The Dead Man’s Last Call

M Mehran

The phone rang at 2:09 a.m.

Detective Jordan Vale was halfway through a stale donut and a stack of paperwork when the sound sliced through the silence of the precinct. Unknown number. Local area code. He almost ignored it.

But something in his gut made him pick up.

“Detective Vale.”

A shaky breath crackled through the receiver.

“Detective… you don’t know me. My name is Carter. I— I don’t have a lot of time.”

Jordan straightened. The voice was young. Male. Scared. Desperate.

“What’s going on?” Jordan asked.

A soft thud. A muffled grunt. Then Carter whispered:

“I’m going to die tonight.”

Jordan froze. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” Carter said. “But I found a phone. And I remembered your name.”

That stopped him cold.

“Kid… how do you know me?”

“Because you arrested me two years ago,” Carter said. “I told you I’d get my life together. I tried. But I messed up again. Big time.”

Jordan suddenly remembered—the petty thief with the trembling hands, the kid who kept apologizing during fingerprinting, the one who asked if there was still time to change.

“What happened?” Jordan demanded.

“I stole something,” Carter whispered. “From the wrong people.”

A low growl echoed in the background. A man’s voice. “Hang up the phone.”

Carter’s breathing hitched.

Then the line went dead.


---

The Hunt Begins

Jordan was already grabbing his jacket before he called dispatch.

“Trace that call,” he barked.

“Already trying,” the dispatcher said. “Signal kept bouncing. Last tower hit was near the docks.”

The docks.

Of course.

Jordan tore through the sleeping city, lights flashing, heart hammering. Too many gangs operated near the water. Too many deals went wrong there. Too many bodies turned up in the tide.

He kept hearing Carter’s voice:

I’m going to die tonight.

Not on my watch, Jordan thought.

Not again.


---

Clues in the Dark

The docks were abandoned except for the faint glow of a lamp in Warehouse 7. The door was cracked open.

Jordan approached silently, gun drawn.

Inside, the air smelled of salt and rot and something metallic.

Blood.

His chest tightened.

“Carter?” he whispered.

Silence.

He moved deeper, boots splashing in shallow puddles. The warehouse was massive, filled with crates and rusted machinery. A single phone lay on the floor, screen cracked, still warm.

Then he saw it—the faint smear of blood leading behind a stack of shipping containers.

Jordan followed the trail, pulse pounding.

He turned the corner—

And froze.

Empty.

But splattered across the wall was a message written in frantic, shaky strokes:

HELP ME. THEY’RE TAKING ME TO THE WOODS. HILLBROOK ROAD. –C

Jordan bolted back to his car.

He knew the woods near Hillbrook.

He knew what happened there.


---

The Woods

Fog curled between the trees as Jordan raced down the dirt road. Headlights cut through the darkness, carving out ghostly silhouettes of branches reaching like skeletal hands.

Then he saw tire tracks—fresh.

And footprints.

Multiple.

He killed the engine, stepped out, and listened.

A muffled scream.

Carter.

Jordan sprinted toward the sound, weaving between trees, heart slamming harder with every step.

Voices drifted through the damp air.

“…shouldn’t have taken the flash drive, kid…”

“…boss wants him gone…”

“…make it quiet…”

Jordan didn’t wait.

He burst into the clearing, gun raised.

“Police! Drop your weapons!”

Three men spun toward him. One had Carter by the collar, bruised and barely conscious. Another held a shovel. The third reached for a gun.

Jordan fired first.

Chaos exploded. The shovel clattered to the ground. One man ran. Another collapsed. A bullet grazed Jordan’s arm, ripping fire through muscle.

Through it all, Carter slipped from the thug’s grasp, collapsing to the leaves.

Jordan shot the last man’s gun from his hand and tackled him.

When the clearing finally fell silent, Jordan staggered to Carter’s side.

The kid’s face was swollen. Lip bleeding. Eyes barely open.

“You… came…” Carter whispered.

Jordan exhaled shakily. “Yeah, kid. I came.”


---

The Truth About the Flash Drive

Back at the precinct, Carter lay in a hospital bed while EMTs bandaged him. Jordan sat beside him, arms sore, body exhausted.

“What was on the flash drive you stole?” Jordan asked.

Carter winced. “Evidence. Every deal they made. Every name. Every location. I snatched it when they weren’t looking.”

Jordan frowned. “Why?”

Carter looked at him with raw, honest fear.

“Because you told me once people don’t get better by talking. They get better by doing something that matters.”

Jordan swallowed hard.

He didn’t remember saying that.

But Carter did.

“I thought… if I brought it to someone good… someone clean…” Carter’s eyes glistened. “Someone like you… maybe I could make up for all the crap I did.”

Jordan felt something tighten in his chest.

“Kid, you could’ve come to the station.”

“No. I heard things. That some cops were dirty. That the gang had someone inside.” Carter bit his lip. “I didn’t know who to trust.”

Jordan stiffened.

If the gang had insiders…

That meant someone knew where Carter was the entire time.

Someone who leaked it.

Someone inside his precinct.


---

The Last Twist

A soft knock came at the hospital door.

Jordan opened it—

And froze.

Captain Reeves.

His superior.

His mentor.

Smiling.

Too calmly.

“Heard you rescued the boy,” Reeves said. “Good work, Jordan. I’ll take the flash drive from here.”

Jordan’s blood ran cold.

He hadn’t told anyone about the flash drive yet.

“Who told you?” Jordan asked, voice low.

Reeves stepped forward. “Let’s not play this game.”

Everything in Jordan screamed danger.

“You’re the leak,” Jordan whispered.

Reeves smiled wider.

“Hand it over.”

A gun appeared in his hand.

Carter’s heart monitor jumped.

Jordan stepped between them.

“You’ll have to shoot me.”

Reeves cocked the gun. “If I have to.”

A tense silence thickened the air—

Then sirens wailed outside.

Backup.

Jordan didn’t call them.

Carter did.

On the hospital phone while Jordan answered the door.

Reeves’s eyes widened.

Officers stormed the hallway.

“Captain Reeves,” one barked, “drop your weapon!”

For the first time, the captain hesitated.

Then he lowered the gun.

Jordan exhaled a breath he’d been holding since 2:09 a.m.


---

The End of a Long Night

When they wheeled Reeves away in cuffs, Jordan turned to Carter.

“You saved your own life,” he said. “And a lot of others.”

Carter managed a weak smile. “Guess… I finally did something that mattered.”

Jordan rested a hand on the kid’s shoulder.

“You did more than that.”

“Yeah?”

Jordan nodded.

“You picked the right number to call.”