Killing you Would be Easy

Chapter 3

I shuffle through the file on 'Jason Garrete' with a weighted feeling over me. Honestly, I never would have expected this. ILJ goes after the real deal. It's our job to track the untrackable, touch the untouchable, and he doesn't seem like the type. I'm an expert on phycology, reading peoples emotions, and body language. You can tell much about a person by how they move, walk, and communicate. Usually something is a little off about criminals and I didn't see that something in Jason.

I collect some general information in him, saving it to my photographic memory. He's 6'2, 21 years old which means I was on point. He went to college to study medicine...

I raised my eyebrows at that one.

But dropped out after only a year. Afterward, he went to parties often, and was even spotted smoking weed a couple of times. One night he met Marcus Coudle who was more than you could put to words about a bad influence. A couple months later he was making trouble with Marcus. It seems he was his new bestie. Through all of this ( not to mention the drug dealing and arrests for DUI), he stole different, seemingly random electronics. Everything from a 3D renderer to Neutrik XLR connectors that would sum up to about 6000 dollars. Somehow, the police never had enough proof to make an arrest but ILJ thinks money has something to do with it. It was the same reason he and his friend never got busted for drugs I presume. The NYPD could be easily bribed.

His family was of a kind where you were born into wealth. Jason's grandmother was an only child and her father started a business with all types of medical practice; he owned seven different buildings. He was a billionaire who had more money than he knew what to do with. He signed a will that stated all his money, properties, and land would go to his only daughter, her. They didn't have any other family that they knew of, and her mom died of illness, so she was the only person to inheret it all. Needless to say she and many generations after her would be takin care of for a long time.

This sparked my interest though. Why should someone filthy rich have to steal anything at all?

I headed to my bedroom to start packing.

My mahognany walk - in closet is my favorite thing in my room. It's 5 feet wide, and 6 feet deep. Along the sides are carvings that swirl in a way that resemble twisting , growing vines that bloom big, beautiful roses. The door handles are crystal , and on the double doors an oversized rose takes up both doors with many more intricate swirls within it. I slide the doors open, step in and look around. It's March now so I get some corduroys and long sleeved shirts to match. Then I get all my dark jeans , cute tops, under garments, sweaters , ect .,and some capris for when the weather gets warmer. I don't know when that will be or how long I'm staying there but if summer comes, I'll just buy some tee's and shorts at the nearest mall there, assuming there is one. I'll check it out when I get there, I think to myself. I look down below the clothing rack and pick out my shoes. I pull out 4 pairs of sneakers, 4 solid colored flats with studs at the back. I also grab a couple of heels, and Louis Vuitton mink boots. I lay everything on my bed and wonder how I'm going to get around with this stuff. It looks like it all weighs 500 pounds. I pull out my suitcases and pack up my things, putting all my weapons black makeup bags at the bottom of them. You know 5 handguns and 7 sets of rounds with a ballistic knife (my favorite), but nothing out of the ordinary.

Once I was all finished packing I two big suitcases and a large Dooney and Bourke bag. Maybe I overpacked? Ah well. My coat was nearly falling off my shoulder as I tried to balance my pocketbook on one side, the Dooney and Bourke on the other, and my luggage all at once. So instead I just hauled two bags down to the lobby at a time and went back up for the rest. I walked fast (or as fast as I could manage) to the parking lot. I raked my eyes over the vast amount of cars to find my Cadillac ELR. I spot it near the back and hurry to it, unlocking it from a few feet away. I threw my luggage in the trunk, set my bag in the passenger seat, and sped off.

I love driving. It's just liberating. I love how when I roll down the window the air in the wind whips through my hair calming me. I love the way the car sounds when I speed up, and that new car smell I've tried so hard to keep. I sigh in content.

An hour later I'm getting a little hungry. I haven't seen any diners around though. I can probably wait till I get there, I only have a couple hours to go. My stomach growls "Uuugh" I groan. My body's way of telling me I was crazy for thinking I could go that long without food. I have a pretty big appetite. It's probably because I have a fast metabolism. I drive a could of more miles and start to get aggravated then suddenly I see a sign that says '2 miles to Jesse's dinner'. I sigh in relief.

20 minutes later I'm pulling into the parking lot. The whole lot is empty. I would have thought there would be at least a couple cars here... I take my pocketbook with me and head towards the diner. I realize how small and run down it looks. It was made of wooden slats, painted white and the dirt that accumulated over the years made it look a little shabby. The roof was painted red and the sign in front that was supposed to be glowing 'Jesse's Diner' was dull and instead it read ' Jesse Die'. When I walked inside, the first thing I noticed was the cashier. He must have been about 17 but he was really thin and he was also sleeping on the counter in a way that could not have been comfortable. Then, I noticed the dirty floors, antique looking tables and how the walls were in terrible need of a paint job. The only other people I could see, was an old woman who seemed to be staring at nothing, an older guy who looked like he was in his mid life crises with too tight jeans and a leather jacket, and a sad looking dog. I was starting to see why this place was so empty.