CHAPTER EIGHT

Jesse and his dad drove up in front of the luxury high rise where his father rented him an apartment.

“I had them stock the pantry for you, son. There’s a debit card in the office on the desk. I transferred funds into it until you’re able to get back on your feet. I have a meeting I have to get to, but I think you should have everything you need for now.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Your mother would like to see you for dinner tomorrow night at seven. Your car is in the garage.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Jesse?”

“Yeah?”

“Please leave things alone with Kelly.”

“I can’t just stop loving her,” he said, as sincerely as he could.

He couldn’t flat out lie and say that he’d leave her alone. His parents would be keeping a close eye on him now and he’d have to have an explanation for why he was out of town.

“I just want to talk to her, Dad. You know that I wouldn’t hurt her, right? I was drunk. I’m sober now. I didn’t even drink the Pruno in prison. You know that I’m not some homicidal maniac, right?”

That part, Jesse firmly believed. He wouldn’t kill just anyone. He didn’t have that in him. But Kelly asked for it…no, she begged for it. She was worthless and killing her would actually be doing society a favor.

“Of course,” Vince said. Jesse didn’t think his father sounded too sincere and it pissed him off a little bit. Then he said, “I’m worried about you, not her.”

“Don’t,” Jesse told him. “I won’t do anything that lands me back in jail, okay? It’s not like I have any immediate plans anyways.” That was a lie. Jesse had been planning this reunion for two years. He couldn’t wait.

Vince nodded again. Jesse smiled at his father and Vince smiled back and put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, son.”

“It’s good to be back,” he said. He got out of the car with his things and watched his father drive away.

He took his pathetic box of belongings and made his way up the fourteenth floor where his apartment was. He dropped his things inside the door and glanced around. It was huge with floor to ceiling windows that looked out onto the city. He glanced over at the granite counters and saw his keys sitting there and smiled. He made his way down the hall and found the office his father mentioned. The debit card was there on the desk. He picked it up and put it in his wallet. Then he pulled a picture out of it before putting it back in his pocket. It was a photo of him and Kelly that had been taken on a trip when they went to Martha’s Vineyard.

He traced his thumb across the lines of her smiling face. He wondered if she knew he was out or was the stupid little bitch still smiling, thinking that she’s safe? He marveled at how she thought she was smarter than him. Moving to a different state and changing her name did absolutely nothing for her because she was stupid enough to turn up at a place where his father was. She had to know that Vince would tell him. The thought of her living in terror sent a surge of adrenaline through his veins. His life was ruined because of her. For that, she was going to sacrifice hers. First, he had some business here in New York to deal with.

He sat down at the desk. He turned on the computer and once it loaded he typed in “People Search.” That offered him millions of hits. He clicked on one that said, “Find anyone, anywhere.” He typed in Chantelle Taylor, proud of himself for his memory. He’d only been privy to her last name the day the cunt had come into his lawyer’s office for her deposition.

It was burned into his memory now. The search engine returned three of them. It was easy to narrow down because two of them were over fifty. Then he had to pay the $9.99 fee in order to get the full address. He put in the information off of the debit card and less than two minutes later he had all of her information. She still lived in New York, in a walk-up apartment in Washington Heights. It was convenient since the site also told him that she was employed by the State of New York at the satellite D.A.’s office in Washington Heights. Imagine that.

He wondered how much information the nosy little bitch had been feeding to Kelly about him over the past two years. He would have to ask her when they met. He looked that office up since he wasn’t aware of it. It seemed that it was a new branch his father had created and it dealt with immigrant affairs, domestic violence, and witness support. He was shaking his head, wondering how many other lives Chantelle had ruined by not minding her own business. He wrote down her home address and left the apartment.

It felt good to be behind the wheel of his luxury sports car again. He drove with the top down, breathing in the “free” air. There were so many things that Kelly took away from him, driving and breathing fresh air were two of them. There were so many reasons that she needed to pay for what she’d done. He had a list as a matter of fact. While he sat behind bars and his future all but disappeared because of her, he’d made a list. He’d even alphabetized it. Pay, she would in good time.

He parked four blocks away from the D.A.’s office on 166th street. It wouldn’t do to get ticketed close to the building or get caught on one of the cameras. He walked the rest of the way and found an empty bench in the courtyard across the street. He took a seat and he waited. One good thing he could say about prison was that it taught you a lot about patience. Patience wasn’t one of Jesse’s virtues. He’d always been an instant gratification kind of guy. But he’d learned over the past two years that sometimes you just might appreciate something that much more if you waited for it.

Just after five o’clock, people began pouring out of the building. He had his phone out and was casually skimming through it as he watched. A group of women came out and walked towards the parking garage. None of them looked young enough to be Chantelle. He had a pretty good memory of what she looked like, but women had a tendency to change their hair and their weight had a tendency to fluctuate. He saw a woman just then who could be the one he was waiting for. She was a tall, willowy brunette.

When Jesse saw Chantelle, she had her hair down. He remembered it because it was just masses of wiry curls. This woman had hers up in a bun, so it was hard to be sure. She was the one that looked most like her and she was walking in the right direction…alone. He stood up and stretched and when there was another surge of three or four people who came out and began walking in the same direction, he merged in behind them.

Chantelle walked with a lazy grace, never once looking back over her shoulder or seeming to notice there was anyone behind her at all. She got to the end of the street and turned right onto Amsterdam. The group in front of Jesse went left. He stopped at the corner and watched her. The street she was on now was quiet without many people out and about. He looked up at the sign. It was 164th Street. He didn’t want to follow her on this one. If she turned around, or anyone remembered seeing him there later. That would be all bad. This wasn’t the street she lived on, but that was alright. He had her address. She wasn’t going to be hard to find. He went left and followed the other group to the end of the street. When he got to the next corner, he looked back. Chantelle was out of sight. He turned back around and headed in that direction again.

Instead of continuing on when he got back to the corner where he’d lost her, he turned back towards the D.A.’s office and walked towards his car. It was close to six o’clock now and he’d been parked on the street for almost two hours. He had to be really careful not to get a ticket. He drove the car along the street Chantelle had taken on her route home and he parked along 164th.

He got out then and walked to the end of that street and turned left. Chantelle’s building was the fourth one on the street. It was on the corner of Edgecombe and 163rd in a really nice neighborhood. His Dad and the city of N.Y. must be paying their employees well. The buildings all held anywhere from ten to fifty apartments. Chantelle’s building was a converted brownstone that probably only held about ten studio apartments.

The neighborhood was livelier on this street and people were out jogging and riding their bikes. Jessie walked along one of the jogging trails for a while, just checking things out until the sun began to go down. The deeper the sun sunk into the horizon and the grayer the city began to look; the fewer people were out in the neighborhood.

When things quieted down, Jesse stepped inside the double doors of Chantelle’s building. There was another set of doors with a buzzer to get inside, and this small entryway held the mailboxes. The boxes had names and numbers on them. Chantelle lived in 2B. Her name was the only one on the mailbox, her maiden name. He hoped that meant she hadn’t gotten married and she didn’t have a roommate. He probably wouldn’t “talk” to her here anyways.

The fact that she lived on the second story would pose a problem. At least he knew that she walked to and from work, and from the looks of the neighborhood, she probably did some recreational walking on her days off as well. That would be useful. Realizing that he was hungry all of a sudden, Jesse turned and headed back towards his car. He put his hands in his pockets and whistled as he walked.