I'm making a Wattpad story!! I don't think it's that good right now but if you have any suggestions please tell me
I was on my way to meet my first client for my new job. He was going to tell me about the alleged âHeart Sack Killer.â As the name suggests, the HSKâs victims are always found with their hearts placed in a sack beside them.
I know it may seem odd that I research killers for a living, but I promise itâs not as bad as it soundsâIâm a CSI. But back to the story.
My clientâs name was Jake. Both of his parents had been killed by the HSKâhis mother when he was fifteen, and his father three years later. I spotted him sitting alone in the coffee shop where we had agreed to meet.
We grabbed our drinks, sat down, and after a long moment of silence, he began to speak.
When he was fifteen, he woke in the middle of the night to find his mother gone. He and his father searched the house and neighborhood, even calling her phone again and again, but she was nowhere to be found. They called the police and a search was mounted.
Two days later, she was discovered in an old, moldy shed not far from their home.
Her heart sat in a sack beside her body.
Blood stained her chest, dripping from the hollow cavity where her heart should have been.
The sack was found days later. The heart inside had shriveled like a raisin, and the blood crusted across the once-white fabric had dried into a dark brown-red.
After that, they moved into a new house. Jake and his father grew distant, though Jake never understood exactly why. He only knew they had never had a good relationship.
When he came of age, he moved back into the old house.
One week later, his fatherâs body was found in the same condition as his motherâs.
âSo you said you and your dad never had a good relationship,â I asked. âDo you have any idea why?â
âWellâŚâ Jake hesitated. âI canât think of anything for sure, but if I had to guess⌠it might have something to do with my⌠brother.â
The pause before the word brother made my stomach twist.
âWhat happened to your brother?â
âI donât remember much,â he said, staring into his drink. âBut when I was around three or four, I remember my mom being rushed to the hospital. Then when she came back, she was holding my brother. It all happened in a day. At the time I didnât think anything of it, but now that Iâm older⌠babies usually stay in the hospital longer than that.â
âAfter that, my dad became obsessed with him. He barely paid attention to me anymore. My mom tried to make up for itâsheâd hold me and sing to me whenever I got upsetâbut things were never the same.â
Why had the baby come home so quickly?
Why had everything changed after that?
âDid your mom ever talk to you about your dad?â I asked.
âNo. After my brother was born, they barely spoke to each other.â
Something had happened at that hospital. Something bad.
âIs it possible to talk to your brother now?â I asked, though I already knew the answer.
Jakeâs expression darkened.
âNo. He died last year.â
âIf you donât mind me asking⌠how did he die?â
Jake looked down at the table.
âI donât know. They found his body in an alley. He was beaten badly⌠bruises everywhere.â
âHis body looked like a dried-up raisin.â
The next day, I went over everything he had told me.
I searched for a clueâanything hidden between his words.
What had happened at the hospital that day? Try as I might, I could not come up with anything that might help, so I decided to head to the hospital they were born at.
When I got there, I asked the staff if there was anyone who worked there or would know anything from 20 years ago. Luckily, they were able to find Mr. Lurance. He was tall and in his mid-50s. He told me he was the head staff member the year the Burner family had come.
When I told him about how the Burners had come and left in one day, all he did was shake his head and stare out the window.
he paused for a little to long before answering
âThe mother died in the hospital that day, along with the baby.â
there was something off about the way he said itÂ
My stomach dropped, my fingers clenching the table.
âIt was a tragedy. She wasnât able to make it through.â
I cleared my throat. âThank you for the information. It was very helpful.â
âIâm happy to help.â
And with that, I headed home.
All the way home, I was thinking about what Mr. Lurance had said. It didnât match what Jake had told me at all.
All I could think about for the next few days was what Mr. Lurance had said: âThe mother died in the hospital that day, along with the baby.â
But then why did Jake say she was murdered?
The more I thought about it, the more confused I became. It felt like there was one piece I was missing⌠something just out of reach.
The next morning, I called to see if he could meet me. I had an idea about what might have happened.
âHey! Thanks for meeting me here.â
âYou said you figured something out, right? What was it?â
I paused before speaking.
âAfter we talked the other day, I decided to go to the hospital your brother was born at.â
âI talked to Mr. Luranceâthe man in charge at the time.â
The moment I said his name, Jake froze.
It was briefâbarely a secondâbut enough.
âHe told me that your mom died in the hospital that day, along with your brother.â
Jake didnât respond right away.
Not confused. Not shocked.
His voice came out quieter than before.
He kept looking at me, something like fear flickering in his eyesâbut there was something else underneath it. Something I couldnât quite place.
âWhat⌠but she came home. I swear.â
The words came too quickly, like he had been holding them back.
He looked away almost immediately after, jaw tightening.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
âIâI need a second,â he muttered.
I nodded, giving him space. âYeah, of course.â
I stood up to order us a drink, glancing back at him once before stepping away.
When I came back, he was gone.