Literally Illiterate

Thursday, July 28th

The Heart Keeper

"Well, here's the catch, Jackie: each of the prostitutes' hearts were removed."

Officer Renhard's greyed voice cracked against the poor telephone connection. Jack Coldman's shoulder pressed against the case of the pay phone stand, creating an ident in the wrinkled green bomber jacket hanging loosely off of his collar. It was drizzling outside, the faint thud of thunder gracing the sky a couple miles out. Jack cursed the sky for the poor connection; he wasn't sure if he'd heard his boss correctly. Hearts removed?

The greyed officer continued on the other line, "We don't know much about it, we just know that they're being sold in the same streets as Bayer."

"Jesus, George, I don't know. This ain't what I'm used to, ya know? Bayer deals drugs, not murders. I was assigned to him."

"It's Officer Renhard to you, jackass. And I'm not askin' you, I'm tellin' you. I got a warrant for your brother's arrest in my hand right now. Bayer's connected somehow, otherwise the killer would be dead for sellin' on the same streets."

Jack sighed audibly, pinching the bridge of his nose. An undercover cop being blackmailed by another cop, how absolutely ironic. Renhard has had Jack wrapped around his finger ever since he graduated from the academy. Jack was a wide-eyed, ambitious student who struggled with academics but excelled in communication. The day after he graduated, he was pulled into the commissioner's office and handed his brother's mugshot. They'd caught him using, heroin or something similar, but they also suspected him as an accomplice to a drive-by. The commissioner pulled in Officer George Renhard, a stern-looking man in his sixties that was almost never seen around the station. The commissioner, words dripping with euphemisms, said they'd drop the accomplice charge and send Jack's brother to rehab on the account that Jack would give up his dreams of being a state officer and settle for undercover agent. Given only one realistic option, Jack agreed. And now he was beginning to regret it.

"Fine, fine. So, another Jack the Ripper copycat somehow working under Bayer. Got it." The man hung up abruptly, anxiety gnawing at his stomach. He knew better than to fight Renhard on the subject. There'd been multiple occasions where both of the men showed up in the commissioner's office over screaming matches; saying they didn't get along was an understatement. However, after Renhard left the room, the police commissioner pulled him in and said, "Go easy on him, boy. His daughter died a year ago."

Jack hasn't fought Renhard since. He even agreed to become the city's finest criminal's henchman, a deadlier job than it sounds. The criminal was known as Bayer, another stern-looking man in his sixties, and was notorious for his drug trade and slipping out from under the hands of police. There was no doubt he was morally ambiguous and had a body count to his name, but Jack had never known him to be into serial killings. Bayer had taken Jack under his wing, bailing him out of jail after assaulting two of his men. The criminal record was part of his job description. After numerous petty thefts around the sitting, Jack Coldman was building up a reputation, one that happened to spike Bayer's interest.

Shortly after darting out of the drizzle and into a grocery store, Jack's phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a run-down flip phone, one that Bayer gave to each of his contacts.

Smith Ave. Half hour.

Jack gritted his teeth. Of course Bayer would order him to be back at the bar that's forty minutes away. Taking a bus, it would've been twenty, but as Jack reached into his pockets he felt only pennies, dimes, and a debit card. Of course Bayer's payday was tomorrow. Though he knew the consequences of being late, the image of one his associate's black eye flashing across his mind, so he pulled up the hood on the sweatshirt he had on under the bomber and shoved his hands into his pockets, once again hit by thin, cold drops of rain. Rushing to the nearest bus station, he pulled out his phone and flipped it open. "Danny, ya think you can pick me up?"