as they walked into the station. “How’s little Emma?”

“She’s great,” Alex said, folding his arms and frowning. “She’ll be home with us in a few days. Fortunately, she hasn’t had any further episodes, and her tests came back all clear. She’s a fighter.”

She shouldn’t need to be.

“That’s great news,” Berg replied, and she meant it. She hoped Emma would be okay from now on but, secretly, she was sure the only reason the baby hadn’t had another episode had been because she hadn’t been left alone long enough since the last attempt for Elizabeth to take another shot at murdering her tiny niece.

While Emma being well enough to go home was good news, it triggered a whole new set of fears because Berg knew she wouldn’t be monitored by as many sets of eyes. She fervently hoped Emma’s grandmother was worried about the same thing.

“Why are we here?” Alex asked gruffly. “Because if it’s about Elizabeth—”

“Nothing like that. With your daughter’s sad death, we just need to check your final statements, sign them off and then put the case to bed,” Berg said. She looked around the crowded street level of the station. “It’s a little busy in here, so if you’ll step this way . . .” She gestured and led them to the basement level.

The interview rooms weren’t necessary—in fact, Jay would be annoyed if he knew that they were interviewing the pair in the intimidating confines of a formal setting—but they gave the detectives a psychological advantage.

“Detective Arena will go through your statement with you, Alex, in room two, and I’ll be right next door with your wife . . .”

“No.” Alex jutted his chin out and shook his head once. “We would prefer to stay together.”

“That’s not possible, Mr. Young,” Arena said, using his height and muscular frame to its full advantage as he stepped close and towered over the smaller man. “You have to go through your statement individually. But don’t worry, we’ll be done in a jiffy,” he said, bodily steering the older man through the door of interview room two and closing it firmly behind them.

Berg was left standing outside Interview Three with Marilyn Young. The woman looked petrified.

“Shall we?” Berg asked, motioning toward the room. She tried to close the door behind them and noticed in irritation that it still hadn’t been fixed. It silently swung open a few inches.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that Feeny had goaded her into losing her temper and she had thrown a chair at the door.

Was it really only five months ago?

Back then, she had thought that Feeny would be the biggest psycho she would have to deal with that year.

Berg made a show of running Marilyn through the mundane details of her statement about the night Emma was attacked.

Slowly, but surely, the woman relaxed.

“So this statement is true and accurate to your knowledge?” Berg said, tilting the pen toward Marilyn.

“Yes,” she replied, sliding to the edge of her chair and reaching out to sign it.

“But it’s not, is it? And you know it.” Berg pulled back the pen and stared at the woman.

Marilyn Young stopped, frozen like a deer in headlights. “I-I-I d-don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do.” Berg let the silence stretch out interminably between them, hoping the woman would fill it.

“I want my husband,” Marilyn finally said. “Get him in here.”

“He’s occupied at the moment.” Berg smiled. “It’s just us girls.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Berg replied. “You’ve spent years being told what to do, think, and say by your husband, haven’t you? I bet if left to your own devices, you’d have plenty to say, actually. I’m certain there’s a smart woman under that meek exterior.”

Marilyn shook her head stiffly.

“I’m also pretty sure that while your husband was sticking his head in the sand about his daughters, you knew exactly what was going on in your house. I’m guessing he refused to hear it, and you just gave up trying to tell him, am I right?”

Marilyn shook her head again, but with less conviction.

“And I think you either know, or suspect, what happened to the baby last week, and what will happen if you bring her home with you.”

“Nothing will happen, she’s fine. I’ll be with her,” Marilyn said quickly.

“Forgive me. I know you
think
you can protect her, but you can’t be with her all the time, can you?” Berg slowly raised one brow.

“Yes, I can,” the woman said adamantly. “I’ll make sure I never leave her alone.”

Berg sat back. “Why don’t you ever want to leave her alone?”

“That’s not what I meant. I-I just mean . . . she’s just a very small baby.”

“That’s not it, though, is it? Maybe you think the baby would be better off living with her father full time? One word from you, and he’ll get full custody.”

“My husband will never let that happen.”

“Of course not. He’s obsessed with that baby. Just like he was obsessed with her mother to the detriment of everyone else. It drove your older daughter insane, didn’t it?”

“No, that’s not what—”

“So your oldest daughter started hurting Emma, didn’t she? Retribution, maybe? And you tried your best, I know, to make up for it. You tried to give Emma whatever she wanted, but it just made it worse, didn’t it? It made Elizabeth even angrier.”

“No!”

“You know what Elizabeth is capable of. I’m guessing you saw what she was doing a lot more than your husband did, didn’t you?”

Marilyn shook her head weakly.

“You need to help us now, Marilyn,” Berg said. “You need to help us get justice for your daughter. You need to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen to your granddaughter. You know it’s the right thing to do.”

Marilyn looked at Berg, her eyes gleaming, tears suspended on her lower lids, shaking her head and pursing her lips together tightly. She clearly didn’t trust herself enough to speak.

“I’m sure you know something, anything, that could help us get the evidence we need to—”

“Enough!” Marilyn shrieked. “I don’t know anything.” She shook her head back and forth as if the motion would make the denial true and squeezed her eyes tight, the tears streaking down her face. “Nothing happened. My daughter was killed by that sick man. Leave us alone!”