J Duncan - Deadworld

“Archie?” Jackie guessed. The image of a bloodless child tended to stick in your brain, and Laurel had a harder time tuning out that kind of stuff. Sometimes Jackie would not even let her inspect the victim if it was too messed up.

She nodded. “Among other things. Anyway I decided to come in and go over the evidence again, see if anything popped up for me before the morning meeting.”

“I was hoping to dig into that murder case with Anderson’s dad some more.”

“Okay, but first I want you to check this out.” She opened the door to the evidence room and led Jackie inside.

There were two men inside snooping around. The closest, a middle-aged man with a thinning, brown buzz cut and soft pouting lips, stood up when they entered the room. He had on the uniform of building security.

He looked up at them. “We got nothing, Laurel. Hey, there, Jack.”

“Figured,” Laurel said.

Jackie had to glance at his name tag before she recalled who he was. She had said hello to him how many times coming into the building? Sad, very sad. “Hi, Walt.”

“Don’t know what to tell you guys. Video is blank. Nobody went in or out other than you, Laurel.”

“No signs of tampering?” Jackie asked.

Walt shook his head. “Not that I can tell, but we’ll give it to the geeks and see if they can find anything.”

Laurel walked them over to the box containing evidence for the case. “I checked it back in when I came up this morning.”

Jackie looked through the handful of plastic bags in the box. Nothing in the room looked disturbed. Whoever had intruded had known what they were looking for and gone directly to it. “Too fucking weird. What could be so important about a penny to warrant the risk of breaking into FBI headquarters? Walt, let us know if anything turns up on that surveillance video.”

“Will do,” he said.

“Thanks. Laurel, let’s go. I want to check out Anderson’s history some more.”

She sighed with obvious annoyance, but Jackie ignored her and walked out. There had to be a more logical explanation than a ghost walking out with the penny. If the videotapes showed a plastic-covered penny floating off down the hall, she would reconsider.

Back at their cubby holes that somehow were considered offices by the management, Laurel plopped down in her chair across the aisle from Jackie’s desk and picked up the cup of tea there. “You think someone snuck in there, don’t you?”

“I just like real possibilities better, and I didn’t want to go all supernatural with Walt right there.”

Laurel shook her head. “Yeah… well, fine.”

“So how does a damn ghost pick up a penny and walk out of an office building? Wouldn’t someone have seen something?”

“Hardly anyone was here, but you’re right that it doesn’t make a lot of sense. All I know is I felt the presence really strongly for about two minutes, but by the time I’d narrowed down where it was coming from, it had gone.”

“Any ideas on how we deal with an evidence-stealing ghost?”

“At the moment, no.” Laurel’s brow wrinkled. “I’m not sure what to make about a lot of things on this case.”

“So, fine then. What do we do?”

Together they said, “Stick with what you do know.”

“Which means we focus on Anderson and see what we can find out about Fontaine and the rest of his business. Hauser needs to get here. He’d do this in half the time.”

“He might have looked into it already. He likes weird cases like this.”

“He just wants into my pants. He’d be interested in any case we have.”

Laurel laughed. “You could do worse.”

“Ew. No. Can you imagine the flack I’d get around here?”

“I’d have to hide your gun.”

Jackie grinned. “There would be much bloodshed.”

“Hey, Jack.” Belgerman stopped between them, his tie already pulled loose from his shirt. “Can we talk for a minute?” He didn’t wait for an answer and kept walking.

Jackie winced. “Fuck. Does he always come in this early?”

“Sometimes,” Laurel replied, “but not very often.”

“Great. This day has turned to shit, and it’s not even eight AM yet.”

“Sorry,” Laurel whispered to her as Jackie got up and walked down the hallway toward Belgerman’s office.

Jackie closed the door to the office. He said nothing, leaning against the edge of his desk, hands folded with quiet calm in his lap. She thrust her hands in her pockets to keep them from fidgeting and felt the saliva evaporate from her mouth. His walls at least were reasonably thick. Someone walking by at the right time, however, would hear. With her luck, it would be Pernetti.

“You’re a fucking idiot sometimes, Jackie.”

Yep. Not happy at all. The look he gave her said far more than the words. If she felt any smaller she would be able slink out under the door. Out the large picture window behind his balding head, a low bank of gray clouds slid by. A light rain was beginning to fall, beading on the glass. It offered little to distract Jackie from the stern, livid, and fatherly gaze Belgerman leveled at her.

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t give me the ‘yes, sir’ bullshit. What the hell were you thinking? Punching a fellow agent?”

“Yes, sir. I know, but, sir, he’s-”

“An asshole?” he replied with little surprise. “Even he will tell you that, Jack.”

Jackie felt a warm flush creeping into her cheeks. Great. Just great. He’s going to suspend me this time, I know it, and Laurel won’t be bailing me out of this one. There were no excuses. “I see that, sir. I lost my cool. I apologize.”

“And you will apologize to him, too, after I’m done with you.” He pushed away from his desk and walked around to the window. “What are you going to do next, Jack? It’s embarrassing as hell and makes us look like a bunch of goddamn, punch-happy Neanderthals to the public.” He pointed at the paper on the corner of his fastidiously clean desk. “Made the paper, even. I guess there was a reporter sitting in there having drinks when you went off.”

Jackie cringed. Could it get any worse? “It won’t happen again, sir.”

Belgerman gave her a pained smile. “Damnit, Jackie. At least be truthful about yourself to me. It’ll happen again. You get into shit like this all the time, Jack. It’s your nature. You’re pissed at the world. I get that. It’s part of what makes you good at what you do, but keep it out of the fucking papers. I can deal with the Pernettis of the world. I’ve put up with you for almost ten years now, and I’m still alive.” He finally relaxed a bit, leaning forward again, placing his hands on the desk. “I get paid this shitty salary to make sure you nitwits get along and still catch the bad guys, but don’t go out of your way to make it worse for me. I don’t need the ulcer.”

Jackie stared down at the gray carpeted floor. “Yes, sir.”

“You say ‘sir’ one more time, and I’m sending you home for the rest of the week. I’m not your father.”

She shifted her weight back and forth from one foot to the other. “I had some… personal issues I was dealing with last night. I think it’s all squared away now.”

He looked skeptical. “You sure?”

No, not at all, actually, but hell if I’m going home. “Yeah. Had a little heart-to-heart with Laurel about everything. I think I’m good.”

“Good. You should listen to her more. She’s the most stable agent in this office.”

Apparently, I don’t listen to her close enough. “Can I ask you something, off the record?”

Belgerman smirked. “This conversation never existed unless you decide to go beat up more agents.”

“Did you know that Laurel is… um… actually, never mind. I’ll apologize to Pernetti first chance I get.”