Deadworld by J. N. Duncan Page A

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.”
    “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