Page 2 of Jason's Justice
“But you have the gut instinct to warn me. I’ll take that warning, Mr. Black. I wish you well in whatever you face, and you will be in my prayers.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hastings.” They hung up, and he gathered the items for leaving her pay in the usual spot. He threw in an extra couple hundreds of dollars to ease the burden of not cleaning for a while, and once it was left on the usual table, he went upstairs to the master bedroom to pack. It took him almost two hours because he didn’t know what to actually pack. Did he pack his thousand dollar suits, the ones he wore to the office every day, or casual clothes? On a sigh, he stood in his walk-in closet and studied his clothes with a critical eye. He finally decided to pack his less expensive dress clothes, and only two power suits with matching shirts and ties in case he would have to go to court.
Once everything was packed, he took the suitcases and garment bag down to the front door. Back in his bedroom, he gathered his toiletries, and set them to the side. There was room in one of the suitcases to stuff the smaller bag inside after his shower. Earlier in the day, before his meeting with the President, he had been able to make a plane reservation. He knew it was wrong to do before the meeting, but he had been convinced if he hadn’t been given permission to pursue this meeting, he was going to quit his job and go rogue. Thankfully, he didn’t have to do that. Once he was sure he had everything, he returned downstairs and in the kitchen he opened the refrigerator and smiled at the fresh meal waiting for him. The note attached said it was a lasagna that Mrs. Hastings had made that day. The rest was in the freezer. As it warmed in the microwave, he sighed at all the food that would go to waste, but it warmed his heart that Mrs. Hastings would be taking it home with her. As he ate, he made a list of things he thought he should pack, and as soon as some of the items were written down, he crossed them off as already packed.
After his dinner, he cleaned up, and even washed the dishes by hand, dried them, and put them away. As he headed towardthe stairs, he went to his office, stood there and turned in a circle several times trying to remember why he went in there to begin with. He thought he was still young enough, at the age of fifty-two, not to be losing his mind. With a shake of his head, he started to leave, then whipped around and turning in a circle again. He looked at his watch, nodded, then ran up to his walk-in closet for a bag. Back in his office, he gathered things that were important to him, or extremely expensive, and put them in the bag. He made a mental note to leave earlier than he planned for the airport the next day in order to drop these items off at the bank in his safety deposit box. At the last minute, he added certain files to the bag, and once satisfied, he took the bag to the front door.
When Jason settled in bed that night, he looked around and nodded. “I’ll miss you,” he said to the room at large, and he had absolutely no idea why he said what he had, since he said it to a house. After a restless night, he rose an hour before his alarm was to go off, and he went to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, but found that it was already made, and he only had to turn it on before he went back up to shower. Dressed, packed, and ready to go, he walked his house one last time, then pulled his phone and called for a cab. He had his two suitcases, one garment bag, and his briefcase waiting outside when the cab arrived. After putting the luggage in the back, he requested to be taken to the bank, then told the driver there would be a large tip if he would wait for him in the bank, then take him to the airport.
Once inside the bank, he was immediately ushered to the safety deposit boxes, and after he put the items inside, he decided to bring the empty carry-on with him, and he stopped at the teller and withdrew a large sum of cash. Still not understanding why he would need it, but it felt right, and he had been known to go by his gut instincts for most of his life. At the airport, he made good on his promise of giving the cabbie alarge tip, he figured the hundred dollars he slipped him would make his day, and maybe help his family out a little. He had no problems getting checked in, or through security. He liked that he only had to wait thirty minutes before he boarded the plan. Since he had booked first class tickets, he was one of the first ones to board. The flight to Chicago was uneventful, no problems with the lay-over, and they left on time for Seattle.
After getting his bags at the claims area, Jason went to the car rental counter, and again, had no problem picking up his rental. He liked that he was given a mid-sized SUV, and after tossing his luggage inside, he paused when his stomach began to growl. He looked at his watch, then the clock on the dash and laughed at himself. According to the time difference, his body was on the time that he had actually boarded his plane back in Washington, but he was physically three hours behind that time.
On his way to his destination, several miles from the airport, he saw a restaurant, pulled in, and went inside. It didn’t take long to get service, nor to eat his meal. With a full stomach, he went back out to his vehicle and programmed his first destination in the GPS and settled in for the drive. When he arrived at his destination, he parked in the parking garage and walked to the police station. As soon as he entered, memories of when he first started practicing law came rushing back to him, and he had to shake his head to clear it. It had been a long, long time ago that he’d been hungry at the prosecutor’s office. With hard work, determination, and grit, Jason had worked his way up the ladder, and was now one of the top prosecutors in the country. He was about to ask for someone that would guide him in taking on one of the biggest police agencies, and he couldn’t wait to begin.
CHAPTER 2
“Help you?”the front desk Sargeant asked Jason as he stepped up to the tall desk in the middle of the room.
“I’m looking for Detective Kevin Lassiter, please.”
“Let me see if he’s in,” the man said, and Jason waited. When the Sargeant hung up he nodded and pointed to a set of stairs. “Up the stairs, the bull pen on the left.”
“Thank you,” Jason nodded, and followed the directions. When he entered, he was again assaulted with memories from his earlier years, but shook his head to dispel them.
“Help you?” a man just inside the door asked.
“Detective Lassiter?”
“Over there, guy in the pale blue shirt, blue tie.”
“Thank you,” Jason said, then wove his way through the desks, and when he stood before the other man’s desk, it took several moments before he looked up. When he did, he scowled.
“Help you?”
“Are you Detective Kevin Lassiter?”
“I am, who are you?”
“I’m Jason Bla…” before he could even finish, Kevin jumped to his feet and had Jason follow him. They went into a room that the police stood in while watching an interrogation. “Sorry aboutthat, as far as I know, no one here knows why you’re here. Have you talked with Hank Patterson with Brotherhood Protectors lately?”
“Not for at least a week. Have there been any new developments?”
“Not that I’m aware of, I’m assuming you’re here because you want to meet and talk with Ilsa Miller?”
“Yes. Eventually, I’ll also want to talk with a Miss Katherine Miller.”
“Yeah, I figured that. She’s not here, but I know where she is, and she’s safe. Eventually, I’ll take you to her. As I said no one here knows anything, and I didn’t know whether you wanted them to know or not.”
“Let me ask you this, how often does this office, or you in particular work with the FBI?”
“Not often. I’m a homicide detective, and have been with Seattle PD for twenty years. I can count on one hand how many times they’ve come here. They have an office here in Seattle, but it’s on the other side of town, and as far as I know, they do their thing, we do ours.”
“Okay, keeping city and federal apart. I like that. If you don’t mind, will you be helping Mrs. Miller and myself with this investigation?”
“I would like to. I’ll be honest here, Mr. Black. Ilsa’s been living in my house with me for the last month or so. You are more than welcome to join us, there is plenty of room. I’m not one to tell you what to do, or how to do your job, but I thought that if we were all in the same location, then it won’t bring suspicions on us with the comings and goings of you and Ilsa.”
“Your family won’t be upset about us intruding?”
