J Duncan - Deadworld

Nick gave him a hint of a smile. “I suppose. Things went as planned?”

Reggie held out a fist so intensely white it looked nearly corporeal and dropped something into Nick’s hand. “I’m guessin’ so.”

“Ah, thanks.” Nick turned the small square of clear plastic around in his hand a couple times before finally holding it up for a better look. “You know, I hadn’t even realized Drake had this. I thought it gone when I burned the cabin down.”

He nodded slowly. “How would you’ve known, boss? We owe that bastard something big.”

Nick studied the penny, the year 1862 standing out clear as the day he had bought it for his son those many decades ago. “The prick has had it all this time. Joshua never even had the chance to put it with his collection.”

“Do you suppose Drake has other things?”

Nick figured as much. He nodded at Reggie, rage bubbling up in his throat so acidic he was afraid he might spit fire if he spoke at that moment. He slid the coin into his pocket and closed his eyes, taking in a deep, cool draught of air. A poor kid was dead, unfortunate to have a passing resemblance to another boy dead for 144 years. Who else in Chicago resembled his dead family? Who was about to find themselves on the wrong end of a twisted vampire’s vengeance? The familiar game was afoot, and Nick did not feel ready to play. Where to begin? The chance for saving the next victim was already gone.

“Did you find anything else?”

The never-ending smile stretched a hair. “Little evidence that I saw other than the coin.”

“Anything from the police?”

“No. They seem to be washing their hands of it.” Reggie’s hands disappeared into the pockets of the overalls. “The blond woman is going to be trouble.”

“The medium?”

Reggie nodded.

“Yeah, no doubt about that. She knows we’re not what we seem.”

Laughter bubbled up out of Reggie-a soft, maniacal cackle. “Oh, I spooked her good this morning. She’s a keen one though. Had to get the penny from their evidence room. Her house is warded something fierce against spirits. I’d have set off alarms all over if I’d tried. She could tell when I picked it up though. Had to practically cross back over to avoid being seen.”

Nick shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now. We’ll be hearing from them again soon, I expect. They’ll be gathering more intel on me, and after showing me the penny yesterday, that Agent Rutledge is going to be all over us. We’ll be lucky to avoid their involvement in this.”

Reggie gave him a wry, sad smile. “That didn’t go too well the last time, boss.”

“Agreed,” Nick said. “We may have little choice in the matter, however, if they try to pin anything on me or drag my ass in.”

“They have no evidence yet.”

“Circumstantial. I was at the scene. They know I’m connected somehow, and technology is going to be to our disadvantage now. They can find out things too fast these days.”

“It’s a strange world. Some days it’s good to be dead.”

Nick almost laughed. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet. I’ll call Shel and Cyn to let them know to expect another visit from the feds. Things are going to get complicated real quick, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll be around if you need me, boss.”

He motioned with the penny to his old friend. “Thanks, Reg. As always, it’s much appreciated.”

“We’re going to take him down this time, Mr. Anderson. You’ll see.”

Nick watched him dissipate into the air. “Yes, we certainly will, Reg.”

It was going to be a lovely day. He got up from the chair, hands going into his pockets, and rubbed at the plastic case between his fingers. Unwanted memories stirred like the wisps of fog down on the pond, ghostly tendrils rising up from the murk below.

It was still dark when the phone rang. Jackie startled awake, still propped against the pillows, and watched her laptop slide off the burgundy comforter to the floor. Bickerstaff, who was perched on the end of the bed below her feet, looked down at the computer and then back at her. He appeared to have been waiting for that precise moment all night and now had a very catlike smirk upon his face. She kicked at him from beneath the covers while reaching for the phone on the nightstand and then watched him indignantly jump to the floor. The number was Laurel’s.

“Hey, it’s six thirty in the morning. Think I’m bringing you a custard doughnut now?” It was not much of a threat, but with sleep still fogging her brain, it was all she could come up with.

“Get your tiny little butt down here, and I’ll take two of Annabelle’s custardy delights, thank you very much.”

Jackie sat up, one hand rubbing at the sleep in her eyes. It was against the laws of nature to sound that functional before the sun came up. “Okay, I’m up, more or less. What’s going on?”

Laurel’s voice rose in pitch, a clear sign she was excited by something. “We had a little visitor in the evidence room this morning.”

Little visitor? “What, like a gremlin or something?”

“Someone stole our little twenty-five-K penny.”

That got Jackie to her feet. “You’re joking. How the hell did someone break into the evidence room?”

“Because they weren’t really here,” she said. Jackie could hear the smirk in her voice.

“Damnit, Laur. You telling me a ghost ran off with evidence?”

Her voice snapped back. “Looks that way.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” Jackie sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “I believe you. I just hate when supernatural shit gets involved. No standards for this kind of thing.”

“Makes life interesting. Coming in now?”

“Yeah. Let me throw clothes on. I’ll grab a bite on the way. Wait. My car is still downtown.”

“I got Denny to take it back for you.”

Jackie listened for but could find no hint of annoyance in Laurel’s voice. “Thanks.”

“Which means Annabelle’s. Don’t forget.”

A morning sheen of fog put a damper on an already shitty start to the day as Jackie drove into downtown, sipping on Annabelle’s Mississippi Mud coffee. How could someone break into the evidence room of the FBI building without getting busted? Security was tighter than Pernetti’s ass. A ghost could get in there, but, then, how did it get out with evidence in hand? Did they even have hands? How the hell did you deal with an evidence-stealing ghost?

Jackie sipped and muttered all the way to the FBI offices, stewing in the elevator as she rode up to the third floor where the evidence room was located. Laurel greeted her at the elevator door, hand extended in anticipation at the white bag Jackie held.

“Boy, someone’s excited this morning.”

Laurel snatched the bag and snagged one of the chocolate-frosted, custard-filled doughnuts. “Mmmm. Oh, that’s so good. I’ve been jonesing for one of those all morning.”

“How long have you been down here?” Jackie handed her the other coffee and tossed the carrier over to a nearby garbage can.

“Five-thirty or so.” She shrugged and happily bit down on the doughnut, wiping at the custard that squirted out around her mouth and licking her finger clean.

“Christ, Laur. What for? And can I have my chocolate croissant, please? You’re hogging the bag.” Laurel gave a sheepish grin and handed the bag back, and Jackie smirked. “Thanks.” She reached in and pulled out the croissant, crumpling up the bag. Her second shot at the waste can missed horribly. “So. What have you got, Sherlock?”

Laurel walked over and placed the bag in the can before heading down the hall. “There’s not much to see, really. I was having a hard time sleeping last night.”