Masks (Out of the Box Book 9) Read Free Page A

leaving Jamie standing in the kitchen of their Staten Island home, her daughter’s parting words echoing in her ears.
    Jamie felt the words bounce around inside her, scoring pinball-like hits off the bumpers of her emotions. This was how it was lately: argument after argument, Kyra leaving in a slam of the door, or the sound of her locking herself in her room. It didn’t take much to get them going, either, just a little push, an offhand comment by either one of them and they were off to the fighting races, like they just picked up where they’d left off the last argument.
    As though Jamie didn’t have enough on her mind already.
    She ran fingers through her long, blond hair, then opened her eyes to see the clock. She was late again, the exchange with Kyra costing her time she didn’t have. She needed to be at her company right now, to meet with the banker to arrange an extension on a loan her business couldn’t pay just yet along with additional credit. She hadn’t counted on this fresh volley with Kyra. She should have, of course, but then, she hadn’t been the one in control of setting the appointment. It was the banker who had the power in that scenario, because it wasn’t like he was the one who needed more money to keep the doors of his company open.
    Jamie surveyed the kitchen in a quick glance. Her wholegrain Eggos were burnt black in the old toaster oven, the appliance a remnant of their days in an apartment before they got the house. She picked up her coffee from where she’d left it on the counter before she and Kyra had started really going at it. She’d put it down because she didn’t trust herself not to accidentally break it in her grip. Now it shook in her hands as she tried to calm herself with soothing breaths, drips slopping down the sides of the wide mug that said “I Heart New York.”
    “Why today, of all mornings?” Jamie muttered to herself, taking a long drink of the cold, pungent liquid. It was cheap coffee, the best she could afford. She leaned against the composite countertop and took a breath, trying to get her mind right so she could finish getting ready and get out the door for her meeting with the banker.
    She turned her head when she saw motion out of her peripheral vision; Kyra had left the TV on, with the volume off. Jamie hadn’t even noticed because she’d been too busy rushing around, making sure Kyra had all her stuff for school, trying to chase down an invoice she was pretty sure she’d need for the meeting this morning. She had a pile on the dining room table that was now utterly out of order. That was okay. They always ate in the kitchen anyway.
    Jamie started to turn off the TV, but the headline on the chyron at the bottom caught her attention: QUEEN OF WALL STREET HELD HOSTAGE.
    Jamie froze, frowning as she nudged the tiny circular nub of the volume up button.
    “—here live, on Wall Street, where a gunman has taken Nadine Griffin hostage. The NYPD has identified the suspect as Joseph Tannen, age 34, from the Bronx,” the lady reporter said, police milling around behind her, holding back the press and other onlookers. “Tannen apparently has a gun to Ms. Griffin’s head and is holding position behind her to keep snipers from firing at him.” The reporter shuffled around and thrust a microphone at a man with a comb-over who looked vaguely familiar to Jamie. “Lieutenant Welch! Lieutenant, what can you tell us about—”
    Lieutenant Welch blanched into the camera, turning his head as he was caught with a blinding light in his eyes. “We have the scene cordoned off as best we can,” Welch said, his pupils obviously shrinking under the assault of the lights. “Mr. Tannen is making demands, and, uh—” Welch shrugged, “we’re talking with him.”
    “What sort of demands is Mr. Tannen making?” another reporter called from somewhere in the scrum. Jamie watched, riveted. This was all happening real time, the LIVE label emblazoned across the bottom of the