Federal Discipline (3 page)

“No,” Jamie replied. “But it's fairly obvious. The perpetrator killed this man several times over,
then tried to dispose of him as if he were a cartoon character. Poisoned. Shot. Stabbed. Strangled. Yes, strangled
after
all of that. Then he put the body into a kitchen sink and tried to use the waste disposal. Whoever did this was out of his head.”

“
His
head?” Harley was questioning her call again.

“It takes a lot of strength to lift a deadweight like this into a sink. Either a man did this, or a really jacked woman. You can keep your eyes out for a female bodybuilder if you like.”

It took all her strength not to laugh at the dour look he gave her.

“Don't get cocky, agent,” Harley growled.

Jamie didn't care that he was growling. He could grump and snarl all he liked. She knew she'd done a good job. And she knew he knew she knew.

“Let's go, agent,” he said. “You've bothered Dr
. Saunders long enough.”

“Jamie is no bother,” Dr
. Saunders said, snapping off grisly gloves. “I've often found her observations most invaluable.”

“Agent Hayes believes my uterus will get in the way of being a federal agent,” Jamie said, dropping Jack right in it. “He meant to hire a man, you see.”

“Oh?” Dr. Saunders wandered over to the fridge, pulled out a soda and took a swig.

Jamie was not looking at Jack, but she could feel him staring daggers at her. He was likely unaware of the fact that Jamie had known Dr
. Saunders for years. She'd even attended Dr. Saunders' third wedding to the mattress mogul, Sleepy Saunders.

“Agent,” Jack ground out. “We're leaving.”

“We're leaving,” Jamie repeated. “See you later, Sandy.”

“Will we see you at Salad Sunday?”

“Sure,” Jamie waved. “See you then.”

“Salad Sunday?” Jack made the statement a question as they left the morgue and proceeded up through the livelier parts of the hospital.

“Oh yes,” Jamie said. “Sleepy Saunders is famous for his Salad Sundays.”

Jack looked at her suspiciously. “Are you messing with me, agent? I don't advise it. I'd also appreciate you not informing all and sundry regarding the matter of your employment status.”

“You mean the unfortunate case of the unexpected uterus?” Jamie could hardly restrain a grin. It was fun, teasing Jack. He was so serious, so stern, so utterly the perfect straight man.

“Keep going like that and I'll turn you over my knee,” Jack threatened.

“You're getting predictable.” Jamie laughed. He was not going to spank her, not there in the busy hospital halls with nurses going to and fro. He was not going to spank her full stop. The swat that morning, that had been a bluff of sorts. A single smack designed to make her think he was capable of that which he so glibly threatened. “And you know what? I think you're all talk.”

Next thing she knew, a large hand was wrapped around her upper arm. She was pulled into an empty room, confronted with a very tall, very annoyed case agent, and then presented with the hard length of his thigh pressing into her hips.

He was sitting on a hospital bed. She was over his lap. It had all happened so quickly she barely had time to process it.

What started out as a surprise turned into a scuffle as Jamie dug her heels in and pulled back, her feet scrabbling and squeaking across the shiny hospital
floor.

“Jack!” s
he squealed his name. “Stop!”

“You stop,” he rumbled. “I warned you not a minute ago and you insisted upon mouthing off yet again. I won't tolerate insubordination.”

Braced against him with her feet under the bed, her bottom pushed as far away from him as possible, Jamie scowled. “Well I won't tolerate this!”

“You don't have a choice.”

He gave what appeared to be a small tug, and Jamie was propelled across his lap. With a face full of hospital linen, she gave a muffled shout of outrage and then a squeak as his impossibly large, impossibly hard palm cracked across her bottom.

Shocked beyond imagination, Jamie froze as Agent Harley dealt two more solid smacks to her bottom, leaving her with a bristling stinging in her cheeks. She was barely coherent when he helped her to her feet, his hands at her hips to steady her as she wobbled on jelly knees.

“You...” She couldn't muster more than that. A hot flush of something like shame was washing over her, mingling with the tingling in her rear and crashing about her body in waves of outrage.

Jack held her for a moment, making sure she was steady on her feet, then slid his hands away and stood up himself. “Come on, agent,” he said. “We have work to do.”

Jamie stared at him, still speechless. He spanked her as if it were nothing. He spanked her as if he had the right to spank her.

A dimple started to form on his right cheek as he looked down at her. That was even more confusing. He wasn't mad. He wasn't anything. He was just...
him.

“Don't do that ever again,” she said, her voice escaping her constricted throat in a way that made her sound high pitched and squeaky.

“Don't make it necessary, and I won't.”

“That wasn't necessary.”

“You told me I was all talk. You were proved wrong. Now do you want to do some work, or do you want to argue with me until I spank your bottom again?”

Jamie opened her mouth,
then shut it again. In all her days she'd never met such an arrogant, insufferable... bastard of a man.

“Threatening me with assault if I dare question you is not going to work,” she said. “I'm going to report you.”

“You feel assaulted?”

Jamie met his eyes for a
moment, that was all she could bear. There was something about the way he looked at her, the warm gravel of his voice that soothed her very agitated feelings. She didn't feel assaulted. It wasn't violence that was making her angry. It was the feeling, no, the knowledge that she'd been taken to task with devastating effect.

“Jamie,” he said, using her first name instead of 'agent'. “I'm not trying to hurt you. But you, Missy, tested me. And you found out what happens when you test me, didn't you?”

That was a question she could not bring herself to answer. She mumbled something, stared at the floor and wished she could just drop right through it. This, this was almost worse than the spanking. The talking to. The slightly disappointed tone. And the admission of guilt, which he was asking her to make.

She couldn't have felt more on the spot if she were being questioned. As the silence stretched on for painful seconds, she began to wring her hands and squirm her toes inward.

“Yeah, okay,” she finally mumbled. “Can we go now?”

“Watch the tone, or I'll send you to the corner.”

Jamie looked up, her mouth opening in an 'O' of disappointment and shock. He couldn't possibly be serious. But he probably was. Jack Harley clearly didn't operate the same way other case agents operated. And he clearly didn't care if she did report him. Reporting him would probably just play into his plan to get her reassigned.

She was about to say something to that effect, but Jack had evidently tired of her stammering. He walked out the door, leaving her to trail after him like a recalcitrant puppy.

By the time they got out to Jack's car, Jamie was eager to reclaim a little of her dignity. Maybe she had been testing him with the spanking thing, but the fact remained she'd had no trouble doing the work he'd asked her to do. And she hadn't just been a general dogsbody. She'd had real insight.

Was he going to acknowledge how well she'd done? Even a little bit?

It seemed not, as he put the car in gear and started to move off. She couldn't stand it any longer. Even though it had only been about a minute since they started driving, she couldn't stand another second of his silent refusal to acknowledge her good work.

“So are we going to stop pretending as if I can't do this job?”

He pulled the car back over and fixed Jamie with a hard scowl.

She ignored it blithely.
“Are we stopping for donuts?”

“Listen,” Jack said. “So you dealt with a corpse okay. Great. But this job isn't just about dealing with corpses...”

“...or about files, or about qualifications, or about anything,” Jamie snapped. “You're never going to be satisfied, are you? It wouldn't matter what I did. My crotch disqualifies me.”

“Listen, my girl...”

“I'm not a girl. I'm definitely not your girl,” Jamie corrected him, interrupting again. She was done with trying to convince him. Clearly he was done with her. Well, if that was the case, he was going to hear about it before he got rid of her. “You're a misogynistic pig. You took one look at me and decided that I wasn't good enough. Well, I've got news for you, mister, I'm more than good enough. And I'll be good enough with someone else. So go ahead. Transfer me. I'll be your boss one day.”

Both his brows had been raised throughout the duration of her rant. They settled when she closed her mouth. “You'll be my boss, will you?” He chuckled, and she felt a fresh rush of anger. He wasn't taking her seriously.

She looked out the window, blinking hard so the tears of frustration making their way to her eyes didn't appear. That was all she didn't need, for him to see her cry after yelling at him. “I'll take myself back,” she said, putting her hand on the door. “Thank you for the ride.”

The door locks clicked shut.

She turned and looked at him with concern and confusion. “What are you doing?”

“You're not going to run away from this discussion,” he said firmly. “You're not going to throw all that out there and then walk away. You're going to sit there and listen to me.”

She glared at him, wishing she wasn't blinking back quite so many tears. She was sure her eyes were wet, and she was just as sure he would notice it.

“Fine.” She bit the word out like a curse.

“You're inexperienced and arrogant,” he said. “Like almost every single rookie that comes in. You think my objection to you is because you're a girl. That's part of it. But there's more to it than that. There's a softness about you. Yes, you're qualified and yes your pathology skills are up to par. But this job will change you. You won't drift off to sleep at night with puppies and lambs dancing in your head. You'll see the faces of the victims. You'll lose your softness and become harsh. The things you'll see, they'll make their mark on you. Forever.”

He probably meant the speech to be cautionary. It came off as patronizing.

“I've got my reasons for wanting to do this job, Agent Harley. And I'm not as soft as you think I am. So how about you stop worrying about preserving my alleged innocence and just do your job?”

Jack sighed, sounding more disappointed than annoyed. “You have got to work on the way you speak to me, agent. It's halfway between petulant teenager and aggravated perp.”

“I was perfectly polite in the beginning,” she pointed out.

“Well you're not now,” Jack Harley responded. “If we're going to work together, that will have to change.”

“If we're going to work together?”

“Let's just say you've worn me down, Black,” he shrugged. “Let's see how you go. You're on probation, but I'll keep you on for the moment.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Huh.” Jamie bit her lower lip. A strong part of her wanted to tell Agent Harley to go fuck himself, but that would be cutting her nose off to spite her face. Fact of the matter was, she wanted in on his cases. She didn't want to spend her life prosecuting people for dodging taxes, or smoking the wrong plant. She wanted to get the people who really deserved to be got. The people who needed to be got. And Harley did that.

“
‘Huh’? That's all you've got to say?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I guess it is.”

He shook his head and chuckled again. “Black, you're a pain in the ass. Let's go.”

Back to the desk.
Back to the piles of files that meant nothing at all. Jamie would rather have stayed with the pathologist. At least then she would have had something interesting to do.

Back at the office, Jack provided her with a laptop. She noticed that it had
internet connectivity, but not intranet connectivity. Probably best not to make mention of that, given the events of the morning – and given the fact she could still somehow feel the ghost of his hand against her bottom, she said nothing.

“These are forums we monitor,” he explained, leaning over her shoulder to bring up a list of addresses. “Go have a look. See if there are any posts that could be related to this murder.”

“People don't post about murders they've committed online, surely.” Jamie frowned at the screen. “That's... stupid.”

“People are stupid,” Jack replied. “Criminals especially so.”

“Only sometimes. There are smart criminals.”

“Criminals are usually stupid,” he said. “Smart people have the brains to make it legally. A bad confi
dence trickster is a criminal, a con man. But a good one? He's an investment banker. There aren't many criminal masterminds in real life. Perhaps a few of the cartels, but it's the same there too. A cartel leader is a criminal seconds away from a body bag at all times. A pharmaceutical executive is a billionaire.”

“That analogy doesn't work with, say, serial killers,” Jamie pointed out. “There's no legal form of serial killing.”

“Not really, no,” Jack agreed. “Serial killers are a rare form of smart criminal. Because they have to be smart enough at killing to get away with it more than once.”

Jamie put the nub of a pen in her mouth and chewed. “Is it hard?”

“What do you mean, is it hard?”

“I mean is it hard to get away with murder?”

“Well,” Jack sat down behind his desk, looking thoughtful. “I suppose it depends how you do it and why. Most murders are crimes of passion, so they're hard to cover up. A planned one... serial killer style, that can be easier to get away with. It also depends on the victim. Are they someone who will be missed? The sort of killer who targets the indigent can get away with it for a very long time, unfortunately.”

“Who was our victim, in this case?
I mean, he was male. Obviously.”

“You've seen what his innards look like, but you don't so much as know his name.
Details, agent. Details,” Jack said. He was teasing, she knew because both his usually hard cheeks were dimpled in a way that made her heart skip a beat. “Here...” he pushed the file toward the edge of his desk. “Skip past the gore and educate yourself.”

Jamie retrieved the file and did a little reading. The unfortunate victim had been in his forties.
A divorced Iraq vet. He had a few minor convictions for petty theft and illicit substances. He'd done a short stretch for cocaine possession the year before, but had kept his nose clean enough to stay out of trouble since then.

“Almost indigent,” she said, feeling sad for the man whose life had ended most unpleasantly. “And I suppose, as we're on this case, he's not the only one.”

“He's not,” Jack confirmed. “He's the sixth in five months.”

“All similarly dispatched?”

“A certain type of frenzy typifies the murders, yes,” Jack confirmed. “Though some of the victims and MO's seem incoherent. The previous five victims were all male. A librarian, a couple of other Iraq vets, a shopkeeper and a tennis coach. Nothing much to connect them besides the fact that they all live in the city and they all ended up dead.”

“There's three vets so far, that could be a connection?”

“There are a lot of vets in the city,” Jack said. “Only thing that tends to connect them is that they end up in trouble a little more than your average guy. At this stage, it's something of a mystery precisely who we're dealing with. If there's a single who at all.”

“There could be several people going about sticking people down garbage disposal units?”

“That's a new development.”

“Hmm.” Jamie returned to the file, pouring over the officially held details of the deceased. They were frighteningly complete. Email records, including copies of some actual emails, mundane communications included. There were queries about shoe specials and a complaint about the cable guy coming three days late. The emails didn't read like the communications of someone living so close to the edge he was in any serious danger of being murdered. The day before his death, his
internet history revealed searches for casserole.

As her mind wandered, Jamie found herself gazing across at Jack Harley. Obviously the deceased, in spite of having lived an apparently normal life, had crossed paths with the wrong kind of people. Maybe it was just bad luck, but Jamie didn't believe in luck. She believed in cause and effect. There had to be a connection between all the men. There just had to be.

“Staring at me for inspiration?” Jack chuckled.

She blushed. “No
... I mean... Sorry.” God. He was really quite attractive, especially when he was smiling, which wasn't that often where she was concerned.

“I'm kidding, Jamie.”

Whenever he said her first name, she felt a little shiver of delight. He said it so... affectionately, almost. She knew she was probably imagining that. They barely knew one another, in spite of the fact he'd taken the liberty to become quite familiar with her bottom.

The memory of being spanked by the hands that were at that moment holding a cup of coffee and a memo
respectively, came flooding back. It wasn't just Jamie's mind that flooded either, there was a certain wetness in her panties, an involuntary response to the recollection of being held by strong hands and lectured by that rolling brogue.

Jack's phone rang. She watched him as he answered it, not so much listening to what he was saying as watching the way his lips moved. He had a nice mouth, a strong, kissable mouth with lips that probably tasted...

“Jamie!”

She came back to reality quickly as those lips barked her name. “Yeah?”

“Quit day dreaming. The local PD are in a standoff with someone who could be connected with this case. He's showing signs of psychosis and extreme violence. We need to get down there.”

Finally.
Some real excitement. Jamie bounced out of her chair with a quick, “Yes, sir!”

Her enthusiasm was not greeted with any measure of excitement on Jack's part. “This isn't going to be fun, agent. We're going to go grab you a vest from inventory and you're going to stay well out of the way. Situations like this one have a tendency to deteriorate sharply when you least expect it.”

Jamie nodded whilst he was talking. She'd heard it all before in the academy. She didn't care. She just wanted something to happen. And it was happening.

Down in the armory, it took Jack a while to be satisfied with her vest. He insist
ed that she try three different ones on, making sure that it fit properly and that she could move in it.

“You're small,” he frowned at her, sticking his hand in between the back of the vest and her back. There was a good amount of space there, which he clearly wasn't happy with. The shoulders of the heavy garment were wide too, hanging off her own shoulders not unlike a football player's shoulder pads.

“Will I need a separate vest for my ovaries?” She shot the question at him in response to his observation. She didn't feel small, she felt normal sized. Not everyone could be a hulking mesomorph like Jack.

“You're going to need an ice pack for your backside if you don't stop mouthing off,” he growled. “That will have to do. You look like you're wearing your daddy's vest, but there's nothing that can be done about that in the meantime. We'll special order one in for you.”

Jamie didn't feel like she was wearing her daddy's vest. Sure it was a little on the large side, but she could bear up under the weight just fine. Biting her tongue, she didn't make any further smartass responses. There was work to be done. She could antagonize Jack Harley later.

They drove out to a fairly dilapidated area of the city, a place where the government had once decided to take a crack at social engineering by building large social housing units. The experiment had failed in the 60's and was still failing in a fairly spectacular way.

It wasn't hard to pinpoint the source of the trouble. Jack drove up a block where squad cars were keeping vigil in low, sleek black metal form. One of the cruisers had blue and red lights flashing warning to those around. It acted like a beacon to Jack and Jamie as they crawled up nearby and pulled to a stop.