The Enemy Inside (15 page)

Jay acquiesced, figuring he could cope with whatever she had to show him, as he’d never see anything like this ever again unless it was on a DVD. Cindy was clearly enjoying her role as tour guide, and he hoped they might still be able to hook up in the future. He turned to follow her.
 

Cindy again took him by the hand and led him to the final room off the long, red hallway. Jay already had a fair idea of what the room contained, judging by the thudding and whip sounds that floated down the hall. It wasn’t until he looked in the room that he realized the sounds weren’t doing the room justice.

The entire S&M room was set up for inflicting pleasure and pain. Several chains and ropes hung from the walls and ceiling in what looked like yet another padded cell. The room contained half a dozen couples and one woman hanging from the ceiling, bound with bandages head to toe, leaving only a small space between her legs that was occupied by some kind of automatic sex machine.
 

Padded work horses were scattered around, along with an array of stirrupped contraptions that Jay imagined would be more at home in a gynecologist’s office.

The
pièce de résistance
was in the center of the room. A tall, metal frame, like a huge construction scaffold with leather straps, dominated the space. On it, a naked, dark-haired woman was suspended off the floor by her wrists. The various straps indicated her position was just one of the many available.

Jay felt his mouth fall open. “Fuck me,” he muttered.

“I’ve been up on that, stretched, shackled, and at someone’s mercy. It’s mind-blowing,” Cindy whispered.
 

The woman was facing away while one masked man fucked her hard from behind. Occasionally, he stopped to whip her with a leather strap, leaving livid welts. Another masked man slapped her with an open hand across her face.
 

The woman was moaning, but Jay wasn’t sure if it was in pleasure or pain. Her head rocked to the side with each blow, before hanging limply between strikes. Jay wondered if the woman was even fully conscious. He saw she had raw welts on her back, from neck to ankles, and blood trickled from a few.

Cindy laughed. “She’s back again tonight? Wow. She must be going for a record, she’s here so often lately.”

Jay scoffed.
Pot calling kettle?
 

“I’ve played with her before—just recently, actually—I think she can only get off if it hurts.”
 

Jay watched in horror, unable to drag his eyes away from the scene in front of him. The men swapped positions, and the woman turned her head as one of the men grabbed her face roughly. The man tried to stick his tongue down her throat, forcing her mark askew and allowing Jay to see her profile.
 

“So, what do think? How about you join me up there later?” Cindy asked.

Everything stopped for Jay in one sobering moment, and stars exploded behind his eyes. He took a deep, ragged breath, unable to drag his gaze away from the scene in front of him.

Cindy noticed how the woman affected Jay. “You like her? I can arrange for us to meet her later.”

But Jay already knew who she was.

Chapter Fifteen

Jay and Berg sat in uncomfortable silence on her couch sipping tea, neither knowing what to say to the other.
 

Jay had lost it at the party, yanking himself away from a startled Cindy before roughly pulling the two men off Berg, unshackling her from the contraption, and throwing her over his shoulder, claiming Berg was his wife and he was taking her home. While Cindy was shocked at Jay’s revelation, and knew it wasn’t true, she nonetheless vouched for him and told the guards to back off. No one had argued after that, least of all Berg.

After wrapping Berg in his leather jacket, Jay watched as the guards handed Berg her belongings silently, and they left. Jay drove her home in her car at speed, as if the faster he got away from the scene the easier it would be to pretend it never happened.
 

Berg had yet to utter a word, only nodding blankly when Jay asked her if she wanted tea.
 

“How long have you been doing . . . that?” he eventually whispered as Berg stared mutely at the wall nursing her untouched tea.
 

She startled at the sudden noise and her eyes met his before skittering away. “A while,” she whispered when it became clear he was waiting for an answer.

Jay blanched. “A while as in a week, or a while as in . . . a month?”

Still looking away, tears streaked down her cheeks. “My whole life, in one way or another . . .”

Jay nodded before taking a deep, shaky breath. “Are you on drugs? I’ve . . . seen this before, so do me a fucking favor and don’t lie to me.”

“No. I don’t like how they make me feel. Besides, I can’t sleep as it is. The last thing I need is more stimulation.”

Jay exhaled in relief. “Alcohol, then?”

“No. I tried, but it doesn’t agree with me.”

“I gotta say, I’m struggling to understand here. If it’s not drugs or alcohol then how do you do . . . that? And
why
would you do that?” he asked, his fists clenching.

Berg felt tears brimming again at the disgust on his face. “I don’t know,” she replied, still mortified. She paused for a moment, struggling to put her feelings into words. “It used to be easier . . . I used to feel normal, most of the time. But ever since I can remember there’s been this . . . darkness . . . inside me.”
 

Darkness sounded clichéd, but she didn’t know how else to explain it to him. “It’s like I have a monster inside me. And as I got older, it just seemed to get bigger, stronger, and harder to fight. I don’t know what’s made it so much worse recently. Maybe the hitchhikers, or maybe it’s seeing such horrible crimes every day. I don’t know, but lately I feel like I’m drowning. I’m tired of fighting it and tired of trying to be strong all the time. It’s trying to kill me, Jay. And it’s winning.”
 

Jay took one of her hands in his.
 

Berg tried to breathe through the sobs as tears streamed down her face. “I try every day to keep myself up, to stay above water. At first, I just enjoyed sex with strangers because it felt good to escape being me. Then it couldn’t be just sex; there had to be pain. But now, I just need to do it to feel normal for a few moments, to keep the voices quiet.”
 

Jay furrowed his brow, clearly trying to understand, but failing.
 

“I know it sounds crazy, but pain, and pleasure, give me some respite. The physical pain is so much easier to deal with than the emotional kind. It helps me escape, albeit temporarily. I’ve been doing it, one way or another, since I was fourteen. It used to be random men in bars, but the sex clubs made it easier and safer—and anonymous.” She stared ahead and avoided Jay’s steady gaze. “It’s ironic, really, considering my station nickname.”

“Do you have any idea what would happen to you if people found out about this? I mean, what would your family think? Your colleagues?”
 

Berg pulled her hand away from his as she caught the judgment in his voice, and felt her temper rise. “Well, they should think that my behavior is no different than yours!” she retorted, finally meeting his eyes. “How many women do you fuck on a weekly basis? Three? Four?”

Jay bristled at the accusation, then grudgingly shrugged. “Fair enough.”

“How is
what you do any different, or better? Sure, I go to sex clubs, but you go to plenty of other clubs specifically looking for sex. At least the no-strings-attached sex I have is honest. How many women have you lied to, just to get in their pants? I see all the calls you don’t return;
you have no intention of speaking to them again, do you?”

Jay gritted his teeth before speaking. “Okay, that’s a fair point.
But you were strung up and being beaten like a dog. Promiscuity is one thing, but your behavior seems to be something else as well.”

“Look, I don’t have any family,” Berg whispered. “My mother’s dead. My various stepfathers predicted I would turn out this way anyway. My adopted father is dead. And my biological father may as well be.” Berg’s voice broke. For years she had kept her secret, not to mention all her hurt, inside. Now her stifled emotions were clamoring to spill out. Clamping her mouth shut, she fought the urge to be sick and regained control. “So there’s nobody to think anything. As for my colleagues, it looks like I’m going to prison anyway.”

Jay sighed. “Fuck, Berg, I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“This is the most I’ve ever bothered to find out about your life. Some kind of partner I am. We spend the majority of every day together and I know less than nothing about you, short of your dog’s name and where you live. My father and grandfather would both be appalled at the kind of cop I’ve turned out to be.”

“To be fair, I haven’t exactly been forthcoming.”
 

“Hey. Were you . . . there on the nights of the murders?” he asked.

Berg hesitated. “Yes, but it makes no difference,” she replied bitterly.

“The hell it doesn’t! You have an alibi. You’ll be cleared as a potential suspect.”

Berg shook her head emphatically. “I’d rather spend the rest of my life in prison, or die, frankly, than let this get out to the public or the station,” she whispered. “Besides, the people I was . . . there with . . . aren’t going to come into court and stand up for me. Many are very prominent and wealthy people. They don’t want to admit what they do any more than I do.”
 

“Actually, I may have someone in mind. The woman I went there with has seen you there and might enjoy this kind of thing coming out. And thanks to our new workplace laws, you can’t be fired due to sexual preference. If I can persuade her, will you at least think about it?”
 

Sexual preference?
“If you know someone else who goes there, why aren’t you lecturing them about their lifestyle choices? Why am I the lucky one?” Berg asked, frowning.

“Well, because . . . Cindy’s Cindy. She does what she does, but she still gets up in the morning and functions. She does her job, has relationships. You’re barely functioning lately, Berg. You know it, I know it, and I’m pretty sure Leigh knows it. It’s only a matter of time before Consiglio finds out and you lose everything you’ve worked so hard for. Is that what you want?” Jay asked softly.

Berg put her tea down on the table and looked down at her hands, deep in thought. She loved her job—but did she deserve it?
 

No,
the shadowy voice in her head whispered.
 

She struggled to ignore it, instead trying to remember why she became a cop in the first place, why it was so important to her. To stop other young girls growing up to be . . . her. But it was hopeless. Even if she were to get her job back, no one would ever take her seriously again, and criminal defenders would have a field day.
 

“What’s the point?” she muttered, her voice bleak.

“But . . .”

She looked away. “Just go, okay?”

Jay frowned. “Go?”
 

“Go. Leave.” She pointed to the door. “I release you of your obligation. Go home, meet up with whatever woman you’re banging. Get a new partner. I’m not your problem.”

“No,” he replied. “For the first time, I actually feel close to you. I want to stay, I want to help you fix—”

“What? Fix this? Fix me?” Berg shouted, gesturing at herself with loathing. “I’m not your old DVD player, Jay. I can’t be fixed! Don’t you think I’ve tried? I can’t stop! Lately, I can’t even go a day . . .” Berg stood. “This isn’t your problem. Just leave.” She stalked into her bedroom, waiting for the sound of the door closing behind him. She realized with irritation that the tears were flowing again.
 

“No.”
 

She whirled around and saw Jay against her door frame, arms folded and jaw twitching.
 

“I’m here, and I’m staying. For you.”

Berg sank down onto the bed. She didn’t have the energy to fight him again tonight. Jay joined her on the bedspread, stretching out a hand before withdrawing it again. The pair sat in silence for a few more minutes, lost in their various thoughts.
 

“I don’t know what to say,” Jay whispered. “How to make you feel better, how to make you believe you’re worth better. There’s help, you know, for this kind of thing.”

“Yeah?” Berg asked, brushing her hair behind an ear with a trembling hand.

“Sex addict help groups. Like AA or NA. I’ve heard of them. But you have to want to go. You have to make the decision yourself. All I can do is tell you that you’re amazing and worth more than this, that’s for damn sure.”

Berg didn’t reply.
Am I a sex addict?
She put her head in her hands, thinking about her life to date. The random, anonymous and inappropriate partners, the dangerous, not to mention painful, encounters.

The constant need for more danger, more risk to get those higher highs. And now it was interfering with her life. She had no control over it anymore. Ashamed, she had no idea why she did what she did if it didn’t make her feel better. It only made her feel worse.