Night Beats: Ghost in the Vending Machine

Chapter 5: S06E08: Ghost in the Vending Machine

The sound of her own boot heels against the linoleum was absolute misery as it pounded against the inside of her skull. Jane was hungover, though not in the fun way that left her with pleasant regrets to contrast the bitter aftertaste. Jordan was one of those bad tastes, good in the moment, but he never digested well. He was the cautionary tale of why there was a rule book, and why it was important to follow it.

Jane liked rules, they were neat and tidy.

She filled out every line and filed things in perfect order. Jordan was the opposite, he was a pattern that appeared in the chaos. He spoke to the cursed parts of her that longed to be free of fear. But the parts that weren't ruled by the moon wanted more than the occasional mistake when the moon tugged too hard at the ocean.

"You okay?" Jordan asked as they stopped at a vending machine.

Jane looked at her own reflection overlapping a bag of plain, ruffled chips. "I'm fine. We should have grabbed something to eat on the way."

"Well, that's what you get being a workaholic." His finger traced the glass down to E8, the cinnamon powdered donuts. "Buy you lunch?" He flashed her that stupidly perfect smile, the one his parents had paid for as an investment in his future. It was hard not to stick her foot in the trap, but she wasn't the only one who fell victim to its innocuous charm.

"Sure." Jordan fed a dollar into the machine, but he was short twenty five cents. He dug the rest out of his pocket, and the quarter clinked its way down.

"Bon appetit, mon chéri," he said while opening the package then handing it off.

Jane's eyes stopped on fresh scars that yet to fade. They had been assigned as partners for less than two months when he was attacked. Still, she found herself sitting by his hospital bed for three days, subsisting on vended confections until he woke up.

"Thanks. Want one?" She fished a single donut out of the package, and he gave her that damn smile again.

"I've never been able to say no to a beautiful pastry." Jordan ruined the moment by shoving the entire thing in his mouth. "Did you get the link from the city?"

"Not yet. They're dragging their heels, as usual."

"Coffee?" He offered after already paying and dispensing a cup.

"Oh my god, yes."

"If you're feeling bad, we can take a break. The autopsy report will be here tomorrow."

Jane looked over the lip of her styrofoam cup. "Quit trying to go home early, we're already running behind."

"Fine. Don't say I didn't try," he added in a grumble as they reached the doors to the morgue.

The doors opened up to near darkness. A few slashes of light cut through closed blinds, reflecting off stainless steel and melamine. Across the room, a ghost flickered next to Beatrix's body, washing her skin in an eerie blue. The specter reached out a hand and lifted a scalpel off a tray.

Jane gasped as Jordan bumped into her back, and a tray of tools clattered to the floor. The ghost turned its blackened eyes on her as its scalpel fell to the floor.

"Damn it, J!" Brent's frustration wafted out like a cold front. "Can you watch where you're going? Some of us are trying to work here." The whites returned to Brent's eyes until the irises slipped back into their natural blue filtered brown.

He groped around for the light switch. "Sorry. You guys keep it too dim in here. Not all of us have darkvision."

The fluorescent flickered before stabilizing on cold, dead eyes less than a foot to his right. Startled, Jordan stepped backward into another cabinet.