Deadworld by J. N. Duncan Page B

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