The Last Call
March 3, 2025
The bar was nearly empty, just the low hum of a jukebox and the occasional clink of glass against wood. Detective Evan Drake sat in a corner booth, watching the man at the bar.
Marcus Rayne. Former stockbroker, current nobody. He’d been off the radar for months. Until tonight.
Rayne took a sip of his whiskey, glancing around like a man waiting for something. Or someone.
Drake checked his phone. 9:57 PM. The anonymous tip had said Rayne would be here at ten.
Three minutes.
Jess Carter, Drake’s partner, slid into the booth across from him. “Bartender says Rayne’s been here since eight. Just sitting. Barely drinking.”
Drake’s eyes didn’t leave Rayne. “He’s scared.”
Jess leaned in. “You think he knows he’s a dead man?”
Before Drake could answer, Rayne’s phone rang.
Rayne stiffened, staring at the screen. Then, slowly, he picked up.
“Yeah,” he muttered. A pause. Then—his face went pale.
Drake couldn’t hear the other end of the call, but whatever was being said had Rayne gripping his glass like a lifeline.
Then he said two words.
“I understand.”
And hung up.
Drake stood. “Something’s happening.”
Rayne tossed a few bills on the bar and got up, moving fast toward the exit.
Drake and Jess followed.
Rayne walked three blocks before ducking into an alley. Drake and Jess stayed close, just out of sight.
Rayne pulled something from his jacket. A phone. Not the one he’d answered.
A burner.
He dialed quickly, glancing over his shoulder.
Drake barely made out his whisper.
“They know. I don’t have time.”
A pause. Then:
“The locker at Union Station. Number 214. The key is—”
A gunshot cracked through the alley.
Rayne collapsed.
Drake and Jess moved, weapons drawn.
A figure in a dark hoodie sprinted toward the street.
Drake gave chase, his feet pounding against the pavement. The shooter was fast, weaving between parked cars, but Drake was faster.
He tackled the guy hard. The gun skidded across the pavement.
Jess caught up, already slapping cuffs on the suspect.
Drake pulled back the hood.
A kid. Maybe twenty. Wide eyes, shaking hands.
Jess frowned. “Who sent you?”
The kid swallowed. “I… I don’t know his name.”
Drake’s jaw clenched. “Then why’d you kill Rayne?”
The kid hesitated. Then:
“He was already dead.”
Drake and Jess exchanged a look.
The kid continued, voice hollow. “They just didn’t want him talking first.”