Read Online Severance Package by Duane Swierczynski - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Duane Swierczynski
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the window, and was suspended—frozen—paralyzed—in midair, it was on to the next task. After all, she was being watched herself.
Molly was curious, sure. She wondered about the expression on Amy’s face. Wondered if her calculations had been correct. But she cared more about what her special audience thought.
There’d be plenty of time to watch later.
On playback.
Down the hall, Jamie stared at his two-way Motorola pager. It had sat in a front pocket of his leather briefcase for over a month, unused. As far as he knew, Jamie had never turned it off.
The day before the Fourth of July, he’d received a final page from Andrea:
GET HOME NOW, DADDY :)
Andrea’s water had just broken. She’d been pulling steaks out of the freezer, hoping to thaw them in time for a little pre-Fourth grilling session. She craved meat—big fat T-bone steaks, specifically—throughout her pregnancy, and damn it, she’d be eating steaks right up until the moment the baby was born.
As it turned out, Jamie rushed home, gathered up Andrea and the emergency baby bag she’d packed a week before, and raced—cautiously—to Pennsylvania Hospital. The steaks ended up sitting out on the counter for the next day and a half. When Jamie arrived home, delirious with joy and exhaustion, he was smacked in the face with the scent of rotting cow flesh. Welcome home, Daddy.
The pagers had been Andrea’s idea. Frustrated that she couldn’t reach her husband at will—whenever Jamie had his cell phone tucked away in his bag, the thing was hard to hear—she went Motorola on his ass. Found a sweet deal on matching Talkabout T900s. Less than a hundred dollars for the two of them. Ran on a AA battery. During the last month of her pregnancy, Andrea
suggested
that her husband carry the T900 at all times. She suggested it like an umpire suggests to a batter that
he’s out.
Jamie’s T900 was a royal blue; Andrea’s hot pink. Totally outof character for Andrea. But pregnancy had done strange things to the woman.
So now Jamie stared at his T900, wondering if it had any juice left. He hit the power button, but no luck. The thing had lost its last volt probably right around the time the steaks had reached full ripeness.
But that was fine. All he needed was a single AA battery. And then he could text-message the cops or an ambulance or something. YEAH, OFFICER? MY BOSS JUST GOT SHOT IN THE HEAD. THINK YOU CAN SEND SOMEBODY UP? And get off this floor already.
Where did they keep batteries around here?
Amy Felton. She was always good for stuff like that.
There was a knock at the door, two quick taps, just as Molly was about to open it. She paused, then placed her hand on the sturdy silver knob. Opened the door an inch, then pressed the lock button. Then she opened it the rest of the way and quickly pressed her body into the space between the door and the frame. Whoever was there would notice the missing pane of glass, and the leather belt hanging over the ledge. The sticky August air was already flooding into Amy’s office.
Molly bumped into Jamie, who took a nervous step backwards. He looked stunned.
“Jamie.”
“God, are you okay? Is Amy in there?”
“No. She asked me to lock her office door while she went for help.”
“She did? Where?”
“Come with me.”
Molly charged down the hall, giving Jamie zero chance torefuse. He followed her, just as she knew he would. He had a crush on her.
She remembered that night a few months ago, when the staff had been out drinking. Jamie had joined them, which was uncharacteristic of him. They talked; they flirted. He offered to walk her to her car. He wanted to say good night. She pulled back slightly, and that only drew him in further. His breath smelled like beer, and his button-down shirt like a thousand cigarettes. It was difficult for her to pull back, but she did. It wasn’t the right time.
But now …
As she walked by one of the security cameras in the hall, Molly held her
Molly was curious, sure. She wondered about the expression on Amy’s face. Wondered if her calculations had been correct. But she cared more about what her special audience thought.
There’d be plenty of time to watch later.
On playback.
Down the hall, Jamie stared at his two-way Motorola pager. It had sat in a front pocket of his leather briefcase for over a month, unused. As far as he knew, Jamie had never turned it off.
The day before the Fourth of July, he’d received a final page from Andrea:
GET HOME NOW, DADDY :)
Andrea’s water had just broken. She’d been pulling steaks out of the freezer, hoping to thaw them in time for a little pre-Fourth grilling session. She craved meat—big fat T-bone steaks, specifically—throughout her pregnancy, and damn it, she’d be eating steaks right up until the moment the baby was born.
As it turned out, Jamie rushed home, gathered up Andrea and the emergency baby bag she’d packed a week before, and raced—cautiously—to Pennsylvania Hospital. The steaks ended up sitting out on the counter for the next day and a half. When Jamie arrived home, delirious with joy and exhaustion, he was smacked in the face with the scent of rotting cow flesh. Welcome home, Daddy.
The pagers had been Andrea’s idea. Frustrated that she couldn’t reach her husband at will—whenever Jamie had his cell phone tucked away in his bag, the thing was hard to hear—she went Motorola on his ass. Found a sweet deal on matching Talkabout T900s. Less than a hundred dollars for the two of them. Ran on a AA battery. During the last month of her pregnancy, Andrea
suggested
that her husband carry the T900 at all times. She suggested it like an umpire suggests to a batter that
he’s out.
Jamie’s T900 was a royal blue; Andrea’s hot pink. Totally outof character for Andrea. But pregnancy had done strange things to the woman.
So now Jamie stared at his T900, wondering if it had any juice left. He hit the power button, but no luck. The thing had lost its last volt probably right around the time the steaks had reached full ripeness.
But that was fine. All he needed was a single AA battery. And then he could text-message the cops or an ambulance or something. YEAH, OFFICER? MY BOSS JUST GOT SHOT IN THE HEAD. THINK YOU CAN SEND SOMEBODY UP? And get off this floor already.
Where did they keep batteries around here?
Amy Felton. She was always good for stuff like that.
There was a knock at the door, two quick taps, just as Molly was about to open it. She paused, then placed her hand on the sturdy silver knob. Opened the door an inch, then pressed the lock button. Then she opened it the rest of the way and quickly pressed her body into the space between the door and the frame. Whoever was there would notice the missing pane of glass, and the leather belt hanging over the ledge. The sticky August air was already flooding into Amy’s office.
Molly bumped into Jamie, who took a nervous step backwards. He looked stunned.
“Jamie.”
“God, are you okay? Is Amy in there?”
“No. She asked me to lock her office door while she went for help.”
“She did? Where?”
“Come with me.”
Molly charged down the hall, giving Jamie zero chance torefuse. He followed her, just as she knew he would. He had a crush on her.
She remembered that night a few months ago, when the staff had been out drinking. Jamie had joined them, which was uncharacteristic of him. They talked; they flirted. He offered to walk her to her car. He wanted to say good night. She pulled back slightly, and that only drew him in further. His breath smelled like beer, and his button-down shirt like a thousand cigarettes. It was difficult for her to pull back, but she did. It wasn’t the right time.
But now …
As she walked by one of the security cameras in the hall, Molly held her
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